Here in 'China' I Dwell: Reconstructing Historical Discourses of China for Our Time 9004279997, 9789004279995

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Here in ‘China’ I Dwell

Brill’s Humanities in China Library Edited by Zhang Longxi (City University of Hong Kong) Axel Schneider (Göttingen University)

VOLUME 10

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/bhcl

Here in ‘China’ I Dwell Reconstructing Historical Discourses of China for our Time

By

Ge Zhaoguang Translated by

Jesse Field Qin Fang

LEIDEN | BOSTON

This book is a result of the translation license agreement between Zhonghua Book Company and Koninklijke Brill NV. This book is translated into English from the original 《宅兹中国:重建有关 “中国”的历史论述》(Zhaizi Zhongguo: chongjian guanyu Zhongguo de lishi lunshu) by 葛兆光 (Ge Zhaoguang) with financial support from the Chinese Fund for the Humanities and Social Sciences. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Ge, Zhaoguang, 1950- author. Title: Here in “China” I dwell : reconstructing historical discourses of China for our time / by Ge Zhaoguang ; translated by Jesse Field, Qin Fang. Other titles: Zhai zi Zhongguo. English Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, 2017. | Series: Brill’s humanities in China library, ISSN 1874-8023 ; volume 10 | Includes index. Identifiers: LCCN 2017003794 (print) | LCCN 2017008095 (ebook) | ISBN 9789004279971 (hardback : acid-free paper) | ISBN 9789004279995 (e-book) | ISBN 9789004279995 (E-book) Subjects: LCSH: China--Historiography. | China--Foreign relations--Historiography. | China--Boundaries--Historiography. | Historiography--Japan--History. | Historians--Japan--History. | China--Relations--Japan. | Japan--Relations--China. Classification: LCC DS734.7 .G413 2017 (print) | LCC DS734.7 (ebook) | DDC 951.0072--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017003794

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. issn 1874-8023 isbn 978-90-04-27997-1 (hardback) isbn 978-90-04-27999-5 (e-book) Copyright 2017 by Koninklijke Brill nv, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill nv incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi and Hotei Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill nv provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, ma 01923, usa. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Series Editors’ Foreword ix Preface xi Introduction: “China” as Problem and the Problem of “China” 1 1 From William Skinner to Robert Hartwell: “Locality” Leaves the Unity of China in Doubt 3 2 Thinking from the Perspective of Asia: When “China” Fades into Asia 6 3 The Position of Taiwan: Concentric-circle Theory 10 4 The Kingdom of the Khans: The Challenge of “Chinese History” for the Mongol Yuan and the Manchu Qing 15 5 Postmodern History: Rescue What History from the Nation? 19 6 How Can We Understand the Historical China in Chinese History? 22 Conclusion: History, Culture and Politics—Three Dimensions of China Studies 25 Addendum 27 1 The Appearance of “China” Consciousness during the Song Dynasty: On One of the Origins of Modern Nationalist Ideology 29 1 A Discourse of China, a Discourse of Orthodoxy: Definite Emergence of China Consciousness 29 2 The Gap between Ideals and Practical Politics: All under Heaven, the Four Barbarians, Court Tribute, and Enemy Kingdoms 32 3 China: The Emergence of ‘Borders’ 37 4 Views of Nation, State and Culture: Anti-Barbarian Ideology and the Establishment of a Transmissible Orthodoxy 41 5 Of Han, of China: What is Han and what is Chinese? 47 2 Memories of Foreign Lands in the Classic of Mountains and Seas, Illustrations of Tributaries, and Travel Accounts: Chinese Sources of Knowledge Regarding Foreign Lands before and after Matteo Ricci 53 1 The Contrast between Imagination and Knowledge: The Imagination of Foreign Lands 53 2 Three Sources Linked to the Construction of Imaginary Foreign Lands: Travel Accounts, Zhigongtu, and Myths, Legends and Proverbs 55

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3 4 5

To Imagination Add More Imagination; To Stories Add More Story: The Kingdom of Women, the Kingdom of Dogs, and the Corpse-Head Barbarians 59 The Pre-Matteo Ricci Imaginary Foreign Country: Historical Memory from Classical Knowledge 66 Post-Matteo Ricci: From “All under Heaven” to “Ten Thousand States” 72

3 Ancient Maps as the History of Ideas 77 1 Margin and Center: Imagining the Orient in Old European Maps of the World 78 2 From All under Heaven to Ten Thousand Countries 85 3 Buddhist Maps: Imagining Different Kinds of Worlds 89 4 Chinese on the Inside, Barbarians on the Outside: The Case of the Ming Dynasty Naval Defense Map 93 5 Understanding Ming Concepts of “Private” and “Public” from Gazetteer Maps 96 Conclusion 102 4 The Real and the Imaginary: Who Decides What “Asia” Means? On “Asianism” in Japan and China from the Late Qing to the Republican Era 103 1 Asianism in Modern Japan 105 2 The Complex Reaction to “Asianism” in Late-Qing and EarlyRepublican China 110 3 Multiple Visions of the World: Differences between China and Japan 115 4 Nationalism and Cosmpolitanism, or Tradition and Modernity 123 5 Between Nation and History: Starting from the Japanese: Debates on the Relationship between Chinese Daoism, Japanese Shintō and the Tennō System 127 Foreword: Small Questions Lead to Bigger Questions 127 1 A Debate between Two Japanese Scholars 128 2 Tsuda Sōkichi and His Evaluations Regarding Chinese Daoism 129 3 Tsuda Sōkichi’s Dilemma: Influence or Borrowing? 132 4 Ancient Layer after Ancient Layer: Regarding Shintō and the Tennō 135 5 Chinese Influence: New Views in Japanese Academia 138

Contents

6 7 8

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And on to Goguryeo? A Roadmap of the Dissemination of Daoism in East Asia 140 Scholars of China Studies Joining the Debate: Miyazaki Ichisada’s Theories 143 The Differences between Chinese Daoism and Japanese Shintōism 145 Conclusion: Behind the Debates about Daoism, Shintōism, and the Tennō System 147

6 Where are the Borders? Starting with the Context of the Study of “Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet, and Korea” in Japan at the Turn of the Twentieth Century 150 Foreword: The Question 150 1 Japan’s Interest in the Study of “Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet and Korea” and the Formation of East Asian History 151 2 Victory over Europe: One Motivation for Japanese Historians to Study Chinese Borders 156 3 The “Qing State is Not a State” Thesis: The Historical Background and Political Sensibility of the Study of “Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet and Korea” in Japan 160 4 Frontiers or Borders: How to Define China in History and in Reality 164 7 From the Western Regions to the Eastern Sea: Formations, Methods and Problems in a New Historical World 172 Foreword: Spaces for Inter-Civilization Mixing: The Mediterranean, the Western Regions, and the Eastern Sea 172 1 The Xiyu: From Modern European Study of the East and Japanese Study of the East to the Great Discoveries at Dunhuang 173 2 The Donghai (Eastern Seas): Mixing and Separating of Traditional Civilizations in East Asia 178 3 The Emphasis of Research and Research Methods: Differences and Similarities between Studies of the Xiyu and Studies of the Donghai 181 Conclusion: Predicting the Currents: New Perspectives on Historical Studies 187 Foreword: What Does the History of Academia Tell Us? 187 1 International Perspective: From “Studies of Northern Barbarians” to “Looking at China from its Borders” 191

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Contents

The Chinese Position: Comparing with Chinese Studies Outside China 199 Intersecting Cultural History 206 Conclusion: New Materials, New Methods, New Paradigms: Prospects for Culture and History Studies 211

Index 215

Series Editors’ Foreword The rise of China as an economic and political power is unquestionably one of the most striking phenomena of global significance as we enter the first dec­ ade of the twenty-first century. Ever since the end of the “Cultural Revolution” and the death of Mao Zedong in 1976, tremendous changes have transformed China from an isolated and relatively weak country into a rapidly developing and dynamic society. The scale and speed of such transformations have taken the world—even the Chinese themselves—by surprise; China today is drastically different from, and in a remarkably better condition than, China thirty years ago despite the many economic, social, and political difficulties and problems that yet remain to be dealt with. China scholars in Europe and North America are called upon to provide information and explanation of the rise of China, a country with history and tradition reaching back to antiquity and yet showing amazing strength and cultural virility in the world today. Interest in China is not limited to the traditional field of Sinology or China studies, nor is it confined to the academic world of universities, for more and more people outside of academia are curious about China, about its history and culture, as well as the changes taking place in the contemporary world. The Western news media brings images from China to every household; Sinologists or China scholars publish numerous articles and books to satisfy the general need for understanding: China is receiving a high-level of attention in the West today whether we turn to the scholarly community or look at popular imagination. In understanding China, however, very little is available in the West that allows the average reader to have a glance at how China and its culture and history are understood by the Chinese themselves. This seems a rather strange omission, but in much of the twentieth century, the neglect of native Chinese scholarship was justified on the grounds of a perception of political control in China, where scholarship, particularly in the humanities and social sciences, was dominated by party ideology and strictly followed a prescribed party line. Such politically controlled scholarship was thought to be more propaganda than real scholarship, and consequently Western scholars rarely referred to contemporary Chinese scholarship in their works. In the last thirty years, however, Chinese scholarship and public opinion, like everything else in China, have undergone such tremendous changes that the old stereotype of a politically controlled scholarship no longer holds. New and important archaeological findings in China have changed our knowledge of ancient texts and our understanding of Chinese history in significant ways, and detailed studies of such new materials are available in native Chinese

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scholarship. Since the 1980s, many Chinese scholars have critically reflected on the nature of scholarship and questioned the old dogma of political and ideological orthodoxy, while many important books have been published that present a new outlook on Chinese history and culture. The time has come for Western scholars and other interested readers to engage academic perspectives originating in China, and making important academic works from China available in English is an important step in this engagement. Translation of influential academic works from China will greatly contribute to our better understanding of China from different perspectives and in different ways, beyond the dichotomies of the inside and the outside, a native Chinese view and a Western observer’s vantage point. Brill’s Humanities in China Library is a newly established book series that has been commissioned by Brill in response to that need. The series aims to introduce important and representative works of native Chinese scholarship in English translation, in which each volume is carefully selected and expertly translated for the benefit of Western scholars as well as general readers who have an interest in China and its culture but may not read the Chinese language in the original. It is our hope that this series of representative books in translation will be useful to both specialists and general readers for understanding China from a different point of view, and that it will be an important step towards a fruitful dialogue and an exchange of ideas between Chinese and Western scholars. Zhang Longxi Axel Schneider July 29, 2008

Preface This book is about large issues. It is about China, East Asia and the world; politics and academia; acceptance and rejection; national and regional histories. I never thought I would write such a small book about such large issues. As long as I have been an academic, I have been going back and forth doing solid research in various fields relating to pre-modern China, including ancient documents, religious history, intellectual history and literary history. Although, at times, I read new Western and Oriental works, and occasionally touched on the histories and cultures of Japan and Korea, sometimes I couldn’t help theorizing a bit from on high, as it were. Still, I have always felt that to write things up properly, I should do so on a firm basis. I never wrote with any strength or forcefulness unless I was working directly from archival material. Reasoning from theory always seemed to me like so much hot air. Hence, I never had the heart for it. But, during these many years of my work, I began to feel more and more that there was no getting around the big issues. In the fall of 2000, at Leuven University where I wrote the last pages of An Intellectual History of China, I had hoped to take a breather. As I wrote in the introduction, the eight years it had taken to produce the book had exhausted me. I wanted to make some adjustments to my life and work habits. What I failed to foresee was that research on questions of intellectual history had once again come back and induced angst. The final section, “China in the Year 1895,” of An Intellectual History of China stirred in me a deep sense of foreboding, which drove me to look at what happened after 1895. After 1895, the Great Qing Empire began to exit “All under Heaven” and enter instead the “Ten Thousand Nations.” The Heavenly Court, celebrated for its stability in the ancient classical texts, was gradually reorganized and pushed into a world in which consciousness of both China and the West was emerging. I had to face the impact of views on Asia, China and the world. Why “Asia”? What, in the final analysis, is “China”? How does China face the world? It seems that question after irresolvable question lurked behind conventional wisdom. In 2002, I wrote “Imagination and Actuality: Who Recognizes Asia? On ‘Asianism’ in China and Japan from the Late Qing to the Early Republic” (now included in this book, making it the earliest completed section), and delivered it at the history department of National Taiwan University during a conference on the formation of cultural East Asia. I remember that the conference was hosted by Professor Lin Yusheng, and I shared the stage with Professor Koyasu

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Nobukuni of Japan. Sensitive readers would have deduced from the title that my paper was contentious, and it was delivered with no little strength of feeling. The feelings were two-fold. First, finishing An Intellectual History of China and entering the world of modern Chinese intellectual history had inspired new thinking which I had originally hoped to develop into a third volume, On the Evolution of Knowledge, Ideology and Faith in China between 1895 and 1989. But, given the flood of material available and the overabundance of issues, I could only begin again by asking the questions one by one with a full sense of the critique in mind. Second, with academic debates in Japan, Korea and Taiwan growing more heated when it came to topics like China and Asia, and these imbricating mainland Chinese academia as well, how could such geographical concepts, not having been carefully critiqued, constitute “a historical world” that all could agree upon? These questions demanded answers, and not answers shaped by political ideology, but answers advanced through historical and cultural positioning. If these questions had remained confined to the groves of academe in foreign countries, I could naturally have been at ease in my homeland. But the truth is that, for more than a hundred years, Chinese academia has been responding to the impact of “Western tides.” Some topics had, in the domestic arena, taken on a Chinese garb and were being translated into Chinese. Therefore, the question was whether these subjects, being left to ferment in Chinese and then used again, at times willfully, to interpret history, had stayed within the bounds of reason, or had been translated too rigidly. I found it hard to decide. So I simply had to delve further into these questions, which I began to do by investigating the field of East Asian history using material from Korea and Japan. I especially wish to record here that in 2006, when I left Tsinghua University in Beijing for Fudan University in Shanghai, I made it my mission to open courses on these subjects at the newly set up National Institute for Advanced Humanistic Studies, thus commencing research on topics such as “looking at China from its borders,” “history of cultural exchanges,” and “critiques of Chinese studies.” The handling of these subjects, in turn, influenced the arrangement of chapters in this book. The Chinese title for this book is taken from the inscription on a bronze ritual wine vessel (called hezun) dating to the Western Zhou era (late second millennium b.c.e.), the piece in question having been discovered at Baoji, in Shaanxi province in 1963. The inscription is about how King Wu of the Zhou constructed the new eastern capital, Luoyang, after the destruction of the Shang. While Zhong guo 中国, the last two of the characters inscribed, ­probably refer to the region around Luoyang—the fabled “Tian zhi zhong”

Preface

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天之中 (midst of Heaven)—my use of the inscription text is more symbolic. Not only do the characters Zhong guo 中国 appear here together for the first time, but the first character in the set, zhai 宅—which at the time meant “to settle on a place to live”—today makes us think of the word’s more popular usage akin to something like “hidebound.” These connotations, new and old, may help us to reconsider how the scholar who makes his home in China would have to honor the position of China even while transcending the limits of Chineseness to forge a new discourse of history related to China in the context of Asia and the world. In conclusion, I may say in passing that, at the time of writing this preface, I was a visiting professor at Princeton University. It had so happened that, 60 years ago, Hu Shi had taken up rooms here for a time (when he was the director of the East Asia Studies Library). Naturally, I often flipped through Hu Shi’s work. Just as I began, by sheer chance, I came across his 1929 piece, “A Proposed Song for Chinese Science Society,” the last two lines of which run, “Fear not that the truth is without end, but rejoice in the knowledge that every inch advanced is another inch possessed.” I am deeply moved by these words, and on that note, conclude this Preface.

April 2010, Princeton University, usa

Introduction

“China” as Problem and the Problem of “China” Perhaps, the term “China” was not a problem to begin with. Our bookcases are filled with titles prominently displaying the word “China” in all subject areas. In the field of historical studies alone, we find everything from general works on Chinese history to works on Chinese political history, Chinese economic history, and Chinese cultural history. In our classrooms, too, classes on China come in all kinds: Chinese society, Chinese economy, and Chinese culture. In most cases, the use of “China” in these contexts raises no issues. Everyone is long accustomed to using “China” as the basic unit of history and of civilization, or indeed as a premise basic to any discourse. But lately, some have begun to raise unexpected questions. Is there really such a unified thing as “China?” Is this “China” to which we all refer an imagined political community, or is it a cohesive unit of history? Can it effectively encompass the territory, which includes every nationality, ethnicity and dynasty in its history? Can the diversity of each region simply be drawn into the same “China”? The Indian-American scholar Prasenjit Duara is the author of a well-known, and prize-winning, scholarly book on China entitled Rescuing History from the Nation. One American reviewer points out that the backdrop to this book is “China has always been a place where nationalism and ethnic tensions are both on the rise.” This, then, is the problem we must face up to, as well as its historical development, and the issue they challenge directly, i.e. China-related historical discourse itself.1 These hitherto unvoiced questions may now threaten to leave the term “China” in a shambles. A historical discourse, once deemed unproblematic, now has a major problem: Is it possible for “China” to constitute a historical world? In Europe, at least, doubts about whether the nation-state could serve as the basic unit of discourse emerged from conditions which, I believe, were easier to understand. That is because the nation-state in Europe evolved in more recent times and it did so without a definite overlap with ethnicity, religion, and language. As Foucault says, the area within the borders drawn on a map is a space signifying political sovereignty only, and the “space” of political 1 Stephen Averill, “Some recent trends in the historical study of China and the non-Western’ World,” here cited from the translated Chinese version. See Wu Zhe and Sun Huimin trans., “Zhongguo yu ‘fei xifang’ shijie de lishi yanjiu zhi ruogan xin qushi) 中 国 与 “非 西 方 ”世 界 的 历 史 研 究 之 若 干 新 趋 势 , Xin Shixue, 11:3 (2000): 173.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi 10.1163/9789004279995_002

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Introduction

sovereignty is no more than marks on a map.2 To tell history in terms of this space that was set up only much later is not as effective as dispensing with the basic unit of the discourse—hence such popular constructions as “imagined communities.”3 As for “China” as a spatial notion basic to a historical discourse, non-Chinese scholars of China once debated whether ancient China was always in flux, something in between nation, civilization, and community, or else a “nation-state,” which all along had clear and definite borders, traditions, and a sense of identity. But to Chinese scholars, and especially those on the mainland, this issue has hardly ever been raised, much less discussed. It deserves to be recognized that pushing our research beyond the simple, modern nation-state and into the fields of transnational history and culture is a fascinating paradigm that can help historical studies match more closely than the dynamism of history itself. Moreover, we cannot possibly demand that American and European scholars behave just as Chinese scholars do when, in following their natural inclinations and simplistic understanding, they make “China” into an unquestionably cohesive space within historical discourses.4 Even less can we ask that they work as mainlanders do in consciously trying to build a Chinese history possessing unified politics, culture and tradition. So it is that scholars engaging in studies of imperial Chinese history have used the lenses of “nation” (as with the Xiongnu and the Han empire, the Mongols and the Han, or the Liao, the Xia, the Jin and the Song empire), “East Asia” (Korea, Japan, China, and Vietnam), “place” (the southern Yangtze river region, the “central plains,” Fujian and Guangdong, Sichuan and Shaanxi, and all of the various provinces, prefectures and counties), and “religion” (Buddhism and Islam) to re-assess and re-organize the study of imperial Chinese history. These research perspectives have strongly impacted traditional methods of studying China, as for example the use of modern borders as markers of historical territory and the use of political borders as cultural spaces. They have also transformed the past proposition that there was “only one history,” along with its corollary that this was a discourse of China centered on “Han China.” 2 Michel Foucault, “Quanli de dilixue” 权 力 的 地 理 学 (The geographology of power)” in Quanli de yanjing: Fuke fangtanlu 权 力 的 眼 睛 :福 柯 访 谈 录 (The eyes of power: Interviews with Michel Foucault), ed. and tran., Yan Feng 严锋 (Shanghai: Shanghai renmin chubanshe, 1997), 204. According to the translator Yan Feng, this is an interview of Foucault with Jeremy Bentham and Michelle Perrot. 3 This is said to be the case with Indonesia in Asia. See Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (London; New York: Verso, 1998 [2006]). 4 Admittedly, mainland Chinese academia habitually takes the political regime of contemporary China as that of ancient China. This is indeed problematic.

“china” As Problem And The Problem Of “china”

3

However, we must ask ourselves whether these methods which seem to “rescue history from the nation state” magnify the differences between the histories of nations, religions, and places.5 We must ask whether they make too little of the historical continuity and cultural unity of “China,” and especially “Han China.” Why? Because it is also possible that the new historical methods are not formed from judgments based entirely on historical evidence, but are rather merely after-the-fact observations arising from some fashionable Western theory to become the Chinese editions of popular post-colonial theories. How do we, in the end, understand the political context and the ideological consciousness? Most important, how can I, as a Chinese historian, having gained a certain feeling and understanding of the new theories and positions, proceed to rebuild a historical discourse of “China”? That is the central question of this book. 1

From William Skinner to Robert Hartwell: “Locality” Leaves the Unity of China in Doubt

In 1982, Robert Hartwell published his paper “Demographic, Political and Social Transformations of China, 750–1550,” in the Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies. He points out that the most important changes in China over the last 800 years include: (1) internal developments on the regional level, (2) migration between regions, (3) the formal organization of government, and (4) the transformation of the social and political roles of the elite. He moved the center of his research on the period from the Tang and Song dynasties up to the mid-Ming dynasty from a formerly cohesive and encompassing China to the various regions. Hartwell divided the formerly unified literati class into separate groups: the founding elite, the professional elite, and the local elite or gentry. He particularly emphasized the significance of the local elite during the Song dynasty.6 5 Prasenjit Duara, Rescuing History from the Nation: Questioning Narratives of Modern China (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995). 6 Robert Hartwell, “Demographic, Political and Social Transformation of China, 750–1550,” hjas, 42 (1982): 355–442; as for the discussions of the formation and changes of this research approach, see Chen Jiaxiu 陈 家 秀 , Quyu yanjiu yu shehui jingji shi zhi guanlian: Tantao songdai chengdu fulu 区 域 研 究 与 社 会 经 济 史 之 关 联 ——探 讨 宋 代 成 都 府 路 (The relationship between regional studies and social economic history: The exploration of Chengdu’s provincial roads in the Song Dynasty), Taipei: National Taiwan University, Ph. D. Dissertation, 1993, 46–60.

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Introduction

This plan of research, emphasizing regional difference, shows the influence of regional studies popular in the current moment, and also stimulated and influenced Song dynasty studies, as we can see in studies of Fuzhou, Sizhou, Mingzhou, and Wuzhou by scholars like Robert Hymes, Richard von Glahn, Richard Davis, Paul Smith, and Peter Bol. Of course, regional studies and local historical studies of China did not begin with Robert Hartwell; they were already underway earlier, in the work of William Skinner. Skinner had placed great emphasis on the city as a regional center in the volume he edited, The City in Late Imperial China.7 Despite its clear methods and concepts, however, this line of research had to wait until the 1980s and 1990s to find a conducive atmosphere in the field of Chinese history. In all fairness, this represents a real advancement in historical studies. Chinese studies had certainly long overlooked regional difference in its emphasis on general unity. The benefit of the regional studies was, first, in making clear the differences—economic, political and cultural—between regions. Second, it highlighted the subtle differences in values and positions of the gentry and elite of different regions and different status. And, third, it gave full consideration to the impact and influence of clan, religion, and customs, as in the recent work by Peter Bol which examines three types of spatial relations that span across administrative districts: religious beliefs, market exchange, and clans and marriage. Such a work helps this field of cross-regional studies to better align itself with the actual social conditions at the time.8 This methodology of regional studies has also flourished in Japanese academia, where it is not limited to the Song dynasty, but also applied to the Ming and Qing dynasties, and in modern history. The field is expanding: In addition to the well-known work of Shiba Yoshinobu on Ningbo in The City in Late Imperial China, and the later work on the economic history of Jiangnan (the lower Yangtze River region), there have been, as the Japanese scholar Oka Motoshi

7 G. William Skinner has pointed out that “in imperial times regions differed from one another not only in resource endowment or potential, but also in the timing and nature of the development process.” What he means by “in the timing and nature of the development process” is a little bit like what we usually say “social phases.” The fact he divides imperial China into nine regions clearly implies that different regions locate in different developmental phases and cannot be described by the one word “China.” G. William Skinner, “Regional Urbanization in Nineteenth-Century China,” in The City in Late Imperial China, ed. G. William Skinner (Stanford: Stanford University, 1977), 211. 8 Peter K. Bol, “The Multiple Layers of the Local: A Geographical Approach to Defining the Local,” paper presented at the Ninth Conference on the New Meaning of 21st-Century China, Shanghai, Fudan University, April, 8th, 2004.

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has commented,9 many similarly productive studies in intellectual history, cultural history, and social history. In the world of Japanese studies of China since 1990, especially, interest in studies of “region” have increased noticeably, and this observation has in large degree provided nuance and detail to sweeping general studies of the past. To cite just one example, in the field of intellectual cultural history, Kojima Tsuyoshi’s Intellectual History based on Regions contains extremely sharp critiques against the approach to Ming and Qing studies by Mizoguchi Yūzō and others, in which persist three types of issues: first, using the developmental course of European history to conceive of Chinese intellectual history; second, taking the Wang Yangming school as representative of the entirety of Chinese thought; and third, taking people from Jiangnan as representative, and thereby establishing this region as the fount of the thinking used in the Chinese empire as a whole.10 As for this last issue, studies that take on the lens of “region” enable intellectual and cultural phenomena originally shrouded in mystery and simply assumed to be “Chinese” in a general way to be ascribed with certitude to a particular region. We are thus made to realize that these elite intellectual and cultural activities are limited to a region, not phenomena that permeate the entire empire.11 Continuing to pursue studies of China in the period from the Song to the Ming dynasty using the regional

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Oka Motoshi, “Local societies and knowledge of the Song dynasty: A project from the interdisciplinary perspective’’, in Chishikijin no shosou: Chugoku soudai wo kiten toshite (Various aspects of intellectuals: Based on the Song dynasty), eds. Ihara Hiroshi and Kojima Tsuyoshi (Tōkyō: Bensei Shuppan, 2001), 21–30. Kojima Tsuyoshi, “Intellectual history based on regions,” in Kousaku suru ajia (Asia entangled), eds. Mizoguchi Yūzō et al. (Tōkyō: Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 1993), 33–51, “Ajia kara kangaeru”(“Thinking from Asia” Series), vol. 1. In January 2005, when I visited Tokyo University, Professor Kojima Tsuyoshi presented me a research project titled “Higashi Ajia no Kaijiokoryu to nihon tento benka no kesei” (The Maritime Communication of East Asia and the Formation of Japanese Traditional Culture). This project was an interdisciplinary one that had involved leading Tokyo-based scholars in Chinese and Japanese studies. Despite the fact that the title contained “East Asia” and “Japan,” the project was centered around Ningbo. This shows that the areabased research pattern had begun to become trendy. See Kojima Tsuyoshi, “The Maritime Communication of East Asia and the Formation of Japanese Traditional Culture: An Interdisciplinary Project based on Ningbo,” research proposal of a specific area for the Ministry of Education of Japan, 2005, unpublished. Meanwhile, Benjamin Elman has also applied this area-specific perspective to discuss whether the evidential school of the Qing dynasty only existed in the “Jiangnan scholarly community.” See Benjamin Elman, From Philosophy to Philology: Intellectual and Social Aspects of Change in Late Imperial China (Cambridge: Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University, 1984).

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Introduction

studies model is especially ideal, as it constitutes a set of methods and perspectives worthy of advancing. However, sometimes the introduction of theory leads to unexpected results, and the old saying “plant melons to harvest melons, plant beans to harvest beans” does not always hold in these cases. Even more than expected, regional studies have given rise to doubts about the very existence of any cohesive, singular Chinese history, Chinese civilization, or Chinese thought. 2

Thinking from the Perspective of Asia: When “China” Fades into Asia

Where local histories within the field of regional studies have the potential to weaken the concept of a cohesive and unified “China” by disrupting the ‘large’ with the ‘small’, so to speak, then another set of regional studies works instead to contain the small within the large. These are the studies, quite popular of late, that consider “Asia” and “East Asia” as the major geographical delimiters. And these, too, weaken the sense of uniqueness of Chinese history.12 As for the current fervor for “Asia,” it bears some relation to the Asia discourse of the Meiji era, and that is a complicated period of history, on which I shall dwell in detail in Chapter 4.13 Here, I offer only a brief outline. The truth is, resentment against using “China” as a geographical delimiter in historical narrative began not in the current era but dates back all the way to the Meiji era. Following Western concepts of nation and state, and Western studies of China, Japanese sinologists began to pay special attention to the so-called “barbarians” in China: Korea, Mongolia, Manchuria, Tibet, and Xinjiang. No longer did they presume that each new dynasty of China was a cohesive entity

12

13

In the preface to the Chinese version of his book, Takeshi Hamashita mentions that in previous scholarship, scholars “have often taken nations and an international world that has consisted of these nations as the premise and framework to analyze modern history.... But between ‘nations’ and ‘the international world’, it is difficult to include the territory that could be called as the ‘area zone’.” What he intends to write about history is based precisely on the “area zone” of Asia. Hamashita Takeshi, Jindai Zhongguo de guoji qiji: Chao­gong maoyi tixi yu jindai yazhou jingjiquan 近 代 中 国 的 国 际 契 机 ——朝 贡 贸 易 体 系 与 近 代 亚 洲 经 济 圈 (The international opportunity of modern China: Tribute system and modern Asian economic zone), translated by Zhu Yingui 朱荫贵 et al. (Beijing: Zhongguo shehui kexue chubanshe, 1999), 6. See Chapter 4 of this book.

“china” As Problem And The Problem Of “china”

7

enclosing various nations.14 This attitude, once merely an academic stance, gradually became the new way to look at China. Before and after World War ii, it was a major topic of discussion in the world of Japanese historical studies. For example, in 1923, Yano Jinʼichi published his On Modern China, with its opening chapters “China: a Country without Borders,” and “China: Not a Nation.” Yano believed that China could not be considered a nation-state, since Manchuria, Mongolia and Tibet were not originally part of the sovereign territory of China. The unity of the empire could have been preserved if the Manchu Qing dynasty had never been overturned in the first place, or a nation-state could have been established if control over the border regions had been abandoned, both in terms of political sovereignty and historical narrative.15 In 1943, at a particularly crucial moment in World War ii, he wrote in a series of reports from Hiroshima University of a theory of historical exposition that would transcend China and use Asia as the basic geographical delimiter. In The Idea of Great East Asian History, published that same year, this conception was in perfect accord with the position of Japanese officials who advocated the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere.16 Of course, this is all in the past now, but due to 14

15

16

See Chapter 6 of this book. Also see Sang Bing 桑 兵 , “Siyi pianxiang yu bentu huiying”四 裔 偏 向 与 本 土 回 归 (The deviation of the four minorities and the mainland ­responses), in Guoxue yu hanxue: Jindai zhongwai xuejie jiaowang lu 国 学 与 汉 学 :近 代 中 外 学 界 交 往 录 (Chinese studies and sinology: The record of the communication between the Chinese and foreign academias in modern China) (Hangzhou: Zhejiang renminchubanshe, 1999), 1–36. Yano Jinʼichi, Gendai Shina kenkyu (On modern China)̄ (Tōkyō: Kōbundō Shobō, 1923). Also see Goi Naohiro, “Dongyang shixue yu makesi zhuyi” 东 洋 史 学 与 马 克 思 主 义 (East Asian history and Marxism), in Zhongguo gudaishi lungao 中 国 古 代 史 论 稿 (The collected essays on Chinese imperial history), translated by Jiang Zhenqing 姜 镇 庆 and Li Delong 李 德 龙 (Beijing: Beijing daxue chubanshe, 2001), 58. Yano Jinʼichi, Dai Tōa shi no kōsō (The idea of Great East Asian history) (Tōkyō: Meguro Shoten, 1944), 31 and afterwards. Also in Miyazaki Ichisada’s recollection, in 1942, the Ministry of Culture of Japan ordered some scholars to compile Daitōashi (Great east Asian history), including Suzuki Shun of Tokyo University, Yamamoto Tatsurō, Abe Takeo and ­Miyazaki Ichisada of Kyoto University, Meanwhile, Ikeuchi Hiroshi and Haneda Tōru were appointed as supervisors. The most important purpose of this history was to “establish the new history that was based on the empire ideology. Not only the Japanese citizens should read it but also the nations in the Greater East Asia Co-prosperity Sphere should read it. [By doing so] the problematic historical thoughts that were based on Western nations’ conspiracy and had been widely spread among Japanese intellectuals should be thoroughly cleaned up.” See Miyazaki Ichisada, Miyasaki Ichisada jibatsushu (Selfprefaced collection of Miyasaki Ichisada) (Tōkyō: Iwanami Shoten, 1996). The citation is on 295–296.

8

Introduction

a number of complex factors in recent years, academic circles in South Korea, Japan and China, out of wariness towards the discourse of “the West,” meaning Europe and the us, and under the influence of postcolonial studies, including Orientalism, have made “Asia” or “East Asia” a similarly implicit historical delimiter by using terms like “East Asian History,” “Thinking from Asia,” or “the Asian intellectual community.” The “history of Asia,” common in Japan since the work of Miyazaki Ichisada, has become “the new fashion.”17 To be sure, the resurgence of “Asia” among some scholars in Japan, South Korea and China means that they are trying to surpass the political borders of their own nation-states and re-construct an imagined political space. They mean to dissolve a model that puts the state at the center and to oppose Western hegemony at the same time. Historically speaking, however, just how or when Asia can become a geographical delimiter that we can mutually agree upon— possessing common historical sources, forming a cultural, knowledge, and historical community, and even maintaining relations with a common Other (be it Europe and the us, or the West)—remains a question. We need not, for a moment, consider either the western and central portions of Asia (the states and nations which believe in Islam) or the many Southeast Asian countries so different from East Asia in culture and history. Take only the East Asian countries, namely China, Korea and Japan. Who at any time ever applied such a geographical delimiter, or suggested that it had a history? Can we say conclusively whether “Asia” is a community in need of imagining and building, or a community already acknowledged? This is a subject well worth deeper deliberation, one which, at least from a historical viewpoint, raises serious doubts. It need not be said that the terms “Asia” and “East Asia” are themselves new coinages, which originated out of the world views of modern Europeans. History suggests that if there was ever any consensus on the existence of “East Asia,” then it probably only held before the 17th century. In Chapter 4, I will point out that before the mid-Ming period, Korea, Japan, Vietnam and the Ryukyu Kingdom certainly continued to acknowledge, look up to and even admire China. The culture of the Han, Jin, Tang and Song dynasties at that point still “extended outward in all the four directions,” earning the willing subservience of Japan, Ryukyu, and Annam. And for a very long time, China itself took deep satisfaction in its imagined role as the “transformer of barbarians into Chinese,” as the veritable “moon among the stars.” But, this admiration for the culture of China during the Han and the Tang dynasties began to disintegrate 17

As for the scholarly trend of discussing “Asia” since the Meiji period, see Takeuchi Yoshimi ed., Ajia Shugi (Asianism) (Tōkyō: Chikuma Shobō, 1963), especially the preface and the appendix. Also see Chapter 4 of this book.

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9

after the 17th century. This happened first in Japan, where as early as 1587, Toyotomi Hideyoshi banished the Christian missionaries and declared Japan the “spirit kingdom” (Shintō), and in 1592 went on to invade Korea, showing that it no longer feared the might of the Ming, and, in fact, had ceased to hold China in esteem. Not only did Toyotomi attempt to establish his own empire centered in Peking, but Tokagawa-era scholars filled with knowledge from China ceased to divide the world into the “civilized Chinese” and “barbarians” along geographic lines, and instead favored the mid-century Buddhist teaching that advocated a set of three great powers: India, Cathay (China) and Japan. A sense of rivalry with China gradually took hold in Japan, along with a stronger sense of self-determination. By 1614, in his “Edict of Expulsion of Padres,” Tokugawa Hidetada had dubbed Japan the “nation of spirit” and “nation of Buddha,” putting more cultural distance between Japan and China.18 When the Manchu Qing dynasty replaced the Ming dynasty, Japan put even more emphasis on the concept of the “the civilized versus the barbarians,”19 which led them to the idea that a conflict between Shintō Japan and Confucian China could be framed as a conflict between the true Chinese culture and the barbarian Qing state.20 The next to lose respect for China was Korea, which paid its respects to the “Heavenly Court” through the Ming dynasty, at least for the most part, though they may have begun to have their doubts.21 For Koreans, the advent of the barbarian Manchu Qing undermined a kind of cultural loyalty that had only been grudgingly preserved in the first place. The end result was support for the remnants of the Ming, including the Ming calendar and Ming rituals, but, at the same time, a visceral hatred for a Manchu empire that had in their eyes “barbarized China.” The common complaint, as one source says, was: When the Mongols took over China, they did not demand men shave their hair. Today, across the four seas, all serve the barbarian, the land 18

19

20

21

Watanabe Hiroshi, “China and the Japanese’s idea of ‘Japan’,” paper presented at the international conference that was hosted by Institute of Japanese History, Chinese Social Sciences Academy, September 7, 2002. See Kurozumi Makoto, “Nihon shiso to sono kenkyu—Chugoku ninshiki wo megute” (Research on Japanese thoughts: Regarding the understanding of China), in Chugoku: Shakai to bunka (China: Society and culture) 11 (1996): 9. See Katsurajima Nobuhiro, Shisōshi no jūkyūseiki: “Tasha” to shite no Tokugawa Nihon (The nineteenth century in the intellectual history: The Tokugawa Japan as the Other) (Tōkyō: Perikansha, 1999), 198. Imanishi Ryū, Chōsen koshi no kenkyū (Research on ancient Korean history) (Tōkyō: Kokushokankokai, 1970), 146.

10

Introduction

shall be lost for centuries to come, and the treasures of China are scattered and lost forever. The first kings ruled according to appointed offices and systems, but today these are playthings of warlords, to be changed at will. More of the old ways of the Emperor are lost every day, perhaps never to be seen again.22 The term “Asia” has recently been made to serve as a new geographical d­ elimiter within historical studies—and this is in order to look beyond both research methods that mistakenly accept the political space of the modern nation-state as the historical “China” and a nationalist historical notion attempting to uphold unitary statehood throughout history. This is very significant. The problem is, when Asia acquires a history, might this history not also undervalue the real difference between China, Japan and Korea even as it emphasizes and highlights the connectedness and unity of East Asia? Speaking from the perspective of Chinese historical studies, if we overemphasize a consideration that begins with Asia, will China fade away into Asia? 3

The Position of Taiwan: Concentric-circle Theory

Discussions of Taiwan historical studies nearly always run aground on the problem of the political. While my own evaluations cannot completely cast off the differences in the positions across the straits, I try as far as possible to approach the topic from an academic direction and without making political judgements. When it comes to the topic of “China,” Taiwan scholars have always been especially cautious. They have many kinds of criticism against the use of modern Chinese political sovereignty to define the historical China, and some of these criticisms are reasonable. One scholar, Leu Chuen-Sheng, for example, has made sharp criticisms of the four discourses of “China” that is current in the mainland now. He says that any effort to define a “historical China” conclusively would likely prove impossible.23 22

23

Yanxing jishi Wenjian zaji 燕 行 纪 事 .闻 见 杂 记 上 (Account of a journey to Beijing: miscellany of what was heard and seen), the first volume, in Yanxing lu xuanji 燕 行 录 选 集 (The selected collection of the accounts of the journey to Beijing), vol. 2 (Seoul: Sŏnggyun’gwan Taehakkyo, 1960), 644. Leu Chuen-Sheng 吕 春 盛 , “Guanyu dalu xuejie ‘lishi shang de Zhongguo’ gainian zhi taolun” 关 于 大 陆 学 界 “历 史 上 的 中 国 ”概 念 之 讨 论 (On the discussion of the concept of ‘China in history’ in mainland Chinese academy), Taiwan lishi xuehui tongxun, 2 (1990): 1–14.

“china” As Problem And The Problem Of “china”

11

Some of Taiwan’s present-day historians adopt approaches that clearly take on excessive political dimensions, such as avoiding a definition of “China” or a history of China that includes Taiwan, trying to transcend the modern sense of Chinese sovereignty, or taking a new approach to determining Taiwan’s position.24 Some in the field of history, though, make a careful re-examination of the scope of Chinese history working in the vein of transnational studies in the hope that Taiwan might achieve its own native sovereignty.25 Among these are a group of Taiwan scholars who have come up with a “concentric circle” theory. The most representative of these scholars is, without doubt, Tu Cheng-sheng. In one particularly comprehensive essay, he writes: When we come to the 1990s, this historical illusion (referring to the idea that Taiwan represents China) has been thoroughly discredited. A new historical understanding now puts Taiwan at the center, instead of China. Taiwan historical studies, long marginalized, now attracts greater interest from young people. The concentric circle view I advocate reverses the conventional wisdom that ‘China is the main body and Taiwan lies on the periphery’. This has struck a chord with some people.26 He feels that his method combats cultural hegemony, and so makes an effort to dispense with traditional “China” discourse and replace it with a new one that puts Taiwan at the center. Progressively larger concentric circles also serve as geographical delimiters within this historical discourse, with the first circle being local nativist histories; the second, Taiwan itself; the third, China; the fourth, Asia; and, the fifth, the entire world.27 24

25

26

27

Tu Cheng-sheng has published many works in order to establish the Taiwanese identity politically and culturally. Tu Cheng-sheng 杜 正 胜 , “Dao ‘Taiwan’ zhi lu” 到 ‘台 湾 ’之 路 (The road to ‘Taiwan’), Ziyou shibao, January 10, 1999. For example, according to Huang Hsiu-cheng, Taiwanese history was originally a branch of Chinese history. But in the past 20 years, with “the rise of the area studies,” Taiwanese history has gradually become an influential field. Huang Hsiu-cheng 黄 秀 政 , “Taiwan shi yanjiu zixu” 台 湾 史 研 究 自 序 (Preface to ‘Research on Taiwanese History), cited from Edward Wang 王 晴 佳 , Taiwan shixue wushinian 台 湾 史 学 五 十 年 (Fifty years of Taiwanese history) (Taipei: Maitian chubanshe, 2002), 159. Tu Cheng-sheng, “Xin shixue zhilu: Jianlun Taiwan wushinian lai de shixue fazhan” 新 史 学 之 路 ——兼 论 台 湾 五 十 年 来 的 史 学 发 展 (The path of new history: ­including the historiographical development of Taiwan in the past fifty years), Xin Shixue 13:3 (2002): 39. As for the most updated expression of the concentric circle theory, in Tu’s interview with the Xin xinwen, he stated that “I began to think [about this theory] not from the perspective of a historian but from the comprehensive perspective: what kind of attitude and

12

Introduction

The context of Tu’s theory, besides depending on the discourses of regional history and world history to dispel the discourse of “China” from both “large” and “small” perspectives, also depends crucially on distinguishing between the political cohesiveness and cultural identity of a state.28 Because Tu’s discourse is established on the basis of rescuing an understanding of “Taiwan” from within “China,” he emphasizes that “China” itself was a term that coalesced over the course of the late Warring States period: This ‘China’ and the ‘China’ that referred to the Huaxia people were not the same; it advances a myth that all Han have a single origin. Han culture gradually coalesced into a unitary culture, which was a response to the new concept of a unified empire, and a complete distortion of the originally diverse character of ancient societies. Chinese culture found itself forcibly reorganized according to a new political integration. The new cultural integration followed political power out into the surrounding regions of what would become “China,” shaping various native peoples. Thus sinicization is not, as was previously imagined, a civilizing process, a process of becoming ‘Huaxia’, as it were, but rather a history of political consolidation. Under the pressure of power, the aborigines could only sinicize, because “sinicization was the only way to gain a place in society, and those who preserved their native cultures were looked down upon by mainstream values.”29 Hence, according to Tu, Taiwan had been forced into rethinking itself as a part of China. To increase the collective identity of Taiwan, it would, of course, be necessary to dispense with the myth of Chinese cultural unity. This so-called unity had, after all, only become a reality under political hegemony.

28

29

knowledge that a citizen of a nation should possess to think [about history].” Xin xinwen, no. 924, November 18–24, 2004, 25. In other words, he proposed this concentric circle theory not based on historical studies but more from the educational perspective on citizens’ historical attitudes and knowledge. This idea had already been proposed by Zhang Guangzhi in his discussion of ancient China. Zhang Guangzhi 张 光 直 , “Cong Shang Zhou qingtongqi tan wenming yu guojia de qiyuan” 从 商 周 青 铜 器 谈 文 明 与 国 家 的 起 源 (On the origin of the civilization and states based on the bronze artifacts), Zhongguo qingtong shidai 中 国 青 铜 时 代 (China’s bronze age) (Beijing: Sanlian shudian, 1999), 480–483. Tu Cheng-sheng, “Zhongguo gudai shehui duoyuanxing yu yitonghua de jidang: tecong zhengzhi yu wenhua de jiaoshe lun” 中 国 古 代 社 会 多 元 性 与 一 统 化 的 激 荡 —— 特 从 政 治 与 文 化 的 交 涉 论 (The interaction between diversity and uniformity in imperial Chinese society: Especially from the communicative perspective of politics and culture), Xin shixue 11:2 (2003): 2–3, 38.

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13

They believed that this was the way to remove the disorder of Taiwan’s cultural identity and historical discourse. But, for the moment, from the viewpoint of historical discourse, clarity for Taiwan implies fragmentation for China. The formerly unproblematic discourse of China, now experiencing a centrifugal tendency, may well begin to manifest the same “disorder.” At the end of 2003, in a meeting celebrating the 75th anniversary of the Institute of History and Philology, its then director, Tu Cheng-sheng delivered another important lecture. In it, he pointed out how, earlier on the mainland, Fu Sinian and others had advocated a modern field of historical studies, one that, “differed not in character from country to country, but predicated itself only on accuracy and reliability.” Despite this, both personal considerations and the effect of the environment on Fu and his colleagues led them to exhibit an intense “academic nationalism.” This “spirit of academic nationalism makes the Insitute of History and Philology play the role of a patriot.” But, today things will be different, says Tu. In the sixth chapter “Expecting New Models” Tu pointed out that “The objective of the Institute of History and Philology must be to transcend ‘China’ as a limit on its scope of study. Allow it to come out from the sad condition of contention with others for ‘statehood’.” At this point, it becomes clear that what he argued for was a “Chinese history that transcended China,” and an “historical perspective that examined the world starting from Taiwan.”30 To look at the world from Taiwan means putting Taiwan at the center. Similarly, if historical time is tied to the dynastic cycles, the main thread of history is the list of dynasties, while the cross-threads are the emperors. If space is limited to the territory of the empire, there will often be a layer of difference between the center and the periphery. However, when these sorts of space and time scales are replaced with new perspectives and new periodization, then the result may be an entirely new domain of discourse. In 1998, Zheng Qinren, in his work Reconsidering Chinese Historical Studies, draws on the work of Japanese scholars—including the History of China by Ogata Isamu and Kishimoto Mio, The Direction of China as A Giant Nation: Nation, Society, and Economyand The Orient and The World in the Formation of China by Yabuki Susumu, as well as The Project of Rebuilding Chinese Ancient History and Its Problems and The Re-exploration of Rebuilding Chinese 30

Tu Cheng-sheng, “Jiu chuantong yu xin dianfan” 旧 传 统 与 新 典 范 (Old tradition and new paradigm), in Qingzhu zhongyang yanjiuyuan lishi yuyan yanjiusuo chengli qishiwu zhounian yanjianghui wenji 庆 祝 中 央 研 究 院 历 史 语 言 研 究 所 成 立 七 十 五 周 年 演 讲 会 文 集 (Lectures delivered on the occasion of celebrating the seventy-fifth anniversary of the founding of the Institute of History and Philology, Academic Sinica) (Taipei: Institute of History and Philology, December 22, 2003), 10.

14

Introduction

Ancient History by Li Ji—to re-open the discussion on the scope of ancient China. He thought the “China” as defined in Japanese histories of China was more appropriate, in that the spiritual thread of ancient China should probably confine itself to the borders of the Great Wall. Thus, he criticized all Chinese scholars for using modern political borders when dealing with issues in ancient Chinese history; liable as they were to claim that any location could be Chinese, their writing smacked of nationalism.31 The work Yuan li Zhongguo lishi (Putting a remote distance from Chinese history) by Liao Ruiming, on the other hand, not only comes with a shocking title, but also advances an “extremely political declaration”: that past Taiwan histories of China contained too many myths, and remained mired in four different mistaken preconceptions. The first was that that which long remains whole will separate, while things which are long separate will conjoin again. The second was that wisdom is to be found in Chinese history. The third was that Chinese history provides enough vocabulary to define modernity. The fourth was to see the world in terms of a dichotomy. Liao says that in all of these, political considerations are excessive. History is a scholarly pursuit directed at explanation, partly based on reason and partly on passions and emotions. It can be a field of learning and truth, and it can also be a binding agent for the passions of the various ethnicities.32 And yet, even as Liao proceeds to distance himself forcibly from Chinese history, does he not plunge once again into a state of having “too many myths,” only this time with Taiwan at the center? Does he not turn Taiwan completely into a “binding agent for the passions of the masses?” The most controversial example of this issue is Tu Cheng-sheng’s redrawing of the Taiwan map. He conceived of putting Taiwan at the center, and transformed the traditional method of drawing horizontal lines from east to west and vertical lines from north to south, instead turning the whole map by 90 degrees. He believed that in this way Taiwan would not appear on the “border areas” to the southeast. Rather, the Chinese coast would appear at the margins above Taiwan, which would be positioned at the center of a circle, with Ryukyu

31

32

Taiwan lishi xuehui 台 湾 历 史 学 会 (Taiwan Historical Association) ed., Renshi Zhongguoshi lunwenji 认 识 中 国 史 论 文 集 (Collected essays on understanding Chinese history) (Taipei: Daoxiang chubanshe, 2000), 10. Ibid, 25.

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15

and Japan on the margins to Taiwan’s right, and Philippines on the left. Would China, in fact, fade away in this historical and spatial discourse?33 4

The Kingdom of the Khans: The Challenge of “Chinese History” for the Mongol Yuan and the Manchu Qing

In the historical discourse of former times, in customary “China,” the most difficult dynasties to deal with were the Mongol Yuan and the Manchu Qing. After the Song dynasty, when “China consciousness” gradually clarified and established itself, history seemed to take a big turn and allowed the Mongols to establish a world empire far surpassing that of Han China.34 The Ming dynasty, on the other hand, re-established a Chinese empire for the Han. After this seeming re-affirmation of the overlap between ethnicity and nation,35 history once again allowed a people from north of the Great Wall, the Manchus, a victory, and they established a great empire that far exceeded the central Han regions. The trouble these two empires cause for the history of “China” is that one needs to transcend the Han Chinese center and collect a richer archive—one that is more diverse in position, language, and narrative, and redolent of a 33

34 35

The narrative of Chinese history in Taiwan is still a sensitive and hotly-debated topic. For example, the debate on the high school history courses that happened between 2003 and 2004 in Taiwan mainly evolved around the following questions: (1) Should post-1500 Chinese history be included in world history? (2) Among the documents that decided Taiwan’s status in the international world order, including the Cairo Declaration, the Potsdam Declaration, and the Sino-Japanese Peace Treaty, which one occupied the highest rank in the international law? and (3) In the two-year history course, should Taiwanese history be taught in the first year? Some topics that derived from these questions often test political nerves. That is, for the Taiwanese, is China “a foreign nation,” Chinese history “a foreign history”? And is Sun Yat-sen, the founding father of the Republic of China, “a foreigner?” See Hsu Cho-yun 许 倬 云 , “Wo dui shixue zhengyi de kanfa” 我 对 史 学 争 议 的 看 法 (My viewpoint on historical debate), China Times (Taipei), November 24, 2004, A15. See Chapter 1 of this book. Miyazaki Ichisada points out that people probably believe that the transformation of ethnic regime and culture contributed to the founding of the Ming dynasty. But it is not exactly so. The ethnic restoration and revolution in the early Ming was at times simply a mobilization, a slogan, or a symbol. Since for a long time the Ming court carried on the style of the Yuan dynasty, “there was extremely little consciousness of ethnic revolution against the Mongols in the politics of the founding emperor in the first place.” Miyazaki Ichisada, Miyazaki Ichisada zenshū (The complete collection of Miyazaki Ichisada) (Tōkyō: Iwanami Shoten, 1999), vol. 13, 54.

16

Introduction

greater regional space, more ethnicities, and more complex international relations. Traditional “Chinese history” becomes almost untenable, a difficulty which had already become a sore spot for academics of ‘Late Qing’. That Late Qing studies of the geography of the northwest and the history of the Mongols both flourished was a result of these circumstances, regardless of whether their authors were conscious of it. Then there was the appearance, in rapid succession of: the Yuan History, compiled during the Ming dynasty and rewritten more than once; the History of the Yuan, Newly Edited by the Late Qing scholar Wei Yuan; the Historical Records of Mengwu’er by Tu Ji; the Translated Yuan Histories, Revised with Supplements by Hong Jun; and, the New History of the Yuan by Ke Shaomin. The very plethora of titles indicates that the term “Yuan dynasty China” as historical space—meaning a history based on Han Chinese historical documents—could not reflect a dynasty that extended “North to the dark mountains, west to the flowing sands, east past the land of the Liao, and south across the steep peaks.”36 Especially worth noting is that this dynastic period describes a group that holds political hegemony over the lands of the Han, making it just one part of the Great Mongol Empire (the Yeke Mongghol Ulus). It really is just as Hsiao Chi-ching writes: The Yuan dynastic monarchs possessed characteristics of both the great Khans as well as of the emperor-kings of the central plains…Kublai and his sons and grandsons were much more than just ‘Emperors of China’. Legislation and administration have to be examined in light of the ‘khanate’, otherwise, major political problems will result. The Han ethnicity was always subjugated by this great empire, and [the slogan] “Mongolians are number one” suggested that this dynasty was completely different from the ethnic Han dynasties of the sort represented by the Han, Tang, and Song dynasties.37 For this reason, in recent years, Japanese scholars Honda Minobu and Sugiyama Masaaki have spoken of “the Mongol Age” of world history. They believe that use of this conceptual tool to rewrite history 36 37

See the Yuanshi 元 史 (The history of the Yuan dynasty) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1976), vol. 58, Geography, juan 1, 1345. Hsiao Chi-Ching 萧 启 庆 , “Yuanchao de tongyi yu tonghe: Yi handi, Jiangnan wei zhong­ xin” 元 朝 的 统 一 与 统 合 ——以 汉 地 、 江 南 为 中 心 (The unity and integration of the Yuan dynasty: With the focus on Handi and Jiangnan), in Zhongguo lishi shang de fen yu he xueshu yantaohui lunwenji 中 国 历 史 上 的 分 与 合 学 术 研 讨 会 论 文 集 (The conference volume of “The Disunity and Unity in Chinese History”) (Taipei: Lianjing chuban shiye gongsi, 1995), 192–194.

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17

can change the face of both world history and Chinese history. According to them, the academic world ought to study “the history of the Mongol period” as “world history” and not as “Chinese history.”38 Sugiyama himself has not only recently published the book The Mongol Empire and the Great Yuan Dynasty, but he has also supplied trans-China maps and written material for producing articles such as “Portrait of the world during Mongol times according to Eastern and Western maps” and “Portrait of the world during Mongol times as illustrated by Iranian and Islamic documents.” The history of the Mongols is not simply the history of the Yuan dynasty. It is not the same, for example, as the previous re-write of the New History of the Yuan, which only expanded the archive of materials. It challenges a Chinese history that puts the history of the Yuan dynasty at the center, and looks at history from a much larger global delimiter. Though this history includes China, still, China is not an unquestionable delimiter; what is more, it is not the only geographical delimiter of the historical discourse. The same goes for the Qing empire. In 1998, the Japanese-American scholar Evelyn S. Rawski, in her book The Last Emperors: A Social History of Qing Imperial Institutions, also espouses a trans-China viewpoint.39 This work is very interesting. Her main argument is that the reason the Qing dynasty could hold power and rule for over 300 years was not “Sinicization.”40 Rather, it was the way in which the Manchus served as the collective rulers over the central plains, relying not only on preserving their own unique character and customs, but also resorting to methods of control different from those of the ethnic 38

39 40

In the preface, Honda Minobu critically argues that the previous research on the history of the Mongol period was that which “standing from the perspective of Chinese history, included the specific topics like Yuan culture and institutions, the characteristics of the Yuan dynasty, how to depart from and even cut off from the Chinese traditions and how to compromise and homogenize with Chinese traditions, how to understand the Yuan dynasty between the Song and Ming dynasties, and how to consider Mongols’ relationship with Liao and Jin. Therefore, [the previous scholarship] to a great extent unconsciously demonstrated its privilege and central status based upon the Chinese culture.” Honda Minobu, Mongoru jidaishi kenkyū (The historical research on the Mongol period) (Tōkyō: Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 1991), 5. Also see Sugiyama Masaaki, Mongoru teikoku to Dai Gen Urusu (The Mongol Empire and the Yuan Dynasty) (Tōkyō: Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 2004), and especially the introduction chapter “The period of world history and the future expectation of the research.” Evelyn S Rawski, The Last Emperors: A Social History of Qing Imperial Institutions (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998). Ping-ti Ho, “The Significance of The Ch’ing Period in Chinese History,” Journal of Asian Studies 26:2 (1967): 189–195.

18

Introduction

Hans; methods which earned the Manchus the support of Mongols and other non-Han ethnic groups. From this we can see that the Manchu Qing rulers were the ‘great Khans over the central Asian feudal lords’, not traditional Chinese emperors; Confucianism, for example, was applied only as an expedient. So the Manchu Qing empire and China are not at all synonymous, for the former is an empire that transcends “China.”41 Rawski was responding to the debate from two years before. In 1996, Rawski had taken issue with the argument over Sinicization in Ho Ping-ti’s 1967 a­ rticle “The Significance of The Ch’ing Period in Chinese History,” which was the ­published version of a keynote address.42 The Chinese-born scholar Ho Ping-ti retorted sharply with “I Reconsider ‘Sinicization:’ A Reply to Rawski’s ‘Reconsideration of the Qing Dynasty’.” Professor Ho believed that for the Manchu Qing, adopting Confucianism was no more or less than Sinicization, for to adopt Confucianism meant to Sinicize. A conclusion inherent in this argument is that what the Manchu Qing had established was a dynasty of “China.”43 Rawski’s argument was obviously a response to that of Professor Ho, as well another effort at narrating Qing history as one that transcends “China.” Even on the surface of this debate, there can be no doubt that the two scholars differ in both understanding and sentiment: one is from the us (Rawski is Japanese-American) and the other from China (Ho Ping-ti was educated in China). Yet lingering beneath the surface are two different views of China and the world. Ever since the appearance of K.A. Wittfogel’s History of Chinese Society: Liao (907–1125), amidst the then-influential Western theory of the “expansionary dynasty”—which minimizes the degree to which marginal ethnicities had been “homogenized” by the Han ethnicity—there was new emphasis on the continuity of these ethnicities and the influence of their traditions. In other words, to emphasize an expansionary “trans-China” dynasty involves, first, histories that preserve dual ethnic identities. Second, it calls for a new emphasis on the counter influence of other ethnicities on the Han. Third, it is a refutation of the retroactive application of today’s Han China as representative 41

42 43

“The new Qing history,” which has recently been rising in Europe, the United States, and Japan, could not be strictly seen as the continuity of this research approach, but it indeed values the independence of Manchus or Manchu culture. Mark C. Elliot, The Manchu Way: The Eight Banners and Ethnic Identity in Late Imperial China (Stanford University Press, 2001). Pamera Kyle Crossley, Orphan Warriors: Three Manchu Generations and the End of the Qing World (Princeton University Press, 1990). Evelyn S. Rawski, “Presidential Address: Reenvisioning the Qing: The Significance of the Qing Period in Chinese History,” The Journal of Asian Studies 55: 4 (Nov.1996): 829–850. Ping-ti Ho, “In Defense of Sinicization: A Rebuttal of Evelyn Rawski’s Reenvisioning the Qing,” Journal of Asian Studies 57: 1 (1998): 123–155.

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19

of the whole of the historical past. All these are necessary because in this new view of tracing history by using the character of today’s Han China makes all history align with the goal set after the fact, constructing a grand “China” to which all roads lead. 5

Postmodern History: Rescue What History from the Nation?

Lastly, there come challenges from American and European postmodern history. One of the critiques of postmodern history focuses on the problematic position of the modern nation-state. Ever since Foucault’s concepts of “power” and “discourse” began to be widely applied in the field of history—and especially since Benedict Anderson’s work Imagined Communities appeared on the scene—there have been doubts about the modern nation-state, ­revealing a misunderstanding about just what a “state” means in historical studies. The mistake is that we are accustomed to using modern states to imagine, u ­ nderstand and narrate the histories of ancient states.44 However, states in h ­ istory are often dynamic, as with the Lop Nur, which has sometimes been large, and at other times small, with people that are at times unified and at other times ­fragmented. History can sometimes be stitched into a unity, but at other times events must remain as separate entities. Precisely for this reason, historical writing which seeks to preserve the inviolability of the modern state, and which appears at first unproblematic, often leads to some awkward moments.45 44 45

Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (London; New York: Verso, 2006). For example, if we use contemporary China’s geographical space to describe imperial China, and use the contemporary ethnic constitution to describe imperial ethnic constitution, we tend to include “alien ethnic groups” of that time in China. As such we either ­consider alien invasions as “internal conflict” or describe the Han-Chinese conquest as the “incorporation” of the local into the central regime. The highly-debated Koguryo issue is such a case in point. As for the debate on Koguryo’s history, I think that China often could not help but use contemporary China’s territory to deal with the historical jurisdiction of ancient Koguryo while South Korea always tends to use the ancient territory of Koguryo to draw the geographical boundary of contemporary Korean nation. For details of the debate, see Nan Liming 南 黎 明 , “Hanguo dui Zhongguo de wenhua kangyi” 韩 国 对 中 国 的 文 化 抗 议 (The cultural protest of South Korea against China), Qian Wenzhong 钱 文 忠 , “Gaogouli shi Zhonghan gongtong wenhua caichan” 高 句 丽 是 中 韩 共 同 文 化 遗 产 (Koguryo is the shared legacy of China and South Korea), in Yazhou Zhoukan, Hong Kong, July 25, 2004, 16–20.

20

Introduction

Perhaps, it is precisely because of the above-mentioned confusion that Duara’s theory of ‘bifurcated’ history is so significant. As I see it, Duara deconstructs a metahistory that takes the nation-state as its most salient unit, pointing out that nation-states are “certainly not all the same, but national bodies that are always changing,” possessing in the first place “a national construction that is controversial and comes by chance.” The history of the so-called nationstate is actually a matter of “false unity.” Therefore, one must rescue history from the fictive unity of the nation-state—no doubt a very trenchant, important point. But, in turn, we may also raise the point: Should historians consider the special features of Chinese history, that is, those not shared with European history? Is the unity of China, especially the Han civilization, the consistency between the Han homeland and the domains of successive dynasties, the continuity of Han traditions, and the mutual consensus towards Han political authority, all a matter of “chance” or somehow “controversial”? Was China as a nation-state only formed in modern times (‘modern times’ in Western terms)? We know that postmodern history’s thinking and argumentation with regard to the modern nation-state is in one respect the product of the disintegration and segmentation of the colonial experience, as in Asia with India, Pakistan, Bengal, Indonesia, and other countries, or among the tribes and countries of the African Great Lakes. After the break up and reconstruction of these countries, their histories were reconstructed to introduce them as new nationstates. But, China is certainly not a nation-state reconstructed in recent times. Another aspect of postmodern historical thinking and argumentation comes from the recent history of Europe. We know that in the recent history of Europe, reconstructing both nation and state has been a universal phenomenon.46 For this reason, Hobsbawn said, “The nation is a very recent newcomer in human history … it belongs exclusively to a particular, and historically recent, period.”47 And yet, the “human history” spoken of here still only refers to European history. While ancient China also experienced disruptions, its politics, culture and traditions have been more continuous, for three main reasons: first, “Sinification” was much more extensive; second, its population was largely accustomed to acknowledging “Chineseness” in the wake of the Qin and Han unifications; and third, the center and the margin had long been clear—the Han were the majority, and everyone else was the minority. China did not have an equivalent to the Western Renaissance, nor did it have any such thing as the evolution of the “nation-state.” 46 Peter Rietbergen, Europe: A Cultural History (New York: Routledge, 2006), 231–268. 47 Eric J. Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism since 1780: Programme, Myth, Reality (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 5.

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As for how the Chinese nation-state was actually formed, my view is, perhaps, a stubborn one. That is to say: historically speaking, owing to the existence of and pressure from foreign states, this nation-state, which had borders, or sovereign territory, and had an Other, or international relations, from the Song dynasty forward, had already formed. Chinese cultural identity and Chinese traditions are durable, Chinese ethics are pervasive throughout the realm, and political jurisdiction is clear. For these reasons, the spatial nature and subjectivity of the Chinese nation-state may very well have nothing to do with what in the West is called “modernity.”48 Enclosed within an ancient civilization whose continuity exceeds its fragmentation (compared to Europe), China has always had a clear and stable center, even if its margins have at times been vague and unstable. The pulse of history beats clearly and continuously through the rise and fall of the dynasties. Although Chinese culture has faced many challenges from other civilizations, it has always exhibited a stable accumulation of traditions. Han-centered national sovereignty forming gradually since the Song dynasty has led to early formation of the “nation-state” on China’s own terms. China has been a unified civilization from its very earliest stages, possessed of a sense of identity that has spread from the cities out to the countryside, from the center out to the margins, from the top levels [of society] to the lowest levels, driven by Confucian (or Neo-Confucian) systemization, customization, and routinization pushed by the combined efforts of state, the central elite, and the gentry class ever since the Tang and Song dynasties.49 So much so, that the tacit “state” is the basis of Chinese identity, historical memory, discursive space, and concepts of nation and state. Whenever they mention it, it makes them say they are the descendants of the Yan and Huang Emperors, and whenever they think of it, they feel they must follow the order of the three obeyances and the five relations. Chinese people now customarily take the customs of the Han civilization as the standard for distinguishing themselves as a people different from others. Precisely for this reason, China is a unique case. Or, perhaps, were it better to say that the recent formation of the European nation-state is what is unique? In China, from at least the Song dynasty (which is why the Song dynasty may be considered “modern history” in China), this “China” has had characteristics which Anderson describes as being those of a “traditional imperial state.” 48 49

See Chapter 1 of this book. Ge Zhaoguang 葛 兆 光 , Qishiji zhi shijiu shiji Zhongguo de zhishi, sixiang yu xinyang: Zhongguo sixiangshi 七 世 纪 至 十 九 世 纪 中 国 的 知 识 、 思 想 与 信 仰 ——中 国 思 想 史 (Knowledge, thoughts and beliefs between the 7th and 19th centuries of ­China: The history of thoughts in China), vol. 2 (Shanghai: Fudan daxue chubanshe, 2000), 356–386.

22

Introduction

But, it also had some of the characteristics similar to a “new nation-state.”50 As a country with a clear central region, Han China early on began to be conscious of the borders of its own territory. It even clearly acknowledged the obvious truth that this space functioned as a nation-state—even more so than more homogenous nation-states (like Japan and Korea). But, as a “Chinese empire” with vague borders, China carried heavy baggage, namely old notions of being the center of all under Heaven, of being a great state that extends out to the horizon. These always make China feel as if it were a universal empire. Therefore, the theories of nation-states in postmodern history are not as appropriate for a complex China as they are for other countries. 6

How Can We Understand the Historical China in Chinese History?

Nishikawa Nagao once summarized the situation by saying that modern states are nation-states and differ from ancient empires in five aspects. The first is the existence of clear territory. The territory of a nation-state draws itself spatially, politically, economically and culturally. While states in the ancient world or the Middle Ages also exhibit centrality of political authority and political institutions, they don’t have clearly-drawn borders. Second is national consciousness. The political space of a nation-state originates in the scope of political authority of a country, possessing a concept of national authority and national self-determination with which the national sovereignty of other countries cannot interfere. Third is the development of the concept of the citizen, with its accompanying consciousness of an integrated citizenry, the nationalism that takes the state as its basic spatial unit. This refers not just to a citizenry administered with a constitution and civil and citizenship laws, but also with constructed ideologies like patriotism, culture, history, and mythology. Fourth are the organs and systems of government spaces (and not just those of the emperor or monarch), which control its politics, economics, and culture. Fifth are the international relations built up by every country. The existence of international relations indicates that the sovereignty and independence of the nation-state are limited in space.51 50

51

As Anderson argues, “in the modern conception, state sovereignty is fully, flatly, and evenly operative over each square centimeter of a legally demarcated territory. But in the older imagining, where states were defined by centres, borders were porous and indistinct, and sovereignties faded imperceptibly into one another.” Anderson, Imagined Communities, 19. Nishikawa Nagao, “Seeing the ‘post-War’ period from the theory of citizen-and-nation,” in Idem., Kokumin kokkaron no shatei: Aruiwa (kokumin) to iu kaibutsu ni tsuite (The Effective limit of the theory of citizen-and-nation) (Tōkyō: Kashiwa Shobō, 1998), 256–286.

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All this comes from a Japanese scholar; still, though, Europe lingers in the background of his consideration. European definitions, on the other hand, come not from Asian materials but rather from those of European history, especially modern European history. It is far from certain whether these are of use for East Asia, especially China. I have always opposed the use of European historical methods as the uniform yardstick for a universal history. Despite the spread of modernity, and, since the 16th century, the European international order gradually replacing East Asia’s “tributary system” with its “traditionalism,” which is in some sense a gain for Europe’s “universality,” still, the expanded application of formerly regional historical patterns and experiences is always like fitting a square peg in a round hole. Unlike Europe, Chinese political borders and cultural spaces spread from the center to the margins. Bracketing the most ancient three dynasties for the moment, ever since Qin and Han times we have enjoyed, as the saying goes, “standardized cart tracks, standardized writing system, and standardized conduct.” The European notion that “nations are new phenomena characteristic of the later stages of human history” does not hold as well here, where a nation coalesced much earlier under the influence of language, ethics, customs and the political system.52 A theory that considers traditional empires and modern nations as appropriate for separating historical periods is not suited to Chinese history, and also not suited to the national consciousness and the national formation of China. Empire did not evolve into nation-state in China. While the idea of a limited state was contained within the notion of the empire without borders, this limited state also continued to imagine an empire without borders. The modern nation-state is a product of the traditional centralized empire, preserving remnants of the ideology of empire, from which we can see that the histories of both were intertwined. Many who pause to ponder the ancient Chinese claim to administer “all under Heaven” via a tributary system might conclude that China lacked a clear concept of state borders. Upon consideration of the issue, however, they will realize that the claim to encompass “all under Heaven” was more imagined than real, and not a practical method for dealing with either domestic politics or international problems.53 Here history is, of course, complicated, but can be summed up in three main points: 52 Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism since 1780, 8. Meanwhile, Hobsbawm already noticed that this was “the product of particular, and inevitably localized or regional, historical conjunctures,” so when he discusses the language issue of nations, he also qualifies with “except perhaps in China.” 5, 56. 53 It is wrong to assume that the application of the word “tianxia” 天 下 (all under the Heaven) means that there was no awareness of “China” in imperial China. The Han dynasty called itself “tianxia.” But in the inscription on the Han bronze mirrors, the word

24

Introduction

China is centered on the Han people, both as state and nation, which overlap makes for well-established borders. Beginning with the Song ­dynasty, there was already consciousness of state borders and state ­sovereignty, owing to pressure from the Liao, the Jin, the Xia, and the Yuan; the newly-established Bureau of Foreign Shipping for overseas trade; wariness about the lines dividing Self and Other in terms of knowledge and wealth; and, also the communications between governments during both war and peace.54 Second, the gradual formation of Han ethical theory, one unifying historical traditions and ideologies with cultural identity led to a nationalistic and humanist ideology upheld by the Han majority. After the Song dynasty, new perceptions and outcomes of national consciousness emerged, including: the distinction between ­“Chinese” and barbarian, the struggle for “orthodoxy,” and the sense of being inheritors of a former dynasty. Lastly, China developed international relations with the rest of East Asia during the period between the Song and Qing dynasties.55 Processes for interactions with Korea and Japan were particularly well-developed during the Ming and Qing dynasties. The relations were at first strictly hierarchical, but as the world changed, the hierarchy collapsed, and was replaced and forgotten. Many people believe that theory is like fashion: the newer, the better. Many people also always link the approval or opposition to new theories with “political correctness” as, for example, the new theory and methodology (from the West) transcending the nation-state. Now that it has come out, it has brought about changes in perspective, with people not only very eager to praise this new theory and method, but also, often unwittingly, to affirm that history which makes use of the concept of “nation” is barbaric. They feel working

54 55

“Zhongguo” 中 国 (middle kingdom) often appeared, in opposition to “Xiongnu” 匈 奴 (pastoral nomads). Japan also called itself “tianxia.” Based on the inscription of “tianxia” carved on the iron sword that was discovered in the Funayama tomb of Kumamoto, Nishijima Sadao has pointed out that this “tianxia” only referred to the territory that the yamato regime, or the Yamato state, dominated. For China, “tianxia” was the world that was centered around China. But the Yamato state also considered itself “tianxia.” See Nishijima Sadao, Nihon rekishi no kokusai kankyō (The international environment of Japan) (Tōkyō: Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 1985), 77–78. See Chapter 1 of this book. Nishijima Sadao, Chūgoku kodai kokka to Higashi Ajia sekai (The imperial states of China and the world of Asia) (Tōkyō: Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 1983).

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with all but “ancient” research method is not only “backward,” but smacks of “nationalism” and “statism.” Such new theories always come from the West, Europe and the us, so their historical basis and intellectual context tends to be often different from ours. People could just as well take a closer look to ask: can European countries be understood in this way? Can African countries be so understood? What about Asia and China? This is especially important when a state forms a history, so that nation and state have in common not only a geographical area but also ethics, ­political system and cultural customs. These ethics, system and customs all have  long historical traditions. Is it the tradition that causes history to encompass s­ ociety, economy, politics, and values? Does the long continuity of the Han Chinese civilization over time cause the historical narrative surrounding this “nation” and “state” to have a more visible internal pulse than other historical narratives of other spaces that could be selected or put together?

Conclusion: History, Culture and Politics—Three Dimensions of China Studies

Of course, we students of Chinese history must admit that whether it is the discourse of “place” or “region,” of “Asia” or “East Asia,” of “Taiwan” or “the Khanate,” or even the discourse of the “bifurcated history,” all these new terms supply new perspectives. We are made more aware of the complexities of ­history—especially when it involves China—as well as the practicality of narratives. The new perspectives remind us that mainland Chinese historians are sometimes unable to spot the peaks and valleys, living as we do among the mountains in question. To take on these challenges then, transcending these theories, and reconstructing a historical discourse that involves China as nation, means to discuss questions of theory calmly and objectively. In a field such as this that touches on both theory and on history, it is worth emphasizing three points: First, in terms of historical significance, discussions of a certain “state” frequently equate to speaking of some “dynasty.” This leads us to acknowledge that China is a dynamic entity within history, dividing and recombining with the dynasties, and with borders changing even more often, set as they are by the central governments of successive dynasties. To see this one need only study all the Chinas of the ages as recorded in Collected Maps of China in History, edited by Tan Qixiang. We learn here, first, that there is no need to use

26

Introduction

the modern political boundaries of China to consider the historical China. Goguryeo was not necessarily “a regional authority under the control of the Tang dynasty.” Turpan (in the east of Xinjiang) was also not to be found on contemporary maps of the great Tang empire. Although the Northeast and Tibet are today under the control of the prc, historically they were not sovereign Chinese territory. Likewise, it makes no sense to observe today’s China in terms of the historical China. Just because Annam was once incorporated in China, Mongolia was under the jurisdiction of the Qing dynasty, and the Ryukyus once paid tribute, that does not mean that we cannot tolerate and understand the independence of modern Vietnam, the division between Inner and Outer Mongolia, or the eventual return of the Ryukyus to Japan. In the same way, we also need not feel that we have harmed the national sentiments of the Koreans because the Northeast was once a part of Goguryeo, but is now on the Chinese map. Second, China is a relatively stable cultural community, a fact that is at the foundation of China as state. The central Han regions were where Chinese civilization attained “standardized cart tracks, standardized writing, and standardized conduct.” Even now there is clear cultural unity. The excessive emphasis on “deconstructing China (this nation-state)” is not reasonable. The particular Han-centered views and spatial dimensions of our civilization are the product of the processes of history and the workings of the political system. Routinization, systemization and customization gradually brought the values of the center to the margins, from the cities to the villages, and from the highest levels of power to the lowest. Starting from at least the Song dynasty, it had gradually become a “community,” but this community was real, not “imagined.” The usefulness of the new theory of the so-called “imagined community” seems at the very least to fall a little short. Once again, what we must be clear on is that, in terms of political significance, China is often equated with its dynastic history, if not some particular government. Can the government, by which we mean political authority, be equated with a state, and can the state be directly equated with the “fatherland?” This is an idea still awaiting clarification. Sometimes, a people’s political duty influences their cultural identity to the point of obliterating their historical identity. This is very troubling. In the past, the concept of “the Sovereign is the state,” was rigorously criticized, and then people no longer believed that the emperor could represent the state. But, people today still consciously take the government as the state, take states formed in history as fatherlands demanding unquestioned loyalty. Such confusions lead to many mistakes, animosities, and prejudices.

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27

Addendum The above introduction is an expanded version of a paper which first appeared in the 90th issue of Twenty-First Century, a journal published by the Chinese University of Hong Kong, in 2005. Although the paper is about the various interpretations of “China” among historians, in fact it also touches on questions of historical research and theory, including the issue of identities of nation-states. These issues include, first, the currently popular theory in favor of “rescuing history from the nation-state,” as well as the methodologies used in studies in local history, in Asia studies, in Taiwan concentric circle history, in corrective dynastic studies that examine the Mongol and Manchu Qing eras, and in postmodern historical studies. These theories and methods are of significance to transcend the simplistic modern nation-state and to advance research in transnational regional history and culture. But, is it appropriate to simply transcend or dissolve “China” as a narrative unit in historical research? Does it magnify to an excessive degree the differences in nations, religions or local history? Does it minimize to an excessive degree the cultural unity of China, especially Han China? The second issue involves the historical differences between the nationstate of China and the European nation-states. I have always felt that the formation of the Chinese nation-state, and especially of Han China, began just after the Song dynasty. This history does not seem easily explained on the basis or standard of the history of the formation of European nation-states. Thus, the important thing is not “to save history from the nation-state,” but rather “to understand the nation-state in history”—in other words, to understand historical China within the larger context of Chinese history. The third issue is that there are three directions—history, culture and politics—from which to understand the nation-state of “China.” From a historical perspective, “China” is a space with mobile borders; in terms of cultural identity, the margins of China may be somewhat vague, but the core cultural community is clear and stable. In terms of political system, the China that so many people speak of is oftentimes a dynasty, or a government, and the political significance of this dynasty or this government is not the same thing as a state, and even less so is it the China found in historical discourse. In 2006, Professor Lin Tongqi of the Harvard Yenching Institute published a response to my views in Issue 94 of the same journal. These were reasonable and made in good faith, on the one hand affirming that I “came to my own conclusions based on the evolutions within Chinese history itself,” “coolly managing problems to which the public demanded solutions and which could easily

28

Introduction

give rise to hot-headed political action.” He also thought that the three forms of identity—historical, cultural, and political—I had brought to the fore, “bring before us all we need to understand and deal with the topic of Chinese nationalism” (116). On the other hand, though, he instituted further discussion of my argument, saying that my understanding of ‘nation-state’ was not in accord with the common understanding; nor was it the same as that of the Japanese scholar, Nishikawa Nagao, on whom I had drawn. Under both Nishikawa’s and the general understanding of the term, elements held in common with modern Europe were emphasized: sovereignty and citizenry. This model of nation-state placed emphasis on the political aspect, whereas my argument “placed emphasis on common cultural aspect” (119). He also introduced me to Isaiah Berlin’s “more radical cultural definition of nationalism” and Benjamin Schwartz’s “more balanced political definition of nationalism.” Lin particularly raised the example of Schwartz, with whom he is familiar, saying that Schwartz would not have agreed that nationalism appeared during the Song dynasty as I have said; but, since Schwartz also did not recognize a distinct division between modern nation-states and the multiple nations of the near-recent past, he might agree that after the Song dynasty, an early or original type of nationalism might have existed. There is much room for communication and adjustment between my views and those of Mr Lin Tongqi. After his paper was published, we exchanged emails and long-distance phone calls, and Mr Lin was exceedingly reasonable and forthcoming in our conversations, which set a good stage for the discussion to come. Originally, I had meant to advance the discussion along the lines laid down by questions from Mr Lin. But, alas, busy as we both were, the expected discussion did not continue, and when I visited Harvard in 2009, time constraints did not even allow a meeting with Mr Lin. I always wanted to tell him that there are three questions to discuss. First, why do Chinese scholars always emphasize the cultural dimension to nationstate narratives of China, and not the political dimension as Western scholars do for Europe? Second, why do national histories of China retain their value and significance? We need not overemphasize the significance of ‘regional history’ in this regard. Third, for re-constructing a narrative regarding ‘China’, what adjustments and supplements must be made to theories and methods brought in from Europe and the us, making them a new paradigm for historical research in China? It is a pity that I have been busy these many years, and the questions have had to wait until I was free, so that I could put them down for Mr Lin.

chapter 1

The Appearance of “China” Consciousness during the Song Dynasty: On One of the Origins of Modern Nationalist Ideology 1

A Discourse of China, a Discourse of Orthodoxy: Definite Emergence of China Consciousness

There are two literary documents from the Northern Song dynasty of special interest to intellectual history. The first is “On Zhongguo” by Shi Jie, which remains to this date the earliest-known political essay with “Zhongguo” in the title. Not only is the author of this piece an important figure in the history of Northern Song scholarship, but the nationalistic tone of the piece is unusually fervent, even extreme, revealing a previously unheard-of concern for Zhongguo.56 The other piece is “On Orthodoxy,” by Ouyang Xiu.57 This work is certainly influential in the current moment, and not only because its author was a pivotal figure in intellectual, literary and political history; but because Ouyang Xiu’s opinions are related to his deep historical understanding of the previous dynasty and the practice of writing. The way history was understood and 56

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In this and another piece titled “Guaishuo” (On the strange), Shi Jie strictly distinguished “China” and “the four barbarians” based on both the spatial difference and cultural difference. Shi Jie 石 介 , “Zhongguo lun” 中 国 论 (On Zhongguo), in Julai Shi xiansheng wenji 徂 徕 石 先 生 文 集 (The collection of Master Shi of Culai) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1984), juan 10, 116. Also see “Guaishuo” 怪 说 (On the strange), the first, second, and third pieces, in Julai Shi xiansheng wenji, juan 5, 60–62. Ouyang Xiu 欧 阳 修 , “Zhengtong lun” 正 统 论 (On orthodoxy), 3 pieces, in Ouyang Xiu Quanji 欧 阳 修 全 集 (The complete collection of Ouyang Xiu) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2001), vol. 16, “jushi ji” 居 士 集 (Collection of the hermit), juan 16, 265–273. Also see his “Zhengtong bian” 正 统 辩 (Debating on orthodoxy), in Ouyang Xiu Quanji, vol. 60, “Jushi waiji” 居 士 外 集 (Other collections of the hermit), juan 10, 863–865. The rise of the debate on ‘orthodoxy’ in historiography has to do with the reconstruction and confirmation of history. It is also to do with the establishment of a cultural and ethnic identity for the Song dynasty which was located, in history, in the critical moment of “respecting the emperor and dispelling the barbarians.” See Rao Zongyi 饶 宗 颐 , Zhongguo shixue shang zhi zhengtong lun 中 国 史 学 上 之 正 统 论 (The discussions of the orthodoxy in Chinese historiography) (Shanghai: Shanghai yuandong chubanshe, 1996), especially 35–42.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi 10.1163/9789004279995_003

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­written about affected the way in which the intellectual class of the time organized historical lessons and experiences so as to affirm the legitimacy of the government of the time. Modern scholars see in these documents the great change of the age, one involving what it means to be Xia (Chinese), as distinct from Yi (barbarian), as well as attendant concepts of minzu (nation), guojia (state), and the tributary system of tianxia (all under Heaven). The rise of a nationalism centered on notions of selfhood dates back to the time of the great setback to the selfcentered ideology of ‘all under Heaven’. This indicates an interesting contrast between the real world and certain ideal ones: the self-awareness of a nation and a state grows even as the fortunes of that nation and state decline. To this day, such a pattern is apparent in Chinese intellectual history. Many scholars have discussed such a shift, one that occurred between the Tang and Song dynasties. Fu Lo-cheng, for example, points out that, just after the An Lushan rebellion, The Chinese were especially cautious of the barbarians. However, it is always difficult to change long-established ideas in a short period of time. Therefore, the distinction between Chinese and barbarian was not as strictly defended in the late Tang dynasty as during the Song.58 Fu sees that the distinction between Chinese and barbarians became more and more acute. In “Tang xing wenhua yu Song xing wenhua,” he cites specific factors contributing to this new situation. The first reason was the alien ethnic groups’ rebellions and invasions… The second reason was the development of the civil service examination. The trend of valuing literacy over militarism was gradually cultivated in the society. Subsequently the idea that Chinese culture was supreme emerged… Based on these two reasons, the disparaging attitude of the Chinese towards the alien ethnic groups and their cultures became extremely clear. Meanwhile, the passion for Chinese traditional culture gradually helped establish the culture that was based upon China.59 58

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Fu Lo-cheng, 傅乐成 “Tangdai yixia guannian zhi yanbian” 唐 代 夷 夏 观 念 之 演 变 (Evolution of the Barbarian/Chinese distinction during the Tang dynasty), originally printed in Dalu zazhi 25:8 (October, 1962), later reprinted in his Han Tang shi lunji 汉 唐 史 论 集 (The collected essays on the history of the Han and Tang dynasties) (Taipei: Lianjing chuban shiye gongsi, [1977] 1995), 209–226. Fu Lo-cheng, “Tangxing wenhua yu Songxing wenhua” 唐 型 文 化 与 宋 型 文 化 (Tangtype culture and Song-type culture), originally printed in Guoli bianyi guan kan 1:4

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Chen Fang-ming, speaking on the orthodoxy discourse of the Song, points out that before the Song, “there were no theories on the orthodox but only the practical struggles for the orthodoxy.”60 Thus while Song views of orthodoxy may resemble those of the earlier Tang, on the surface, there is a crucial qualitative difference. Making a similar point, Chan Hok-lam indicates four areas of context crucial to understand Ouyang Xiu’s text: “the first was the succession issue between the Song dynasty and its previous dynasty;” second was “the influence of the rise of the study of the Chun qiu (Spring and autumn annals);” third was “the problems the officials encountered when they compiled the history of the previous dynasty;” fourth was “the responses of the North Song dynasty to the frustrations of the international relations.”61 Summing these up we can see that it amounts to spelling out how a state can establish itself. Issues of whether the Song court had legitimacy as a state, how it found support in tradition and in the classics, and how it wrote its own history and that of others were all brought to the fore by the wars of aggression it faced from enemy states. If such elements did not exist or pose a threat to the very existence of the state, then such issues would not have emerged in stark relief, nor would they have been discussed so seriously. The value of these studies is not in the least doubt. However, one facet of the discussion needs further investigation: Why should we insist that an awareness of “China” as a nation-state properly begins to be seen only in the current era? Why indeed, when the concept of China dates as far back as it does, and with the ethnicity, territory and culture within the Chinese community well-defined for the traditional purpose of ‘distinguishing Chinese from b­ arbarian’ being so

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(December, 1972); later reprinted in Han Tang shi lunji, 362. Meanwhile, Fu Lo-cheng also points out that “the ethnic consciousness, Confucian thoughts, and the civil service ­examination were the three elements that consisted of the China-based culture. These elements grew extremely mature during the Song dynasty.” Ibid, 372. Chen Fang-ming 陈芳明, “Songdai zhengtonglun de xingcheng Beijing jiqi neirong: Cong shixueshi de guandian shitan Songdai shixue zhiyi” 宋 代 正 统 论 的 形 成 背 景 及 其 内 容 ——从 史 学 史 的 观 点 试 探 宋 代 史 学 之 一 (The background on the formation of the orthodox theory and its content: The first tentative analysis of the Song historical writings from the perspective of historiography, one), originally printed in Shihuo yuekan 1:8 (November 1971); later reprinted in his Songshi yanjiuji 宋 史 研 究 集 (The ­collection of the research on the history of the Song dynasty) (Taipei: Zhonghua congshu bianshen weiyuanhui, 1976), vol. 8, 29. Chan Hok-lam 陈 学 霖 , “Ouyang Xiu ‘Zhengtong lun’ xinshi” 欧 阳 修 新 释 (The new interpretation on Ouyang Xiu’s ‘On orthodoxy’), in Songshi lunji 宋 史 论 集 ­(Collected essays on the history of the Song dynasty) (Taipei: Dongda tushu gongsi, 1993), 141–145.

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universally agreed upon, and with there never having been the slightest doubt about the existence of foreign nations and foreign states, not to mention that concepts like “Chinese and barbarian,” “China” and “orthodoxy” existed long before the current era? If the renewed affirmation of China and of orthodoxy during the Northern Song is not a continuation or a re-use of historical terms, then what makes this juncture of defining nation and state so different, in terms of political and intellectual history, from previous eras? 2

The Gap between Ideals and Practical Politics: All under Heaven, the Four Barbarians, Court Tribute, and Enemy Kingdoms

The ancient Chinese distinction between ‘Chinese’ (hua) and ‘barbarian’ (yi) dates back to at least the Warring States era. It was during this era, or perhaps earlier, that elements of the Chinese experience and Chinese imagination led to the construction of the concept of “all under Heaven.” They believed that they were the center of civilization, located at the center of the world. The whole earth was like a chessboard, or else resembled the shape of the ­character hui 回 : four sides facing outward and extending without end, and a center that was the capital with a sovereign. Outside the center were the collective C ­ hinese (huaxia or zhuxia), and beyond these were the barbarians (yidi). Sometime during the Spring and Autumn period, the concept of zhongguo (‘central states’) formed in contradistinction to the ‘barbarians of the north and south’. In the ancient Chinese imagination, a more marginal geographical area meant a more untamed and wild place, with the people living there more barbaric, and at an even lower level of civilization. There is nothing strange in such thinking, as we can see from the Western axiom, “Without a background, there can be no center.” People tend to see the world from their own personal perspectives, their observation spreading outward from where they are at any given moment, a location that also becomes the reference point for north and south, east and west, fore and aft, left and right. The background is what is further away, lying behind the focus of attention. I may be the object of your observation and you may be mine, but you could also be the background of something else. And I, too, may be that background. Ancient Chinese historians having long been based in the region between the Yellow and Yangtze Rivers, they invariably took this as the center and went on to imagine ‘all under Heaven’ as a grand space centered on themselves and went on to see Chinese civilization as superior to the surrounding peoples over the long term. The Chinese people have always been stubborn on this point. One reason for the stubbornness is that, aside from Buddhism, there has never been any

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significant challenge to Chinese civilization. The ancient Chinese never questioned but that they were the center of all under Heaven; that Han civilization was at the peak of civilizations known to man and the world; and, that the surrounding races and ethnicities were barbaric and uncivilized. Any people that did not follow the way of the Han had to be rescued, and if they could not be rescued then they had to be partitioned off. The Chinese people t­ ended neither to engage in wars to unite all under Heaven nor to establish clear borders, thinking as they frequently did, that their culture would inspire awe in the neighboring kingdoms. The geographical borders between these other kingdoms and their own would forever change with the spread and retreat of civilization. During the Western Jin era, a certain Jiang Tong argued, in his “Xirong lun” (Argument for the transfer of the barbarians), for firmly separating the settlements of the Han from those of other nations, but the influence of the book was insubstantial. The term “zhongguo” was, for the ancient Chinese, more often a matter of civilization rather than political geography with well-defined borders. Surrounding states were treated as having an inferior level of civilization and so, by all rights, these ought to study, pay tribute to, and worship the Chinese people. In the ‘Illustrations of the Tributaries’, an ancient type of painting that depicted emissaries of the surrounding nations presenting their tributes to the central sovereign, the Chinese emperor is always shown as very huge in comparison to the smaller stature of the foreign diplomatic envoys. But as many scholars have shown, despite the salience of this egocentrism, the division between the center and the margins was not merely a matter of space, for the center was always clear but the borders, vague. This vision of the world mixed notions of space with notions of civilization, with civilization at times trumping space. Hence as Qian Mu says: According to traditional thinking, there is but one distinction between the four barbarians and the Chinese. This distinction is not ‘blood’, but ‘culture’. It is said that ‘when the lords practice barbaric rituals, they should be treated as barbarians, and when the barbarians advance towards Chinese culture, they should be treated as Chinese’. This is clear evidence that the Chinese and the barbarians were distinguished based on culture. To be specific, what culture means here is just ‘ways of living and forms of government.’62

62

Qian Mu 钱 穆 , Zhongguo wenhuashi daolun 中 国 文 化 史 导 论 (Introduction to Chinese culture) (Beijing: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1994), revised version, 41.

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It is worth noting that these concepts were formative to the early Chinese worldview, providing breathing room and helping to prevent shock and despair at the rise of other nations and civilizations. They assuaged their own anxieties with sayings like ‘the rites that are lost must be sought among the savages’, ‘The Way is lost’, said Confucius, ‘I’ll float on a raft out to sea’, and ‘­Confucius said he wants to live among the barbarians’.63 During these ancient times when China was still so confident of itself, many Confucian scholars distinguished Chinese from barbarian by the perceived level of civilization instead of race or region of origin. When Yang Xiong, for example, talks of ‘Zhongguo’ in the Exemplary Figures, he makes a major distinction: “[If people] don’t have [the rituals and music], they are mere birds; [if their rituals and music] are different [from those of the Chinese], they are mere animals.” The Records of the Three Kingdoms also speaks specifically about the distinction between barbarian and Chinese: “Even though they were barbarian states, they still preserve the sacrificial rites. It is quite probable that China lost the Rites and so sought them among the four barbarians.” Huangpu Shi writes: “The reason that China is China is because of the rites and morality; the reason that the barbarians are the barbarians is because of the lack of rites and morality.”64 Clearly, to the ancient Chinese, the belief that there could be no civilization comparable to the Han civilization became the basis to acknowledge that any civilization aligning itself with theirs could be considered “Chinese,” while those that did not do so would be condemned as “barbarians.” At this time, the elements of nation and borders were, relatively, not strong. This situation persisted until the Tang dynasty. A major shift occurred in the mid-Tang period, which became even more dramatic during the Song dynasty. Japanese scholar Nishijima Sadao points out, after the decline of the Tang dynasty in the ninth and tenth centuries, Despite the fact that the Song dynasty was a unified state, the Khitans occupied the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun, and the Western Xia 63

64

“Gongye Chang” 公 冶 长 and “Zihan” 子 罕 in Lunyu 论 语 (Analects of Confucius), ­collected in Shisan jing zhushu 十 三 经 注 疏 (Commentaries on the thirteen classics), (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, reprint, 1980), 2473, 2491. Wang Rongbao 汪 荣 宝 , Fayan yishu 法 言 义 疏 (Commentaries on the Fayan)(Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1996), juan 6, 122; “Wuwan Xianbei Dongyi zhuan” 乌 丸 鲜 卑 东 夷 传 (The histories of Wuwan, Xianbei, and Dongyi), in Sanguo zhi 三 国 志 (The histories of the three kingdoms), juan 30, 840–841; and Huangpu Shi 皇 甫 湜 , “Dongjin, Yuanwei zhengrun lun” 东 晋 、 元 魏 正 闰 论 (Discourse on the Legitimacy of the Eastern Jin E ­ mperors and the Illegitimacy of the Northern Wei Emperors), in Quan Tang wen 全 唐 文 ­(Complete Prose of the Tang) (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, reprint, 1990), juan 686, 3115.

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confronted the Song in Northwest. The Khitans and the Western Xia each took the title of emperor, just as the Song did. The Song also made payments each year to the Khitans and maintained a state of war against the Western Xia. At this moment, the international relations of East Asia had become very different from those of the Tang dynasty, in which only the Tang monarch had the title emperor and the neighboring states were tributaries. Seeing this state of affairs, all of East Asia began ceasing to acknowledge an international order centered on the Chinese court.65 The transition is an important one, representing as it does the shift in the concept of Chinese and barbarian, and the Chinese tributary system. It is a ­transition in terms of the history of values, from a practical plan to an imaginary order, from an actual system at a commanding height to a means of consolation existing in the imagination alone. It is a transition in politicalhistorical terms that the pride of the ‘celestial empire’ yielded to planning for practical diplomatic relations with equals. It is also a transition in intellectual-­ historical terms: the mainstream thinking among the scholar-official class regarding China, the barbarians, and ‘all under Heaven’ underwent a transformation from a universalism upholding that the sovereign’s territory extended to all covered by the skies to a nationalism characterized by self-­ imagining. A great gap emerged between the practical strategies of international politics and the world order as it was in the traditional imagination. Some of these ideas of course originated from within, as Tao Jing-shen has emphasized, Despite the fact that the world order and the tributary system which were centered around China being the main pattern to structure international relationships for traditional China, the tributary system is not sufficient to cover all international relationships in traditional Chinese history…. In traditional China, there is a strong tradition to maintain the world order that was centered around China, that is, to demand that the neighboring states should submit tributes. However, there is another tradition that could not be ignored, that is, the equal relationship that China maintained in reality with the neighboring states….66

65 66

Nishijima Sadao, Chūgoku kodai kokka to Higashi Ajia sekai (The imperial states of China and the world of Asia) (Tōkyō: Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 1983), 616. Tao Jing-shen 陶 晋 生 , Song Liao guanxi shi yanjiu 宋 辽 关 系 史 研 究 (The research on the history between Song and Liao) (Taipei: Lianjing chuban shiye gongsi, 1983), 5, 10.

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Still, these realistic stratagems were necessary political expedients. All through the Han and Tang dynasties there seemed to be no acknowledgement of equality in intellectual terms: the notions of being “the center of all under Heaven” and “celestial empire” still dominated the world views of most. But as China Among Equals, the title of a collection of essays on international relations during the Song period, edited by Morris Rossabi, implies, at the beginning of the dynasty, China had met its match. And, as indicated by R ­ ossabi’s subtitle, “The Middle Kingdom and its Neighbors, 10th–14th c­ enturies,” relations between China and its neighbors saw considerable c­ hanges during those times.67 What precisely were the changes? The Song empire would never resemble the Tang empire of the past. Gone were the Tang days when the emperor was called the ‘Heavenly Khan’ by the northern peoples. The Liao in the north and the Xia in the northwest, followed in turn by the Jurchens and eventually the Mongols, would forever be like shadows enclosing the Song. Faced with this new reality, their courage could not help but falter. The famous remark supposedly by Song Taizu—“How can I tolerate others sleeping next to my bed?”—could have been no more than a bit of self-consolation. Tao Jingshen has pointed out that after the Jingde-era agreement, the Song and the Liao used the terms “Northern and Southern Courts” to refer to each other. Though Li Dao in his Xu zizhi tongjian changbian (A Continuation of the comprehensive mirror for aid in government) says that the Jingde agreement is only “a formal letter sent by the Song emperor to the Khitan emperor,” Tao Jing-shen points out that the names were in actual use by that time. Thus, Tao says that the Song maintained a ‘diverse international system’, two important principles of which were: “Firstly, the Chinese acknowledged that China was a state and Liao was also a state. Secondly, they acknowledged the existence of state boundaries.” The former was demonstrated by frequent references in documents to the ‘lin guo’ (neighboring state) and ‘xiongdi zhi guo’ (brother state). On the latter, as Tao points out, the fact that “the Song people pay attention to the state boundaries is convincing enough to subvert the conclusion of some scholars that the ‘clear legal and power boundaries’ do not exist between traditional China and the barbarian states.”68

67 68

Morris Rossabi ed., China among Equals: The Middle Kingdom and Its Neighbors, 10th–14th Centuries (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983). Tao Jing-shen, Song Liao guanxi shi yanjiu, 31, 99, 101.

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China: The Emergence of ‘Borders’

The existence and consciousness of clear borders are particularly important features of nations and states.69 The history of the modern European nationstate is inadequate for the task of describing China, which deserves its own particularized telling of the history of the nation-state. In ancient China, where it was said “all under the Heaven is the soil of the sovereign and all who live between the seas are the subjects of the sovereign,” the differences between “Us” and “Other” were not always clear. There is an interesting line to be found in the “Xiongnu zhuan” of the Han shu which reveals the attitudes of the ancient Chinese toward the four barbarians (si yi): If they come, I will punish them and defend them; if they leave, I will prepare and keep alert. If they admire our rites and make tributes, I will accept them with proper rites. We must never stop prodding them and always place blame on the other side. This is the proper way of a wise emperor to manipulate the barbarians. Behind this seeming embrace of distant peoples is a strong sense of self-regard, a feeling that one’s own people far exceed others ethically, culturally and economically. All this was to change during the Northern Song, when suddenly there were borders to the nation and the state; ‘all under Heaven’ shrank to Zhongguo, and the four barbarians became enemies.70 Use of the term “southern and northern courts” to refer to the Song and the Liao meant that China had cultivated, for the first time, a mindset allowing for diplomatic relations based on parity. With the fantasy of an empire’s unlimited borders behind 69

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After the treaty was signed between the Song and the Liao, a frequent occurrence was the delimiting of state boundaries, or “kanjie.” This was new in Chinese history and especially deserves attention. The Japanese scholar Saeki Tomi mainly focused on the international political relations between the two states and placed the issue in the framework of the Tang-Song transition. Here, I basically discuss the ways in which these political transformations triggered the emergence of national and state consciousness in the Song dynasty. For example, Ouyang Xiu wrote such pieces as “Qiling bianchen bianming dijie” 乞 令 边 臣 辩 明 地 界 (Begging [the emperor] to order the border officials to distinguish the land boundary), “Zou beijie zheng dijie” 奏 北 界 争 地 界 (Memorial on the Liao seizure of the borderland), and “Lun Qidan qin dijie zhuang” 论 契 丹 侵 地 界 状 (On the Khitan invasion of the land). The way that the borderland should be clearly delineated in order to distinguish one’s own from that of the others indicates that awareness of land boundaries existed at that time. Ouyang Xiu quanji, juan 118, 1816, 1821, and 1822–1824.

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them, people began to learn about the existence of ‘the others’ through frontier lines, tribute amounts, trade equivalences, and envoy etiquette. Such a contrast between the values of self-aggrandizement and the reality of weakness, of using the language of the ‘Heavenly court’ during a time when equal diplomatic relations had been implemented, was a source of embarrassment to the Confucian scholar-officials who saw themselves as the proud guardians of Chinese culture. It seemed the China of Tang, and earlier ages, was no more.71 One of the most important shifts in intellectual and cultural history has been an emerging awareness of the authoritative power of knowledge. During the Tang dynasty, when people thought of China as ‘all under Heaven’, they were mostly unconcerned with the four barbarians and so kept their doors open, thinking that this was the proper bearing of the ‘mainstay of Heaven’, the ‘sea into which all rivers run’. When Japanese ministers and monks visited Tang China, they invariably departed homeward carrying great stacks of books, including not only Confucian classics and Buddhist sutras but even coarser books of the sort never seen gracing more elegant libraries, like the You xianku (Cavern of the disporting fairies), the Sunü jing (The classic of the unsullied woman), or even the Yufang mijue (Secret instructions of the jade bedchamber). They would copy these for transport home as well, and no one felt that they were exposing national secrets, nor did anyone think that national culture would be lost; but quite the opposite, that this was ‘yi xia bian yi’ (‘transformation of the barbarians by the Chinese’). There was just one exception to this: the increasing strength of the Tubo kingdom made officials of the Tang empire uneasy, and caused Yu Xiulie (692–772) to submit a palace memorial entitled “Request that Books and Documents not be Granted to Tubo.”72 But there was no follow-up to this, leaving all that was to be sent off sent off. We need only refer to the Japanese catalogue of the books imported to know how generous was the great Tang ‘gift of culture’. But, beginning with the Song dynasty, these “gifts” came with restrictions. According to still-incomplete material, starting in 1006, the Song court decreed that no books other than the Nine Classics were allowed into the state-­ controlled border markets.73 When, in 1027 another collection of writings by 71 72

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Wang Gungwu, “The Rhetoric of a Lesser Empire: Early Sung Relations with Its N ­ eighbors,” in China among Equals, 47–65. Yu Xiulie 于 休 烈 , “Qing bu ci Tufan shuji shu” 请 不 赐 吐 蕃 书 籍 疏 (Memorial on not granting books to the Tibetans), in Quantang wen (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1985), juan 365, 1644. Li Tao 李 焘 , Xu Zizhi Tongjian changbian 续 资 治 通 鉴 长 编 (A continuation of the comprehensive mirror for aid in government) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2006), juan 64, 553.

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court officials drifted beyond the state-controlled border markets and into the Liao kingdom in the north, the ban was reiterated along with a new command: The provincial army of the borders should strictly prohibit [the circulation of documents to the Liao] and they should not change the orders to bring the above-mentioned documents across the border.74 The court reissued the ban in 1040, permitted people to file complaints, and requested that the Kaifeng prefecture act with full force against offenders.75 ­Fifteen years later, in 1055, an official particularly sensitive to the position of the nation-state—Ouyang Xiu—made the most forceful demands from a court, including the stipulation that none of the writings on current events should be printed: Recently I have noticed the circulation of twenty volumes of woodblock printed materials in the capital. The one entitled Songwen (Prose of the Song) is mainly collections of contemporary commentaries on politics… [One of the pieces] records many things about the northern barbarians. The content is so detailed that it cannot be circulated. But the woodblock printers do not realize how serious this is. I am afraid that if it gradually circulates to the barbarians, it will cause great trouble to our court. ­Furthermore, the rest of the collection is not what young scholars need to learn; nor is it suitable for teachers to emulate. If we let this compilation continue, it will harm the students.76 Two years later, he issued another decree regarding Hangzhou: Those who sell books other than Jiujing shu (Commentaries on the nine classics) in the state-controlled border markets to northern travelers, or who sell books in private to huawairen (uncultured foreigners), will be sentenced for three years. Their intermediaries will be sentenced one degree lesser. They will all be exiled to the neighboring province. In severe cases, violators will be exiled one thousand li. Those who provide 74

75 76

Xu Song 徐 松 , Song huiyao jigao 宋 会 要 辑 稿 (The selection of the compilation of state regulations of the Song dynasty) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju photocopy, 2012), Entry of laws, the second section,16, juan 165, 6489. Also in Xu Zizhi Tongjian changbian, juan 105, 1000. Xu Song, Song huiyao jigao, Entry of laws, the second section,24, 6493. Ouyang Xiu quanji, juan 108, “Zouyi juan” (Memorials), juan 12, 1637.

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i­nformation to help with arrests will be rewarded. This is my decree…. It is forbidden for people to sell to the people of Goryeo collections that at all touch on border affairs….77 Then, in 1089, a Su Zhe just sent to the north made the suggestion: I suspect that there is no printed collection in our realm that does not circulate in the Liao… there are probably many memorials by officials and political essays by literati that discuss the strengths and weaknesses of the court and the army. Meanwhile, the commoners are ignorant and only pursue profit. They print insulting words and these are found ­everywhere. If we let these books circulate to the Liao, not only will confidential information be leaked, but we will also be laughed at by the ­barbarians. All this will cause a lot of trouble.78 The next year, 1090, the Ministry of Rites issued the prohibition: It is forbidden to transcribe and circulate essays that discuss the strengths and weaknesses of politics and border military affairs…. It is forbidden to print insulting commentaries.79 These were neither ad hoc interventions nor measures of occasional wariness, but represent a large-scale shift in circumstances and official attitude. The ­Koreans and Vietnamese received no less attention than the invasive Liao and Xia. Northern Song officials like Zhang Fangping and Shen Kuo were especially suspicious of tribute-bearers from Korea, who requested maps of the prefectures and counties they passed. In 1107, a request from Jiaozhi’s envoys to take back books for selling was approved, but with clear restrictions on the scope of materials to be excluded from sale. These included: banned books, astronomical charts, imperial decrees and texts pertaining to divination, military strategy, statecraft, border administration, and geographical matters.80 All material 77 78

79 80

Xu Zizhi Tongjian changbian, juan 289, 2725, and juan 294, 2762. Su Zhe 苏 辙 , “Beishi huan lun beibian shi zha zi wudao” 北 使 还 论 北 边 事 札 子 五 道 (The fifth memorial that the returned envoy from the North discusses about the northern border affairs), in Luancheng ji 栾 城 集 (The Luancheng collection) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1990), juan 42, 747. Song huiyao jigao, “Entry of laws” second section, juan 165, 6514. Zhang Fangping 张 方 平 , “Qing fangjin Gaoli sanjie renshi tiao” 请 防 禁 高 丽 三 节 人 事 条 (On preventing interference from the Gaoli), Wenyuange siku quanshu 文 渊 阁 四 库 全 书 (Wenyuan Pavilion copy of the imperial library), reprinted by Taiwan

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that touched on the topics of national security or how to effect a transformation between weakness and strength were banned for sale to “outsiders.”81 Chen Hok-lam, who has studied this transformation, points out: After the Song dynasty, the authorities often intervened and invaded the rights of the authors in the name of state confidentiality or political security. They always dealt with civil affairs by resort to criminal laws. This was a consequence of the imperial power expansion…… The tendency started from the Song dynasty. Why did an empire which valorized Confucian benevolence and governed the state by virtue essentially go against what it claimed to be (its tenets)? Historians should think about this question.82 This is fine as far as it goes, but begs another question: Why was the Song so wary about export of books and documents?83 4

Views of Nation, State and Culture: Anti-Barbarian Ideology and the Establishment of a Transmissible Orthodoxy

In 1042, Ouyang Xiu wrote his famous “On Fundamentals” advocating a plan of fundamental and comprehensive reforms, including: Equal distribution of assets, downsizing of the army, and establishment of laws to regulate these. And, also appointment of worthy officials to uphold the laws, and ensure respect for worthy officials with a reputation for alertness. Ouyang refers here to the five fields of the military, public finance, official institutions, human capital, and maintaining order. His demand for comprehensive political reform starting from ‘roots’ is, on closer examination, a sign of deep

81 82 83

­shangwu yinshuguan,vol. 1104, 282; Shen Kuo 沈 括 , Mengxi bitan 梦 溪 笔 谈 (Notes from Mengxi Studio), collated by Hu Daojing 胡道静 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1987), juan 13, 467–468. Song huiyao jigao, “Entry of barbarians” 4–41, juan 197, 7734. Chan Hok-lam, Songshi lunji, 206. This policy of the Northern Song dynasty was carried on in the Southern Song dynasty. Especially in the Qingyuan reign. Ye Dehui 叶 德 辉 has pointed out that “regulations banning reprinted books started with the Song dynasty,” Idem, Shulin qinghua 书 林 清 话 (The pure talk in the woods of books), juan 2 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1959), 36–43.

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anxiety over the increasing strength of the foreign lands.84 Speaking to his countrymen, his observations raised sharp questions which required answers, such as the current situation appears very good on the surface, but: The southern barbarians dare to kill imperial envoys; the western barbarians dare to maintain a rebellious lord; the ruler of the northern barbarians dares to call himself the emperor—and why? It is because the population is growing, the production from land is increasing, and state’s needs are getting more urgent by the day. Thus the four barbarians disobey and China is not respected. Why are there so many things under Heaven that do not match their names?85 While he might have maintained on the one hand that all was well—“Heaven united and the world peaceful”—there pervades a sense of crisis, beyond what he has spelled out in words. This anxiety was, of course, nearly universal. The existence, and growing strength, of enemies outside the state, along with the concerns and worries of the Han people, were the major factors behind the rise in the study of the Spring and Autumn Annals and the study of ‘Removing the Barbarians and Honoring the Sovereign’ (rang yi zun wang) during the Northern Song. They also prompted a new atmosphere conducive to discourse advocating reform in the decades after the Qingli reign period.86 In the ‘Siyi fulu xu’ (Preface to the appendix on the Four Barbarians) of Xin wudai shi (New history of Five Dynasties), Ouyang Xiu writes: “Since ancient times, the barbarians did not necessarily pay obeisance to China even if China possessed the Dao; nor did they necessarily avoid China even if China did not possess the Dao.” The last part of this thought was especially foreboding. The Western Xia and the Khitans made scholar-officials, who had once equated China with all under Heaven, realize for the first time the real limits of their state and get a keen sense of 84

85 86

See Chang Ying-Lin 张 荫 麟 , “Beisong de waihuan he bianfa” 北 宋 的 外 患 和 变 法 (The border disturbances and reforms of the Northern Song dynasty), Sixiang yu shidai 5 (1941), here cited Song Liao Jin Yuan shi lunji, 16. Ouyang Xiu, “benlun” 本 论 (On Fundamentals), in Ouyang Xiu Quanji, juan 60, “jushi wai ji,” juan 10, 861. Ouyang Xiu, “Lun Du Han Fan Fu,” Songwen jian, juan 46, 700; Sima Guang 司 马 光 , “Lun beibian shiyi” 论 北 边 事 宜 (On the affairs of the northern border), Songwen jian, juan 49, 746; Liu Chang 刘 敞 , “Zhirong” 治 戎 (Governing the Rong people), first and second,  ­Songwen jian, juan 96, 1346; Su Zhe, “Beidi lun” 北 狄 论 (On the northern Di people), S­ ongwen jian, juan 99, 1383.

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the mounting pressure all around. When speaking of the Western Xia, Ouyang Xiu was very indignant; the Western Xia “seeing itself as similar to the Khitans, confronted China in order to maintain the tripartite balance of power.” But, he also observed that China “did not know how to deal with the Western Xia. All the people were scared and began to panic.”87 Han Qi, who had served in the border defense forces, also felt that the Khitans were “no longer like the Xiongnu of the Han dynasty or the Turks of the Tang dynasty, who had originally claimed to be barbarians and upheld things very different from those of China.” The Song empire had begun to think of the Khitans not as barbarians, but as an enemy state: It had been more than 170 years since Khitan swayed the North to confront China. After Shi Jin ceded the Sixteen Prefectures, Khitan annexed the Chinese land and united other barbarian groups. Then it gradually became arrogant.88 But what these men found even more frightening was that some Chinese were adopting a know-nothing policy, burying their heads in the sand like ostriches. Zhang Lei, comments with considerable aggravation: What is troubling China today are the two savages of the north and the west. After the northern barbarians retreated, China completely believed them without being skeptical. Even though the sovereign and his officials did not talk about these concerns, they kept them in their hearts. It has been like this for several decades.89 Zhang’s opinion was in accord with Su Zhe’s; the latter scholar-official had commented that “The issue of the barbarians has become a disease for China.” The disease in question had advanced beyond its early stages and spread to the vital organs.90 87 88

89 90

Ouyang Xiu, “Yan xibian shiyi diyizhuang” 言 西 边 事 宜 第 一 状 (The first memorial on the affairs of the Western border), Ouyang Xiu quanji, juan 114, 1721. Han Qi 韩 琦 , “Lun shishi” 论 时 事 (On current affairs), Songwen jian, juan 44, 672; Idem, “Da zhao wen beilü dijie” 答 诏 问 北 虏 地 界 (The answer to the emperor on the northern barbarians’ border boundary), Songwen jian, juan 44, 676. Zhang Lei 张 耒 , “Song Li Suanshu fu Dingzhou xu” 送 李 端 叔 赴 定 州 序 (Preface on sending Li Duanshu off to Dingzhou), Songwen jian, juan 91, 1293. Su Zhe, “Xinlun zhong” 新 论 (On new arguments), juan 19, Luancheng ji, 351.

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The spreading of the disease to the vital organs indicates the need for d­ rastic medical procedures, but cures are difficult when it comes to chronic ailments. Shao Yong (1011–1077) had lamented in his poem: The servants bullied the master; The barbarians invaded China. Long have we known this disorder But had no way to resolve it.91 And Li Gou was even more despairing, facing both domestic worries: the official roster is not completely sorted out, the cultivation is not completely perfect. The taxes are not equally distributed, and the military defense is not completely apportioned; And threats from abroad at the same time: “The ways of the alien states disturb China, and the barbarian lords challenge the emperor of China.”92 In reality, the power of the court had shrunk, making very clear where the borders of the empire lay. The majestic confidence of the spirit of the Han and the Tang had begun feeling constricted under pressure from surrounding states. Now grasping that China was not equivalent to ‘all under Heaven’ and with the existence of other states looming large, the Zhao Song court found itself forced to think of strategies to re-establish the legitimacy of the state and defend against invasion. For this, they had to publicly uphold the legitimacy of their own culture. But, what legitimate basis, in fact, did the culture have? Did anybody remain who would defend the essence of the culture? Many scholarofficials were forced to contemplate the loss of the transmissible orthodoxy, especially after the civil strife of the mid-Tang and successive wars of the Five Dynasties. To the scholar-officials, historical memory was a constant worry, which was driving them to consider how to affirm ‘orthodoxy’, push back foreign aggression, and re-construct the ‘transmissible orthodoxy’ to defend against the encroaching cultures of the various barbarian peoples. This is the

91

92

Shao Yong 邵 雍 , “Sihuan yin” 思 患 吟 (Lamenting when thinking of the barbarians), in Yichuan jirang ji 伊 川 击 壤 集 , reduction printing version of Sibu congkan (The collection of four categories of books), printed in the Republic of China period, juan 16, 117. Li Gou 李 觏 , “Shang Fan Daizhi shu” 上 范 待 制 书 (Memorial submitted to Fan Zhongyan), in Li Gou ji 李 觏 集 (The collection of Li Gou) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1981), 294.

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context in which “Zhongguo lun” and “Zhengtong lun” were written, as well as the larger context that helped produce different schools of Confucianism during the Song dynasty—a topic that deserves more detailed examination in another work.93 Still, the result of this new awareness of borders around the state and the nation was to make the class of mostly-Han scholar-officials confront other states and outside civilizations directly. This robust confrontation had two main ­consequences. The first was that they began to put limits on exit and entry at the borders. Besides surveying and delineating borders, they sought to limit the areas where foreigners may reside and restrict the scope of destinations for the outgoing Chinese. Even during the comparatively more peaceful times of the Northern Song, they were suspicious of foreigners in China. In 1018, following a suggestion by Zhu Zhengchen, restrictions were placed on foreign merchants entering China for business. And, in 1035, following a suggestion by Zheng Dai, migrant workers were forbidden from buying property in, or bringing their wives and children into Guangzhou’s residential areas.94 Rules against allowing foreign merchants to purchase houses near yamens were intended to keep ethnic foreigners at a distance. At the time when these policies were initiated, books that explained certain types of technology and the scholar-officials with expertise in these areas were prohibited from traveling to the frontier areas—a move intended to check the export of knowledge and skills. The restrictions regarding books were applied to people, too. During the Yuanyou reign period, the government had issued orders that: The successful civil service examinees, former teachers, fortune-­tellers, dismissed officials of provincial and county levels, and weaponry ­artisans……shall not be allowed to enter Xidong and interact with the cultivated barbarians.95

93

94 95

In his “Lun Zhengtong” 论 正 统 (On orthodoxy), Liang Qichao 梁 启 超 argues that there are two reasons responsible for the emergence of the orthodoxy. The first is that the emperor and the officials favor their own country, and the second is that narrow-minded Confucian scholars misinterpret the classics and provoke servility. I am afraid that ­Liang uses the ideas of his time to understand those of the past. In the Song dynasty, at least, this was not the case. Ge Zhaoguang 葛 兆 光 , “Lixue dansheng qianye de Zhongguo” 理 学 诞 生 前 夜 的 中 国 (China before the birth of the Song Confucianism), Zhongguo shi yanjiu, 1 (2001). Song huiyao jigao, Entry of laws, the second section, juan 165, 6502, 6506. Song huiyao jigao, Entry of events in the fifth month of the fifth year of the Yuanyou reign (1090), juan 165, 6514.

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Material currently available is testimony to the rigor with which these policies were implemented during the Northern and the Southern Songs. Knowledge as well as sovereign soil had strict boundaries, just as in a modern nation-state. A second result was the scholar-officials’ hatred and deep suspicion, bred by their nationalism, of foreign customs and religions. No longer did they ­welcome new things into the state, as had been the case during the Tang ­dynasty. Instead, anything would be subject to criticism and this done out of fear and skepticism. They adopted an especially intolerant stand against foreign religions, repressing groups like the Zoroastrians and the Manicheans and implicating every heterodox religion or practically any religion that might have come from a foreign civilization. In 1091, laymen Xue Hongjian and Lin Ming were executed for their ‘harmful and nonsensical writings’. The reason given was that: Their religion comes from the aliens across the sea and has been disseminated in China for more than ten years. Recently they have become more intense, indeed, and so insubordinate that they even dare to submit memorials in the hope of expansion.96 There were many instances of complete bans on foreign religious texts and customs. In 1104, an order was issued to collect and burn all private copies of Fo shuo mojie jing (Sutra on the final apocalypse). In 1120 there were orders to destroy Buddhist dining halls, and burn all private editions of the Qisi jing (The book of exhortation to meditation), Zhengming jing (Sutra on verification), Taizi xiasheng jing (Sutra on the descent and rebirth of the prince), and Fumu jing (Sutra on the father and the mother). There were also repeated orders banning such practices as self-mutilation and suicide; and, the reason cited was that these acts “damage the bodies of the people and harm the teachings of the people. Furthermore, how could China emulate the practices of the barbarians?”97 Even cremation, a practice considered ‘civilized’ in modern times, was boycotted including by those among the gentry such as Chen Yi, Sima Guang, and Zhu Xi for being of foreign origin and not suited to the Han civilization.98 96 97

98

Song huiyao jigao, Entry of laws, the second section, juan 166, 6515. Song huiyao jigao, Entry of laws, the second section, Decree issued on the twenty-fourth day of the eleventh month of the first year of the Zhenghe reign (December 26, 1111), juan 165, 6523. As for the resistance of the officials and gentrymen to the cremation, see Liu Yongxiang 刘 永 翔 , Qingbo zazhi jiaozhu 清 波 杂 志 校 注 (The annotation of the Miscellaneous

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Clearly, the Song state was desperate to thwart any foreign influence, which may be attributed to the long-term threat from foreign nations that the Song had lived under for so long. The most common method of suppressing influences from a foreign culture was to be found in the praise and propagation of their own indigenous culture. From any of a number of perspectives—the ‘zhengtong lun’ (theory of orthodoxy) in Northern Song historiography, the ‘rangyi lun’ (advocacy of removing barbarians) of Confucianism, and the even more salient lixue (Neo-Confucian) discourses of ‘Heavenly Principle’ and ‘Transmissble Orthodoxy’—the effort was to reaffirm, renew and rebuild civilizational boundaries centered on the Han nation, and reject the invasion and absorption of foreign nations, which is to say heterodox civilizations. At one point in the dialogue, Zhu Xi points out to his student that to distinguish between Chinese and barbarian is to reinforce the Chinese tradition. He was at great pains to demonstrate that in the current age, clothing and dress still awaited a “return to the ancient ways.” He was unstinting in his criticism even of the sitting emperor, saying that “In dress, nearly everything is barbarian clothing these days.” He went so far as to say that “the emperor’s dress and boots are all styled after the barbarians.” According to history as he understood it, the pollution by barbarian ways could be traced from the Song back to the Tang, and from the Tang back to the Sui, and from the Sui back to Yuan and Wei times. Zhu Xi understood the Chinese civilization to have long been broken up by the barbarians. Foreign civilizations, in other words, had replaced the indigenous Han civilization. His main purpose, then, was to establish a transmissible orthodoxy that would distinguish clearly between Chinese and barbarian. Hence his rhetorical assertion of “How can we distinguish Chinese from barbarian when we have not restored our traditional styles of dress?”99 5

Of Han, of China: What is Han and what is Chinese?

Western theories of nation-states and historical progress have in the past been wholly accepted. But, these theories are possessed of a particular,

99

­Records of Pure Waves) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1994), juan 12, 508–510. In the annotation, the author already lists some documents from the Northern and Southern Song dynasties. Also see Liu Yizheng 柳 诒 徵 , “Huozang kao” 火 葬 考 (On cremation), S­ hixue zazhi 1.3 (1929); and Patrcia Buckley Ebrey, “Combating Heterodoxy and Vulgarity in ­Weddings and Funerals,” in Idem, Confucianism and Family Rituals in Imperial China (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), 68–101. Zhuzi leiyu 朱 子 语 类 (The categorized conversations between Master Zhuxi and his disciples) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1988), juan 91, 2328.

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­Western ­European, context. Meanwhile, separate interpretive methods exist for Chinese history, as for example, the formation of a Zhongguo yishi, or China ­consciousness, during the Song dynasty. Still, our perspective need not be ­limited by the scope of material most commonly used by historians; a few ­specific aspects of the culture of the Song Dynasty help explain the formation of a consciousness of what it meant to be “Chinese.” The first of these cultural aspects is the history of poetry. Once, there had been many poems on wars between the Chinese and non-Chinese, forming a genre known as ‘frontier fortress’ poetry. Many of the most famous works took a clear position in favor of War, with lines like those of Wang Changling: Yellow grit and a hundred battles wear through metallic armor, But we’ll bust up Loulan or never come home again. Or those of Han Hong: The Xiongnu annihilated, the troops look forward to return, Rewards with gold seals, big as dippers. Still, a larger number were not as favorably disposed towards war, as may be seen from lines such as those of Li Qi: Every year the bones of war are buried out in the wastes, And all there is to send to the Han Palace are grapes. Or those of Gao Shi: Young wives in the capitol down south are sick at heart, Troops venturing north of Ji turn back in vain. As we can see, whether or not the poem supports warfare, the political position taken here does not make a distinction between just and unjust. In the Song dynasty, the only correct political position for any scholar-official was to support war, or ‘guo shi’ (the national project), as the Song called it. The Song vigilance towards foreign nations and states helped make ‘ai guo’ (love of country, patriotism) a major theme in mainstream literature, both in regulated poems as in these lines by Lu You: Beasts flee and birds scatter, oh why do we bother? Chanyu, Chief of the Xiongnu, beheaded, blood on the precious swords

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And in song lyrics, as in these lines by Xin Qiji: Fear not that heroes will grow old south of the Yangtze Used well they may bring honor to Zhongguo. It is worth considering just how traditional lyrics, in particular that old form associated with feasting and romance, should turn again and again to themes of China’s grief for itself and indignation towards the Barbarians, as well as how did upholding China in its crusades against the barbarians become virtually the only ‘just’ position in poetry? The second aspect is the history of fiction. Researchers in this field often ­notice that while Tang and Song chuanqi (classical short fiction) are considered as a whole, they exhibit great differences, as for example, the larger production of ‘three kingdoms’ narratives during the Song dynasty. The reason for such a trend was not confined to the cities and markets of the Song—Huo Sijiu telling of “the three kingdoms” as is recorded in the Dongjing menghua lu (Dreams of splendor at the eastern capital). Since the topic of orthodoxy had been a concern of Ouyang Xiu, as well as Zhang Wangzhi, Su Shi, and Sima Guang, the question of what was orthodox and what was not concealed the deep concern of Song dynasty officials for the state. Behind the question of why it should have been the Shu Han and not the Cao Wei [who inherited the state] was the question of why the Great Song, and not the Liao or the Xia. Such concerns had been voiced before by writers like Xi Zuochi during the Eastern Jin and Huangfu Shi during the Tang, but the sheer profusion of writers on this topic during the Song, especially the Southern Song, and the near-universal consensus towards praise of the Shu and castigation of the Wei is a phenomenon worthy of note.100 Once Song readers had so forcefully affirmed the orthodoxy of the Shu Han, created overwhelmingly positive portraits of Liu Bei, Zhuge Liang, and Guan Yu, and justified the attempts for taking over the central plain, that this came to prevail as conventional wisdom, even under later foreign rule as in the Jin and Yuan dynasties; and, established a sentiment that would dominate all later novels, plays or explanatory works about the Three Kingdoms. This is a manifestation of the views concerning “China” and “orthodoxy” that had sprung up in the history of thought. Third is the history of intellectuals during the Song and Yuan transition. ­Although, in ancient times, there had been Bo Yi and Shu Qi who ‘refused to 100 For the ways in which the Three Kingdoms were represented in history, see Ge Zhaoguang, “Shenme keyi chengwei sixiangshi de ziliao” 什 么 可 以 成 为 思 想 史 的 资 料 (What can be used as the material to study intellectual history?), Kaifang shidai 4(2003): 64.

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eat the grain of Zhou’, and Tao Yuanming is said to have refused to write out the years of Liu Song’s reign and instead—out of loyalty to the Eastern Jin—­ recorded the dates according to the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches system, still the number of ‘loyalist’ factions was quite low during the transitions from the Qin to the Han, the Han to the Wei, the Sui to the Tang, and even the Tang to the Song. Loyalty was not held aloft as an ideal for common people, nor was it common among intellectuals. Nor did it feature as a part of orthodox thought.101 The appearance, therefore, during the transition from the Song to the Yuan dynasty, of groups of intellectual ‘loyalists’ with a mindset that such loyalty was ‘daotong’102 reflects the new consensus towards a ‘nation-state’. All this even though the ‘court’ and the ‘state’ had never been clearly distinguished in their minds, and ‘transmitted orthodoxy’ had always got mixed with the concept of ‘orthodoxy’. In any case, it was China, surrounded as it was by ‘foreign states’ that would outgrow its own territory to establish borders, thus becoming a ‘state’, conceptually, for the first time. It was ‘Han civilization’ under pressure from ‘foreign civilizations’ that established its own unique tradition and clear history, which from that point onward would be imagined as the ‘transmitted orthodoxy’. Why say so, that the Sanggan river lies beyond the borders, When these currents of the Huai go all the way north to the horizon! So writes Southern Song poet Yang Wanli in his famous poem “My First Time on the Huai River.” By the time of the Southern Song, China had been reduced

101 James T.C. Liu 刘 子 健 , Liangsong shi yanjiu huibian 两 宋 史 研 究 汇 编 (Collected ­Research on the two Song dynasties) (Taipei: Lianjing chuban shiye gongsi, 1987), 281. 102 Huang Xianfan 黄 现 璠 , “Nansong fuwang hou taixuesheng zhi jiecao” 南 宋 覆 亡 后 太 学 生 之 节 操 (The integrity of the palace students after the downfall of the Southern Song dynasty), in Songdai taixuesheng jiuguo yundong 宋 代 太 学 生 救 国 运 动 (The national salvation movement by the palace students in the Song dynasty), Idem (Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1936), 62–68. Yao Dali 姚 大 力 also distinguishes in detail the difference between the loyalists of the Song-Yuan transition and those of the Yuan-Ming and Ming-Qing transitions. He argues that the loyalists of the Song-Yuan transition “could admit the legitimacy of the new regime as long as they took a passive non-cooperative stance.” So they did not as strictly oppose the new regime as the latter two cohorts. But he also points out that “the moral discipline (of the loyalists) had been largely valorized and articulated since the Song dynasty.” Idem, “Zhongguo lishi shang de minzu guanxi yu guojia rentong” 中 国 历 史 上 的 民 族 关 系 与 国 家 认 同 (Ethnic relations and national identity in Chinese history), in Zhongguo xueshu 12 (2002): 187.

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from a king-sized bed to an army cot.103 In 1170, Fan Chengda recorded how the former Northern Song capital of Bianjing (Kaifeng) was now the ‘southern capital’ of the Jin state: When I look around, I see lofty pavilions. They are all buildings from the past. The temples are all in ruins. The people have already gotten used to the barbarian customs and their manners and habits are all changed into those of the barbarians. In extreme cases, people dress just like the barbarians. Around the same time, Lou Yue wrote down his thoughts at Ansu Jun (in modern day Hebei): The people’s style of dress is not like that of people from Hebei. Men often shave their heads and women often wear double-bird hairpins. The driver says: anyone who crosses through Baigou is northerner. That’s how you can tell. Head-shaving, wearing of double-bird hairpins and “all are forms of barbarian dress,” as Zhu Xi had observed. Within regions controlled by different regimes, not only costume, but culture, language and customs also began showing signs of change. The once-unified nation living under a unified dynasty took on, under the control of foreign nations, foreign customs of foreign lands. People there, perhaps, retained some historical memory, leading Lou Yue to say to his driver as they passed Yongqiu, “Only recently have we been allowed to look at the envoys from the South.” At the Zhending Prefecture office where there were three or four old women, he wrote, “a couple of old women point at the Song envoys and say, ‘These are the people of our Song dynasty. I am willing to die after seeing them just this once in my life’. Then they all wept together.” As time went by, gradually, this historical memory was lost. When the people of Xiangzhou, once subjects of the Song court, saw envoys coming, they would “point to the Song envoys and say that ‘those are the people of the ­Buddhist state of China’.”104 Even though they were envious, the underlying implication 103 Here I borrow the metaphor from Qian Zhongshu. See Qian Zhongshu 钱 钟 书 , “Qianyan” 前 言 (Preface), Songshi xuanzhu 宋 诗 选 注 (The selection and annotation of the Song poetry) (Beijing: Renmin wenxue chubanshe, 1982), 2. 104 Fan Chengda 范 成 大 , Lanpeilu 揽 辔 录 (The record of holding the bridle), Lou Yao 楼 钥 , “Beixing rilu” 北 行 日 录 (The daily record of the journey to the North), in Gongkui ji 攻 媿 集 (The collection of Gongkui), juan 111. Also see Songshi lunji, 241–284, 285–338.

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was that they are now part of another country. This reality, which was a shock to southerners who came as envoys to the north, proved more telling than traditional views. In the light of later history, people may, perhaps, not have conceived of China as a community of nations that was to come, but neither were they the self-centered people who looked down on the barbarians as they had once done. This Han China, under greater and greater pressure from the four barbarians, signaled the arrival of constricting borders and existential anxiety in China. In the views and discourses involving “China” of the time, we can see longing, hurt, worry, and anxiety. The imagined world of this longing, hurt, worry and anxiety was to become the context and stage for elitist views and classical ideology, which motivated sustained interest in asserting the orthodoxy of China (meaning, the kingdom of the Song) as well as the legitimacy of the civilization (meaning, Han culture). It was precisely these views that were to become the source of modern Chinese nationalism.

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Memories of Foreign Lands in the Classic of Mountains and Seas, Illustrations of Tributaries, and Travel Accounts: Chinese Sources of Knowledge Regarding Foreign Lands before and after Matteo Ricci 1

The Contrast between Imagination and Knowledge: The Imagination of Foreign Lands

In 1699, the missionary Louis le Comte (1655–1728) criticized 16th century Western travelers and merchants in his work Das Heutige Sina saying, “in their accounts [about China], there were plenty of hearsay and mediocre stories.”105 This comment, while perhaps not entirely unreasonable, exhibits the typical conceit of later generations towards those who came before. When Le Comte wrote these words, interactions between China and the West had increased through missionary work, trade and diplomacy, and knowledge regarding foreign regions was increasing. In the hundred or so preceding years, interactions between the worlds of the West and the East were not so common, and most of the knowledge about foreign regions was accumulated bit by bit with great difficulty. Inevitably, historical memory was clouded with the imaginary and conjecture; just as inevitably, the writings were permeated with fabrication and conjecture. If this is how people from foreign lands saw China, the way the Chinese saw foreign countries was no different. In the 15th and 16th centuries, before Matteo Ricci came to China, Chinese people were possessed of the wildest fantasy about foreign lands, especially regions not easily accessible by boat or carriage. We now know that the contents of the Chinese imagination were not entirely without basis, because the ancient Han people may well have learned about certain remote cultures earlier than we had at first thought.

105 Cited from Li Qiwen (Adolf Reichwein), Shiba shiji Zhongguo yu Ouzhou wenhua de ­jiechu 十 八 世 纪 中 国 与 欧 洲 文 化 的 接 触 (China and Europe, Intellectual and Artistic Contacts in the Eighteenth Century), translated by Zhu Jieqin 朱 杰 勤 (Beijing: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1991), 18.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi 10.1163/9789004279995_004

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To begin with, consider: not only was Tang dynasty Chang’an home to a large population of foreigners such as merchants from Persia and the Arab world, but several new kinds of archival evidence shows how an understanding of the neighbouring peoples pre-dates even the western journeys of Zhang Qian (164–114 bce). Professor I-tien Hsing has provided us with a detailed and outstanding study of this in his article.106 And, two figurines carved on oyster shells with Caucasian characteristics,107 discovered at Zhouyuan and dating from around the 8th century bce, have prompted Victor H. Mair to publish an article advancing a series of bold conjectures, such as the possible connection between the ancient pronunciation of the character wu 巫 and the Old Persian word ‘Magus’ (from which comes the word ‘Magician’).108 If such ideas are confirmed, then Chinese knowledge of foreign cultural forms must have been acquired very early indeed. There is a difference, however, between imagination of foreign peoples, which is a feature of the history of ideas, and actual knowledge of foreign peoples, which is a feature of the history of life and living. Regardless of the early knowledge thought to have been possessed by the Han people, certain features of how foreign lands were imagined within the world of ideas displayed a persistent attachment to historical memory. This historical memory prevailed as conventional wisdom till as late as the mid-Ming dynasty in the 15th and 16th centuries. The fantasy came mostly from classical literary texts, which, besides the expected written record of historical events, include: Bunian tu (Illustrations of Emperor Taizong receiving the Tibetan envoy; Zhigong tu (Illustrations of tributaries); Wanghui tu (Illustrations of meetings with kings); and, various images of foreign peoples on display in Buddhist cave paintings. There are records of life beyond the seas in travel accounts like Foguo ji (A record of Buddhistic kingdoms) and Jingxing ji (Notes on places passed through), but of even more importance are half-mythical, half-encyclopedic texts like Shanhai jing (The classic of mountains and seas), Shenyi jing (The book of divine miracles), and Mutianzi zhuan (The journey of King Mu of the Zhou Dynasty). Over time, the imaginary and the factual mingled, yielding impressions of foreign lands in 106 I-tien Hsing 邢 义 田 , “Gudai Zhongguo ji ouya wenxian, tuxiang yu kaogu ziliao zhong de ‘huren’ mianmao” 古 代 中 国 及 欧 亚 文 献 、 图 像 与 考 古 资 料 中 的 “胡 人 ”外 貌 (On the appearance of foreigners in documents, illustrations and archeological materials from ancient China and Eurasia), Taida meishu shi yanjiu jikan 9 (2000): 15–99. 107 For the image, see Wenwu 1(1986): 46–47. 108 V.H. Mair, “Old Sinitic Myag, Old Persian Magus and English ‘Magician’,” Early China 15 (1990): 27–47.

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which the false was hard to distinguish from the true, mashed as they were into one. Thus it was that before Matteo Ricci came to China, a whole set of ‘imaginary foreign countries’ collectively constituted the Chinese episteme. 2

Three Sources Linked to the Construction of Imaginary Foreign Lands: Travel Accounts, Zhigongtu, and Myths, Legends and Proverbs

Ancient China had many records of foreign lands. Even before the Tang dynasty, there were a great many travelers who had gone West. After Zhang Qian and Ban Chao, most of these travelers’ records were about seeking out Buddhist scriptures. Much of the Shijia fangzhi (A record of Buddhist places), for example, with 16 accounts of different Chinese journeys abroad, besides Zhang Jian’s, narrates how followers of Buddhism, from Cai Yin and Qin Jing of the Han dynasty to Xuanzang of the Tang, traveled in search of Buddhist scriptures.109 Still, knowledge of foreign lands and peoples was actually quite robust for the times. Merchants, ever on the look out for business opportunities far and wide, brought back news they had heard, which often caught the attention of officials, as well as the simply curious. The richness of ancient Chinese visual knowledge of foreign lands and peoples is apparent in many extant illustrations, including the Illustrations of Tributaries transmitted down from the reign of Emperor Yuandi of the Liang dynasty, the Tang dynasty Manyi zhigong tu (The portrait of a barbarian holding tribute gifts) by Zhou Fang, and the Northern Song dynasty Fanwang lifo tu (The painting of the barbarian lord paying respects to the Buddha) by Zhao Guangfu.110 By the time of the Song dynasty, pressure from the Liao, Xia and Jurchens had tapered down and then cut off 109 Daoxuan 道 宣 , Shijia fangzhi 释 迦 方 志 (Gazetteer on Shakyamuni), collated by Fan Xiangyong 范 祥 雍 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1983), 96–98. 110 In “Manyi zhigong tu” 蛮 夷 执 贡 图 (The portrait of a barbarian holding tribute gifts) that was painted by Zhou Fang 周 昉 of the Tang dynasty, a foreigner of the Western Regions pulls a goat with both hands. He has a foreign-style beard and wears a long robe with a dagger in his waist. Gugong renwu hua xuancui 故 宫 人 物 画 选 萃 (Selected figure p ­ ortraits from the National Palace Museum) (Taipei: Gugong bowuguan, 1976), 3. In “Fanwang lifo tu” 蕃 王 礼 佛 图 (The painting of the barbarian lord paying respects to the Buddha) that was painted by Zhao Guangfu 赵 光 辅 of the Northern Song dynasty, alongside the barbarian lord stand fifteen figures representing various foreign peoples. The original painting is preserved at the Cleveland Museum of Arts. See Haiwai yizhen (Huihua) 海 外 遗 珍 (绘 画 )(The treasures lost in overseas, paintings volume) (Taipei: Gugong bowuguan, 1985), 21.

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western expeditions, but the same factors helped in the slow rise of sea transport. Mercantile and diplomatic relations spurred a gradual increase in secular knowledge of foreign lands. Some of the second-hand accounts from this period touched on all aspects of life, not just religion—such texts included the Lingwai daida (Answers regarding the matters outside Lingnan) and Zhufan zhi (The records of various barbarians), both being still extant. In 1225, Zhao Rushi, then a Fujian province customs officer, remarked in a preface he wrote to the Zhufan zhi that he “had read the work in his spare time” and that subsequently he had: asked questions of the barbarian merchants. I asked them to list the names of their states and talk about folk cultures, as well as roads connecting villages, and animal breeds in the mountains and rivers. I then translated those into Chinese, deleted the inappropriate parts, and preserved the facts.111 During the Yuan dynasty, when sovereign territory extended as far as the eye could see, both land and water transport flourished, and some Chinese scholar-officials realized keenly that China was only a very small part of the world: “The entire area of the twelve provinces only comes to about ten or twenty thousand li, while the foreign area easily goes to the tens of thousands of li, many times the size of China.” Another commentary puts it in terms of the 28 constellation groups, or field allocations, into which the entire night sky, and the area beneath it, was divided, saying that China only occupies an area the size of the field allocations corresponding to the constellations of Douxiu and Niuxiu.112 From the Yuan to the Ming dynasties, there were many personal accounts by emissaries and voyagers, such as the Zhenla fengtu zhi (Collation of the rec­ ords of the customs in Cambodia) and Daoyi zhilüe (The brief account of the histories of the island barbarians), which added to the wealth of knowledge about foreign countries. Moreover, emissaries from foreign countries seemed to arrive in an endless stream to present their tributes, with the result that knowledge of foreign peoples and customs was comparatively sophisticated. 111 “Preface,” Zhao Rushi 赵 汝 适 , Zhufan zhi jiaoyi 诸 蕃 志 校 释 (The collation of the rec­ ords of various barbarians), collated by Yang Bowen 杨 博 文 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1996), 1. 112 Zhou Mi 周 密 , “Shi’er fenye” 十 二 分 野 (The twelve field allocations corresponding to Chinese constellations), in Guixin zashi 癸 辛 杂 识 (Miscellaneous records from the year Guixin) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1988), 81–82.

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In the court of Emperor Chengzu of the Ming dynasty, to cite one example, there were the tributes of: local products from Calicut in 1403; jade from Beshbalik in 1404; ‘dragon-brain’ camphor 片 脑 from Borneo in 1405; pearl parasols 珍 珠 伞 from Quilon in 1407; horses from Hormuz in 1412; lions from Herat in 1413; kirin from Bengala in 1414; shenlu 神 鹿 from Ma Lam in 1415; elephants from Brava in 1416; camels from Dhufar in 1421—in all, over a hundred items of all shapes and sizes, from regions near and far.113 Just as the catalog of the imperial library, Siku quanshi zongmu, remarks, if during the Southern Song of the Zhufan zhi “most news came from the trading ships,” then by the time of the Daoyi zhi lüe, “Reliable accounts by eyewitnesses were far superior to unsubstantiated tales.” The Ming dynasty that would succeed this was party to the great Western voyage of Zheng He, and other ‘reliable accounts by eyewitnesses’ would include the Yingya shenglan (Comprehensive overview of the world between all coasts), the Xingcha shenglan (Comprehensive overview of the navigable world), and the Xiyang fanguo zhi (Records of barbarian states of the Western Sea).114 Strangely, despite the increased measurable knowledge about foreign lands, for Chinese scholar-officials—who had long relied upon classical texts for all areas of knowledge—what they imagined about foreign countries and peoples often continued to be drawn from the classics through careful study and interpretation. The main source of information was historical texts such as the Shi ji (Historical records) and the Han shu (History of the Han Dynasty). Sections of these texts often became the basis for what later generations would imagine to be the case, presuming as they did that all texts labeled ‘history’ were ‘factual’, for such later readers indeed treated as rigorous historical writing a great number of texts from an age that did not differentiate between history and literature. Besides history, three other types of sources were available to the average reader. First among these are the travel accounts, which ought to have been verifiable artifacts of the author’s own knowledge experience, but which in actuality often incorporated memories and material acquired elsewhere; with 113 See Gong Yu 龚 予 et al. eds., Zhongguo lidai gongpin daguan 中 国 历 代 贡 品 大 观 ­(Exhibitions of tribute gifts of Chinese dynasties) (Shanghai: Shanghai shehui kexue chubanshe, 1992). 114 The records that Gong Zhen made about the religions, clothes, languages, and calendars in “Zufa’er guo” and “A dan guo” were already accurate. See Gong Zhen 巩 珍 , Xiyang fanguo zhi 西 洋 番 国 志 (The records of barbarian states of the Western Sea), collected in Xuxiu siku quanshu 续 修 四 库 全 书 (Siku quanshu continued) (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2002), juan 742, 386.

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the result that the fictive overheard often trumped the factual actually seen, especially as strong interest in all things ‘foreign’ helped turn matters of record into legends. Second was the Zhigong tu, which supplied images of foreign lands and the people inhabiting them. Such images were by no means confined to the court, but circulated in many editions among civilians, and often re-used as illustrations in xiaoshuo (early popular fiction) and leishu (encyclopedias). Such was the ancient Chinese tradition of encyclopedia-making, that although the world of mainstream knowledge, ideology and religious belief actively debunked information about things strange and novel—as reflected in the saying “Tales of the strange and unusual from near and far come from one hundred schools of scholars, the lowest nine ranks, the petty officials, and the unofficial histories”—such information was not expunged from the record, but treated as a possible path to erudition; for as was said: “The sages do not talk about the strange, but when the magistrates submit bronze for tripod casting, images of all manner of things are carved on the tripod so that people can recognize evil and the immortals whenever they encounter them in mountains and woods. Their encounters are thus recorded and carried on.”115 Leishu like bowu zhi (Treatise on curiosities) and later texts attempted to collect as many documents as possible, and in their eager, indiscriminate repositories exist sundry records—some true, some false, of foreign lands—and these would become the basis for both fact and imagination in later generations. Images touching on foreign lands were also an important source. Third was the category of ancient myths, legends and fables, from texts like Mutianzi zhuan, Zhuangzi, and the Shizhou ji (Record of the ten continents) to the Soushen ji (Records of an inquiry into the spirit realm), because the myths and legends recorded in such texts provide worlds which let the imagination unfurl. Among these, of particular importance is the Shanhai jing. As Frank Dikotter noted in The Discourse of Race in Modern China, how the Shanhai jing imagines the ‘people’ of the regions surrounding China became the major source of all interpretation and description of foreign lands and the phenomena found within, especially those parts of the text that describe human forms that exhibit inhuman characteristics.116

115 Liu Yikun 刘 一 焜 ,“Preface,” Luo Yuejiong 罗 曰 褧 , Xianbing lu 咸 宾 录 (The records of subjects all under Heaven) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2000), 10. 116 Frank Dikotter, The Discourse of Race in Modern China (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), 6.

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To Imagination Add More Imagination; To Stories Add More Story: The Kingdom of Women, the Kingdom of Dogs, and the CorpseHead Barbarians

As was already mentioned, among the records of the ancient Chinese before Matteo Ricci, there was already considerably clear and accurate data, especially in the travel narratives of emissaries sent abroad. Some examples of these include the Southern Song account Lingwai dai da (dated 1178) of Zhou Qufei, the second juan of which, entitled “Haiwai zhu fanguo,” records, “As for the countries of the southwest… far away, Daqin (Rome) was the capital of Western India and other countries; farther away, the Malabar Coast was the capital of Arabia and other countries. Still farther, the land of the Murābits was the capital of the countries located in the extreme West.” And in juan three on Rome, Zhou records that ‘the guowang’ (king) of that land is said to emerge only very rarely, preferring instead “only to chant sutras and worship the Buddha. Every seventh day, he goes through a tunnel to the temple for worship.” He continues: “The country has sacred water that can stop winds and waves. If waves rise up, the emperor puts some of the sacred water in a glass bottle and sprinkles it, stopping the waves.” In a separate section of the same juan, this time on Dashiguo (Arabia), he records that people “wrap their heads and necks with cloths of gold silk and flowered patterns. They dress in clothes made of fine cloth inscribed with incantations, or of silk of various colors. They wear shoes made of red leather. They live in five-story buildings and eat pancakes and meat pastries. The poor eat fish and vegetables.” He even records the kingdom of Ghazni, “where there are more than one hundred temples, each one of about ten li square. People go to the temples every seven days. They call that chumie (removing the scarves).”117 We might presume that these generally reliable accounts, perhaps, imply an increase in knowledge following the newly-widened field of travels. But, that is not how imagination of foreign countries actually developed in the world of ideas. Many accounts of foreign lands and foreign peoples were written and printed during the period between the beginning of the Ming dynasty and the arrival of Matteo Ricci in China. In addition to travel accounts like Yingya shenglan by Ma Xin and Xingcuo sheng pan by Fei Xin, there were others—like Xiyang fanguo zhi by Gong Zhen; Haiyu (Conversations on the seas) by Huang Zhong; Shuyu zhouzi lu (Records of collecting suggestions about the foreign regions) by Yan Congjian; and, Zhuyi kao (Verification of the various barbarians) 117 Zhou Qufei, Lingwai daida (Shanghai: Shanghai gujichubanshe, 1989), juan 2, 10a–10b; juan 3, 1b–2a, and 3b.

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by You Pu—which purported “only to transcribe the histories and geography of foreign countries,” but which nevertheless frequently resorted to copying from classical sources. Factual accounts of faraway lands and peoples thus always came with some additional material that was imagined and passed down by hearsay. For example, in the many accounts of the area west of Rome, several drew on the Zhufan zhi (though they may have marked the passage with “some say that”) to describe this region: “To the west of Daqin lies Ruoshui and Liusha, which are close to Xiwang Mu (Queen Mother of the West), as well as to where the sun sets.” The imaginative power behind such accounts can be traced back to the Shi ji, with these exact words appearing in the Houhan shu (History of the Later Han),118 with contemporary accounts often getting accumulated and condensed in course of time and appearing in many historical accounts, until ancient readers came to respect the documents out of habit, treating them as if they were factual.119 You Pu’s Zhuyi kao, a text of the late Ming dynasty, claims that in the west of Rome “There are Ruoshui and Liusha, near to where the sun sets.”120 In much the same way, Yelü Chucai’s 1228 text of Xiyou lu (The records of the journey to the West) mentions the ‘black city’ of India. Originally, this was an account of the author’s journeys, but when he added rumor and hearsay to it, imaginary elements got incorporated: In the summer, if you put a tin vessel in the desert, it will melt away immediately. If horse manure drops to the ground, it will boil. When the moon rises, it is as bright as the sun of the central plain. At night, people avoid the heat by hiding in the shadow of the moon. To the south of the country is a grand river, as wide as the Yellow River and colder than ice and snow.121 118 “Dayuan liezhuan” 大 宛 列 传 (The history of Dayuan) records the words of Zhang Qian, though they are only hearsay: “The elders of the Arsacid empire say that Ruoshui and the Queen Mother of the West are in Tiaozhi (possibly Mesopotamia), but I haven’t seen them.” Zhang Qian 张 骞 , “Dayuan liezhuan,” in Shi ji (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1992), juan 123, 3163–3164; The same account is recorded in “Xiyu zhuan” 西 域 传 (The history of Western Regions), see Han shu 汉 书 (The history of the Han dynasty) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1991), juan 96, 3888. 119 Zhao Rushi, Zhufan zhi jiaoshi, 81–82. 120 Zhuyi kao 诸 夷 考 (The verification of various barbarians) (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2002), juan 1, 445. 121 Yelü Chucai 耶 律 楚 材 , Xiyou lu 西 游 录 (The records of the journey to the West), collated by Xiang Da 向 达 , in the Collection of Xiyou lu and Yiyu zhi 异 域 志 (The records of foreign regions) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1981), vol. 1, 3.

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Nevertheless, such records were later written into the Siyi shu (Four books on the Japanese and other barbarians), adding new imaginary content to classical imaginary ideas, stacking story on story, and embellishing history with more and more hearsay. Here we may raise a few classic cases. The Nüren guo (Kingdom of Women),122 for instance, a piece of hearsay universally remembered thanks to the novel Xiyou ji (Journey to the West), actually has very early origins. In the Shanhai jing, there are two separate entries on the ‘Kingdom of Women’, in the chapters,123 “Haiwai xijing” (Classic of the Western Regions beyond the seas) and “Dahuang xijing” (Classic of the Western Regions beyond the wild). The Dongyi zhuan (The history of the eastern barbarians) of the Wei records in Sanguo zhi noted that the country was “located in the middle of the sea. There are no men, only women.” Dongyi zhuan of the Later history of the Han avers, “There is a sacred well in this country. When women peek inside, they immediately give birth.”124 This country is imaginary, a product of hearsay recorded as history in the Zhuyi zhuan section of the Liang shu (History of the Liang) and the Yimo zhuan section of the Nan shi (History of the southern dynasties),125 and featured as quaint and curious lore in texts like the Bowuzhi, Duyang zabian (Miscellany from Duyang), Taiping yulan (The Imperial readings of the Taiping Era), Cefu Yuangui (Prime tortoise of the record bureau), and the Shilin guangji (Broad record on many matters). By the time Liu Fu of the N ­ orthern 122 On the women’s kingdom, see Gustave Schlegel, “Zhongguo shishengzhong wei xiang zhuguo kaozheng” 中 国 史 乘 中 未 详 诸 国 考 证 (The verification of various countries that are not recorded by Chinese history books), in Xiyu nanhai shidi kaozheng yicong 西 域 南 海 史 地 考 证 译 丛 (Collections of translated works for the study on historical geography of the Western Region and regions surrounding the South China Sea), ed., Feng Chengjun 冯 承 钧 (Beijng: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1999), vol., 3, 297–306. This article cites both Chinese and foreign sources and its analysis is quite elaborate. But the author skips and neglects relevant matter when he cites from the Chinese sources. 123 Yuan Ke 袁 珂 , Shanhaijing jiaozhu 山 海 经 校 注 (The verification and annotation of the classic of mountains and seas) (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1980), 220, 400. 124 Sanguo zhi, juan 30, 847; “Dongyi liezhuan” 东 夷 列 传 (The categorized history of Eastern barbarians), in Hou Hanshu, juan 85, 2817. 125 Both Liangshu 梁 书 (The history of the Liang) and Nanshi南 史 (The history of the southern dynasties) cite from Huishen 慧 深 . “Nüguo is located more than one thousand li east to Fusang. Their appearance is elegant and they look light. They have body hairs and their hair is long down to the earth. They go into the water one by one in the second and third months and then become pregnant. They give birth in the sixth and seventh months.” “Zhuyi zhuan” 诸 夷 传 (The biographies of various barbarians), in Liangshu, juan 54, 808; “Yimo zhuan” xia 夷 貊 传 下 (The biographies of barbarians), Chapter 2, in Nanshi, juan 79, 1976–1977.

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Song compiled his Qingsuo gaoyi (Wise comments from the mansion), he would record the following in juan three of the first collection: To the southeast lies the Women’s Kingdom, where all the people are women. In the spring, flowers bloom. There are breast stones, birth ponds, and looking-then-getting-pregnant wells. The women all go there, swallow the stones, drink the water, and look at the wells. Subsequently, they all become pregnant and give birth to baby girls.126 Clearly, hearsay has only continued to expand with further embellishment. During the Southern Song, texts like Lingwai daida, juan three, and Zhufan zhi, juan one, take in still more the imaginary elements of the “Eastern Kingdom of Women,” described as existing in the mountains north of Luoguo, in juan 4 of the Da Tang Xiyu ji. The text also records the “Western Kingdom of Women,” described as being on an island in the seas southwest of Fulin guo. And, in the Xiyu zhuan section of the Xin Tang shu (New history of the Tang), in the opening of juan 221, “Kingdoms of Women” were supposed to have existed to both the east and the west; with those in the eastern kingdom explained as relatives of the Qiang people, “located east of Tufan, Dangxiang, and Maozhou, part of Sanboke on the west, and occupying Tian on the north.”127 Still another record is found in the Zhufan zhi of Zhao Rushi, who says of the kingdom of women that “A wise man stole a boat at night and fled for his life. He then brought back word of this place.” Unverifiable accounts made their way into factual geographical records owing to the tales of such ‘travelers’, who ­appended eyewitness accounts to orthodox histories. Zhou Zhizhong of the Yuan dynasty would reproduce the material yet again in his own Yiyu zhi (­Records of foreign

126 Liu Fu 刘 斧 , Qingsuo gaoyi 青 琐 高 议 (The wise comments from the mansion) (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1983), juan 3, 31–32. 127 Ji Xianlin 季 羡 林 et al., Datang xiyuji jiaozhu 大 唐 西 域 记 校 注 (The collation of The Great Tang Records on the Western Regions) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1985), 408, 943. Xin Tangshu 新 唐 书 (The new book of Tang) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1975), juan 221, 6218–6219. According to Zhao Rushi, there is one Women’s Kingdom in the southeast, “in which women’s hair grow when they encounter the southern wind, and women give birth to girls when they are out naked feeling the wind.” There is another Women’s Kingdom in the Western sea, distinct from the one above, where “a girl serves as emperor and married women, as officials. The men are soldiers. Women are valuable and have male servants. Men cannot have female servants. The surnames of the infants follow those of the mothers.” This account is largely different from the accounts contained in Datang xiyuji and Xin Tangshu. See Zhao Rushi, Zhufan zhi jiaoshi 130–131.

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regions).128 All of these aided the transformation of stories based on hearsay into history. Stories about ‘non-humans’ and ‘wild men’ often originated from imaginations at home rather than explorations abroad. The ancient Chinese, convinced of their status as ‘civilized’, were quick to affirm the ‘barbarism’ of the surrounding peoples. Whenever such peoples were included in this historical tradition, they were invariably portrayed as living in foreign places in ways imagined by the native Chinese, whose sensibilities were prone to appending strange and incredible tales to these unfamiliar spaces. The legend of a people that ate small children in a place called Fulangjiguo (Portugal), for example, is found in juan 9, “Fulangji” of the Shuyu zhouzi lu, which for unknown reasons presumes that Fulangji is the same place as Java, which is also in turn taken to be a place where human flesh was eaten, and where the flesh of children was a delicacy—there is even a detailed description of how they cooked children: They boiled the water in a huge pot, then put little children into iron cages, and place them on the pot, where they steam them until they begin to sweat. After the children dry out, they take them out and rub their skins off with an iron brush. At this point, the children are still alive. They then kill the children and cut their stomachs open. Then they take out the intestines and steam them to eat.129 Records related to the “Kingdom of Dogs” form a case of Chinese imagining foreign peoples to be non-human. Both the Liangshu and the Nanshi record how, in 507 ce, a certain Vietnamese traveler crossed the ocean and encountered an island where, “The women were like Chinese, but I could not understand their language. The men had human bodies and dog heads and they barked.” This was located “to the north of the Jurchen, at the place where the Yang fell and the Yin rose. It absorbed the qi of both heaven and earth, making it a mixed and impure place,” which explained why the men looked like dogs, and lacking the ability of speech could only make barking sounds. Merchants were said to have landed on this island during the Liao dynasty. The Ming text Yiyu zhouzi 128 Zhou Zhizhong 周 致 中 , Yiyu zhi 异 域 志 (The records of foreign regions), collated by Lu Junling 陆 峻 岭 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1981), volume 2, 54. 129 Yan Congjian 严 从 简 , Shuyu zhouzi lu 殊 域 周 谘 录 (The records of collecting suggestions about the foreign regions), in Xuxiu siku quanshu, volume 735, juan 9, 711. Yan later also recorded stories that the Portuguese often sneaked around at Dongguan to buy children.

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lu, on the other hand, records that “just to the west of China is the Dog Kingdom of Kunlun. People there have drooping ears and hollow chests.”130 The Sancai tuhui (Collected illustrations of the three realms) depicts illustrations of the dog people and claims that the place lies “two years and two months journey from the capital.” It also reproduces content from the Yiyu zhi with the embellishment that women there speak Chinese, whereas earlier accounts claimed their speech was incomprehensible. Moreover, these women were credited with a deep understanding of the greater good, and so they helped the Chinese man use meat to bait the dogs and flee back to China. Thus does hearsay make its leap into fiction—fiction obsessed with defending Chinese civilization and masculinity, fiction laced with a derisive and scornful view of foreign people.131 Another case is that of the shitouman, or corpse-head barbarians. The “bintonglong” (Panduranga) entry of Daoyi zhilüe records that women shitouman are born of parents and not different from other women, but they are unique in that their eyes lack pupils. When people encounter them, their heads fly to eat human excrement. If a corpse head’s empty neck is subsequently covered with paper or cloth, the returning heads can not reattach, and they die. When people inhabiting their country defecate, they have to clean themselves with water. Otherwise the corpse heads will eat their excrement and follow the smell to wherever it is you are sleeping. If people do not clean themselves, they will die after the corpseheads eat up their intestines and take away their energies.132

130 Yan Congjian, Shuyu zhouzi lu, the inscription that was written in the Jiashu year of the Wanli reign (1574), in preface, 469–470. 131 “Zhuyi zhuan,” Liangshu, juan 54, 809; “Yimo zhuan,” the second section, Nanshi, juan 79, 1977. Wang Qi 王 圻 comp. Sancai tuhui 三 才 图 会 (Collected illustrations of the three realms) (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, photocopy, 1988), 829. This anecdote circulated until the late Qing. When Yu Yue 俞 樾 talked about “the dog-headed persons,” he cited from Chen Ding’s 陈 鼎 Dianqian jiyou 滇 黔 纪 游 (Travelogue of Yunnan and Guizhou) that “The Dog-headed Kingdom was located on the upper reaches of the Gold Sand River and it took more than 120 days to get there” and that “people there dressed like the Chinese but their mouths, ears, eyebrows, and eyes were all those of dogs.” Idem, Chaxiang shi xuchao 茶 香 室 丛 钞 (Collection of the Tea Fragrance Studio, Continued) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1995), volume 2, 838. 132 Wang Dayuan  汪 大 渊 , collated by Su Jiqing  苏 继 庼 , Daoyi zhilue jiaoyi  岛 夷 志 略 校 释 (Collation of the Brief Account of the Histories of the Island Barbarians) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1981), 63–64.

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Annotators to this volume speculate that reproduction of such text is based on curiosity lore—such as the Soushen ji and the Youyang zazu (Miscellaneous morsels from Youyang), as well as the stories of flying heads in older historical records like the “Nanping liaozhuan” chapter of the Xin Tang shu.133 But, because they appeared under the guise of factual history, and owing to the ­Chinese scholar’s custom of taking anything written down as factual, such texts came to be regarded as factual, too. From the Yuan to the Ming, the custom repeated itself as each new text in the shared historical tradition was copied from the previous one. In much the same way, Gong Zhen, Ma Huan, and Fei Xin, who had traveled to other countries and written the accounts Xiyang fanguo zhi, Yingya shenglan, and Xingcha shenglan, recorded tales of the corpse-head barbarians of the Champa kingdom.134 And, when the Ming dynasty author Huang Zhong draws on these accounts for describing the corpse heads in the second juan of his Haiyu, he seeks to verify the description with testimony of his colleagues, village elders, and salt merchants, as well as the text from the Shuanghuai ji: There is nothing the universe does not have. The overseas world is known for many kinds of immortals and strange things. Therefore I say: on the surface of what we see and hear there are things of which the sages do not speak.135 Similarly bizarre is the story of Zhou Daguan, who was sent by royal command to the Chenla kingdom in 1295 and specially recorded a local legend about how the king spent his nights under a golden stupa where he sleeps with a nine-headed serpent spirit. Even his wife does not dare to enter the room. He comes out on the second watch and then joins his 133 In “Nanman nanping liao zhuan” 南 蛮 南 平 僚 传 (Biographies of southern barbarians and Nanping barbarians), the compiler recorded a story of the “flying head.” In it, “when the head of the flying-head barbarian is about to fly, a mark appears in a circle around his neck. His wife and children together watch over him. At night he looks sick and his head suddenly flies away. When the dawn comes, the head returns.” This story seems different from the “Shitou man” story. See “Nanman nanping liao zhuan,” in Xin Tangshu, juan 222, Chapter 2, 6326. 134 Gong Zhen 巩 珍 , Xiyang fanguo zhi, in Xuxiu siku quanshu, volume 742, 375; Ma Huan, Yingya shenglan, in Xuxiu siku quanshu, volume 742, 392; Fei Xin, Xingcha shenglan, in Xuxiu siku quanshu, volume 742, 410. 135 Huang Zhong 黄 衷 , Haiyu 海 语 (Conversations on the sea) in Siku quanshu (Taibei: Taiwan shangwu yinshuguan, 1983), volume 594, the second book, 134.

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wife and concubines for the rest of the night. If one night he should fail to reappear, it means the barbarian king’s death is imminent; and if he does not go to the serpent spirit even for one night, then disaster will come upon him. Zhou also supposedly observed that in the area: There are many double-shaped persons. They walk in groups of ten or so in the markets, often exhibiting the intention of soliciting us Chinese. When they return, they receive big rewards. It is ugly and evil.136 These stories seem to be more hearsay. In addition to the Chinese court holding so-called barbarians in low esteem, the context for such hearsay includes the practice of certain readers of classical texts copying the content into new books. As a result, by the time of the Ming dynasty, people were still retelling these strange stories: Yan Conjian, for example, in juan 8 of Shuyu zhouzi lu, on the Chenla kingdom, repeats the matter mentioned above, drawing also on material from the Wuxue bian (Collection of self-learning) and the Song shi, explaining to his readers that “history verifies the truth of this.”137 4

The Pre-Matteo Ricci Imaginary Foreign Country: Historical Memory from Classical Knowledge

A line from Tao Yuanming is familiar to most readers: “I skim over the Zhouwang zhuan and browse over the Shanhaitu.”138 “Zhouwang zhuan” here refers to the Mutianzi zhuan, and “Shanhaitu” refers to the Shanhaijing and its associated illustrations. Many ancient Chinese scholar-officials must have similarly read and gained from these ‘inspiring’ texts the sort of knowledge that transcends the classics and more practical sources.

136 Zhou Daguan 周 达 观 , collated by Xia Nai 夏 鼐 , Zhenla fengtu ji jiaozhu 真 腊 风 土 记 校 注 (The collation of the records of the customs in Cambodia) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1981), 64, 102. 137 Yan Congjian, Shuyu zhouzi lu, juan 8, 676. 138 Tao Yuanming 陶 渊 明 , “Du Shanhaijing shisanshou” 读 山 海 经 十 三 首 (Thirteen poems on the Classic of Mountains and Seas), in Tao Yuanming ji jiaojian 陶 渊 明 集 校 笺 (The collation of the Collection of Tao Yuanming) compiled., Gong Bin 龚 斌 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1996), juan 4, 335.

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In addition to the Mutianzi zhuan, with its imaginary accounts of Mount Kunlun in the far west, and the all-encompassing Shanhaijing, other sources in this vein would include the didactic writings on the nine continents by Zou Yan, who was known for his efforts to tan Tian, or “discourse upon Heaven.” We may also include Daoist scriptures like Xuanzhong ji (Record of the myserious center) and Shizhou ji, which describe the sandao shizhou, or “three islands and ten continents.” There are also many Buddhist scriptures that imagine the sida buzhou, or “four great continents.” Confucian scholars have a long tradition of deep interest in curious and novel knowledge and lore, as suggested by the saying yi wu bu zhi ze yi wei chi, or ‘It’s a shame to leave even one thing unknown’. This tradition motivates such scholars to transcend the boundaries of Confucian knowledge, an activity more often than not defended as reasonable by quoting Tao Yuanming’s lines above. As Xu Youren, who was devoted to the study of faraway lands, put it in the preface to his Annan zhilue: The learning of a scholar should encompass the entire universe. He should know about all under Heaven. But he is always either obstructed by communication or by distance, so he may not thoroughly investigate what is seen and heard. How can we learn about places beyond the most remote, amidst the great unknown? Tao Yuanming read the Zhouwang zhuan and Shanhai tu to comfort himself. The style with which he surpasses the world of vulgarity is evident.139 Ancient Chinese maps of ‘all under Heaven’ often bear the title Kun di, a term referring to ‘all regions reachable by boat or carriage’. Places reachable by boat or carriage were limited in ancient times, which inevitably led people to extrapolate, hypothesize, and imagine. Their sources of knowledge were often what we might today call ‘strange and fantastic mutterings’,140 because longestablished Confucian classics and orthodox histories could not satisfy the curiosity that had arisen for new lands and new civilizations. From early on, people had already begun making use of “unorthodox” and “non-mainstream” 139 Li Ze 黎 则 , Annan zhilue 安 南 志 略 (The brief history of Vietnam) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1995), collated by Shang Wuqing 武 尚 清 , preface, 5. 140 In Tang daheshang dongzheng zhuan 唐 大 和 上 东 征 传 校 注 (The biography of Jianzhen’s journey to the East), the author records that when Jianzhen was on his journey to the East, he crossed Shehai (the sea of snakes), Feiyu hai (the sea of flying fishes), and Feiniao hai (the sea of flying birds). There were sijinyu (four golden fishes) and sibaiyu (four white fishes). Ōmi no Mifune, Tang daheshang dongzheng zhuan, collated by Wang Xiangrong 汪 向 荣 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1979).

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k­ nowledge, such as leishu categorical books including the Beitang shuchao (Excerpts of books in the Northern Hall), Yiwen leiju (Encyclopedia of arts and letters), Chuxue ji (Collection of elementary learnings), and the Taiping yulan, all of which were common during the Tang and Song dynasties. Places that touched on matters unusual and mysterious, and having to do with foreign lands and peoples would always excerpt the Shanhai jing, Xuanzhong ji, and the Shizhou ji.141 Even in later ages with more up-to-date information about foreign lands, this custom remained largely unchanged. In 1350, Zhang Zhu had criticized people who “always copy from old books without themselves going and seeing with their own eyes,” and yet he resorted to words by Zou Yan to support new knowledge of “all under Heaven”: The nine continents are encircled by the great Ying Sea. China is called Chixian shenzhou (the Divine Continent of the Red District). There are nine other continents outside China, all encircled by the Bei Sea. Neither people nor animals can communicate across the continents. One continent is located in the very center, according to Zou Yan. People always say that his statements are ridiculous and exaggerated, but since at that time the outside world had not reached China, how could people verify his words?142 As late as the Ming dynasty, Huang Zhong would note the existence of “fish people” in Haiyu, quoting the Shanhai jing as evidence: “The Gushe Kingdom is located in the Gushe area of the sea, and to the southwest of this region are the Lingyu people.” Huang Shengzeng, a near-contemporary of Huang Zhong’s, writes of massive pearls weighing many ounces, as had been recorded in the Xingcha shenglan, in his own text Xiyang chaogong dianlu (Records of the tributes paid by the Western countries). He also connected this to the record in 141 For example, in Beitang shuchao 北 堂 书 钞 (Excerpts of books in the Northern Hall), the author records “Xian jiguang maoqiu” (offering the coat of Jiguang feathers), “huwang lingjiao” (The barbarian king’s magic glue), “Daqin chu jinhuan” (golden rings from Rome),. In Yiwen leiju 艺 文 类 聚 (Encyclopedia of arts and letters), the author records “Da rouzhi niu ming Riji” (an ox named Riji in Da rouzhi), “Zhou Muwang shi yeguangbei” (The luminous cup of King Mu of the Zhou dynasty), “nanfang you yanshan” (the flame mountain over the south), “chequ chu Tianzhu” (The big clam from India), “Manao chu rouzhi” (carnelian from Rouzhi). In Chuxue ji 初 学 记 (Collection of elementary learnings), the author records “feng ru lu” (tuning flute), “Yuezhi zhi yang” (the goat of Yuezhi). In Taiping yulan, the author records “Yanshan” (the flame mountain), “Yanzhou” (the flame continent), and “Jingjing xiang” (Spirit-alerting incense). 142 Wang Dayuan, Daoyi zhilue jiaoshi, 1.

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the Liexian zhuan (Collected biography of immortals). A different section from the second volume, “Liushan guo di shisi,” (The fourteenth record: Maldive) records information about Ruoshui, to which it appends notes on older references in “various classics like Shanhai jing and in Li Daoyuan’s work.” That passage laments, “Even if our perspective could be longer and wider, Heaven and earth are so vast that we will never get to fathom them fully.”143 It takes long to separate the ancient imaginary from factual knowledge. Zhou Zhizhong of the Yuan dynasty made no clear distinction between legend and fact in his work Yiyu zhi, mixing as he did the imaginings of ancient classical texts with eyewitness observations by those who had traveled to the places in question, with the result that many of the countries he discusses come directly from the Shanhai jing: ‘Dog Kingdom’, ‘Woman Kingdom’, ‘the Kingdom of the Torso-less’, ‘the Kingdom of People with Strange Arms’, ‘the Kingdom of People with Eyes in the Back’, ‘the Kingdom of the People with a Tunnel through their Chests’, ‘the Kingdom of the Feathered People’, ‘the Kingdom of the Little People’, ‘the Kingdom of Crossed Necks’, and so on. Wang Dayuan’s Daoyi zhilue attends to the sources of such knowledge with a special section at the end of the book devoted to “yiwen leiju,” featuring bits of hearsay excerpted from the texts Bowu zhi, Qiongshen miyuan (Secret garden of the concealed immortal), Shenyi lu (Records of divine marvels), Youyang zazu, Shenyi ji (Notes on divine marvels), Nanchu xinwen (New stories of Nanchu), Yutang xianhua (Pleasant talks of the Jade Hall). Anecdotes include: the flying cars of the Kingdom of People with Strange Arms, the short nights of Calicut, and the mountain tree flowers of Arabia. There are also pieces on how the people of Jiaopu Kingdom have tails, how the women of the Kingdom of Women give birth when they gaze on wells, how in Chabisha Kingdom the setting sun goes with a sound like thunder. Thanks to evidentiary scholarship by Shen Zengzhi and Fujita Toyohachi, we now know that the sources of such tales are mostly leishu including the Taiping Guangji and the Shilin Guangji.144 Wang Dayuan’s categorization of all these as “curious tales” may be an indication that he knew such knowledge to be hearsay. In fact, people’s knowledge of the world had already begun becoming much richer during the Ming dynasty, before Matteo Ricci came to China. An article by Tang Kaijian describes how Cai Ruxian, once an important administrator in Guangzhou had described Portuguese people accurately in his text ­Dongyi 143 Huang Shengzeng 黄 省 曾 , Xiyang chaogong dianlu jiaozhu 西 洋 朝 贡 典 录 校 注 (The ­collation of Records of the Tributes paid by the Western Countries), collated by Xie Fang 谢 方 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2000), 47, 79. 144 Wang Dayuan, Daoyi zhilue jiaoshi, 379–380.

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tushuo (Illustrated account of the eastern barbarians), which shows that the Ming did have some knowledge and impressions of the Western world.145 Even so, ancient texts like the Shanhai jing and the Shizhou ji continued to have a role in people’s imagination of ‘foreign lands’. We may mention in passing that the popular book, Orientalism by Edward Said deeply interrogates the historical context of Sinology and Islamic Studies, asking trenchantly: how is the knowledge obtained, what are the underlying assumptions and bases for knowledge, and how have discourse and knowledge helped in the creation of the historical truth of the “Orient”? “As both geographical and cultural entities—to say nothing of historical entities,” says Said, “Such locales, regions, geographical sectors as ‘Orient’ and ‘Occident’ are man-made.”146 The so-called “Orient” is often no more than an imaginary construct intended to complement the “Occident.” Looking back now at a past of China mired in its own reveries of all under Heaven, with knowledge of foreign lands stitched together from half-true vignettes and anecdotes, we can see that in ancient China, too, there existed a similar imaginary construct, such that it becomes significant to see ancient Chinese descriptions of ‘foreign lands’ not as a working body of people’s practical knowledge of the world, but rather a way of imagining China, with its court tribute system and associated concepts of “all under Heaven” and “the four barbarians.” The book that best illustrates the most widespread ideas of the times regarding the yiyu (‘foreign regions’) is the Sancai tuhui, especially the several chapters illustrating foreign lands. This work was assembled by Wang Qi and his son, Wang Siyi in the years just prior to Matteo Ricci’s arrival in China. Generally speaking, leishu are summaries of the conventional wisdom held by the people of the times, and this illustrated leishu is a particularly vivid depiction of what people were imagining.147 Widely circulated in its time, the book profiles all the known foreign cultures and kingdoms one by one, beginning with the Gaoli and of the Jurchens. The whole gives the appearance of being factual knowledge, but the list of real countries including Gaoli, Siam, and the Chenla Kingdom, is often falsified with legendary places like the Women’s Kingdom and the Dog Kingdom. To juan 30 with its entries on the Ryukyu kingdom, Japan, and western countries, we also see strange tales out of the Shanhai jing 145 Tang Kaijian 汤 开 建 , “Zhongguo xiancun zuizao de Ouzhou ren xingxiang ziliao: Dongyi tuxiang” 中 国 现 存 最 早 的 欧 洲 人 形 象 资 料 ——东 夷 图 像 (The earliest extant sources of the image of Europeans: The portrait of eastern barbarians), Gugong bowuyuan yuankan, 1 (2001). 146 Edward W. Said, Orientalism (New York: Vintage Books, 1979), 5. 147 Wang Qi, Sancai tuhui, preface, 2–3.

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about Junzi guo (Kingdom of gentlemen, p. 836); Housun guo (Monkey Kingdom p. 848); Shiren guo (Kingdom of Diren, p. 848); Yipi guo (Kingdom of the One-armed, p. 851); and, Yimu guo (Kingdom of the One-eyed, p. 852). The final juan, number 40, records even more such absurd kingdoms, including kingdoms of: the three-headed, the three-bodied, the very tall, the feathered, the short, the big-eared, the torso-less, the long-haired, those with tails, those with very flexible limbs, and those with strange arms. Also represented were states like Rome, distant and alien to the Chinese, who had to only rely on their imagination to picture a country so far away.148 Even when it comes to countries for which we have eyewitness accounts, these accounts frequently rely not on observation, but received legends and tales, thus filling the pages with fantastic imaginations, as in one entry on the Kingdom of Siam, which states: “The men cut off their penises at a young age and then embed eight treasures in that part of their body to contain wealth. Otherwise, families will not let them marry their daughters.” According to the entry for “Xiongnu,” there are five branches of Xiongnu, one of which is described as having “heads covered by yellow hair; they are the children of a mountain spirit and a cow.” Members of a second branch are “birthed by monkeys and boars.”149 As mentioned above, leishu record practical knowledge. For many ancient Chinese, whatever did not come from classical sources came from these veritable watering holes for knowledge. But, during the period immediately before Ricci’s arrival, while people did have reliable knowledge about foreign lands, in epistemological terms, and in the terms of the ordinary world of thought, they were also enshrouded by their own imaginations. As with other early cultures, the ancient Chinese imagination of foreign lands begins with their own classical tradition, and the history and experiences passed down through the generations. P. Connerton says of this: Our experience of the present very largely depends upon our knowledge of the past. We experience our present world in a context which is causally connected with past events and objects, and hence with reference to 148 For example, kingdoms like “chuanxiong guo” (chest penetrating kingdom), “jiaozhi guo” (leg crossing kingdom), “sanshou guo” (three-headed kingdom), “sanshen guo” (threebodied kingdom), “changbi guo” (long arm kingdom), and “junzi guo” (kingdom of gentlemen). All these kingdoms probably came from the Shanhai jing. But the origin of all these could be from Yiyu tuzhi (The illustrated histories of foreign regions) that was based on Yiyu zhi that was compiled by Zhou Zhizhong of the Yuan dynasty. See Lu Junling  陆 峻 岭 , “Preface” Yiyu zhi, 3. 149 Wang Qi, Sancai tuhui, 818–820. Also see accounts of other states in the following pages.

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events and objects which we are not experiencing when we are experiencing the present.150 In a time before universally agreed-upon standards or the concept of truth, value was measured by experiences passed down through history, which stirred creations of the imagination, reminding us that humans use their own sense of scale to describe the scale of other matters, and understand distance in terms of their own transportation capability. In an age that still could not count on boats and carriages to bring personal knowledge of the world, people had to rely on the tales of mythology like the Shanhai jing, illustrated books like the Zhigong tu, or travel accounts to build worlds; and, illusion and hearsay crept into the credible knowledge, which was always immersed in the stubbornness, prejudice, and imagination of the observer.151 5

Post-Matteo Ricci: From “All under Heaven” to “Ten Thousand States”

The Sancai tuhui was not the only book applying imagination to construct the past during the Wanli reign period, around the time that Ricci came to China. Chapter 18 of the Gushan bichen (The brush dust on mountains and valleys), compiled by Yu Shenxing (1545–1608) also quoted ancient sayings to the effect that China was the center of the world. He described the siyi (four outlying regions of the world in each of the four directions) in this way: The peoples of the east are called the Yi. They value life. All creatures reproduce upon arriving at and touching the ground. ‘Yi’ means ‘to arrive at’. There are nine subdivisions of this people. The peoples of the south are called the Man. The lords and the officials bathe in the same river. This is extremely inappropriate. ‘Man’ means inappropriate. There are eight subdivisions of this people. The peoples of the west are called the Rong. They conquer and kill and have not achieved the Way. ‘Rong’ means 150 Paul Connerton, How Society Remembers? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1898), 2. 151 Frank Dikotter has pointed out that the reason the ancient Chinese people considered all Europeans with too light skin and Africans with too dark skin as abnormal is that they considered their own skin color as the “normal.” Meanwhile, this issue was also related to the ancient ontology that was centered round the color of “huang” (yellow). Frank ­Dikotter, The Discourse of Race in Modern China.

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brutality. There are six subdivisions of them. The peoples of the north are called the Di. Brothers-in-law cohabit with sisters-in-law among them. ‘Di’ means ‘remoteness’ and their behavior is unorthodox. There are five further sub-races of these. This is the origin of the names of the four barbarians as recorded in the Fengsu tong (Comprehensive records of customs).152 But a fundamental transformation would occur just after Ricci arrived and maps of the world began to be drawn. Upon seeing the world map, Li Zhizao admits his astonishment: The earth is vast, but still only a grain of millet in the universe. And my country is just one tiny point of the millet. And how much slighter are those who believe that they are in the center as they actually compete against each other over the most trivial things. He would go on to criticize those who would restrict their own powers of perception: Do they know that beyond what they see, hear and think about, are different places and customs? The products out of the beautiful land are indeed true. This proves the limitation of people’s knowledge and the unlimited boundary of Creator.153 The significance of Matteo Ricci’s new maps of the world need not be further elaborated here.154 After Ricci, missionaries persisted in disseminating such new maps of the world, as with Ludovic Bugli, Gabrielde Magalhes, or Ferdinand Verbiest’s Essential Records about the West and or Jules Aleni’s Record of the Places Outside the Jurisdiction of the Office of Geography, with the result that the knowledge gradually began to reach more and more scholar-officials. With 152 Yu Shenxing 于 慎 行 , Gushan bichen 榖 山 笔 麈 (The brush dust on mountains and valleys) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1984), juan 18, 217–218. 153 Ai Rulue (Giulio Aleni), “preface,” Zhifang waiji jiaoshi 职 方 外 纪 校 释 (Collation of An Account of Places not Listed in the Records Office), collated by Xie Fang 谢 方 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1996), 7. 154 Ge Zhaoguang, “Tianxia, Zhongguo yu siyi: gudai Zhongguo shijie ditu zhong de sixiang shi” 天 下 、 中 国 与 四 夷 ——古 代 中 国 世 界 地 图 中 的 思 想 史 (All under heaven, China, and the four barbarians: the history of thoughts through the world maps of ancient China), in Xueshu jilin 学 术 集 林 (The collection of scholarly articles), ed., Wang Yuanhua 王 元 化 (Shanghai: Shanghai yuandong chubanshe, 1998), vol. 16, 44–71.

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Western knowledge spreading out to government and ordinary civilians in addition to high scholar-officials, the traditional Chinese way of illustrating all under Heaven began to disintegrate and collapse, with people gradually accepting the new world. As a result, the strange imaginings and hearsay of foreign lands from books like the Shanhai jing and the Shizhou ji were gradually replaced with the more authentic knowledge spread by Westerners. Having raised the example of the Sancai tuhui to represent the world in the imagination of the pre-Ricci Chinese, we may raise an aptly corresponding example in Xie Sui’s Zhigongtu, which was commissioned a hundred years later by Emperor Qianlong, for in this work, the countries and strange items described in the Shanhai jing do not appear at all. In this Zhigong tu, all the usual imaginary people and places have all been replaced by more realistic illustrations. All the “countries of the remote west,” that the age of the Sancai tuhui could only speculate upon, have been replaced by The Great Western Kingdom, England, France and Switzerland. And, here the Western people—who for the Chinese were a product of conjecture with Chinese costume and appearance—are finely distinguished, each according to their country of origin, their costume and appearance no longer resembling the imagined versions of the past.155 The National Palace Museum in Beijing holds a set of illustrations of foreign peoples visiting the court—the Wanguo laichao tu (Ten thousand countries coming to court) by a set of unknown artists. The Qianlong-era illustrations show Dutch, English and French people in a style reminiscent of Xie Sui’s illustrations of foreign peoples in his Zhigong tu, albeit with each of the relevant people in poses suggestive of their paying tribute to the great kingdom of the Heavenly court. That is to say, the foreigners are no longer the ‘non-human’ forms told of in the Shanhai jing. This shows that over a long period of history, imaginary foreign countries and peoples had given way, at last, to true accounts. The Qianlong emperor’s own colophon to the illustrations was selfaggrandizing, but it does acknowledge the existence of the wan guo (’ten thousand nations’).156 Xie Sui’s Zhigong tu later became the model for the Huang Qing zhigongtu (the Qing imperial illustrations of tributaries) archived in the imperial library, Siku quanshu. This placement in the official book series 155 Zhuang Jifa 庄 吉 发 , Xue Sui “Zhigong tu” manwen tushuo jiaozhu 谢 遂 满 文 图 说 校 注 (The collation of the Manchu version of Xie Sui’s Painting of Tributary Gifts) (Taipei: Gugong bowuguan, 1989). 156 Anonymous 佚 名 , “Wanguo laichao tu” 万 国 来 朝 图 (Painting of ten thousand countries paying tribute to China), in Qingdai gongtong huihua 清 代 宫 廷 绘 画 (Collections of Qing court paintings), ed., Nie Chongzheng 聂 崇 正 (Hong Kong: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1996).

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­indicates a larger consensus surrounding the term wan guo, which was now a concept and a fact agreed upon in both official and public spheres. In the same period, another source worth considering for its symbolic value was the catalog of the imperial library, Siku quanshu zongmu. Whether this catalog would categorize the Shanhai jing, Shizhou ji, and Shenyi jing as geography or fiction can show us the general changes happening to the ‘all under Heaven’ geographical concept. Volume 142 of the Zong mu says of the Shanhai jing: This book records mountains and waters as well as immortals and spirits. The names of roads, villages, mountains, and valleys are very hard to verify. According to what I have heard and seen, there is barely one true story out of one hundred. Many scholars consider it as the top of geographical books. I don’t think so. I verified it and decided that it is actually the most ancient fiction. On the Shenyi jing, it comments: This book is listed in the category of geography of history section in History of the Sui Dynasty. It then is listed in the category of immortals of scholars section in History of the Tang Dynasty. The content is mostly fantastic events, outside this world. They are not to be used as categorized illustrative plates, nor are they relevant to any religious practice. It’s not clear what sort of text they are. Hopefully they can be verified against the category of fiction (xiaoshuo) in the Wenxian tongkao (General study of literary collections). And, on the Hainei shizhou ji, it says: The works of various scholars are listed in the geography category. Their names are listed here, and but remain unverified. Therefore they are assigned to the category of fiction, along with the Shanhai jing.157 By the time documentary verification truly developed as a concern in China, these documents shifted in the official historical bibliographies: they were pulled out of the geographical sections of historical writing and instead placed under the category xiaoshuo (fiction); which illustrates how, in the world of

157 See the catalog of the imperial library, Siku quanshu zongmu 四 库 全 书 总 目 , (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, photocopy, 1981), vol. 142, 1206.

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ideas, these materials had gone from “geography” to “fiction,” from factual to fantasy. During the hundred-plus years between Matteo Ricci’s time and the Qianlong era, Chinese knowledge of foreign lands (and at once of Self) moved from an imaginary “all under Heaven” to the realistic sense of ‘ten thousand kingdoms’.

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Ancient Maps as the History of Ideas The use of maps as evidence in intellectual history, for investigating questions about thoughts, ideas and ideology is becoming more popular in Chinese academic circles on both sides of the Taiwan straits. This approach, it should be noted, bears some connection to new theories and views imported from abroad, especially the influence of Michel Foucault. Foucault was an imaginative and insightful person, and a very subversive theorist of intellectual history who took questions of geography that had been purely academic and expanded them with his theories of “discourse” and “power.” In his terms, behind all discourse lies power, and discourse itself can become power. He saw how relations of power undergirded terms within academic geography like “territory,” “horizon,” and “contour line.” These he scrutinized within the contexts of politics, law and culture. “Territory,” writes Foucault, “is no doubt a geographical notion, but it’s first of all a juridico-political one: the area controlled by a certain kind of power.” This is insightful, for sovereign territory is indeed the scope of political control. The sovereign territory marked by national boundaries signifies a political space not solely contained in the geographical. This narrative by Foucault was in a 1976 interview first reported in the French geography journal Hérodote, later published as the article “Questions on Geography.”158 Certainly, the delineation and description of geographical space is the result of politics, history and culture, but geographic space is also a marker of the sense of self and of cultural identity. Over a long time, very few people have actually used maps to discuss Chinese intellectual history, because in the past, maps were restricted to the fields of geography and topography. There was some research on maps in the past, including Chapter 2, “History of Maps,” in Wang Yong’s 1938 Zhongguo dilixue shi (History of geography in China), issued from Commercial Press, Chinese Maps by Richard Smith, and the entry “Cartography in the Traditional East and Southeast Asian Societies,” in The History of Cartography, vol. 2, bk. 2.159 Besides these, in Japan there was Oda 158 Michel Foucault, “Quanli de dilixue.” 159 See Wang Yong 王 庸 , Zhongguo dilixue shi 中 国 地 理 学 史 History of geography in China (Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1938), Chapter 2; Richard J. Smith, Chinese Maps (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 2000); J.B. Harley and David Woodward eds., Cartography in the Traditional East and Southeast Asian Societies, in The History of Cartography, vol. 2, bk. 2 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994).

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi 10.1163/9789004279995_005

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Takeo’s The history of maps, and Unno Kazutaka’s Cultural history of maps.160 In recent years, many new editions of ancient maps have become available: Zhongguo gudai ditu ji, Yutu yaolu, The Atlas of Atlases: The Map Maker’s Vision of the World by Phillip Allen, and Ditu Zhongguo.161 Works such as these make it more convenient to begin research in the area. However, the material is not self-explanatory, and much less does it say anything direct about thoughts and views to be brought to light by the researcher. How can we decipher the intellectual history in maps? In other words, in what ways do ancient maps serve as material for intellectual history? 1

Margin and Center: Imagining the Orient in Old European Maps of the World

First, I begin from a blank and marginal location in ancient European mapmaking, to see what it reveals about imaginings, awareness, and views of ­dongfang (the Orient). We know that most ancient Chinese maps were scrolls of paper or silk, like the silk copy of the Dixing tu (Topographical map) found at Mawangdui. Of course, there are maps carved in stone, such as the Pingjiang tu (Map of ­Pingjiang) in Suzhou. Frequently the form of these are comparable to ancient Chinese paintings, with some maps practically works of art in themselves, as with the maps of famous mountains and great historical sites, and city maps. 160 See Oda Takeo, Chizu no rekishi. Sekai hen (The history of maps: Chapter of the world) (Tōkyō: Kōdansha, 1974, 1994); Unno Kazutaka, Ditu de wenhua sh i 地 图 的 文 化 史 (Cultural history of maps), translated by Wang Miaofa 王 妙 发 (Hong Kong: Zhonghua shuju, 2002). 161 See Cao Wanru 曹 婉 如 et al. comp., Zhongguo gudai ditu ji 中 国 古 代 地 图 集 (An atlas of ancient maps in China) (Beijing: Wenwu chubanshe, 1990–1998). This collection consists of three volumes on the Warring period to Yuan, Ming, and Qing. See Beijing tushuguan shanben tecang bu 北 京 图 书 馆 善 本 特 藏 部 (The rare books office of Beijing Library) comp., Yutu yaolu: Beijing tushuguan 6827 zhong zhongwaiwen gujiu ditu mulu 舆 图 要 录 :北 京 图 书 馆 6827种 中 外 文 古 旧 地 图 目 录 (The major index to maps: the catalogue of 6827 ancient and old maps of Chinese and foreign languages stored at Beijing Library) (Beijing: Beijing tushuguan chubanshe, 1997); See Phillip Allen, The Atlas of Atlases: The Map Maker’s Vision of the World (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1992), The Chinese version is translated under the title Guditu ji jingxuan: Toushi ditu yishu yu shijieguan de fazhan 古 地 图 集 精 选 ——透 视 地 图 艺 术 与 世 界 观 的 发 展 , trans., Xue Shiqi 薛 诗 绮 (Taipei: Maotouying chubanshe, 2001), later on in this book all images are cited from the Chinese version unless otherwise noted; see Zhou Minmin 周 敏 民 comp., Ditu Zhongguo 地 图 中 国 (China through maps) (Xianggang: Xianggang kejidaxue tushuguan, 2003).

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As a rule, maps are rarely framed. They carry Chinese geographical features, and rarely display large expanses of ocean, which means there is not much blank space on them; and lacking blank space, decorative and ornamental markings were also minimal. Quite often, they were too covered in writing to have space for novelties or examples of the strange and marvelous.162 Modern maps, on the other hand, often bear the influence of Western mapmaking techniques, with black and white markings for the proportions of latitude and longitude taking up the areas around the frame. This method is “scientific” and “standard.” The spaces left over to display the oceans no longer carry legends of the times; instead these record more islands and shipping routes. Hence, most of these maps till today have few ornamentation or extra markings. In contrast, ancient European maps, especially maps of the world, seem to come customarily with ornamental imagery. Blank spaces on the maps, especially the spaces reserved for oceans, are illustrated with oddities and old tales. They often paint things over the margins and blank spaces of maps. The ornamental illustrations of novelties inserted at blank spots on these maps may in fact bear a close relationship to the contents of the map without seeming to be fully aware of it, which reveals or at least hints at some views.163 Among the many ancient European maps in the library of Hong Kong ­University of Science and Technology, one may view an early world map by Hartmann Schedel (1440–1514), the margins of which feature 12 heads blowing the winds, probably to symbolize the different wind velocities of the 12 months, and the world climates which are in turn different, depending on the wind.164 Such indications of the perceived relationship between geographical space and climate were common on such old European maps. The phenomena are also found on maps like those appended to the 1482 edition of Almagest and the 1511 edition of Geography by Ptolemy, which also show clouds of various types along with heads blowing forth the winds.165 Maps like Matteo Ricci’s world map also continued the tradition dating to the world maps of Abraham 162 Even for the space in the Southeastern part that is preserved for ocean, the cartographers of Chinese ancient maps often squeezed various islands and other countries that were supposed to scatter in a larger area into this space. 163 Actually this happens more than maps and Europe. There are also images of twelve ­immortals depicted in the silk-preserved scripts that were excavated from Zidanku, Changsha, China. This is probably related to twelve months because the scripts record things happening in the twelve months. There must be some connection between images and texts, as seen from inscriptive poems, signatures, seals, and voids for later inscriptions in traditional Chinese paintings. 164 For this image, see Zhou Minmin, Ditu Zhongguo, 31. 165 For this image, see Phillip Allen, Gu dituji jingxuan, 16–17.

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Ortelius (1527–1598) of painting the southern polar region with the eight animals of the world, including elephants, rhinoceroses, ostrich, lions, strangewinged beasts, crocodiles; and, the ocean regions with nine illustrations of ­sailing vessels and 15 types of great water-spraying fish and serpent-shaped fish. The maps of Ferdinand Verbiest carry on the tradition of encyclopedic representation of things, though with more giraffes and turkeys than Ricci’s maps. Such illustrations probably symbolize both crossing the oceans and gaining new knowledge, and the fears and fantasies relating to the sea creatures. Surely, Europe is not the only place to have such customs. Ancient China also had such fantasies about unknown lands, and a tradition of rendering them in illustrations. We see this in the Zuo zhuan (Commentary of Zuo)’s account of the nine tripods, during the third year of Duke Xuan. The nine tripods emerge out of an old tradition associated with the Xia dynasty, which was said to engrave all manner of monsters and strange creatures onto ding, bronze cauldrons, to let the people know about them; for it was said that once people knew the forms of such monsters, they would no longer encounter them, and even if they did, they would be able to run away because the people could now see through the monsters. “A tripod was cast with images of objects carved on it, so that various kinds of objects were ready for people to recognize the immortal and the evil whenever they encounter them in mountains and woods. They would not encounter the strange and the ghosts.”166 That is why the nine cauldrons were so important in the ancient tradition. The tradition of encyclopedic representation did two things at once: first, it advanced the teachings of Confucius regarding “increase of knowledge about the names of birds and beasts and plants.” This tradition of knowledge accummulation continued with Zhang Hua’s Bowu zhi. Second, it fostered fantasies of the mysterious arts of wuxi, or wizardry. Such was the tradition passed down in the Shanhai jing and the Baize jingguai tu (Illustrations of the spectral prodigies of the White Marsh).167 I think the illustrations on old European maps of the 15th and 16th centuries fulfill the same function. In some museums in Europe, the illustrations of 166 Du Yu explains that this is firstly the knowledge of exotic products in the world, “the images of mountains, rivers, and strange things were drawn and submitted,” and secondly this is a knowledge that people could use to shun the bad and approach the good, “the images of ghosts, immortals, and various objects were depicted, so that people could prepare themselves for them.” See Du Yu 杜 预 , Shisanjing zhushu 十 三 经 注 疏 (Notes and commentary on the Thirteen Classics) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, photocopy, 1980), 1868. 167 This topic is very complicated and is worth another article.

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plants, human anatomy, and maps did begin to make me feel that they were a bit over-ornamented until it dawned on me that the ornamentation was not merely for its own sake, but represented a subtle symbolism. After Western maps reached the Orient, they began to influence both China and Japan. The Japan map modeled after Ricci’s has information about navigation on it. The General Map of Ten Thousand Countries of the Shōhō period (1644–1647), archived at the Municipal Southern Barbarian Museum in Kobe, features the ships of the Great Ming and of Japan; so does the 1688 The General Map of Ten Thousand Countries and Their Borders, in the two upper corners. Two screens at the same museum, Map of Four Cities and Map of the World, are done in an overtly European style, with upper portions featuring painted illustrations of all the peoples and nations of the world. The blank region dividing the hemispheres on the 1708 Globe Map of Ten Thousand Countries in the Worldmap by Inagaki Mitsurou features illustrations of Atlantis and Tang-era Chinese ships; and, at the top there are 16 illustrations of the human form around the world, linking two traditions and thereby, indicating confidence in using navigation technology to travel the globe. It also shows us the growing body of knowledge in one hemisphere about the people of the other hemisphere changing gradually from fantasy to fact.168 Mapmaking, it must be remembered, represents a tradition of not only knowledge, but also imagination. We must direct our attention to the margins and empty spaces on the old European maps, where we can see what they imagined as existing in foreign lands. These illustrations reveal Western notions of the Orient just as the illustrations in the Shanhai jing reveal Oriental notions of the Occident. During the 16th and 17th centuries, new information on the Orient was available in abundance, but so was outdated hearsay and often there was confusion over the two. The cover of the Map of Asia stored at the library of Hong Kong University of Science and Technology shows us a group of angels, representing Europe, standing before the newly-opened gates of Asia. Some of these are busy using instruments to survey the distance between Europe and Asia on the globe, and others are holding a map of Asia (open to East Asia), studying it closely. These puzzled wanderings at the very gates of Asia aptly capture the European curiosity, bemusement, and fantasy

168 See Unno Kazutaka, Chizu ni miru Nihon: Wakoku Jipangu Dai Nihon (Japan seen from maps: The Wo country, Jipangu and the Great Japan) (Tōkyō : Taishūkan Shoten, 1999); also see Edo jidai “kochizu” sōran (General outline of ancient maps in Edo period)(Tōkyō : Shin Jinbutsu Ƭraisha, 1997).

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about the new land.169 Many of these early European maps of the world, of Asia, and of China contain illustrations of life in foreign lands.170 The most interesting aspect of these illustrations from the viewpoint of intellectual history is what they reveal about how foreign lands are imagined. Despite the fact that Europeans of the time often had the highest regard for Asians and Chinese, their own pride drove them to offensive fantasies, which at times may expose the deepest of prejudices more starkly than factual matter. Motifs from the 1478 Buch der Natur appeared on works of a much later period, and even on maps with more advanced geographical data. Fear of the other was as rampant in Europe as it was in China. On the left side of the 1545 Genoese map preserved by Miyazaki Ichisada, there are figures of naked people with enormous legs, while the right side features two strange figures each with a face in its torso, but no head at all, and another with the head of a dog. All are drawn around the area of East Asia, as if to represent the people of the dark and mysterious East.171 A 1493 map in Hong Kong University of Science and Technology is illustrated with people who have six arms, tails, and birds’ heads complete with beaks and who sprout manes from their backs—was this how 169 I thank Cross Culture Research Center, City University of Hong Kong for presenting copies of this Asian map, which is preserved at Hong Kong University of Science and Technology Library, as gifts to 2001 conference attendees. 170 For example, in Speculum Orbis Terrarum, published by Cornelis de Jode in A ­ ntwerp in 1593, the cartographer draws around the areas of China and Japan Chinese people catching fish with waterfowls and Japanese people’s worship of eleven-headed Bodhisattva (though only drawing three heads side by side), use of sail-driven carts, and cultivation of breeds inside the floating rafts. Clearly the image of the Bodhisattva was wrong because it should be the eleven-faced Bodhisattva in ancient China and Japan, not three heads side by side. But all these images expressed the vague knowledge of the Europeans about the Orient. In Atlas Maior, or Grand Atlas, made by Joan Blaeu between 1634 and 1662, not only did he draw ten images of the aborigines around Africa, he also painted a roughly accurate image of the Chinese emperor at the lower right void next to the area of North China. This indicates both the colonial expansion of the Europeans and the actual knowledge that they knew about the China-included world. Meanwhile, the Map of Asia made in 1772 included images of the emperor, the royals, women of the Orient, execution scenes, various swing plays, scenes of battles and trades. This means that after two or three hundred years in the eighteenth century, the Europeans were rapidly accumulating knowledge about the Orient. 171 As for this map, see Kyōto Daigaku Toshokan, Kinsei no Kyōto zu to sekaizu (Maps of Kyoto and the world in the modern period) (Kyōto-shi: Kyōto Daigaku Fuzoku Toshokan, 2001). In the explanatory notes in this book, the compiler indicates that this image reflects the residual understanding from the medieval period of the foreign lands outside the ­Christian world. 66.

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Westerners imagined foreign peoples outside of Europe?172 Such was the ­impression of the rest of the world among China’s Han people (in the era after the Shanhai jing appeared), who believed “we are the greatest.” Texts from the Yuan-era Yiyu zhi to the Ming-era Sancai tuhui presented many monsters in w ­ ritten or illustrated form. These were all imagined to be the forms of ­people from foreign lands, hence the Kingdoms of Dogs, of Women, of the ­No-­Stomachs, of the Strange Arms, of People with yes in the back of their heads, of those with a Tunnel through their chests, and of the Feathered People. ­Evident here is a certain arrogance, including the view that foreign barbarians are not human. I have written previously how, over the long course of time, such a view gained universal recognition as knowledge than true accounts of travels in foreign lands.173 So the fact that ancient China is often trapped in its self-absorbed fantasies of ‘all under Heaven’ is often castigated as a particularly Chinese form of extreme self-isolating, self-aggrandizement. Seeing these Western maps shows that the views are mutual, and that Westerners saw the Orient the same way, frequently adding discrimination to curiosity, and piling fantasy upon fantasy. The history of geography tells us that this extreme self-aggrandizement has a history. During the Middle Ages, Christianity imagined a world with itself at the center, signified in the T-O shaped maps of the time.174 At the center of this T-shape was Jerusalem, with Asia above, Europe below and to the left, and Africa below and to the right.175 It was an age that imagined Asia to be very mysterious, as described in the Travels of Marco Polo. The remote and distant Orient was thought to have giants, cannibal tribes, and black people. Africa was thought to be a barbarous place, as we see from map illustrations of people with a single eye, people with abnormally long feet, people without heads, and dog people.176 Prejudice and self-aggrandizement persisted for a very long time, despite major geographical discoveries, gradual globalization, and better means of transportation. Reason would have expected strange and bigoted 172 As for this image, see Zhou Minmin, Ditu Zhongguo, 31. 173 See Chapter 2 of this book. 174 In the world maps that were made in medieval Europe, the cartographers often circled the land with oceans to drew an “O” type. They also separated Africa, Asia and Europe by waters into a “T” type. On these maps, Jerusalem always occupies the most conspicuous position in the center. This is because the Book of Ezekiel of the Old Testament claims that “I have set her in the midst of the nations and the countries all around her.” See “Ditu ­geming” 地 图 革 命 (Revolutions in maps), Dadi, vol. 140 (Taipei: April, 1999). 175 See Oda Takeo, Chizu no rekishi: Sekai hen, 52. 176 See Iyanaga Nobumi, Gensō no Tōyō: Orientarizumu no keifu (The imagination of East Asia: The genealogy of Orientalism) (Tōkyō: Seidosha, 1987), 19.

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fantasy to be abandoned, but prejudice often endures more stubbornly than knowledge, and imagination is often more prevalent than observation—which explains why Matteo Ricci’s map still held to the custom of Western maps. ­Besides depiction of sailing vessels to represent all the places that ­Westerners had reached, we also find illustrations of “unique places and strange phenomena,” including large fish, odd birds, strange beasts, and so on. Clearly, the ­Western imagination of foreign lands informs such illustrations. The writing on the map is similarly revealing: in Boxier (northwest of present-day South America), “they eat human flesh, but only men, not women;” in G ­ eliguo (northwest of today’s usa), “they eat only snakes, ants, and spiders;” in Ge’ermo (the northern Arctic reaches of today’s Russia), “they do not bury their dead, but hang them up in the forests on iron chains.”177 Is it possible the map combines the condescension of Westerners towards foreign civilizations with the Shanhai jing-style fantasies of the ancient Chinese? Another example is a map from the Mercator-Hondius collection of 1633, depicting a world divided into two hemispheres, the center of which has illustrations of the peoples of Asia, the Americas and Africa, all paying worshipful obeisance to the ­Europeans— doubtless, a symbol of European self-aggrandizement.178 Even in the 18th ­century, Western notions of human equality had failed to drive out such pride and prejudice, as in the 1772 Map of Asia images of China. Despite the popularity of Chinoiserie at the time, the image is of a naked-above-the-waist people playing wild games. Some of the images depict cruel behavior, with explanatory notes about the custom of foot-binding in China.179 There is nothing strange about this, since Westerners, with their advanced civilization, took the greatest interest in old Oriental punishment methods as well as other Oriental customs. Underlying this interest is one part great conceit about their civilization, and one part curiosity tempered with extreme disdain towards foreign nations. No wonder Edward Said wrote Orientalism, wherein he criticized and spurned the Western construction of an Orient [that was] in their imaginations. He said this was the Westerners way of “dealing with it [Orientalism] by making statements about it, authorizing views of it, describing it, teaching it, 177 See Matteo Ricci, “Kunyu wanguo quantu” 坤 舆 万 国 全 图 (Complete map of all countries of the world), in Zhongguo gudai ditu ji, vol. 2 on the Ming dynasty, 77–80. This map is now preserved at Nanjing Museum. It is not the original map that was made by Matteo Ricci but a reprint on a six-panel screen in Beijing in the beginning of the seventeenth century. 178 As for the image, see Allen, Guditu ji jingxuan, 72–73. 179 Kyōto Daigaku Toshokan, Kinsei no Kyōto zu to sekaizu, 66.

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settling it, ruling over it: in short, Orientalism as a Western mode for dominating, restructuring, and having authority over the Orient.”180 2

From All under Heaven to Ten Thousand Countries

Generally speaking, the use of image data in studies of time periods lacking in written materials—as in archeological reports on the Neolithic Age, which have images of early sacrificial pits, burial grounds, and funerary i­mplements,—is not controversial because there is no other way. But is the use of image data, and in large amounts, permissible in intellectual histories of periods with sufficient written records? Ideas are lost all too easily. So even if the written rec­ ord of ideas forms the basic archive of intellectual history, there is no reason that images written equally in response to ideas should not also factor in the written narrative of ideas. The key problem is how historians might interpret images, which are purely spatial in nature, for discovering the views and ideas required to do intellectual history. Returning to maps, we all know that maps represent space. There are generally three types of space represented on maps. First are the physical space reflecting the surrounding natural world, including topography, vegetation, minerals, and climate. Second are the domains representing the subordinating relationships of the political world, including, national borders, provincial borders, and political centers. Third is the spatial composition required by human life in human society, including cities, market towns, and lines of transportation. The practice of traditional maps also often entails representation of these three types. But the space of maps is anything but an objective description of space. This is because any described image involves not only an “other,” meaning the particular dimensions of the object in question, but also involves an “I,” or describer’s position and distance, the direction they are facing, even historical formation and method of observation. For example, the map-like Wanli Changjiang tu (Map of the ten-thousand-li Yangtze River) combines and even threads together visual depictions of the Yangtze River at different points in space and time, causing them to appear (in the same space and time) on a long scroll painting. How the painting is unscrolled helps determine our understanding of those thousands of miles of river. We all calculate and express distance in terms of time when we say that a trip is so-and-so many days and hours long, but on the Wanli Changjiang tu, each instant takes up a specific 180 Said, Orientalism, 3.

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stretch of scroll, which means that to gradually unscroll the map is to turn time into space.181 Indeed, on the maps, space is created in the mind as the earth, and no longer space in purely objective terms.182 Thus, we must not believe for a moment that maps present the full facts and truth. They only present a limited form of truth from one perspective, and even this limited truth is problematic, for it is now said that several of the elements of a map, including the directions, positions, scale, indicated colors and even the boundaries, all change with the times. Direction, for example: is it always the case that upwards signifies north, downwards, south, leftwards, west, and rightwards, east? Or, is there another scheme? As for geographical position, this is often assumed to be non-movable, but what if it were by chance to move? And although accurate proportion is a necessary element in a map, preventing deliberate changes by the mapmaker is difficult. Finally, color: unified color indicates unified land, while different colors signify distinct sovereign territories. But would mapmakers with ulterior motives ever use color to indicate political intention? Borders, too, do not exist in geographical reality, but are merely markings on a map. Still, the forms of the domains so delineated inevitably have political repercussions.183 The biggest factor affecting how space makes us feel is position, for to look out in any direction is to have the senses of left, right, up and down established by observation from that position. Next to position, there is feeling, which means the scale, the description of how big or small something is, and further to gauge relative distance, all based on individual feeling, much as what counts as near or far away is a f­ unction of transport 181 See “Wanli changjiang tu” 万 里 长 江 图 (Ten thousand li map of the Yantze River), in Tushu bian 图 书 编 (Compilation of illustrations and writings), comp. Zhang Huang 章 潢 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, photocopy, 1992), after page 3. 182 For example, those who pay attention to communication will emphasize roads and dismiss others, and those who care about the historical transformation will neglect products and stress the changes in towns, cities, and passes. The maps of geomancers pay attention to directions, locations, and where the imperial mainstreams are and those of tourists will be mainly about sightseeing sites and shopping locations. Generally speaking, the historical geography of imperial China mainly deals with the locations of official bureaus of provinces, counties, and cities and the changes of administrative geographies. In the Ming-Qing transition, scholars like Gu Yanwu and Gu Zuyu were especially attentive to military fortresses and strategically difficult locations. This is because they still bore the memories of wars. But the once significant fortresses such as Jiayuguan Pass of Gansu, Sasuanguan Pass of Qinling, Juyongguan Pass of Hebei, Jiange Pass of Sichuan in imperial China are no longer the focuses even in today’s military maps. Therefore, we conclude that ideas of making maps are changing according to the changes of periods. 183 See Ge Zhaoguang 葛 兆 光 , “Sixiangshi shiye zhog de tuxiang” 思 想 史 视 野 中 的 图 像 (Images in the history of thought), Zhongguo shehui kexue 3 (2002): 74–83.

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capability. Last there is color: the color selected for spaces on the map reflects the realities of political sovereignty. Maps, then, may be understood from a subjective perspective, but also, and crucially, as based on an objective perspective. Description of space on modern maps is often thought to be a matter of reason and science alone. But, this is anything but certain, for once drawn, the map becomes the narration of a subject, with some features made to stand out and others, lost. There are selections and elisions. The observation, imagination, memory, and description of the observer are all tinged with human feeling, and even views. Thus geographical imagination is at once political and civilizational imagination. Hidden in the history of this imagination lies a history of views, which makes it source for intellectual history. Let us examine the imagination and views regarding “all under Heaven” on ancient Chinese maps. We are all familiar with the special spatial feeling of “Tian yuan di fang” (Heaven is round while the earth is square) found in ancient China from the very earliest times. The universality of this and the associated notion that ancient China was located at the center between Heaven and earth, is attested to in recent archeological discoveries of longhu (dragons and tigers) at Puyang; in the 28 constellations and the illustrations of the Northern Dipper and Longhu found atop lacquered funerary boxes at Zenghouyi tomb; in the astronomical murals found time and time again in the ceilings of old tombs; in the divination board, inspired by round heaven and square earth; in the compass which indicated direction; and, in catalogues of square land areas, namely, the five dependencies, nine dependencies, and nine continents, all of which are to be found in the ancient texts including the Yu gong (Yu’s memorial) and Zhou li (Rites of Zhou). As discussed in many articles before, the ancient Chinese concepts of Heaven and earth took on the following largescale structure: first the place where we are is the center of the world and of civilization. Second, the earth surrounding had the shape of a large chessboard, or else a set of enclosed squares, as in the character hui 回 , extending out in all four directions without end. This was divided into three domains: the first comprised the king’s walled capital, the second was China, and the third domain was that of the yidi (barbarians). A third geographical delimiter lay across the margins of geographical space and across the uncultivated wilderness, and the peoples who lived there were less civilized.184 For the longest time, Chinese people have been obstinate on this point. I say obstinate because, during the entire traditional era, China faced no challenges, except Buddhism, from other civilizations. From the beginning, the Chinese 184 See Ge Zhaoguang, “Tianxia, Zhongguo yu siyi: Gudai Zhongguo shijie ditu zhong de ­sixiang shi,” 44–71.

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believed they were the center of the world, and that the Han civilization represented the peak of civilizations. The surrounding peoples were merely undeveloped barbarians, so they deserved little attention except for ensuring that they gave tribute. Thus, China always appears quite large on ancient Chinese maps, while a multitude of other states is drawn smaller. Whether it was Huayi tu (Map of China and the barbarians), Yugong tu (Map of Yugong), or Dili tu (Geographic map), such as the maps left to us from the Song dynasty, some of which are called “Yudi tu,” referring to places reachable by cart or boat, all such maps are centered on Han China. Even when the surrounding countries are drawn, their scale is as small as if they were parasites, feeding on China for life. This method of mapmaking persisted until the Ming dynasty. We should note that large centers and small margins involves problems, not only of geographical positioning, but also in determinations of value, with center and margin on the map reflecting the proportionate value of “self” and “other.” I will explain this feature next. First of all, it has nothing to do with actual ­Chinese knowledge of the world, for the Silk Road existed even in the Han dynasty, in Zhang Jian’s time, and by the Tang dynasty relations with the outside world were numerous. The borders of the Yuan dynasty extended over much of the globe. Jamal al-Din ibn Muhammad al-Najjari designed the globe, with its latitude and longitude lines covering the ‘three continents and seven seas’. In the Ming dynasty, Zheng He sailed the Western seas and reached as far as the east coast of Africa, a journey many times more in distance than any that could be made within China. But, despite knowledge of various civilizations becoming common, the dogmatic vision of heaven, China and barbarians never changed.185 Second, it has nothing to do with ancient Chinese geographical knowledge or mapmaking skills. Indeed, both these attained high levels. Wellexecuted ancient maps include a bronze-inscribed Zhongshan mausoleum discovered at the Warring-States era Zhongshan royal necropoli in Pingshan, Hebei, between 1974 and 1978, the Qin-era wooden maps discovered in 1986 at Tianshui fangmatan, and maps painted on silk found in the royal tombs

185 For example, in “Hun yi jiangli lidai guo tu zhi tu” 混 一 疆 理 历 代 国 都 之 图 (Map of the integrated regions with capitals of successive dynasties) that was copied by Chosŏn Korea in 1402 and that is preserved at Ryukoku University, the part about Africa is surprisingly perplexing because the extent to which it accurately depicts the western coast of Africa goes far beyond the knowledge of the Europeans. This is based on Ogawa Takuji’s 1910 copy. See Kyōto Daigaku Toshokan, Manabi no sekai: Chūgoku bunka to Nihon (The world of knowledge: Chinese culture and Japan) (Kyōto-shi: Kyōto Daigaku Fuzoku Toshokan, 2002), 5–6.

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at Mawangdui.186 Thus we can only understand the maps in terms of views and values: the worldview of the ancient Chinese is everywhere reflected on these maps. By ancient custom, the ancient Chinese imagine themselves as the center of the area under Heaven, surrounded by a much smaller area of barbarians. The centrality given by the ancient Chinese to their own civilization made them imagine both that the geographical area of the surrounding countries was small, and that these other cultures had little value. That was why the world maps of Matteo Ricci were able to give the Chinese of the 16th and 17th centuries such a shock. He told the Chinese four things. First, the world we live in is not flat. The old notion of ‘Heaven round, earth square’ has disintegerated. Second, the world is very large. China only occupies one tenth of Asia, and Asia only one fifth of the world. China is by no means the only great and vast country. In fact, it is small. Third, the main terms, from China to barbarians to All under Heaven, were all untenable. China was not necessarily the center of the world, and barbarians might be civilized. They might even consider the Chinese the barbarians. Fourth, it had to be recognized that all the civilizations of the world were equal in mind and principle: dong hai xi hai, xin tong li tong. There are universal truths that transcend peoples, nation-states, and borders. Such subversive views from Ricci’s maps plunged the Chinese world of ideas into a major, if hidden, crisis, because to fully accept these would mean that the default or foundational propositions of the culture—that the Chinese empire is the center of all under Heaven, and that China is greater than all the barbarians—would be overturned. 3

Buddhist Maps: Imagining Different Kinds of Worlds

We are compelled to ask: were there really no other worldviews in ancient China? One worldview we must acknowledge is that of Buddhism. While the full history and influence of Buddhism is beyond the scope of the present work, we can briefly state the Buddhist worldview. The Buddhist worldview includes two views on space which are quite different from those held by the Chinese.

186 According to the expert, the main part of the Mawangdui silk map describes the middle and upper branches of Xiao River of Hunan. The legend is about 100000: 1 and is quite accurate. See Tan Qixiang 谭 其 骧 , “Liangqian yibai duo nianqian de yifu ditu” 两 千 一 百 多 年 前 的 一 幅 地 图 (A map over 2100 years ago), Mawangdui hanmu yanjiu 马 王 堆 汉 墓 研 究 (Research on Mawangdui Han tombs) (Changsha: Hunan renmin chubanshe, 1979), 309–315.

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The first of these is the greater inclusiveness of the Buddhist world. ­ ccording to Buddhism, the world is not a large piece of earth centered on A China, but rather four large continents, of which China is one. Buddhist sutras describe how the four continents surround Mount Sumeru: Dongshengshen continent (Pūrvavideha), Xiniuhuo continent (Godānīya), Beijulu continent ­(Uttarakuru), and the Nanshanbu continent (Jambūdvīpa), on which China can be found. Sources like the Dirghdgama, the Lou tan jing (Lokadhatu S­ utra), and the Fayuan zhulin (Pearl-forest of the Dharma Garden) state that the sun, moon and stars all encircle Mount Sumeru, illuminating all under Heaven. Each of the four great continents comes with two medium-sized islands, and five hundred other small land masses. Human beings live on all of the four great continents and the eight medium continents, while only some of the two thousand small land masses are inhabited. The northern continent enjoys the greatest Karma, with long lives, few cares and many pleasures. But no fotuo, or all-enlightened one, will come from this place. The people of the southern continent are brave and strong, with good memories, but they have Karma as well as noble acts, so some Buddhas are born in this continent. The eastern continent is the greatest in area, and the Western continent has many cows, sheep, jade and pearls. There is only one continent on top, with 36 great states and 2500 small states. Further, “In each country there are various kinds—Hu, Han, Qiang, Lu, Man, Yi, Chu, and Yue—and they all follow their customs. Their species are different.”187 Note how different this is from the Chinese worldview, since China is not the only thing under Heaven, and, indeed all under Heaven is much bigger than traditionally imagined. We are reminded of Zou Yan’s descriptions of the “nine great continents.” Later discourse on the four continents or nine continents would thus become a resource through which the ancient Chinese would import images of the new world. Second, Buddhism sets the world at the center of its vision. As a teaching that comes from India, at times by way of Southeast Asia, Buddhism tends to oppose putting China at the center, though this opposition is not always ­direct or clear. The logic is simple: if there is only China, then whence the ­Buddhist teachings of India? Since they came from India, since the truth comes from ­India, it must follow that India is the center of world civilization. During the great debates between Buddhism, Daoism, and Confucianism during the Southern and Northern Dynasties, Buddhism described the world in

187 See Fayuan zhulin 法 苑 珠 林 (Pearl-forest of the Dharma Garden), collected in Dazheng xinxiu dazangjing 大 正 新 修 大 藏 经 (Newly revised Chinese Buddhist canons during the Taishö Era) (Japan: 大 正 新 修 大 藏 经 刊 行 会 , 1960), juan 53, 280–281.

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many ways, including taking the position all under Heaven lay in India.188 But ­Buddhism in China gradually gave up such dogma in favor of advocating that China and India were both centers of civilization, and even at times pushing still further to speak of multiple centers in the world, existing side by side. One popular theory told of four princes for the four areas of the world. We see this in texts like the fourth-century Shi er you jing (Twelve travel accounts) and the Fayuan zhulin (juan 44) of the seventh century: On the east is the emperor of Jin, whose people are prosperous; on the south is the emperor of India, who owns elephants on his land; to the west is the emperor of Rome, who owns gold, silver, and jades on his rich land; and on the northwest is the emperor of Rouzhi, who owns good horses on his land. Other texts speak of the “four rulers,” such as the Jambūdvīpa or Datang Xiyu ji (An Account of the Western Region during Greater Tang Times) narrative by Xuanzang.189 In any case, such a picture of the world revolves around a sense of “all under Heaven,” distinctly different from the Chinese view. Earlier Chinese views could be summed up by lines from the Shi jing (Classic of poetry): ­“Filling all under Heaven, nothing exceeds the soil of the king, stretching across the earth from edge to eye, nothing exceeds the king and his subjects,” or else those from Mencius: “Just as there are not two suns in the heavens, so there can not be two kings.” Accepting Buddhism would mean having a very different vision of the world. Despite the Sinification of Buddhism—the formation of the ‘three-in-one’ teaching, and the direct obeisance paid to mainstream Chinese thought and Confucianism—it proved to be an unprecedented strike against the view that China’s civilization was the only one in the world. When Buddhism was first introduced to China, some Chinese acknowledged that China was not the only civilization in the world. This was an opportunity to develop a new 188 See Sengyou 僧 祐 , “Shijie ji mulu xu” 世 界 纪 目 录 序 (Preface to the index of the chronicle of the world), in Chu sanzang jiji 出 三 藏 纪 集 (Collected records concerning the ­Tripitaka), juan 12, collected in Dazheng xinxiu dazangjing, vol., 55, 88. 189 See Paul Pelliot, “Si tianzi shuo” 四 天 子 说 (On four emperors), translated by Feng Chengjun, originally published in T’ung Pao, 1923, lated reprinted in Xiyu nanhai shidi kaozheng yicong, vol.1, the third collection, 84–103. See S. Levi, “Dazang fang deng bu zhi xiyu fojiao shiliao” 大 藏 方 等 部 之 西 域 佛 教 史 料 (historical materials on Buddhism of Western Regions collected in Daejanggyeong and other canons), translated by Feng Chengjun, reprinted in Xiyu nanhai shidi kaozheng yicong, vol. 2, the ninth collection, 160–234.

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­understanding of the world, but was never fully seized as the Buddhist worldview remained restricted to the writings of its few followers. One of the very few ancient Chinese maps not to place China at the center was the three illustrations contained in the Fozu tongji (Comprehensive chronicle of the B ­ uddhas and patriarchs) illustrating a worldview of rare diversity in the era before the Song dynasty. These images—the Dong zhendan dilitu (Geographic map of eastern China), Han Xiyu zhuguo tu (Map of the states in the Western regions in the Han dynasty) and Xitu wuyin zhi tu (Map of the Five Indian states in the West)—show a world with three centers.190 A second map is the Fojiao fajie anli tu (Maps of the configuration of Dharmadhahtu) containing India, China and the ‘Western regions’ (xiyu). We must admit that the view of geographical space based on Mount Sumeru and the four continents with China and India sharing the Jambūdvīpa, had the effect of changing worldviews in China, Japan and Korea in more recent historical times. In Japan and Korea, for example, where people absorbed geographical knowledge from the West even as they preserved the memory of the Buddhist worldview, new Western notions of the five continents were combined with old stories of Mount Sumeru, so that newer maps combined Western knowledge with Buddhist imagination, as in the 1709 “Ten Thousand Countries of Jambūdvīpa”from Japan, now stored in the Kobe Museum, and the 1775 Yudi quantu (Complete map of mountains and seas) from Korea, now stored in Seoul. In these maps, the world is not centered on China, but rather a portrait of many nations featuring the Orient (China), the Occident (Europe) and themselves (Japan and Korea). Still, I must explain that this strike failed to sway the Chinese worldview in any fundamental way. Post Sinification, Chinese Buddhism rarely raised the topic. The reception and influence of Buddhism was far greater in Japan than in China, where Buddhism paid obeisance to mainstream Confucian ideology. Absolutely everything was measured against the standards set by Confucianism and officialdom’s orthodoxy, with the result that the way the world was imagined had to wait for change for hundreds of years, until the 16th century, when globalization was well underway and the first Westerners had come to China. Hence, our proposition above, affirming that the Chinese only began to see “the world” with the appearance of the 1584 Ricci world map, an event presaging change on a massive scale.

190 See Zhipan 志 磐 , Fozu tongji 佛 祖 统 纪 (General biographies of Buddhas), juan 32, collected in Dazheng xinxiu dazangjing, vol. 49, 312–314.

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Chinese on the Inside, Barbarians on the Outside: The Case of the Ming Dynasty Naval Defense Map

A certain experience involving the directions on maps left a deep impression on me. A friend handed me a map of a certain coastline and asked if I recognized it. Without location, city, or transport markings, I could not recognize the place I was looking at. But, when my friend rotated the map 90 degrees, I realized that it was the eastern coastline of China, with which I was very familiar. I had simply been looking at a map in which downward means west and rightward means south. I have no particular agenda in mentioning this other than to say that a person’s thoughts and feelings often come with preconceptions, which often run so deep as to form a kind of habitual understanding. Given that on ancient Chinese maps downward is north and upward is south, why do Ming dynasty naval maps reverse habits, making ‘upward east, downward west’ or ‘upward south, downward north’? We know that naval defense was not a major concern for China in earlier times, but by the time of the Ming dynasty it was extremely important because the greatest threats, be they pirates or Westerners, came by sea. Some call it the “Age of Naval Defense,” and certainly most military centers were near the sea, which meant that the Ming produced many naval defense maps. Examples of these are the 1556 Chouhai tubian (Illustrated compendium on maritime security) by Hu Zongxian, the 1591 Quanhai tuzhu (Comprehensive sea map) carrying an inscribed preface by Li Hualong, and the just slightly later Wanli haitu (Map of the vast sea) found in the first volume of the Qiantai wozuan (A record of Qiantai piracy) of Xie Jie.191 A particularly interesting and salient feature of these maps is that so many eschew the custom of upwards north in favor of placing the Chinese mainland at the bottom, and Japan and the Pacific Ocean which are both sources of threat, at the top, forming either an upwards east, downwards west, or upwards south, downwards north orientation. Moreover, the Chinese coast is marked with flag-shaped symbols of warning and a dense network of watch towers and military bases, consistently facing outwards from the coast. What does this mean? 191 See “Chouhai tubian” 筹 海 图 编 (Illustrated compendium on maritime security), woodblock, 1562; “Quanhai tuzhu” 全 海 图 注 (Comprehensive sea map), woodblock, 1591, prefaced by Li Hualong 李 化 龙 , preserved at Beijing Library; “Wanli haitu” 万 里 海 图 (Map of sea of ten thousand li), in Xie Jie 谢 傑 , Qiantai wo zuan 虔 台 倭 纂 (A record of Qiantai piracy), juan 1, woodblock of the Wanli Reign of the Ming dynasty, reprinted in Xuanlan tang congshu xuji 玄 览 堂 丛 书 续 集 (Sequel to the collections of Xuanlan Studio).

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There is an interesting passage in the essay “Tushi bian” (Recognizing maps) by Zheng Ruozeng, who helped Hu Zongxian compile the Chouhai tupian: There are two ways of drawing maps. The first one places seas above land and the second land above seas. No one can tell why it is so. If judged by the meaning, China is in the interior and should thus be put close and the barbarians are exterior and thus far. The cartographers both ancient and present all put the distant views above and the close views below, and the exterior land above and the interior land below. The principle of interiorabove and exterior-below is the general rule that has long remained unchanged. The map should be made based on the fact that I stand in the middle kingdom and manage the exterior barbarians. This is permissible. But if the cartographer puts seas below, he puts himself in the middle of the seas and situates himself among the barbarians. How could it permissible to view China upside down?192 Worth noting here is how keywords like “nei” (interior), “wai” (exterior), “shang” (above), “xia” (below), “Zhongguo” (China), and “siyi” (barbarians) are distinguished. As anyone who has studied ancient texts knows, the ancient Chinese divide the world into “interior” and “exterior,” or “Xia” (Chinese) and “Yi” (barbarian), an issue that becomes sensitive after the Song dynasty. The ancient Chinese made a rigorous distinction between the Self and the Other: “Chinese” is “interior,” and “barbarian” is “exterior.” This an important concept in the ancient classical texts, and readers of the classics will remember that the prime principle of the Gongyang zhuan (Gongyang commentary), which is that “Interior is the Guo (State), exterior the Zhu Xia (Collective Chinese), Interior are the Zhuxia and exterior are Siyi (four barbarians).” In ancient China to be “Xia” meant to be ya (refined), which is to say, to be civilized, to be us, to be “interior;” while all of the Yidi (barbarians) are “man” (barbaric), which is to say uncivilized, to be “exterior.” There is a rigorous contrast with closeness, in terms of both distance and of intimacy, necessitating distinction. In fact, Chinese maps began regularly to be drawn as upwards north, downwards south, and not the other way around, by the Ming dynasty. This

192 See Zheng Ruozeng 郑 若 曾 , Zheng Kaiyang zazhu 郑 开 阳 杂 著 (Miscellaneous writings of Zheng Kaiyang [Ruozeng]) (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, photocopy of the Wenyuan Pavilion Siku quanshu), juan 8, 8a-b.

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o­ rientation was familiar to mapmakers whose works have been preserved from the Song and Yuan dynasties. Zheng Ruozeng acknowledged that upwards north maps were the norm, and he noticed that no mapmaker resented the ­placement of the northern barbarians above; in theory, the northern barbarians are also external. He even accepted the principle of “The set orientation of Heaven and earth is north above, south below.” Other works of his also contain maps drawn as upwards north, downwards south, as were all the administrative maps of the Chouhai tubian. But, whenever matters touched on state and nation, and whenever state and nation faced an enemy, he would hold to the methods of “distinction between interior and exterior.” In his map of the Eastern seas, for example, he puts Japan at the center top, with the Ming empire below, noting over the ocean regions of the map the “Wokou (Japanese pirate) routes to Zhili, Zhejiang, and Shandong” as well as “Japanese pirate routes to Korea and Liaodong.” Below these notes he carefully noted the routes by which the Japanese pirates invaded.193 In his own Chouhai tubian, ordinary administrative maps were drawn as upwards north, downwards south, but naval defense maps were drawn as upwards the sea and the mainland below. The pattern is very clear if we compare different maps of the same region, such as Fuzhou fujing tu (Map of Fuzhou province), drawn upwards north, downwards south with Haifang tu (Map of sea defense): drawn upwards east, downwards west, or the Guangdong yanhai zongtu (Coastal map of Guangdong), which places the mainland above and the sea below, with the Haifang tu, which places seas above and mainland below.194 These are not mere questions of map orientation. In the minds of contemporaries, interior, exterior, above, and below are all related to issues of affirmation and denial of nation and state, of ascertaining the Self and the Other. We might as well note that this custom was not confined to ancient China alone. The 1930 Japanese Map of China’s Coasts places Japan unobtrusively down at the bottom of the map, with Korea and Taiwan just above and either side, shaped like a claw and facing a shrunken China. We might observe symbolic meaning in the orientation of the map: Is it not the stance of one facing their enemy?

193 See Zheng Ruoceng, Zheng Kaiyang zazhu, juan 4, 4a. 194 See Wang Yong 王 庸 , Mingdai haifang tujilu 明 代 海 防 图 籍 录 (Collections of books and maps on coastal defense in the Ming dynasty), in Zhongguo dili tuji congkao 中 国 地 理 图 籍 丛 考 (Record of Chinese geographic books) ed., Wang Yong (Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1947, 1956), 92–122.

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Understanding Ming Concepts of “Private” and “Public” from Gazetteer Maps

Upon reading Ming dynasty gazetteers for a time, and glancing now and then at the appended maps, one is left with the deep feeling that three main views lie behind these maps. The first thing to notice is the lack of people, “people” here referring to the private living spaces of the common folk. Historians tell us that in ancient China, most cities were local, regional or provincial government and military centers. They were not like more modern cities and towns in having many commercial and retail businesses. Still, even ancient political centers could not have been entirely government offices with no residential or commercial areas; there would always have been more civilians than officials. Liang Gengyao writes of cities of the Southern Song dynasty, in Fuzhou, where the provincial government as well as the two county administrations of Min and Hou could not have employed more than some 800 people—and the provincial and county governments of Taizhou only had some 50 people, and including petty officials was still not more than 400—which shows that most city residents must have been civilians.195 With so many people to house, who all required food, drink, amusement and music, there must have been residential districts, businesses, markets, as well as the houses of singing girls, wine shops, bazaars, and bookstores. The Song dynasty magistrates of Pingjiang and Xingyuan had the theatres where acrobatic and dramatic performances would take place, while in Huzhou, both the provincial seat and Qingyuan, the magistrate’s seat, had bazaars.196 In Zhenjiang during the Yuan dynasty, it was reported that: “Recently corvee services have been heavy and the yearly harvest has been bad. People either leave or die. The population is decreasing.” The Zhishun zhenjiang zhi (Local gazetteer of Zhenjiang from the Zhishun reign) still records the existence of “seven corners, twenty-eight lanes, five markets, seven streets, and eighty-two alleys.”197 The relative size of common people’s living spaces is apparent. 195 See Liang Gengyao 梁 庚 尧 , “Nansong chengshi de shehui jiegou” 南 宋 城 市 的 社 会 结 构 (Social structure of cities in the Southern Song), section one, in Dalu zazhi 81:4 (1990): 2. 196 For example, Wang Qian mentions “Goulan xiang” 勾 栏 巷 (alleys of pleasure houses) and “kuajie lou” 跨 街 楼 (overhead buildings) and these are all places of entertainment and pleasures. See Wang Qian王 謇 , Song Pingjiangcheng fang kao 宋 平 江 城 坊 考 (The verification of Pingjiang in the Song dynasty) (Nanjing: Jiangsu gujichubanshe, 1999), juan 1, 16–17. 197 See Yu Xilu 俞 希 鲁 , Zhishun Zhenjiang zhi 至 顺 镇 江 志 (Local gazetteer of Zhenjiang from the Zhishun reign) (Nanjing: Jiangsu guji chubanshe, 1999), juan 2, 13–16.

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However, what is strange is that the related gazetteers offer no help to us in imagining the urban spaces of the time. Invariably, we expect maps to follow the proportions of the space they delineate, with spaces of greater surface area occupying proportional map area. But, a second look at the maps of government seats that appear in the opening sections of Ming gazetteers reveals a habit of ancient maps that is hard to reconcile with modern views: the space between the city walls—which, by the way, are often marked with very realistic drawings—contains only public architecture like government buildings and religious centers, and very few market streets or other private living spaces, with the most prominent point on the map being the government offices in the town center. These symbolize political power and authority.198 During the Song dynasty, the actual situation was that “from streets to alleys, stores, big or small, are everywhere. There are no empty houses.”199 A glance at texts like Mengliang lu (Records of dreams of glory) and others reveals that cities were neither cold nor lifeless, but as bustling as depicted on the famous scroll painting Qingming shang he tu (Along the river during the Qingming festival). Not only government centers, but towns of all types were busy, as we see on the familiar stone-inscribed map in Pingjiang, which is drawn more or less to scale, with each of the streets and alleys marked; and on the map of Jiande Prefecture in Hunxi, we see that in addition to the heavily emphasized government offices are a few resident addresses in some ten or so commercial centers.200 Even though these are barely noticeable, squeezed in amidst government offices as they are, they still have the power to help us imagine the design of ancient urban spaces. The Lin’an tu (Map of Lin’an) of the Xianchun Lin’an zhi (Gazetteer of Lin’an of the Xianchun reign) contains roughly proportional drawings of living spaces for common people in the western ­district,

198 For example, “(Jiajing) Fuzhou fu tu” ( 嘉 靖 ) 抚 州 府 图 (Fuzhou prefectural map made in the Jiajing reign) stresses the locations of Fuzhou prefecture, Linchuan country, Provincial Surveillance Commissions and Military Defense Circuit on the left, and the prefectural school on the right. In “Jin Yangzhou fu bing suoshu zhouxian zongtu” 今 扬 州 府 并 所 属 州 县 总 图 (The comprehensive map of Yangzhou prefecture and the affiliated counties) that was compiled in Jiajing Weiyang zhi ( 嘉 靖 ) 惟 扬 志 (Gazetteer of Weiyang compiled in the Jiajing reign), despite the prosperity of Yangzhou, the cartographer only draws Yangzhou prefecture, Jiangdu country, and the official dwelling of the censorate. The way that they are marked so conspicuously only indicates the significance of politics, law and authorities in the mind of the cartographers. 199 See Wu Zimu 吴 自 牧 , Mengliang lu 梦 粱 录 (Records of dreams of glory) (Jinan: Shandong youyi chubanshe, 2001), juan 13, 178. 200 See Chen Gongliang 陈 公 亮 , Yanzhou tujing 严 州 图 经 (Map guide to Yan Prefecture) (Congshu jicheng edition), vol. 3165, 4–5.

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called “the grand interior” (danei), though it was not large at all. A single glance convinces us that civilian residences outnumber government offices in this vital city, where life was more important than politics. Such drawings are rare, however, on Ming dynasty gazetteer maps.201 It seems that deliberately or otherwise, the common people’s living space was overlooked. Second, officials in this world are accompanied by officials of another world. In addition to political architecture, Ming dynasty gazetteer maps often give pride of place to certain religious architecture, such as legally permissible temples and sanctioned sacrificial grounds; “Yinci yinsi” (immoral temples and shrines) were not included. Marked as they often are on gazetteer maps, it is evident that such places offered up to the gods and spirits were seen as the equals of government offices by officials, gentry and gazetteer compilers—they counted as “public space.” Thus, Ming gazetteer maps generally included clear illustrations of almost every Chenghuang temple.202 Larger and more prominent temples, such as Fuzhou’s Tianning and Baoying Temples, and Shanhua Temple and Taining Daoist Temple in Datong were also included. The most salient were the Chenghuang temples. According to historians, the extreme importance of Chenghuang temples first occurred in the Ming dynasty. Establishing rules and norms during the early years of his reign, the first Ming emperor, Zhu Yuanzhang, enfeoffed the Chenghuang, or city gods, as wang (kings). Later he rescinded the title wang and made them equal to high-level local officials, but still felt that their help was needed to manage the local populace. So, he called on all the provincial and county cities and towns to build Chenghuang temples, “big and spacious to supervise the halls of official bureaus. The tables of worship almost identical with the sacred statues placed on them. The old temples that are not in bad shape could be renovated.”203 This aligned the Chenghuang temple to the local government, 201 As far as I have read, in juan 1 of Jiajing Renhe xianzhi (嘉 靖 )仁 和 县 志 (Local gazetteer of Renhe compiled in the Jiajing reign), Shen Chaoxuan, the compiler, still records about alleys, streets, and markets. In juan 2, he compiles about bridges. But this might only be the remanence inherited from the local gazetteer of Hangzhou compiled in the Song dynasty. Usually local gazetteers of the Ming dynasty do not mark out the daily spaces for ordinary people. See Shen Chaoxuan comp., Jiajing Renhe xianzhi (嘉 靖 )仁 和 县 志 in the collectanea catalog of the Siku quanshu (Siku cunmu quanshu congsu), (Jinan: Qilu shushe, photocopy, 1996), section of history, vol. 194. 202 See Yu Fengjie 于 凤 喈 and Zou Heng 邹 衡 , “Preface,” in Zhengde Jiaxing zhi bu (正 德 ) 嘉 兴 志 补 (Supplement to the local gazetteer of Jiaxing compiled in the Zhengde reign), in the history section of the collectanea catalog of the Siku quanshu (Siku cunmu quanshu congsu), vol. 185, 221. 203 See Ming Taizu shilu 明 太 祖 实 录 (Veritable records of Emperor Ming Taizu) (Taipei: Academic Sinica, photocopy), juan 53.

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with the Chenghuang temple god in the mortal world serving as a local official for the netherworld. Local officials were called both “Fumu guan” (parent officials) and “zhoumu” (provincial shepherds). It seems that shepherds were the appropriate agents to act on behalf of parents in management and instruction, and that being the case, the city gods also received solemn and important sacrifices. Thus Li Xian, in his Hejian xinjian Chenghuang miao ji (On the Newly Built Chenghuang Temple in Hejian), compares city gods with sheji, or gods of the land and grain: “Gods of the land and grain are responsible for feeding the people and God of the city for protecting the people.”204 Moreover, local officials were supposed to take special care in their sacrifices to the city gods, in order that “their virtues tally with the gods”—the one managing the hidden world, the other, the mortal world. The ancients used to say, “When one meets the higher orders, one speaks of xing and li (human nature and natural principle); when one meets the lower orders, one speaks of yin and guo (causes and consequences).” Religious teaching closely resembled local administration. Ancient China was not only “a mix of the Way of the wang (king) and the Way of ba (hegemon),” but also “a mix of hidden and mortal officials.” This was most effective, for, as the ancients said, “People may lack fear of law, but they never lack fear of the gods and spirits.” For the most part, then, in the world of ideas, local officials and city gods were seen as keepers of the mortal and netherworlds, respectively. Thus, what the gazetteer maps show is that Cheng­ huang temples and government offices of the mortal world were equal, and they treated each other so, dividing up and each occupying separate positions. A third feature is that locations for the educational and moral nurturing of officialdom are highlighted. Providing for both the mortal and the nether world only solves half the problems, for officials in the mortal world face the twin problems of jiaoyu (education) and yangyu (moral nurturing). Unlike in modern times, officials in the ancient world were omnipotent and omniscient, and hence the moniker “parent officials.” Officials were known as fumu (parents) and commoners as zimin (children people). Government was held to be a family, giving officials both great power and great responsibility. Maps reveal the government’s great influence over life. In addition to government offices and religious temples, Ming dynasty gazetteer map illustrations emphatically mark another type of building: the granary, stocked against famine. The map of Fuzhou, for example, displays the various types of ­granaries. The (Wanli) Huzhou Gazetteer specifically marks the Wucheng Granary, and 204 See Gao Xiang 郜 相 and Fan Shen 樊 深 comp., “Dianli zhi” 典 礼 志 (records of rituals), in Jiajing Hejian fu zhi (嘉 靖 )河 间 府 志 (Hejian Prefectural Gazetteer compiled in the Jiajing reign), in the history section of the collectanea catalog of the Siku quanshu (Siku cunmu quanshu congsu), vol. 192, 517–518.

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the (Zhengde) Jiaxing Gazetteer Supplement shows a grain storage facility as one of seven structures pictured within the city walls. We may observe that He Qiaoyuan’s Minshu (History of Fujian) always places grain storage facilities just after government offices in its listing of important buildings in Fuzhou and Quanzhou Prefectures.205 Such marking of grain storage facilities on maps is seen in Song dynasty ­gazetteer maps. Ancient Chinese grain transfer methods were highly systematic thanks to the emergence of the Changping Granary during the Han dynasty, the Charity Granary of the Sui dynasty, and Association Granary establishedby Zhu Xi during the Song dynasty. Writing on Association Granaries of the Southern Song dynasty, Liang Gengyao noted that officials and gentry were greatly preoccupied with building granaries, and indeed it was an important part of Zhu Xi’s career. While this was partly out of the realistic concern that it would be unacceptable to allow famine leading to social unrest, it also reflected the social ideals of the neo-Confucianism: with two kinds of granaries in the city, and the association-type granaries in the countryside, grain transfer could in a small way address the problem of resource inequality.206 All this shows that disaster relief measures were already an important function of local government by the time of the Song dynasty. In addition to famine preparedness and responsibility for nurturing and training, local government officials of imperial China placed great emphasis on education. Confucian officials had always taken it as their responsibility to “improve people’s ways and customs.” As a result, another type of building is seen at numerous locations in the gazetteers: prefectural schools, county schools, and academies. Schools were certainly not limited to those run by public officials. Beginning in the Song dynasty, privately-run local schools were common. The “Sanjiao waidi” (The three religions on the outskirts of the city) entry of the Ducheng jisheng (Exhaustive description of the capital) says, “As for the rest of the county schools, home schools, private community schools, and reading halls, there must be one or two in each alley, so can they hear each other reciting.” Yet gazetteer mapmakers focused solely on official schools. ­Despite Mencius’ early avowal that the emphasis should be first on the people, second on the gods of the land and grain, and only last on the ruler, from the

205 See He Qiaoyuan 何 乔 远 , Minshu 闽 书 (History of Fujian) (Fuzhou: Fujian renmin ­chubanshe, 1994), juan 32, vol.1, 800–805. 206 See Liang Gengyao 梁 庚 尧 , “Nansong de shehui” 南 宋 的 社 仓 (Association Granaries of the Southern Song dynasty), in Shixue pinglun (Taipei: Huashi chubanshe, 1982), vol. 4, 1–33.

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earliest times, China has always placed greater emphasis on officials than the people. Thus all educational facilities established by officials were given pride of place second only to government offices. They certainly were never forgotten on gazetteer maps. On the (Wanli) Huzhou fuzhi (Huzhou prefectural gazetteer), not only are prefectural schools listed, but also the county school of Gui’an County, as well as the Anding Academy, famous at the time and originally part of the legacy left by Hu Anding.207 The two types of buildings specially marked on gazetteer maps symbolize the existence of ever-present Chinese political power and intentions. With material needs taken care of, the people would remain at peace and order could be maintained. With spiritual needs seen to, people of knowledge and literati had places to pursue their dreams, hold forth on ethics, and discuss truth and reason. The shi class stood at the top of the four categories of min (people), and with schools enabling social advancement and making political positions attainable, they were unlikely to incite civil unrest. Roland Barthes once said that the center of a Western city “is always full: a marked site, it is here that the values of civilization are gathered and condensed: spirituality (churches), power (offices), money (banks), merchandise (department stores), language (agoras: cafes and promenades),” Meanwhile, in Tokyo, Japan, he observed an empty center in which “hides the sacred ‘nothing’, but to give to the entire urban movement the support of its central emptiness.”208 He saw symbolic revelation of ideology in the design of urban space. Similarly, ancient Chinese ideology is revealed in the salient position given by Ming dynasty map illustrations to government offices (political power), temples (religious power), and schools and grainaries (cultural and economic power). The utter lack of streets and alleys, markets, or places of amusement, reveals that the world seems to lack people in the eyes of the mapmakers. It would seem they emphasize gong (the public, the official) to the exclusion of si (the private, the unofficial). If we take gazetteer maps as indirect lessons in intellectual history, finding no evidence of popular lives and no spaces for private life, it seems to say that during this age, the nation-state came to have more authority; the public repressed the private, even eliminated it. Behind a map that has government offices, temples, schools, and granaries lies the fact that the major 207 See Li Qi 栗 祁 comp., Wangli Huzhou fuzhi (万 历 )湖 州 府 志 (Huzhou prefectural gazetteer compiled in the Wanli reign), collected in Siku cunmu congshu, vol. 191, juan 1, 8. This political wisdom lasts long. Even in the Manchu-ruled Qing dynasty, this H ­ an-dominated convention was still carried on into the maps of local gazetteers of the Qing dynasty. 208 Roland Barthes, Empire of Signs, translated by Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 1983), 30–32. Emphasis original.

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officials who drew the maps gave little thought to daily life and private space, which seemed to be of very little importance to them. Conclusion Edward Soja has said that there should be three dimensions to geography: historicity, spatiality, and sociality.209 Geography, including the making of maps, must consider history’s influence on the construction of space, the position from which space is observed, and the influence of social context. I think this is also true when it comes to reading maps. Different descriptions of space on maps allow us to see the personal cultural history of the mapmaker. We are able to see the position from which the map maker distinguishes “Self” from “Other.” We are able to see the world according to the mapmaker. We are able to see many views not explicitly stated, political and otherwise. And, maps of the same world but exhibiting different features allow us to see differences in views due to class or nation. It is only too true, the old saying: “Every individual possesses a world different from those of others.” To return to the question asked at the beginning of this chapter: How can we see the intellectual history in maps? In other words, how can ancient maps serve as resources of intellectual history? This is a question of research methods. The use of maps for intellectual history should not be in question. Much of historical memory is to be found not only in the written record, but in images, too. Many values are not necessarily directly expressed in writing, but are at times rendered in images. Since every individual who makes images, maps included, has their own views, these views will influence their choice of direction, scale, position, and color. Thus, to the student of intellectual history, images and writing mean little difference in function when it comes to the quest for historical and ideological views. As I said in an older piece, “The question is: how could we interpret the thoughts of people of the past through maps and how could we transform the wordless images into speakable history?”210 209 Edward Soja, Postmodern Geographies: The Reassertion of Space in Critical Social Theory (London: Verso, 1989). See Wang Zhihong 王 志 弘 , “Hou xiandai de kongjian sikao: Aidehua Suoya sixiang pingjie” 后 现 代 的 空 间 思 考 ——爱 德 华  · 索 雅 思 想 评 ­ 介 (The thinking of the spatiality of post-modernism: Introduction and evaluation of ­Edward Soja’s thought), in Liudong, kongjian yu shehui 流 动 、 空 间 与 社 会 (Mobility, spatiality, and society) (Taipei: Tianyuan chengshi wenhua shiye youxian gongsi, 1998), 17–33. 210 Ge Zhaoguang 葛 兆 光 , “Guditu yu sixiangshi” 古 地 图 与 思 想 史 (Ancient maps and history of thought), in Ershiyi shiji, 61 (October 2000), 154–164.

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The Real and the Imaginary: Who Decides What “Asia” Means? On “Asianism” in Japan and China from the Late Qing to the Republican Era When I was in Japan for a conference in October 2001, Kyoto University ­Professor Kurozumi Makoto presented me with a scholarly bibliography of research on Asianism in Japan. Not long after I returned to Beijing, Professor Sueki Fumihiko of Tokyo University sent me the volume Non-European Perspectives, which he had compiled together with Nakajima Takahiro and which contained his article “Links with or Invasions of Asia? Ōkawa Shūmei and J­apan’s Asianism.”211 All this spurred in me renewed interest in the word “Yazhou zhuyi” (Asianism).212 Many scholars have taken such an interest since Japanese scholars like Takeuchi Yoshimi began to discuss “Asianism in Japan” in the 1960s. During the 1990s, a new round of debates ensued, examples of which I can supply from materials readily at hand. There were works that traced the relationship between Asianism and Riben zhuyi (Japanism), like the 1997 Nihon shi no shisō: Ajia shugi to Nihon shugi no sōkoku (Japanese thought: The conflict between Asianism and Japanism) by Kojita Yasunao. Books discussing the topic directly include the 1996 volume Kindai Nihon no Ajia ninshiki (The understanding of Asia in modern Japan) compiled by Furuya Tetsuo, and the topic indirectly comes up in the 1992 volume Ajia no naka no nihonshi (The History of Japan in Asia) compiled by Arano Yasunori.213 Thinking from Asia, a volume compiled by Mizoguchi Yūzō, Hamashita Takeshi, Hiraishi Naoaki, and Miyajima Hiroshi, Japanese scholars highly influential in China, made an even bigger contribution to interest in the topic in the 1990s.214 211 See Sueki Fumihiko, “Links or Invasions? Ōkawa Shūmei and Japan’s Asianism,” in Hi, Seiō no shiza (Non Western Perspective), ed., Fumihiko Sueki and Takahiro Nakajima (Tōkyō: Taimeidō, 2001), 150–172. 212 As for the concept of Asianism, see Nohara Shirō, “Pan Asianism,” in Ajia rekishi jiten (Dictionary of Asian History) (Tōkyō: Heibonsha, 1971), the 7th edition, vol. 6, 6–7. 213 Kojita Yasunao, Nihon shi no shisō: Ajia shugi to Nihon shugi no sōkoku (The thought of Japanese history: the conflict between Asianism and Japanism) (Tōkyō: Kashiwa Shobō, 1997). 214 For example, there are seven volumes in the series “Ajia kara kangaeru” (Thinking from Asia) that were compiled by Mizoguchi Yūzō, Takeshi Hamashita, Naoaki Hiraishi, and Hiroshi Miyajima in 1993–94.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi 10.1163/9789004279995_006

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There is nothing inherently wrong about understanding “Asia” as more than a geographical area, as a space linked historically, culturally, and ideologically, using this perspective to consider both the history of the past and prospects for the future. I myself once said in a conference talk that the history of Buddhism in the early modern era indicates a need to treat the early modern history of China with attention to the interplay of contexts and sources among Japan, Korea and China.215 But when did “Asia” become a “gongtongti” (community)? While we acknowledge that some Japanese, Korean and Chinese scholars taking a renewed look at “Asia” does in some sense transcend the political borders of the nation-state to re-build the imaginary political space capable of canceling “guojia zhongxin” (country-centrism) and so opposing “xifang baquan” (Western hegemony), historically speaking, how is Asia able to become—or when did it ever become—an entity capable of acknowledging its interior members, possessing common historical sources, possessing a common culture, knowledge and history of an “Other,” in short, forming a political community? For the moment, let us not speak at all of the many Islamic countries of west and central Asia, or the culturally and historically distinct states of South Asia. Even in so-called “East Asia,” meaning China, Korea, and Japan, when and on whose auspices was this ever a common space? As Takeuchi Yoshimi and many of scholars of the time have already said, this form of Asianism was produced in Japan in the context of Japan’s “tuo Ya” (throwing off Asia) and embrace of Europe in diligent pursuit of modernization, which led to a sense of “xing Ya” (advancing Asia), of standing up to Europe as an equal. All this caused Japan to renew its links with Asia, albeit accompanied with the incubating ambition to lead and direct Asia through invasion.216 This analytical framework may have fallen into disrepute among many scholars, but I believe it remains influential. If the new discourse of “Asia” and the “Asian community” have transcended what Takeuchi Yoshimi calls “links and invasions,” then what context and what sentiments produce it? Is the “Asia” taken for granted by Japan so understood as a community in Korea and China? In other words, is “Asia” a community that remains to be imagined and built or one that has already been acknowledged? This is a matter deserving of much consideration and of which a historian may have serious doubts. 215 Ge Zhaoguang, “Huwei beijing yu ziyuan: Yi jindai Zhong Ri Han fojiaoshi weili” 互 为 背 景 与 资 源 ——以 近 代 中 日 韩 佛 教 史 为 例 (Being background and resources in a mutual sense: With the case study of Buddhist history in modern China, Japan, and Korea), in Zhongguo dianji yu wenhua luncong 中 国 典 籍 与 文 化 论 丛 (Chinese classics and culture essays collection) (Nanjing: Jiangsu guji chubanshe, 2002), 272–275. 216 Takeuchi Yoshimi ed., Ajia shugi (Asianism) (Tōkyō: Chikuma Shobō, 1963).

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Asianism in Modern Japan

According to Katsurajima Nobuhiro, the origins of Asianism in Japan can be traced to the first half of the 19th century or even the late 18th century. When Western knowledge of astronomy and geography had begun to change the face of the world, causing Japanese to become aware of maps of “the Orient” and “the Occident,” the traditional China-centered distinction between Chinese and barbarian began to disintegrate.217 This disintegration of the traditional world map proved the crisis that Japan needed to build new maps, both political and cultural. According to Yamamuro Shin’ichi, Japanese “Asianism” can be traced to even the early 18th century, since the term “eyes of Asia” so salient in Nishikawa Joken’s (1648–1724) “Map of the Overview of the Many Countries on Earth.” From zōho kai tsūshōkō (Supplement to the verification of the Chinese-barbarian commerce) to the distinction between “Occident” and “Orient” in the work Seiyō kibun (Records of the Occident) of Arai Hakuseki (1657–1725), both exhibit early breaks with the view that China was the center of the universe.218 Even though the date of the historical origins can be continually pushed back, scholars always look first and foremost at the plethora of discourse surrounding that period of rapid modernizations, the Meiji period. That is because this period supplies factors that can explain not only “Asianism,” but movements that would come later, like those to reject Asia and to advance Asia. Some scholars point out that the main difference between movements to “advance Asia” and to “reject Asia” was that the former emphasized the importance of region on the basis of acknowledged distinctions between “Orient” and “Occident,” while the latter emphasized the significance of modernity in terms of the difference between “civilized” and “uncivilized.” But “Asianism” was never purely a matter of region, for it made plain a trend in values. Moreover, “Europeanization” was never only a matter of pursuing the modernity of Europe, for it also required Japan to be the model for the rest of Asia, to help all of East Asia out from under the strictures of the world centered on the Great 217 Katsurajima Nobuhiro has pointed out that since the era of Motoori Norinaga, Yamaga Sokō promoted the Japanese-style Chinese-barbarian relationship. He established Japan as “our empire” by considering China as the “alien empire” or “exterior empire” and thus walked away from the traditional China-centered pattern regarding the Chinese-barbarian relationship. This is the beginning of Asianism. See Katsurajima Nobuhiro, Shisōshi no jūkyūseiki: “Tasha” to shite no Tokugawa Nihon (Tōkyō: Perikansha, 1999), 196–231. 218 See Yamamuro Shin’ichi, “The base of understanding Asia,” in Kindai Nihon no Ajia ninshiki (The understanding of Asia in modern Japan), ed., Furuya Tetsuo (Tōkyo: Ryokuin Shobo, 1996), 6–8.

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Qing and traditional Chinese views. Thus among proponents of “throwing off Asia,” the most representative figure, Fukuzawa Yukichi (1835–1901) never forgot how closely connected all of Asia was even as he made strong calls for “throwing off Asia.”219 Many noted his comments to this effect in the March 16, 1885 edition of Jiji shinpō (Current-Events News): The land of our Japan is in the eastern part of Asia. But the spirit of our citizens has gotten rid of the obstinacy and ugliness of Asia and moved to the Western civilization. However… for the sake of our time, our country has to wait for the enlightenment of our neighboring countries and ally with them to revitalize Asia together. We would rather guide China and Korea than leave them behind and ally with the Western civilized countries.220 Of course, he also said that Japan had to serve as leader of this Asian alliance because Japan was already leading in the progress of Oriental civilizational evolution.221 And this was not just the personal views of Fukuzawa Yukichi. Shibahara Takuji has surveyed public opinion as expressed in five major newspapers during the 10 years following the Meiji restoration to reveal that an Asia ideology characterized by self-aggrandizing pride and condescension for others had penetrated the population at large.222 And Itō Yukio has pointed out that Japanese society from the aristocracy down to the most ordinary began thinking of itself as the leader of East Asia between the year of the Meiji Restoration and 1884. Between 1885 and the Sino-Japanese War of 1894, Japan was keenly aware of the presence of the European powers, especially Russia and England, in East Asia, which made Japan cautious of their excessive aggressiveness. Victory in the Sino-Japanese war only strengthened their sense of being

219 Maruyama Masao reminded people in his late years that Fukuzawa Yukichi had never used the phrase “throwing off Asia and joining Europe,” nor the word “Joining Europe.” However, in Japan “throwing off Asia and joining Europe” was considered to be created by Fukuzawa Yukichi and was widely disseminated. Maruyama Masao, Fuze yuji yu R ­ iben xiandaihua (Fukuzawa Yukichi and Japan’s moderization), translated by Ou Jianying 区 建 英 (Shanghai: Xuelin chubanshe, 1992), preface of Maruyama Masao, 9. 220 Fukuzawa Yukichi zenshū (Complete collection of Fukuzawa Yukichi) (Tōkyō: Iwanami Shoten, 1959), vol. 10, 238–240. 221 See Fukuzawa Yukichi zenshū, vol. 8, 30, 427. 222 See Shibahara Takuji, “Viewpoints on foreign relationships and Nationalism” in Taigaikan (Perspective of foreign relationships), ed., Shibahara Takuji, Ikai Takaaki, and Ikeda Masahiro (Tōkyō: Iwanami Shoten, 1996).

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the new masters of East Asia.223 We may add that after the Russo-Japanese War of 1904, this wild ambition grew still further. This ideology included the intent to expand Japanese nationalism, but the cause was advanced as opposition to invasion by Western countries, with slogans calling for the pursuit of a universal Asian civilization. Fukuzawa Yukichi wanted Western civilization to be the common pursuit of all Asia and modernity to be made the rational basis for development. There were others who lauded the inherent superiority of East Asian civilization over Western civilization, emphasizing the intimacy between countries in the region based on commonalities in their history and culture. A typical example is Tarui Tōkichi (1850–1922) writing in his 1893 work Daitō gappōron (On the unity of the countries in Greater East Asia): The East is where the sun rises. It dominates development and harmony. Its spirit is black dragon and its virtue is benevolence… Asia is on the eastern side of Europe. Japan and Korea are on the ultimate east and thus are influenced by the nature of benevolence that is dominated by nature of wood. The refreshing and clear mentality is evident. The temperament and customs are different from the harsh style of the northwest. This is the principle of nature. Thus he emphasizes the common culture and race of East Asians: “Their lands are next to each other like lips to teeth. Their influence is like that of sun and moon. Their emotions are like those of brothers and their virtues are like those of friends.”224 In the simplest terms, greater and greater calls for “Asianism” relate to the success of the Meiji restoration. The success of the Meiji restoration helped Japan finally throw off the fetters of the China-centered tributary system, to escape from the confines of the Chinese culture, and to establish particularly Japanese senses of self and other. It also helped Japan reject the West, to imagine itself emerging from a miserable position on the margins of the West to a new sense of self as a regional power in terms of politics, economy and

223 Itō Yukio, “The formation of the understanding of China and Korea before the 1894 Sino-Japanese war and the perspectives of foreign relationships,” in Kindai Nihon no Ajia ninshiki, ed., Tetsuo Furuya, 103–171, especially in the conclusion part between 155 and 159. 224 Tarui Tōkichi, Daitō gappōron: fukkoku (On the unification of Great East Asia, reprint) (Tōkyō: Chōryō Shorin: Wakatsuki Shoten hatsubai, 1975). Cited from Ƭhira Yūichi, Shisōshi no jūkyūseiki: “Tasha” to shite no Tokugawa Nihon (History of thought in the nineteenth century: The other and Tokugawa Japan) (Tōkyō: Perikansha, 1999), 212.

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culture.225 Their pride in having evolved and gained strength combined with nostalgia for traditional East Asian culture and sense of regional identity, after being at the beck and call of the West for centuries, had resulted in modern Japan acquiring a complex emotional outlook. They could neither cast away their Asian identity nor embrace a European one. Thus, some Japanese began to focus more on their neighbors. Neither China nor Japan had previously seen each other as neighbors in “Asia.” Now, suddenly there seemed to be a natural sense of connection, as between distant relatives, as if China and Japan were of one clan, with no blood ties to “Europe.” Hiraishi Naoaki, in “Asianism in Modern Japan,” listed such phrases and concepts as Fukuzawa Yukichi’s ‘Federated East Asia Theory’ Tarui Tōkichi’s (Greater East Federated Country Conjecture), Konoe Atsumaro and the notion of People of One Race Under One Leader Theory, down to Okakura Tenshin’s Image of Japan as Liberator, all indicate the bases for Asianism at the time—an Asianism bolstered by the concept of a federation of countries of common race and culture, the West’s Monroe doctrine, and a vision of Japan as the liberator of Asia based on a unified culture. The first comes from a vision of a united culture and history, the second from a conjecture about the overlap of geographical and political spaces, the third constructed from modern notions of “advanced” and “backwards.”226 Before we address the dangers inherent in the last point, we may remark from point one that the notion of common culture and common race, of the unification of the cultures, is fundamentally problematic in terms of national and cultural identity. China, Korea and Japan may, perhaps, be considered distant relatives of the same clan in that they all made use of Chinese characters. But, taking China, Japan and India as a bloc based on their common adherence to Buddhism is more problematic, because China could not ever have been considered a Buddhist country per se; and, by then, Buddhism had long disappeared from India. Yet for those advocating Asianism, for a country to have ever had or transmitted Buddhism was reason enough to see ties of kinship; and, in the context of a place that focuses on “the West” as its main “Other,” it seems only logical to construct an “East” as a counterpoint. Thus, in the writings of the esteemed Okakura Tenshin, the Himalaya mountains no longer form a barrier dividing two different civilizations:227 225 See Kurozumi Makoro,” Nihon shiso to sono kenkyu—Chugoku ninshiki wo megute” Chūgoku, shakai to bunka11 (1996): 3–28. 226 Hiraishi Naoaki,“The Asianism in Modern Japan,” in Kindaikazō (The image of modernization) eds., Yūzō Mizoguchi et al., (Tōkyō: Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 1994), 282. 227 Okakura Tenshin, “Tōyō no risō” (East Asia’s Ideal), Okakura Tenshin shū (Collections of Okakura Tenshin), eds., Kamei Katsuichirō, Miyagawa Torao (Tōkyō: Chikuma Shobō, 1968), 6–7.

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Asia is one. The Himalayas divides two strong civilizations, which are Chinese civilization that is characterized by Confucian socialism and Indian civilization marked by Vedic individualism. But the snowy mountain is not the barrier and it cannot cut off the idea for pursuit of u­ niversal “love.” This ‘love’ is the inheritance that all Asian nations share. It is exactly at this point that it separates Asia from the Mediterranean nations which prefer to look for means of life instead of goals.228 During the late 19th and early 20th centuries, after Japan defeated China, and more so after Japan defeated Russia, there was a big increase in efforts to connect the histories of Japan and “Asia” in this way, attributing the main currents of Asian thought to Japan.229 Almost a century later, Victor G. Kiernan, remembering the common concerns of Europeans at the time, wrote: In 1895 when Japan defeated China, it might still pose as champion of Asia; a Western writer who expected the world’s future to be decided in the Far East cited a speech by Ōkuma about the decadent West, which Japan on behalf of Asia would expel. An anti-imperialist like W.S. Blunt was so sure that only Japan could save eastern Asia from European control that he could look on Japanese control of China as the necessary price. By the same logic, when it came to war in 1904, Russia could pose as champion of European civilization. Other Europeans, including Englishmen, wondered uneasily whether there might not be something in this. If Japan won, an Englishman at St. Petersburg wrote, she might before long ‘unite the yellow races and get too big for her boots’.230

228 Therefore, in that era, every social group of Japan has its proposals and actions in regard of considering “Asia” as a unity. See Ge Zhaoguang, “Xichao quezi dongying lai” 西 潮 却 自 东 瀛 来 (The Western trends come from the East), in Ge Zhaoguang zixuanji 葛 兆 光 自 选 集 (Selected collection of Ge Zhaoguang) (Guilin: Guangxi shifan daxue chubanshe, 1997), 138–156. 229 Yan Shaodang has pointed out that “almost in all circumstances Japan’s idea of nationsovereignty-ism dominates the Asia-rising ideology.” See Yan Shaodang 严 绍 璗 , “Ershi shiji Ribenren de Zhongguo guan” 二 十 世 纪 日 本 人 的 中 国 观 (The Japanese’s views of China in the twentieth century), Riben xue 日 本 学 (Japanese studies) (Beijing: Beijing daxue chubanshe, 1991), vol. 3, 81–97. 230 Victor G. Kiernan, The Lords of Human Kind: European Attitudes to Other Cultures in the Imperial Age, pp. 215–217.

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Indeed, this turned out to be the case. Only after this point did “Asia” become a space that seemed to require “leadership” and “federation” under the vision of Japanese government and culture. 2

The Complex Reaction to “Asianism” in Late-Qing and Early-Republican China

Around the turn of the century, Japan, rapidly expanding, did indeed seem to have an enthusiasm for “tixie Zhongguo” (guiding China) and a vision of “tongwen tongzhong” (common civilization, common race). In the eyes of some scholars, symbols of the “Yazhou zhuyi” (Asianism) of the times included Ōkubo Toshimichi and the “Zhenya hui” Promoting Asia Society, the journal “Tai yang” (The Sun), the Dongya tongwen hui (East Asia Common Culture Society) and Dongya shilun (East Asia Times Discussion), as well as the various East Asian culture schools opened by Japanese nationals in China. Some people overestimate the closeness of China and Japan, seeing the times as a “Golden Decade” for China-Japan relations, which seemed to make people perceive signs of “Yazhou yiti” (Asian unification).231 This overlooks the real feelings of Chinese people, and is a misreading of history which allows surface enthusiasm to conceal the underlying contempt. In truth the appeal of ‘Asian unification’ was one-sided, limited to the Japanese. Having thoroughly modernized itself and tasted victory in wars against China and Russia, Japan’s marginal status—geographically—was brought home to it the unfairness of the world’s layout. This, in turn, sparked the urge to call itself leader of the alliance, even overlord. But, to a country like China, just then in transition between tradition and modernity, the Japanese brand of “Asianism” was not acceptable. Traditional Chinese geographical views admitted only the Chinese court, plus various barbarian peoples, with no concept of Asia per se. The concept of Asia came only with acceptance of Western geographical terms. But recognition of geographical meaning did not imply acceptance of political meaning. Besides lingering historical memories of the distinction between Chinese and barbarian and the tribute system, another practical reason was that they thought of themselves as the people of guozu (the nation) who would never be content as vassals, led by the nose by the Japanese. Therefore, they also would not agree to “Asia” as a political and cultural space so lacking in historical and cultural basis. 231 See Douglas R. Reynolds, China, 1898–1912: The Xinzheng Revolution and Japan, translated under the title Xinzheng geming yu riben: Zhongguo, 1898–1912新 政 革 命 与 日 本 ——中 国 , 1898–1912 (Nanjing: Jiangsu renmin chubanshe, 1998), 32–38.

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Chinese intellectuals of the time had discussions of great depth on Japan, which appeared to tally with notions of “Asianism.”232 The earliest was Zeng Jize, who once told the Japanese Minister to England that the reasons for Europe’s growing strength was its grasp of the notion of ‘hezong’ (vertical alliance), implying that China and Japan are: both located in the continent of Asia; dependent on each other; and, are approximately of the same size among Asian countries. He pointed out that some are strong and others are weak. “We should maintain the balance with the public law.”233 In this way, they could form an “Asia” that would be a match for Europe. After 1895, such opinions were more common, as for example with Zhang Taiyan and Liang Qichao, both of whom were in Japan at the time. Zhang published an article in Shiwu bao (The Chinese Progress) where he advocated “depending on each other for Asia’s benefit.” The article went on to take Russia as a hypothetical enemy from which Asia would be rescued by Japan—such opinion being a near reproduction of the Japanese one. Liang Qichao, in a 1901 issue of Guomin bao (Citizen’s Journal), goes so far as to say that for the Han people, “Japanese were more kin than Manchus: In terms of nationality, Manchus and Japanese both belong to the yellow race. But Japanese belong to our nationality and Manchus do not.”234 Matters went further. In 1907, the “Yazhou heqin hui” (Asian Friendship Society) formed in Japan, taking as its mission to “oppose imperialism and protect our own country.”235 Liang not only published several 232 As for this point, see Zhou Jiarong 周 佳 荣 , “Jindai Zhongguo de yazhouguan” 近 代 中 国 的 亚 洲 观 (Idea of Asia in modern China), in Zhongguo yu yazhou 中 国 与 亚 洲 (China and Asia), ed., Zheng Yushuo 郑 宇 硕 (Hong Kong: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1990), 221–239. 233 Zeng Jize 曾 纪 泽 , Zeng Huimin gong yiji曾 惠 敏 公 遗 集 (Posthumous collection of Zeng Jize), diary, juan 2, cited from Jindai Zhongguo dui xifang lieqiang renshi ziliao ­ huibian 近 代 中 国 对 西 方 列 强 认 识 资 料 汇 编 (Collected materials on China’s understanding of Western and other powers in modern times) (Taipei: Institute of Modern History, Academic Sinica, 1986), Part 3, vol. 1, 229. 234 Zhang Taiyan 章 太 炎 , “Zheng Chouman lun” (Orthodox theory on despising the Manchus), cited from Xinhai geming qian shinian jian shilun xuanji 辛 亥 革 命 前 十 年 间 时 论 选 集 (Selection of essays from the ten years leading up to the 1911 Revolution), comp., Zhang Nan 张 枬  and Wang Renzhi 王 忍 之 (Beijing: Sanlian shudian, 1977), vol. 1, 98–99. 235 But as many scholars have pointed out, this position has changed in a later period. Wang Young-tsu argues that in the early stage of the 1898 Reform, Zhang Taiyan advocated the alliance with Japan. “He was irritated by the Western imperialist invasion and distinguished the yellow race from the white race. Therefore, despite the fact that Japan defeated China in 1895, he did not consider Japan as the alien …But later when he arrived at Japan, he found out that Japan was indeed an imperialist power which was yellow outside but white inside, he began to despise Japan. Wang Young-tsu 汪 荣 祖 , “Taiyan yu riben” 太 炎 与 日 本 (Zhang Taiyan and Japan), in Zhang Taiyan yanjiu 章 太 炎 研 究

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articles in the Dongya shilun (East Asia Times Discussion) journal of the ­Dongya tongwen hui (East Asia Common Culture Society), but, for a period, he, too, rooted for “Asia.” In the first volume of the Qingyi bao (The China Discussion), as its chief editor, Liang proclaimed his support to four propositions, of which the third and fourth were to: “communicate the trends between China and Japan and strengthen the friendship of the two” and “invent East Asian scholarship to preserve the Asian essence.”236 The slightly younger Sun Yat-sen was an even more important advocate for Asianism. Visiting Japan in 1934, he spoke of the need for Japan and China to join hands and support peace in Asia. He advanced many propositions consistent with Japan’s position, including that “Asia is the home of us all,” and “if China and Japan collaborate, their power will rise. It is thus not hard to create a sense of greater Asia, destined to restore the glory of its past.”237 The problem is that the context of this discourse must be examined closely, for one can often sense that behind the terms lies wariness about invasion by the great powers of the West. In other words, “the Orient” and “Asia” are terms compelled into existence by the terms “the Occident” and “Ou Mei” (Europe and the Americas). When it comes to their actual feelings towards allying with Japan, some, like Liang Qichao, became true believers in supporting Japan in the light of China’s situation. Others extended their support out of Han nationalist opposition to the Manchu court or out of bitterness towards China, as with Zhang Taiyan. Still others, like Sun Yat-sen, said so as a matter of diplomacy. In reality, some of these voices might not have truly recognized the term “Asia.”238 (Research on Zhang Taiyan) (Taipei: Li’ao chubanshe, 1991), 63–64. Douglas R. Reynolds also points Out that even though he once had the idea of Asian unification, Zhang Taiyan soon changed his mind. See Douglas R. Reynolds, Xinzheng yu Riben, 129. 236 Qingyi bao 清 议 报 (The China discussion) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, photocopy, 1970), 1898, vol. 1, preface. 237 See Sun Yat-sen 孙 中 山 , “Zai Riben Dongya tongwen hui huanying hui de yanshuo” 在 日 本 东 亚 同 文 会 欢 迎 会 的 演 说 (Speech at the welcome meeting held by the East Asian Communal Culture of Japan) (February 15, 1913), “Tongwen yiti” zhi er 同 文 异 题 之 二 (Communal culture and different topics), the second piece, “Zai Dongjing Zhongguo liuxuesheng huanyinghui shang de yanshuo” 在 东 京 中 国 留 学 生 欢 迎 会 上 的 演 说 (Speech at the welcome meeting held by Tokyo-based Chinese Students) (February 23, 1913), in Sun Yat-sen quanji 孙 中 山 全 集 (Complete works of Sun Yat-sen) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1983), vol. 3, 14, 16, and 27. 238 Zhao Shiyuan argues that even though Sun Yat-sen made the speech “Da Yazhou zhuyi” (The greater Asianism) in 1924, “he did not choose this topic. Instead the five associations, including the Kobe Chamber of Commerce and Sino-Japanese Industry Association, ­requested this topic.” Meanwhile, Sun already shifted the standard of recognition and ­rejection from communal culture and communal race to “wangdao” (Kingly way) and “badao”

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These were weak and impoverished Chinese intellectuals, who envied Japan’s rapid ‘strengthening’ and ‘civilizing’. The envy stemmed from Japan’s affirmation of Western civilization and modernity, and not from affirmation of the Japanese nation and culture. Without a doubt, from the late Qing to the early years of the Republican era, many Chinese intellectuals held Japan in high regard. The Meiji restoration gave an impetus to China that cannot be exag­ gerated now, bringing as it did a mindset of self-strengthening to traditional China, especially after the first Sino-Japanese war, which, despite clouding rational thinking among the Chinese shamed by the loss, spurred many to realize an important point: that Japan was closer than China to a Western “civilization”; and, Western “civilization” meant to them the “strength” of modern countries and peoples. Following in Japan’s footsteps for pursuing civilizational progress was thus a step that few did not want. In 1896, Wang Kangnian gave the call for China to self-strengthen, in his Zhongguo ziqiang ce (Strategies for China’s self-strengthening): “If China can reform itself, then the West is to China what it is to Japan.” Having defeated and shamed China, Japan had now become the object of Chinese imitation, and this despite once being classified as “island barbarians.” The reason for imitating Japan was the Meiji Restoration.239 In 1898, Sun Baoxuan recorded in his diary that a reading of Mingzhi xin shi (New history of the Meiji restoration) had left him moved.240 And, especially revealing of Chinese intellectuals’ feelings is the December 30, 1899 “Letter to Sun Zhongkai” by Song Shu. He praised Japan, saying: The Japan of today is more civilized than China, which is beyond the ratio of billions to one… Japanese consider China ‘the country whose

(despotism), which is oppression and resistance. This was already different from the ­general great Asianism after Meiji Restoration. Zhao Shiyuan 赵 矢 元 , “Sun Zhongshan de da Yazhou zhuyi yu Riben de da Yazhou zhuyi” 孙 中 山 的 大 亚 洲 主 义 与 日 本 的 大 亚 洲 主 义 (Sun Yat-sen’s great Asianism and the great Asianism in Japan), in Zhongri guanxi shi lunwenji 中 日 关 系 史 论 文 集 (Essay collection on Sino-Japanese relations), comp., Dongbei diqu Zhongri guanxi shi yanjiuhui (Ha’erbin: Heilongjiang renmin chubanshe, 1984), 183–194. 239 See Wang Kangnian 汪 康 年 , “Zhongguo ziqiang ce” 中 国 自 强 策 (strategies for ­China’s self-strengthening) (September 7, 1896), in Wang Rangqing [Kangnian] yizhu 汪 穰 卿 遗 著 (Posthumous works of Wang Rangqing) (early-Republic edition, publisher unknown), juan 1, 2b. 240 See Sun Baoxuan 孙 宝 瑄 , Wangshan lu riji 忘 山 庐 日 记 (Diary from the Wangshan hut) (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1983), vol. 1, entry of October 25, 1898, 278.

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c­ ivilization has collapsed and whose classics have been shown invalid. What a pity that their mind is so superficial’.241 Even Wang Xianqian, widely rejected today for his conservative views, had his own perspective on the significance of Japan. His Riben yuanliu kao (Verification of the origin of Japan) avers of Japan’s rise: Japan finds justifications to repel the West. The shugonate was required to return the powers to the throne. It also terrifies the local lords and taxes the people. All the people are of one heart and respect the throne.242 These greatly changed views and feelings often had little effect. Maybe it was a case of sour grapes on China’s part. Or maybe China was ‘keeping the blade hidden while it waited for its chance’. Either way, people understood that the country most deserving of imitation was not necessarily going to be a best friend. The chief cause of the change was the pinch of defeat. Between 1891 and 1892, Zheng Xiaoxu, then serving as a foreign officer in Japan, still thought very little of the Meiji. He satirized Itō Hirobumi’s broad application of Western methods, saying of the Meiji Restoration that it is “refined on the outside, but its national affairs are deteriorating,” commenting once on Japan’s situation to say “Japan is not favored by Heaven. This is what anyone who learns from the West should be cautious of.”243 But between 1894 and 1895, after China, and even Li Hongzhang, had been defeated by Japan, he would admit to Ito that in his evaluation, “China is constrained by customs and could not get what it wants.” China should use Japan as a model. He specifically mentioned that China and Japan “are closest to each other and share the same culture. How could they fight each other? The two countries should maintain the situation in Asia and make peace forever. “Hopefully our yellow race of Asia will not be invaded by the white race of Europe.”244 In just a few years, would the historical and traditional views on all under Heaven and the four barbarians, and the 241 See Song Shu 宋 恕 , Song Shu ji 宋 恕 集 (Collection of Song Shu) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1993), vol. 2, 697. 242 See Wang Xianqian 王 先 谦 , Qing Wang Kuiyuan xiansheng Xianqian ziding nianpu 清 王 葵 园 先 生 先 谦 自 定 年 谱 (Chronological autobiography of Wang Xianqian) (Taipei: Taiwan shangwu yinshuguan, 1978), 359. 243 See Zheng Xiaoxu 郑 孝 胥 , Zheng Xiaoxu riji 郑 孝 胥 日 记 (Diary of Zheng Xiaoxu) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1993), vol. 1, 261, 311. 244 Li Hongzhang 李 鸿 章 , “Diyici wenda jielue” 第 一 次 问 答 节 略 (Abbreviation of the first answers to the questions), in Zhong Ri yihe jilue 中 日 议 和 纪 略 (Brief record of negotiating the agreement between China and Japan), collected in Jindai shiliao congshu huibian

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pain of being defeated by Japan, really be so quickly forgotten? Can views and feelings really change so fast? 3

Multiple Visions of the World: Differences between China and Japan

After his 1862 visit to Shanghai, Takasugi Shinsaku wrote condescendingly in his account of the journey “China was destroying itself with its stubborn backwardness.” But, he emphasized that Japan should strengthen the yitixing (unity) of East Asia, describing the situation using the Chinese idiom chun wang chi han (If the lips are lost, the teeth get cold). Condescension vied with the desire for closer association. By the 1920s, following the success of the Meiji Restoration and the strengthening of the country, a rapidly burgeoning Japanese nationalist movement began to see China as “backward, half-developed. Their condescension towards the real China surpassed the attachment they felt for ancient China.245 Shibahara Takuji makes this point clear in his observations on public opinion surveys. The Chinese also seemed to think so. Li Xiaopu’s Riben jiyou (Notes on travels in Japan) records a Tokyo Museum exhibit of “Chinese artifacts” including smoking implements, broken lamps, and old weapons. Huang Qingcheng’s Dongyou riji (Diary of a journey to Japan) records descriptions by Nagasaki merchants of how the former air of respect afforded to China had declined and an air of condescension had begun to be felt. The signs of mutual alarm were clear.246 China, though, had its own special kind of condescension towards Japan. The recalcitrant empire, stuck in its own memories of the tributary sytem, thought of Japan as a “measly, ­barbarian island.” Similarly, according to the most widespread views, “Yazhou” (Asia) was only a geographical term, and not a region of any real substance. In the traditional Chinese view, Japan, Korea, and the sundry countries of Southeast and South Asia were all alike–they were barbarians, all. 近 代 史 料 丛 书 汇 编 (Collections of modern historical materials), Section  1 (Taipei: Datong shuju, 1968). 245 See Motoyama Yukihiko, “The nationalism represented by the political essays in the second decade of the Meiji reign (1887–1897),” in Meiji zenhanki no nashonarizumu (Nationalism in the first half of Meiji reign), ed., Sakata Yoshio (Tōkyō: Miraisha, 1958). 246 Li Xiaopu 李 筱 圃 , “Riben jiyou” 日 本 纪 游 (Notes on travels in Japan), and Huang Qing­ cheng 黄 庆 澄 , “Dongyou riji” 东 游 日 记 (Diary of a journey to Japan), in Jiawu yiqian Riben youji wuzhong 甲 午 以 前 日 本 游 记 五 种 (Five travelogues to Japan before 1895), comp. He Ruzhang 何 如 璋 et al., (Changsha: Yuelu shushe, 1985), 173, 323.

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The historical memory inherited from ancient China was certainly not worth boasting about. Before its defeat, the Qing Empire took a conceited and arrogant attitude towards Japan, for no apparent reason. After its defeat, this turned to deep dread and envy. The memory of this is a historical grievance that caused the Chinese to respond to Western aggression with one of two tactics, “Zhong ti xi yong” (Chinese essence and western technology) or “Xi ti zhong yong” (Western essence and Chinese technology). In terms of value and culture, what is affirmed here is either “China” or “the West,” with no consideration whatsoever for an “Asia” corresponding to the West, nor for any mutually affirmed “tong wen tong zhong” (common culture and common race). For this reason, “Asianism” per se is in large part Japan’s, not China’s. “Asia” as an “Other” for the West is an imagined community, imagined by Japan in this case, and not an actually existing community. And, we must especially remind ourselves that China imitated Japan because they were a kind of mirror which reflected the civilization and strength of the West, and not because they had warm feelings for the Japanese. Japan was merely a middleman, and the goods it resold were the new forms of learning from the West. Thus, even as Japan became the object of study and imitation, the Chinese never felt any blood connection with Japan, nor did they think of “Asia” as spatial entity with substantial connections interior to itself. The traditional view that China ruled “all under Heaven” helped drive in Chinese intellectuals a certain pubianzhuyi (universalism) or shijiezhuyi (cosmopolitanism). They tend to affirm one center and one truth, and the Chinese were long accustomed to extending their perspective to all under Heaven. As a result, China was easily persuaded by the rising strength of the West that the Western path was the universal path. As far as China was concerned, the rise of Japan was merely a matter of Japan having accepted Western learning earlier. Xue Fucheng had already pointed out in his 1879 Chouyang chuyi (Suggestions on foreign affairs) that Japan …Emulates the West and strongly overrides all objections. All aspects of manufacture and trade like trains, steamships, and telegraphy are wound up and ready to go. The Westerners also help them. This is what the Japanese mean by outpacing China. Still, he thought that China’s economic might, material resources, and population far outstripped Japan. It was a fact that “the power of self-strengthening lies in China’s hand. The power of succumbing to Japan also lies in China’s hand.”247 Before the 1898 Reforms had failed, Liang Qichao maintained that 247 Xue Fucheng 薛 福 成 , Xue Fucheng xuanji 薛 福 成 选 集 (Selected works of Xue Fucheng) (Shanghai: Shanghai renmin chubanshe, 1987), 533.

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Japan’s study of Western political reform could be imitated by China: “We [China] use the West as the cow and Japan as the farmer. We sit and harvest. Without wasting too much money, we can collect all the valuable books.”248 Writing in 1900, Gu Mingfeng argues that “China and Japan share the same writing system. Chinese should try to learn Western languages, not Japanese.” He contines, “since the Meiji Restoration, the Japanese have been translating all useful books regarding Western politics and Western technology. This is praiseworthy.”249 Somewhat later, He Zhu told a friend: In the early stages of the Meiji restoration, the country embraced Europeanization wholeheartedly. After some conflict, Japan became what it is now. China is just as open and it is the moment that it embraces Europeanization wholeheartedly. We should take this opportunity, use it and also be cautious of the disadvantages, so that we can benefit from both Western and Japanese politics and laws. Eventually this will be how China is governed, as well. And he urged the fifth son of another friend: Once you have mastered Japanese, you should focus your study on European languages. European languages are the essence of social grouping studies. If all you do is show off with big words, and make translation your speciality, you’ll be like a chariot horse, blinkered and constrained.250 The famous Wang Kaiyun did not understand this logic, and in a 1903 memorial to the Guangxu emperor, wrote: “The learning is Western in name, but it is 248 Liang Qichao 梁 启 超 , “Du Riben shumu zhishu hou” 读 日 本 书 目 志 书 后 (After reading a bibliography of Japanese works) (November 15, 1897) and “Riben Hengbin Zhongguo datong xuexiao yuanqi” 日 本 横 滨 中 国 大 同 学 校 缘 起 (Origin of China Great Harmony School in Yokohama, Japan) (December 4, 1897), in Shiwu bao, vol. 4, 3050, 3187. 249 Gu Mingfeng 顾 鸣 凤 , “Sanshi nian lai wu huaren chongshang gezhong xiyi” 三 十 年 来 吾 华 人 崇 尚 各 种 西 艺 (We Chinese admire various Western crafts in the past thirty years), in Nianyuan chiguan wencun 念 瑗 池 馆 文 存 (Extant collections of Nianyuan chiguan), in Ne’an conggao 讷 庵 丛 稿 (Collection of Gu Mingfeng) (woodblock edition of 1911, publisher unknown), 2. 250 He Zhu 贺 铸 , “Yu Xu shilang” 与 徐 侍 郎 (Letter to Xu Shichang), in He xiansheng shudu 贺 先 生 书 牍 (essays and letters of Master He) (Beijing edition that is preserved at Qinghua University, 1920), juan 1, 29a-b; Idem, “Fu Chen Pingbo Lianfang” 复 陈 伯 平 廉 访 (Letter responding to Chen Pingbo), Ibid, juan 2, 2b. (Author’s note: the year of this edition seems problematic because it was prefaced by Xu Shichang in 1921, as shown in the edition. Therefore, it was probably published after 1921.)

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actually Japanese.” In point of fact, however, the situation was just the reverse: everything that seemed to be wo xue (Japanese studies) was actually Western learning re-routed through Japan.251 When the time came that more people could study the arts of modernity directly through Western texts, the assistance of the bridge or the ferrying boat was no longer necessary. The tianxia zhuyi (all under Heaven-ism) of Chinese intellectuals also ran very deep. As a cultural resource, this ideology was so steeped in Chinese history that it, perhaps, transformed into a more universally accepted and valued form of shijie zhuyi (cosmopolitanism), presenting even a kind of universalism in values; one that took Western advancements, civilization, and strength as the pursuits of the whole world, and thus moved rapidly to affirm a different kind of culture and system. But, it might just as well have helped sustain the kind of self-absorbed nationalism that looked down on the barbarians. A lofty ambition presented itself: through modernization and strengthening the military, China would be able to look down on all under Heaven. Under the influence of historical memory and traditional values, they might have had some desire, out of expediency, to become closer to and to study the Japan they had all along referred to as Xia yi (Xia barbarians), wo kou (Japanese pirates) and dao yi (island barbarians). But they would never have genuinely affirmed any notion of “same culture, same race.”252 On April 1, 1875, Ding Richang warned the imperial court in a memorial, “Japan has transformed its costume and taken new systems of steamships and weaponry.” He wanted the nation to take note of these great changes. Weng Tonghe, on the other hand, only said, “it’s bad enough they connive behind our backs, and all the more worrisome if

251 Wang Daigong 王 代 功 , Qing Wang Xiangqi xiansheng Kaiyun nianpu 清 王 湘 绮 先 生 闓 运 年 谱 (Chronological biography of Wang Daigong of the Qing dynasty) (Taipei: Taiwan shangwu yinshuguan, 1978), 235. 252 Chang Chi-hsiung argues that the rise of Japan in the modern period was deeply influenced by the China-centered world order ideology. After it rose, it “transformed itself from the barbarian to Chinese” and competed against China for “all under Heaven.” This theory is somehow stretching, but he articulates the sense of “competition.” This theory also implies that it is not possible to establish the equal relations among modern nations under the influence of the traditional “Chinese-barbarian” ideology. Chang ­Chi-hsiung 张 启 雄 , “Zhonghua shijie diguo yu jindai Zhong Ri zhanzheng” 中 华 世 界 帝 国 与 近 代 中 日 纷 争 (China, the world empire, and the conflicts between China and Japan in the modern era), in Jin bainian Zhong Ri guanxi lunwenji 近 百 年 中 日 关 系 论 文 集 (Collection of essays regarding the Sino-Japanese relations in the past one hundred years), ed., Jiang Yongjing 蒋 永 敬 (Xindian: Zhonghua minguo shiliao yanjiu zhongxin, 1992), 13–43.

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they move to act out desperation.”253 And then he scoffed at the notion, as if to signify that he just did not care. In any case, before the first Sino-Japanese War, some Chinese intellectuals preserved the historical memory of Japanese as “pirates,” as with Xue Fucheng, who pointed out: “the Japanese people are sly in nature, and despise China…. Japan’s heart is seized with a grudge against China, like the old Wu and Yue states. The time is critical and their intention is obvious.”254 He also wrote on behalf of others to Korean officials, advising them more than once that: “Japanese people are sly and greedy in nature” and “recently I have observed that Japan behaves arrogantly and their intentions are unpredictable.” He maintained that even after Japan had instituted legal reforms modeled after the West, “the national treasury is empty and national debts are heavy. They have to provoke their neighbors in the hope of expanding their territory, just to redeem their expenditures.”255 It also remained difficult for the Heavenly Court to let go of its historical memories, so that any vision of an Asian community would necessarily have to retain China as the dominant player, as one intellectual, Yao Wendong said in reply to a Japanese who inquired about the prospects for “East Asia”: In general, China is the center of Asia and Japan plays a secondary role… When we think about China, we think of a vast land of plenty. One side borders the ocean, good for defense and for launching a sea war. China shouldn’t need anything from Japan.256 There is here the fulsome conceit and arrogance of the Heavenly Court towards the tribute state. In another letter to a Korean friend, he expressed his distrust 253 Weng Tonghe 翁 同 龢 , Weng Tonghe riji 翁 同 龢 日 记 (Diaries of Weng Tonghe) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1993), vol. 3, 1113. 254 Xue Fucheng 薛 福 成 , “Linjiao” 邻 交 (Relationship with the neighbor), in Chouyang chuyi 筹 洋 刍 议 (Suggestions on foreign affairs), cited from Yang Jialuo 杨 家 骆 comp., Zhong Ri zhanzheng wenxian huibian 中 日 战 争 文 献 汇 编 (Compiled documents on the Sino-Japanese War) (Taipei: Dingwen shuju, 1973), vol. 2, 341–342. 255 Xue Fucheng 薛 福 成 , “Dai Li xiangbo san da Chaoxian guoxiang Li Yuyuan shu” 代 李 伯 相 三 答 朝 鲜 国 相 李 裕 元 书 (The third reply to Li Yuyuan, the primary minister of Korea, on behalf of Li Boxiang), in Yong’an wen waibian 庸 庵 文 外 编 (Anthology of remaining essays of Xue Fucheng), cited from Yang Jialuo, Zhong Ri zhanzheng wenxian huibian, vol. 2, 338–339. 256 See Yao Wendong 姚 文 栋 , “Da wo wen xing ya” 答 倭 问 兴 亚 (Reply to the Japanese about developing Asia), in Huangchao jingshi wenbian xubian 皇 朝 经 世 文 编 续 编 (Sequel to the collection of documents about statecrafts in Qing dynasty), comp. Ge Shirui 葛 士 睿 (Taipei: Wenhai chubanshe, photocopy, 1979), vol. 103, 2682.

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of Japan and Russia even more clearly, saying, “It has been hundreds of years since Japan pried apart Korea. You Koreans might all know it. However, if Russia wants to take over Asia, it will first attack Korea. You probably do not know this.”257 This expressed a common concern among intellectuals of the time. Not long after, in 1895, the balance of power shifted, transforming Chinese arrogance into anger, and a sense of helplessness. In an August 9 memorial to the throne, Zhejiang Education Commissioner Xu Zhengxiang spoke of invasions by Japan, England and France: China compensates Britain and France with thousands of silver dollars and has opened two or three places as treaty ports. It is unheard of that we cede terrority to make peace. However, Japan is only a tiny island country. China with its full power is defeated by Japan. How could our country be a country any more?258 From Weng’s “acting shamelessly out of desperation” to Yao’s “Japan plays a secondary role” to Xu’s “tiny island country,” the dismissive Chinese feeling toward Japan seems consistent. Even Zhang Taiyan and Liang Qichao, who seem at first to support a vision of East Asia, still think that China should be the leader of this Asia, giving little respect to Japan. Zhang Taiyan derided Ōkuma Shigenobu for his strong belief in Asia and Japan: “After the Russo-Japanese war, the Japanese have become extremely arrogant. They believe they are the giants of the East. But they are still barbarians.” He thought that if Japan lacked the Confucian textual and artistic traditions from China, Buddhism from India, or the Lun yu (Analects of Confucius) and the Qianzi wen (Thousand-character classic) as transmitted by the Korean scholar Wang Ren, the Japanese would still be barbarians. “Even though they emulate Europe, they only take on the image. How impudent of them to brag about this!” He further emphasized that before Japan began to stand up for itself, there were only minor disturbances in Asia. Once Japan had stood up, things were not so peaceful.259 And, Liang Qichao had indirectly belittled Japan when he observed that “Japan indeed is 257 See Yao Wendong, “Zeng Chaoxian ren Li Binghui guiguo xu” 赠 朝 鲜 人 李 秉 辉 归 国 序 (Preface to the Korean Li Binghui returning his country), in Huangchao jingshi wenbian xubian, vol. 118, 3154. 258 See Guangxu chao zhupi zouzhe 光 绪 朝 朱 批 奏 折 (Imperially rescripted palace memorials of the Guangxu reign) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1996), vol. 120, 643. 259 See Zhang Taiyan, “Yindu ren zhi guan Riben” 印 度 人 之 观 日 本 (Indians’ observation of Japan), Taiyan wenlu chubian, bielu er (First compilation of Zhang Taiyan’s essays and other essays), the second part, in Zhang Taiyan quanji 章 太 炎 全 集 (Complete collection of Zhang Taiyan) (Shanghai: Shanghai renmin chubanshe, 1985), vol. 4, 364–365.

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the supreme lord of today,” but qualifed this with, “I will not go into details and talk about their conceited and arrogant ways. But is our China not the focal point of the Asian continent and the master of the past thousands of years?” Clearly there are things about which Liang “will not go into detail,” and what does Liang mean by “zhu ren” (the master)? He means that “The Chinese who have inhabited [Asia and been enriched] with experiences” should be the leaders and dictators of Asia.260 When Japan wanted to advance into China and interfere with China’s domestic governance, what had been condescension and indignation evolved into intense opposition and open refusal. When Japan and China took on the roles of humiliator and humiliated, any vision of Yazhou yiti (One Asia) or fantasies of tongwen tongzhong (common culture and common race) scattered like clouds of smoke. What had been arrogance, antagonism and wariness became a wall of recognition and rejection. In a 1902 dialogue with Kanō Jigorō, Yang Du politely pointed out that “The survival and demise of my country is, indeed, the survival and demise of Asia, and the survival and demise of the yellow race.” He felt that “It is still a problem whether the spirit of your country is applicable to the situations of my country” and, therefore, Japan and China should “love, protect, promote, and communicate with each other.”261 Five years later in 1907, Liu Shipei saw Japan as “the public enemy of Asia,” pointing out, “If we want to maintain the peace of Asia and seek the independence of Asian weak races, we should repel the strong white race for sure. We should also repel Japan which insults our Asian people with its strong power.”262 “Asia” here no longer includes Japan, which has by now become a great power. Political interference apart, the Chinese reacted strongly against what they saw as interference in Buddhism that supposedly constituted the foundation of an Asian community. Wang Kangnian took note of the motives of the many Japanese monks entering China. In an issue of Jing bao (Beijing Daily) that year, he wrote an article entitled Lun Riben sengren zhi Zhongguo chuanjiao zhi fei 260 See Zhongguo zhi xinmin 中 国 之 新 民 （梁 启 超 ） (New citizen of China, Liang Qichao) “Yazhou dili dashi lun” 亚 洲 地 理 大 势 论 (On the general situations of Asian geography), Xinmin congbao新 民 丛 报 (The new people’s journal), 4, March, 1902. 261 See Yang Du 杨 度 , “Zhina jiaoyu wenti” 支 那 教 育 问 题 (On Asian’s education) (October 21–November 5, 1902), in Yang Du ji 杨 度 集 (Collection of Yang Du) (Changsha: Hunan renmin chubanshe, 1986), 55, 60. 262 See Shenshu 申 叔 (Liu Shipei) 刘 师 培 , “Yazhou xianshi lun” 亚 洲 现 势 论 (On the current situations of Asia), Tianyi 天 义 (Heavenly justice), combined volume of the 11 and 12 issues, November 30, 1907. Cited from Wang Xiaoqiu 王 晓 秋 , Jindai Zhong Ri guanxi shi yanjiu 近 代 中 日 关 系 史 研 究 (Research on Sino-Japanese relations of the modern period) (Beijing: Zhongguo shehui kexueyuan chubanshe, 1997), 32.

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(The wrongs of Japanese monks’ preaching in China), and his friend, Xiang Zaoxin concurred and also expressed wariness in a letter to Wang: “From now on, Japan expands its power through religion. This matters a lot to the situations.” The letter went so far as to say that “We are not cold-blooded and thus we could not hold back our feelings when we [came to] know about this.”263 This imagined community of “Asia” came with so many grievances that even without the historical vision of being “the center of all under Heaven,” and with the existence of a real threat of Japanese “ba dao” (hegemon strategy) and “ba zhu” (hegemonic master), how could there have been any affirmation of “Asia”? In October 1912, an inspection team of members of the Diet (Japanese Parliament) visited China. One member, Ibuka Hikotarō, published an essay called “Da Yaxiyazhuyi lun” (On Pan-Asianism) in Shanghai’s Minli bao (People’s Independent Daily), issue 752, proclaiming that “Asia means the Asian Continent for Asians.” Asianism had gradually become a topic in China as well, but Asianism had never achieved widespread support. In 1917, Li Dazhao saw the article “He wei Da Yaxiyazhuyi” (What is the Pan-Asianism?) in a Japanese journal, and immediately followed up with his own “Da Yaxiyazhiyi” (Pan-Asianism), extolling that “The reason that we raise the flag of Asianism is to resist Atlanticism.” Despite his resounding opinion, Li felt that the key to Asia was “the recreation of China and a renaissance of the Chinese nation”; and, he asserted with conviction that “a country which hides its imperialism under the name of Asianism, seizes supremacy in the East, prohibits plundering by other continental powers but itself plunders Asia, and does not accept humiliation from other continental powers but itself humiliates Asia,” will “cause disaster to the entire fellowship of Asia.” On the first day of 1919, he published another article saying, “Recently some Japanese advocate Asianism. We Asian people begin to worry when we hear this phrase.” Why was he worried? Because he had realized that behind “Asianism” was “a hidden message of swallow-China-ism” as well as “Great Japan-ism by another name,” whether or not this Great Asianism on the surface most saliently embraced “Asia” and rejected “Europe.”264 263 See Wang xiangqing yizhu 汪 穰 卿 遗 著 (Posthumous works of Wang Kangnian), vol. 3, 23–24; Wang Kangnian shiyou shuzha 汪 康 年 师 友 书 札 (Collections of letters between Wang Kangnian and his teachers and friends) (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1986), vol. 3, 2236. See Ge Zhaoguang, “Shiji chu de xinqing: Jiushi nian qian de Hangzhou fengbo” 世 纪 初 的 心 情 ─ ─ 九 十 年 前 的 杭 州 风 波 (Mood of the the beginning of the century: The Hangzhou incident ninety years ago), in Chuantong wenhua yu xiandaihua 传 统 文 化 与 现 代 化 (Traditional culture and modernity) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1997), vol. 3, 19–23. 264 See Li Dazhao 李 大 钊 , “Da Yaxiya zhuyi” 大 亚 细 亚 主 义 (Great Asianism), “Da Yaxiya zhuyi yu xin Yaxiya zhuyi” 大 亚 细 亚 主 义 与 新 亚 细 亚 主 义 (Great Asianism and

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Nationalism and Cosmpolitanism, or Tradition and Modernity

From the late Qing to the early republic, the scholarly communities of Japan and China both had a sustained discourse on “Asia,” though behind these lay very different sentiments and agendas. This involved two issues that needed to be put in order, namely: nationalism and the pursuit of modernity. These two were the starting point of 20th century’s intellectual history, and would influence Chinese intellectual history for the entirety of it. The word “nationalism” seems to have got a bad name now, but in the course of building modern nations, it was indispensable.265 In addition to building up standards for space, language, beliefs, and history, it provided a strong basis for distinguishing Self from Other. But, any “affirmation” implies at the same time “rejection,” and any “Self” must of necessity be distinguished from the non-Self “Other.” Although scholars like Anderson now consider the nation no more than an “imagined community,” this affirmation and rejection in an age in which they are the tacitly agreed-upon basis for nation and state, nationalism is always expressive of certain values and sentiments; and, these values and sentiments often become the prevalent general knowledge, ideology and beliefs. They may also become elements around which nation-states cannot agree, around which there is conflict. There may be a feeling of conflict between nation and nation, state and state,266 especially in Japan and China at the turn of the 20th century, an age in which the currents of modernization new Asianism), “Zailun xin Yaxiya zhuyi (Da Gao Chengyuan jun)” 再 论 新 亚 细 亚 主 义 (答 高 承 元 君 ) (Re-exploration of Asianism, in reply to Mr. Gao Chengyuan), Li Dazhao wenji 李 大 钊 文 集 (Collected essays of Li Dazhao), comp. Zhongguo Li Dazhao yanjiuhui 中 国 李 大 钊 研 究 会 (Chinese Research Institute of Li Dazhao) (Beijing: Renmin chubanshe, 1997), vol. 2, 106–107, 253; vol. 3, 75. 265 In 1902, Liang Qichao states that “the reason that Europe developed and the world advanced after the sixteenth century was due to the great impact of nationalism. What is nationalism? It is that people of the same race, same language, same religion, and same customs see each other as fellows and that they govern themselves independently and organize a well-sustained government in order to seek the public good and defend against other nations.” Liang Qichao, “Xinmin shuo” 新 民 说 (On new people), in Xinhai geming qian shinian jian shilun xuanji, vol. 1, 120. 266 Liang Qichao always believed that his time was “the period of nationalism” and the next period would be “the period of nation-imperialism.” When that period arrived, “the strength of the nation would be saturated within and need to flow out. Therefore, the nations eagerly expand their power to other lands. They will see us as their ends and put their hands on our land.” See Liang Qichao, “Xinmin shuo,” in Xinhai geming qian shinian jian shilun xuanji, vol. 1, 120. This idea was also developed in his 1901 piece “Guojia sixiang bianqian yitong lun.” See Liang Qichao, “Guojia sixiang bianqian yitong lun” 国 家 思 想

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and nationalism were surging.267 With the rise of modernity, Japan, long dominated by Han culture, showed that it had always been waiting for the day when it would gain a formal status through the concept of “the Orient,” and thereby establish its own position. Then again, when the already thoroughly modernized and globalized Japan had established itself, it needed “the West” to serve as its Other. For this, they turned to the vision of “Asia” as a community, in an effort to articulate Japanism using the slogan, “Asianism.” Modern China, though, continued to harbor traditional views of a tianchao daguo (great country of the court of Heaven) and lingering memories of the court tribute system of tianxia siyi (all under Heaven and the four barbarians), and these made it impossible for Chinese to become accustomed to a Japan that wanted to put itself in the driver’s seat, because deep in their minds Chinese still retained some of the condescension towards what they considered “island barbarians.” In addition, China, spurned by the world and still far from modernized, often saw Europe, the us and Japan alike, as the Other discriminating against China, which was yet another reason they could hardly affirm this so-called “Asia.”268 What must also be understood is that from the late Qing to the early republic, the strength of Japan’s nationalism drove its expansion from something reasonable to something unreasonable, from something limited to something without limits. Chinese nationalism on the other hand, operating from weakness, went from unreasonable to reasonable, from all-encompassing to limited, truly remarkable changes. In the modern world, yet another conflict is that between the pursuit of modernity and the conservation of tradition. Generally speaking, the logic of 变 迁 异 同 论 (On the similarities and differences of the transformation of thoughts on nation), in Xinhai geming qian shinian jian shilun xuanji, vol. 1, 30. 267 As for the Chinese nationalism, see Luo Zhitian 罗 志 田 , Minzu zhuyi yu jidai Zhongguo sixiang 民 族 主 义 与 近 代 中 国 思 想 (Nationalism and modern Chinese thoughts) (Taipei: Dongda tushu gongsi, 1998). 268 When we see the imperialist powers that invaded China in the late-Qing and early-­ Republican texts, the authors often mention “Europe and the United States” and “Japan.” For example, “Ershi shiji zhi Zhongguo” 二 十 世 纪 之 中 国 (China of the twentieth century) and “Zhongguo miewang lun” 中 国 灭 亡 论 (On the demise of China) that were published in Guomin bao 国 民 报 (Newspaper of national citizens). This is because the Chinese people of the modern era were often cautious about the quickly developing and modernizing Japan. In “Jueming shu” 绝 命 书 (The final words) that was published in the second issue of Min bao 民 报 (Newspaper of the people), Chen Tianhua states that “if China today wants to ally with Japan, eventually China will become Korea. But if China wants to distance itself from Japan, this will eventually cause the demise of East Asia.” It is intriguing to detect his ambivalence here.

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nationalism favors traditionalism and rejects modernity, but the nationalism of both Japan and China at the turn of the 20th century exhibited a h ­ olistic pursuit of modernity. Simply put, it was the projection of a nation’s existence through the pursuit of strength, and pursuing strength often meant ­modernization and Westernization. The positions of nationalism and the values of shijie zhuyi (cosmopolitanism) were thus often combined into one, with the pursuit of modernity concealing the stubbornness of traditions. Nationalism thus expressed itself with cosmopolitanism. Given that Japan came to “advancing Asia” after going through a “throwing off Asia” stage, this meant it first exhibited a pursuit for modernism and then turned to the preservation of tradition. On the surface, this certainly seems reasonable because wariness of modernity and resistance to the hegemony of Western discourse seem to transcend the significance of “modernity” and “the West.” In practical terms, however, placing Japan in a leadership position over Asia, and using modernity’s terms such as “progress” and “civilization” as the measure, amounts to establishing discursive authority. In China, the rapid shift from Zhongti xiyong (Chinese essence and Western technology) to quanpan xihua (comprehensive Westernization), on the face of it, seems to be pursuing modernity for entry into the world of modernization, but essentially it is to perform a rescue and to save the nation from the brink of destruction, which is borne out by such discourse of cosmopolitanism as “standing out in the world’s community of nations” and “fighting for a place in the world.” All these carry a connotation of nationalism, one urging the rescue of tradition. From the Qing to the early republic, the situation was quite strange. Nationalism, cosmopolitanism, pursuing modernity, and conserving tradition all seemed linked, even entangled, in some complex way. In general terms, behind Japan’s discourse of “Asianism” lurked, to a large degree, Japanese nationalism, or “Great Japanism.” This Japanism shows how Japan hoped to create a consciousness of Self and “Other” after rapid modernization. Meanwhile, slogans like ‘throwing off Asia and embracing Europe’ were more indicative of Japan’s desire to enter the world and pursue modernity. China’s scant use of the slogan ‘Asianism’, on the other hand, indicates its intense pursuit of modernity is even more strongly indicative of its wish to enter the world. It is an expression of China’s consciousness of striving for wealth and power at a time when it had not yet modernized. But it seems that behind the intensely cosmopolitan slogans of ‘total Westernization’ lurked demonstrably nationalist sentiments. As discussions of ‘Asia’ in relation to Japan have become popular again, China’s response was that this is good, and can certainly create a new space of political imagination and provide a basis for thinking beyond the nation-state. But, we must also ask ourselves: What is the historical context and foundation of

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the old terms ‘Asia’ or ‘Asian community’ now being used again? The pressing questions from the beginning of this chapter are: Which ‘Asia’ is ‘Asia’, is it east Asia, or is it the whole of Asia, including western Asia, central Asia, and south Asia? Second, how can the “Asia” acting as geographical space become a space affirming cultural identity? Third, is the ‘Asia’ recognized by Japan as a political or cultural community also recognized as such by China and Korea? Fourth, in the final analysis, is ‘Asia’ a community that needs building, or is it a community that has already been recognized? In other words, is it an accomplished history or a wishful future?

chapter 5

Between Nation and History: Starting from the Japanese: Debates on the Relationship between Chinese Daoism, Japanese Shintō and the Tennō System

Foreword: Small Questions Lead to Bigger Questions

Was Japanese Shintōism ever influenced by Daoism from ancient China? Was the ancient Japanese term “Tennō” ever influenced by the culture of ancient Chinese Daoism? What are the similarities and differences between Chinese Daoism and Japanese Shintōism? This ought to be a question for the field of cultural interaction, and an easily articulated one at that. The discussion ought to seek out evidence beginning from classical documents and archaeological materials, and then become more detailed from there. There is a complexity to simple historical questions in that they often bring up important views and positions that have been hard to resolve, because all historical evidence is interpreted by human beings from divergent positions. Thus, simple historical questions can raise complex questions of position, and the interpretation of historical evidence may differ depending on the person and time. This chapter is no exception, for the questions it addresses are: First, does the fact that this question about the history of cultural interaction with China could inspire such intense debate in Japanese academia—a debate that lasted over 80 years—show that there are very real and present political elements behind a question which is historical and academic in nature? Second, when historians from different countries have such vastly different evaluations of the same historical phenomena, clearly underlying these are different positions, feelings, and mindsets at work. In that case, should “China studies” in Japan be considered first and foremost “Japan studies”? Third, in facing these ­questions of cultural interaction, can Chinese academia ever understand and sympathize with Japanese academia, and reconsider its own academic history, for a deeper understanding of the national and international dimensions of academic research?

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A Debate between Two Japanese Scholars

To address the topic of Chinese Daoism, Japanese Shintōism and the Tennō system, it makes sense to begin with the events of the 1980s known as the ­“Debates of the two Fus,” referring here to Fukunaga Mitsuji and ­Fukui ­Fumimasa. In March, 1982, Tokyo University Daoism scholar Professor ­Fukunaga ­Mitsuji published Daoism and Japanese Culture,269 a small book containing 17 r­ esearch articles, the first of which was “Ancient Japanese H ­ istory and Chinese ­Daoism.” However, it was the subtitle that was provocative: “Focusing on the thought and beliefs of Tennō.” The second article’s title was similarly dead-pan: “­Ancient Japanese Shintō and Chinese religious thought.” In this piece, he criticizes Japanese scholars for consistently denying the influence of Chinese Daoism and always claiming Shintōism as a native Japanese product. At the same time, he follows up on work by the great Japanese scholar Tsuda Sōkichi in suggesting that the extremely sensitive term “Tennō” is in fact a term from Chinese Daoism. This is a stark challenge to traditional statements from the Japanese classics Kojiki and Nihon Shoki with their myths of Tennō “going back ten thousand generations.” This was, just like it said on the cover of his other work, Daoism and Ancient Japan, to be seen as “changing the face of ancient Japanese history.” What does it mean to change the face of ancient Japanese history? We all know that ever since the Japanese scholar Nishijima Sadao suggested that China’s influence on Japan fell into four major fields (Chinese characters, ­Confucianism, politics and law, and Buddhism), Japanese academia for the most part acknowledged that these “Chinese elements” existed in Japan. But, traditional Japanese academia still held two unshakeable views regarding the main body of Japanese culture in ancient history. One was that Japanese culture was an independent culture, with what Maruyama Masao has called an eternally unchanging “ancient layer.”270 This was the root of the main body of the culture of the Japanese nation. Another was the mythical history of the Tennō. Despite the discoveries of the golden seal of the “Han Japanese king” and the wall paintings of the Era of Great Tombs on Kyushu Island, the world of traditional Japanese views still generally held that the Tennō was unchanging. The Tennō was a purely Japanese product: including the system itself, 269 Fukunaga Mitsuji, Dōkyō to Nihon bunka (Taoism and Japanese Culture) (Kyōto: Jinbun Shoin, 1982). 270 Maruyama Masao, “Prototype, ancient layers, and stubborn low voice: My development regarding the methodologies of the history of Japanese ideas,” in Maruyama Masao shū (Collection of Maruyama Masao) (Tōkyō: Iwanami Shoten, 1996), vol. 12, 150–153.

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a­ ssociated terms, and the genealogy of the sacred royal family. These points were nearly unshakeable in the field of ancient Japanese history, because any hint of skepticism would always lead to such results—had Japan been under the thrall of Chinese culture before Ono no Imoko went as envoy to the Sui empire and with status equal to the Chinese emperor (“Son of the Heaven where the sun rises, to the Son of Heaven where the sun sets”). In other words, before Japan had established its own sacred and independent country and its own culture, was it always imitating Chinese culture? Here, it seems, are the beginnings of a complex entangling of academic research, and national sentiment, historical questions and the position of the nation, and the objective and the subjective. So it was that the year Fukunaga Mitsuji published his book, it was the subject of intense skepticism for Fukui Fumimasa, a professor and well-known scholar of Daoism at Waseda University. He reviewed the book in Issue 60 of Japan’s most important journal for Daoism studies, Tōhō shūkyō (The journal of oriental religions), where he indirectly criticized Fukunaga Mitsuji for having an unclear definition of “Daoism,” while pointing out that Fukunaga Mitsuji had not used any of the studies by Tsuda Sōkichi or other Japanese scholars and their findings on the Tennō question. The following year (1983) Fukunaga Mitsuji replied to Fukui Fumimasa’s criticism in issue 61 of The Journal of Oriental Religions with an article entitled “Doctor Tsuda Sōkichi and Daoism,” where he directly brought up the research of Tsuda Sōkichi. In this way, the Daoism and Shintō question implicated the terms and systems of Tennō.271 2

Tsuda Sōkichi and His Evaluations Regarding Chinese Daoism

Who was this person Tsuda Sōkichi that Fukunaga and Fukui both mention? To answer this question, we must go back 80 years. Tsuda Sōkichi (1873–1961) is famous in Japan, where he was once called “the greatest Orientalist.” His research fields cut a wide swath across Japanese and Chinese history, culture and religion. From 1913 to 1938, his major works in order of publication were The Verification of the Tennō, A Study of the Jindai Era, A Study of the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki, Daoist Thought and Its Unfolding, and A Study of Japan’s Joudai Era. As the protégé of Shiratori Kurakichi, he and 271 For the main arguments in this debate, see Fukui Fumimasa, Kanji bunkaken no shisō to shūkyō: Jukyō, Bukkyō, Dōkyō (Thoughts of the cultural zone of Chinese characters and religions: Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism) (Tōkyō: Goyō Shobō: Hatsubaimoto ­Seiunsha, 1998), 271–315.

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­Shiratori alike evince the condescension towards China typical in Japanese cultural circles following the success of the Meiji restoration, which is expressive of a fervent desire for Japan to escape from the thrall of Chinese history and culture. His works are both deeply influenced by European historical studies in their pursuit of objectivity and scientific method, and exhibit intense passion for a Japan-centered ideological position, with a historiography inseparable from Great Japanism. Among his many views, an important one is that Japanese history and culture developed independently, and not under the influence of Chinese culture. In his book Chinese Thought and Japan, he says more than once, “Japan and China have their separate histories, different cultures and different worlds,” and “Japanese culture is independently formed as the history of the Japanese nation independently develops. It is thus completely different from Chinese culture.”272 Tsuda believed that although Japanese intellectuals of the past looked up and studied the Chinese classics, and even established their own beliefs using these, the real world that had originated in Japan was utterly at odds with classical writings from China. So, although the Japanese had drawn on Daoism so deeply that even terms like “Shintō” came from Daoism, this constituted no more than a simple appropriation of a term—it would never be able to exert influence on or become a belief in the context of the Japanese life worlds.273 In other words, even if they had transmitted some knowledge, the religious tradition constituting Daoism was not transmuted, so Japanese Shintō and C ­ hinese Daoism did not have any substantial commonality.274 Similarly, regarding the ancient Japanese term “Tennō,” despite its former use in such places as an idiom from the texts like “The Pillow Book,” the term is bereft of any real Chinese content. It was no more significant, Tsuda argued, than the outsized emphasis both cultures put on the “north star” constellation. And so, he argued, there is no concern about the use of the term “Tennō.” As for the story of the origin of the world in the Nihon Shoki, despite its use of the Chinese-style terms of “dividing the earth from the heavens,” it merely reflected the borrowing of ­Chinese characters, and although the terms were similar, there was no context of Chinese religious significance behind such terms.275 As he emphasized over and over again, from the sixth to the eighth centuries, educated and literate Japanese were influenced by Chinese documents, and often ‘Sinicized’ 272 Tsuda Sōkichi, Shina shisō to Nihon (Chinese thought and Japan), in Tsuda Sōkichi zenshū (Complete collection of Tsuda Sōkichi) (Tōkyō, Iwanami Shoten, 1973), vol. 20, 195. 273 Tsuda Sōkichi, Shina shisō to Nihon, 251. 274 Tsuda Sōkichi, Nihon no shintō (Shintō of Japan), in Tsuda Sōkichi zenshū, vol. 9, 2. 275 Tsuda Sōkichi, Nihon no shintō, 26.

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J­apanese history, legends and stories. Gradually, Japanese documents began to exhibit an intellectual stance influenced by China, quite distinct from the deeper layers of Japanese popular thought. Moreover, “Chinese thought” inherent in these documents acquired new, native Japanese meanings and exhibited “Japanification,” which meant they could not be considered “Chinese made.”276 In sum, Tsuda Sōkichi emphasized that Japanese culture had its own subjectivity (zhutixing), and Chinese culture, including Daoism, had indeed reached Japan, leaving deep impressions on Japan, but these were only the “borrowing” of the writing system and documents, and not an “influence” of a basic nature. According to Fukunaga, Tsuda was an Orientalist who had come of age in the Meiji era. As self-aggrandizing as he was since the success of the restoration, he gave a very low evaluation of Chinese culture, including Daoism. For example, Tsuda’s book, Chinese thought and Japan is filled with condescension and insult. He often says, “Chinese people do not like to think, or else are not good at thinking;” “They lack the mindset to investigate things fully, their sentiments slow and dull”; “a major feature of Chinese thought is that it is illogical”; “with an undeveloped culture of science, spiritual excellence is all the more impossible.” As for Daoism, he said, “In essence, it is a set of popular beliefs in China, mostly prayers and incantantations seeking longevity and wealth, as well as faith in doctrines delivered by possibly immortal fairies and spirits—a shallow body of thought not worth considering.” This unfair verdict on Daoist studies would influence later Japanese studies of Kwantung Leased Territory and even all Japanese scholars of ancient history.277 But to a scholar like F­ ukunaga, who had come of age after the World War ii and possessed all the memory and experience of a native of Sapporo, Tsuda Sōkichi’s conclusions were not necessarily correct, because the people of Sapporo believed in kitchen gods, and also prayed to spirits to end drought, and scooped up water with bamboo in front of altars to pray for rain, and also written prayers for calling on the god of Heaven on the Double Seven Festival. Clearly, Chinese customs, including Chinese religion, had long been present in Japan. He suspected that Tsuda only spurned China as he did because it was the early times of the Meiji, Taishō, and Shōwa, during which Japan took dimmer and dimmer views of China, and Tsuda wanted to emphasize the excellence and independence of Japanese people and Japanese culture. He said that his discussion of the cultural differences between Japan and China drew as much as possible on the unity of Asia’s 276 Tsuda Sōkichi, Nihon no shintō, 20. 277 Fukunaga Mitsuji, “Dr. Tsuda Sōkichi and Daoism,” Tōhō shūkyō (Oriental religions), 61(1983).

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position found in Okakura Tenshin’s The Ideals of the East. He criticized Tsuda for misleading in two ways: First, falsely reifying Chinese society, culture, and thought; and second, overlooking Daoist documents and thought from after the fourth century. Therefore, Tsuda dismissed all too lightly Daoism and its influence on Japanese culture, reaching instead a mistaken conclusion. However, Fukanaga’s explanation was attacked by Fukui again. In a review published in issue 62 of the Journal of Oriental Religions, Fukui said that Fukanaga did not understand Tsuda Sōkichi in the least. He felt it was incorrect of Fukanaga to say that Tsuda looked down on Chinese people and culture. Recalling Tsuda writing that “The study of China requires the understanding of sympathy, without which one will be unable to fully explore the true thought and lives,” Fukui held that Tsuda only meant to criticize those who worshipped the whole of Chinese culture, such as those Confucians who worshipped and followed the Confucian classics. He also believed that Tsuda did not spurn Daoism as Fukanaga said, or else he would not have composed works like Daoist Thought and Its Unfolding and A Study of the Thought Regarding Immortals. He was especially skeptical of Fukanaga’s estimation of Tsuda’s mindset, believing that when it came to a scholar’s past work on foreign cultures, one must not focus on criticizing their sentiments as respectful or condescending, but instead evaluate whether their research findings were accurate or not. A critique of their attitudes was a job for amateurs, not professional scholars. He mocked Fukanaga for shifting the question from whether Tsuda’s research was accurate to whether Tsuda’s positions were accurate, creating a kind of “fallacy.” On the question of the relationship between Daoism and Japanese culture, whether it be a matter of substantial “influence” on Japan or rather merely a matter of “borrowing” knowledge of writing and documents, Fukui held that Fukanaga’s work had only bolstered Tsuda’s findings, and not refuted them. Fukanaga’s valuable experiences as a Sapporo native notwithstanding, no individual phenomena could be seen as the general “real life of the Japanese people.”278 3

Tsuda Sōkichi’s Dilemma: Influence or Borrowing?

So, do we find Tsuda Sōkichi’s verdict on Chinese culture and Japanese culture a reasonable one or not? Let us return to Tsuda’s time and take a look at the academic context of that time. The issue of whether Chinese culture and especially Chinese Daoism exerted “influence” or was only a source for “borrowing” 278 Fukui Fumimasa, Kanji bunkaken no shisō to shūkyō.

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for Japanese Shintō and the term Tennō is inseparable from the academic context of the day. Instead we should put them back to Japanese political history and cultural history for this era. We know that the history of Japan in its mythological age relies on the texts Kojiki and Nihon Shoki. Specialists in Japanese national studies have long taken this history to have important points: First, the gods’ granting of the Tennō, second, the eternal continuity of the imperial throne, third, the sacred nature of the imperial throne and its relationship with the sacredness of Japanese Shintōism; indeed, legitimacy, reason and sacredness all come from this history. This view of history was consistently strengthened in post-Meiji Japan, with nationalism and national consciousness both being on the rise. The “Tennō” was made sacred and “Shintō” became the object of worship as part of the effort to establish a unified, independent and strong nation-state. Meiji Japan’s return to the Tennō system, with its separation between Shintō and Buddhism, are products of these currents. The first and second articles of the Dai ­Nippon Teikoku Kenpō (Constitution of the Great Japanese Empire), first drafted in 1882 and formally promulgated in 1889, affirm the eternal Tennō as the head of the great Japanese empire, and the emperor was said to possess inviolable sacredness.279 In the “National history textbook,” popular at the time and used until the World War ii, the first chapter on the earliest ancient history is on the ­“Origins of the empire and the royal family imperial chambers,” covering from the Amaterasu to Tenson Kōrin; the second chapter involves Jimmu Tennō; and the third chapter tells of Sujin Tennō and Suinin Tennō. The histories of Shintō and the Tennō form here a sacred genealogy that supports the sentiments behind “Great Japanism.” However, although Tsuda Sōkichi held nationalist sentiments, he was still a historian whose work was based on reason. When he was researching the Japanese past, he faced an embarrassing problem. He was unwilling to admit that Japanese culture had been influenced by Chinese culture. As stated above, he criticized Chinese culture and religion, and carefully cut away any sense of substantial relation between Chinese culture, including Daoism, and J­ apanese culture. But he could not ignore the evidence of history and of written documents to speak of ancient Japanese history as a self-formed mythological genealogy with a system all its own. Thus, even though he kept Japan and China separate, raised the independence of Japanese culture, denied the influence of Chinese culture, and sought to completely remove the “stink” of China from

279 For example, in Article 73, 74, 75, and 76 of the Constitution, certain laws are made for those who offended the Tennō and his family.

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Japan,280 he still had no recourse but to seek objectivity in historical research, pointing out how Ōjin Tennō and Nintoku Tennō had been “created” via gradual accumulation, layer by layer, leaving unreliable evidence for many eras. Some of the emperors, for example, had lived an unbelievably long life. Kojiki entries from Nintoku Tennō to Yūryaku Tennō are quite similar to entries in the “Wo guo zhuan” (History of Japan) chapter of the Song shu (History of the Song dynasty), meaning they were possibly a case of Chinese stories heresay (chuanshuo), transmitted in reverse to become Japanese history.281 And, he agreed with research by Matsumoto Nobuhiro holding that the more recent history of the eastern expedition of Jimmu Tennō was a later construction.282 Most importantly, he suggested that the history of the Jindai Era was elaborately forged during a time of nation-building for proving and explaining the legitimacy of the nation in history and in thought. It was a historical narrative that legitimized power.283 What is of interest here is that when Tsuda published this work in the 1920s and 1930s, he ran into trouble in Japan in the 1930s. In those days, Japan had gradually fallen into a rapacious mood with a fantasy vision of a war in greater East Asia. The Marco Polo Bridge Incident took place on July 7, 1937, bringing war to north China, and on August 2, Shintō, Confucianism, Buddhism, and Catholicism in Japan were brought together into an “Alliance for Spiritually Repaying the Country.” On August 17, the director of the Japanese Bureau of Religious Affairs called on all of the religions to rise up for advancing the spirit of the nation, spurring each religion to hold “Repay the Country meetings,” and organizing ‘comfort support’ for the Japanese imperial army. On March 30, 1938, representatives from the Ministry of Culture and the three religions of Shintō, Confucianism, and Buddhism along with the Central Association for National Spiritual Mobilization signed an agreement to propagate their teachings in China. On March 15, 1939, all of Japan’s Shōkonsha shrines were 280 Mizoguchi Yūzō has pointed out that Tsuda Sōkichi’s “view on modern China” criticized and despised the real China. See Mizoguchi Yūzō, Hōhō to shite no Chūgoku (China as an approach) (Tōkyō: Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 1989), 6. 281 Tsuda Sōkichi, Kojiki oyobi Nihon Shoki no kenkyū (New research on Kojiki and Nihon Shoki) (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1924), in Tsuda Sōkichi zenshū, vol. 1, 474–475. 282 Tsuda Sōkichi, Jōdai shinajin no shūkyō shisō (Religious ideas of ancient Chinese), dissertation, Tokyo Imperial University, 1920, in Mansen chiri rekishi kenkyū hōkoku (Research reports on the geography and history of Manchuria and Korea) (Tokyo: Manchuria Investigation Bureau, 1920), vol. 6. Also see Matsumoto Nobuhiro, “Memories of Dr. Tsuda,” in Tsuda Sōkichi zenshū, vol. 9, appendix, June 1964. 283 Tsuda Sōkichi, “The age of the gods,” in Jindaishi kenkyū ed., Matsumoto Yoshio (Tōkyō: Kokubundō Shoten, 1920), 563–564.

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made into Gokoku Shrine (protect-the-nation shrines) with the exception of ­Yasukuni Shrine in Tokyo. In this atmosphere of uniting nation (minzu), country ­(guojia), the Tennō, and Shintōism, and the fantasy of putting Japan at the center of the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere, the Japanese rightists struck back against Tsuda’s research. People like Minoda Muneki said that ­Tsuda had shown great insubordination (dani budao) to the Tennō and to Shintō, charging Tsuda with “the crime of disrespect.” Under massive political pressure, in January 1940, Tsuda resigned from Waseda University. In F­ ebruary of that year, his works, including A Study of the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki were banned, and even Iwanami Shigeo, the publisher and the owner of Iwanami Book Store, were together charged, and in 1942, the Tokyo District Court judged him guilty. Every nation writes its history for self-affirmation and self-respect: “to prove the nation is great, it is often necessary to prove a long history.” This is a matter of course. But does the narration of the past rely only on legends and heresay? Must we believe myths to have memories of the past? Is history no more than a tool? Historians always declare that history is like science, and when scientific history faces the past, it must remove imperfections the way a surgeon wields a laser, but without creating stories whole-cloth out of emotions of love or hatred. Between building identification affirmation and pursuit of the truth, between the needs of the nation and the facts of history, where do historians begin and where are they headed? In those days, they had no choice, and as the fate of Tsuda illustrates, academia is often bound up with politics, and sometimes historical narrative is like evidence planted on the scene after the fact. 4

Ancient Layer after Ancient Layer: Regarding Shintō and the Tennō

So how should we actually understand the relationship between Shintō, the imperial system and Chinese Daoism? Japanese scholar Fumihiko Sueki suggests in the opening of his book, The History of Japanese Religions, that Maruyama Masao’s theory of “ancient layers” begs the question: Where do the “ancient layers” come from? He points out that Maruyama Masao’s Ancient Layers of Historical Consciousness opens chapters with narrations from the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki, isolating three words: naru (to become), tsuki (to continue, to extend), and ikihohi (great power). He also makes use of elements of Japanese geographical space, ethnic groups (zuqun), languages, and rice-planting culture (dao zuo) to serve as “sustained whispers” and “ancient layers since the Era of Great Tombs.” But, asks Fumihiko Sueki, is it not inappropriate to see these “ancient layers” as “unchanging,” since the

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“ancient layers” are built up gradually?284 I think this is correct. Japan often extols the long history of the Emperor and of Shintōism, but they actually formed gradually in history: beneath one “ancient layer” lies yet another. First, consider Shintōism. Historian Kume Kunitake, influenced by western scientific views of ancient history, had suggested as early as 1891, during the Meiji era, that “Shintōism” had evolved from ancient customs involving sacrifices to the heavens. It was not a religion, and it did not contain the thought of “seducing the benevolence and benefiting the living.” It was only a sacrifice to Heaven, an act for warding off disaster and seeking good fortune. This made it compatible with Buddhism, forming the basis for the dynastic dictum to “respect the spirits and worship the Buddha.”285 There is a basis for this. If we trace back historical documents, we find that the Nippon Shoki passages on “records made before the enthronement of Yōmei Tennō” or “records made before the enthronement of Kotoku Tennō” bring up the “law/order/way of the Buddha” (Fofa) as corresponding to “Shintō” (the way of the spirits), as in the line “the Heavenly Emperor (Tennō) believes in the law of the Buddha and respects the Shintō” and “respect the law of the Buddha and place a light emphasis on the Shintō.”286 But Tsuda Sōkichi believed that the word “Shintō” did come from China, even if it was not an organized religion like B ­ uddhism. “Shintō” had also meant more than one thing in Japan.287 Kuroda Toshio, a slightly later scholar, averred that “Shintō” in the Nippon Shoki, referred to “[a state] of deism, of the sacred” in popular practice, but it was certainly not unique to Japan, but rather a conventional belief common to all three countries of East Asia. The final establishment of the Shintō ­religion took place during the Edo period or even as late as the Meiji period.288 284 Sueki Fumihiko, Nihon shūkyōshi (History of Japanese religions) (Tōkyō: Iwanami Shoten, 2006), 2. 285 Kume Kunitake, “Shintō is the ancient rite of worshipping Heaven,” in Shigakkai zasshi (Journal of History Association), vol. 2, 23, 230. 286 In the footnote that was recorded on the twenty-first day of the fourth month of the third year of the Koutoku Tennōin Nihon Shoki (The Chronicles of Japan), it is said that “what Kannagara means is to follow Shintō. It also means that Shintō presents itself.” 287 Tsuda Sōkichi argues that there are six varieties of Shintō. The first one is from the belief that contained spells inherited from ancient Japanese customs; the second one refers to the deity’s power, deity’s strength, deity’s status, and the deity itself; the third one are the thoughts and interpretations of the deity; the fourth one are the doctrines promulgated by certain shrines; the fifth one is Shintō as political and moral norms; and the sixth is the institutionalized religious Shintō. See Tsuda Sōkichi, Nihon no shintō (Shintō of Japan), in Tsuda Sōkichi zenshū, vol. 9, 13. 288 Kuroda Toshio, “The meaning of Shintō,” in Chūsei Shintō ron (On medieval Shintō), ed., Ƭsumi Kazuo (Tōkyō: Iwanami Shoten, 1977), Nihon shisō taikei (Series of Japanese thoughts), appendixed “monthly review,” 57 (May 1977), 1–2.

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This statement was shocking, but it received widespread support from scholars, including from Europe and the us. Some scholars suggested that Shintō was a mixture of shamanism, mythology, ritualistic ceremony, and a system of taboos, maturing with the addition of official systematization. Not until the Middle Ages of Japanese history, following the need for legitimization of the imperial system, do we see the appearance of the 14th century text Watarai Ieyuki’s (1256–1341) Ruijū jingi hongen (Classified traditions concerning the genesis of Shintō deities)289 as well as Jihen’s “Shintō taii” (Profound significance of Shintō) found in his magnum opus on Shinto, the Toyoashihara shinpū waki. The appearance of “Yuiitsu shintō myōhō yōshū” (The teachings of the one and the only Shintō) by Yoshida Kanetomo290 at the end of the 15th century brought forth new distinctions between Shintō and Buddhism. Only after establishing a sense of itself as an organization with followers did the doctrines and rules of Shintōism begin to systematize. At the same time, it grew richer and more diverse, prominently featuring shrines and authoritative rituals, orthodox genealogies of official gods, and the sacredness of Nature and the Tennō.291 And, thus did systematic Shintōism gradually take form. But this was the end of the Japanese Middle Ages.292 Next, consider the “Tennō.” Long investigations had led Japanese scholars to the discovery that the title of “Tennō” established in the Nihon Shoki in 720 did occur in other, earlier, texts, including several temple inscriptions, such as the two at Gangō-ji pagoda and one at Hōryū-ji. In the imperal document brought by Ono no Imoko in his 608 trip to the Sui court, scholars believed there was already a formal “eastern Heavenly Emperor paying respects to the White Western Emperor” (Though in the “Biography of the Eastern Barbarians” found in the Sui Shu (History of the Sui), it was recorded as “the Son of Heaven where the sun rises to the Son of Heaven where the sun sets”). Since Chinese culture had entered Japan long before the turn of the sixth and seventh 289 Watarai Ieyuki is the main advocate of the Ise Shintō theory. He opposes the “Honji suijaku” theory, in which Buddhism dominates and Shintō merely supplements, and tends instead towards reversing the inferiority of Shintō and placing it in the dominate position. 290 When Yoshida laid a new foundation for Shintō, he still borrowed from Chinese Taoism. See Yoshida Kanetomo, Yuiitsu shintō myōhō yōshū, in Chūsei Shintō ron, 318–333. 291 When Ƭsumi Kazuo talked about the idea of Jihen, he also addressed that three issues clearly stood out when discussing the problem of “xianshi” (this world). He especially articulated that the governance of the Tennōs was justified after the Creation because of the medieval Shintō theory. The Tennōs had various virtues and powers, some of which came from Confucianism and others from Ise Shintō. Ƭsumi Kazuo, “Notes: The Position of the History of Ideas regarding Medieval Shintō Theory,” Chūsei Shintō ron, 359–360. 292 See Sueki Fumihiko, Chūsei no kami to hotoke (Deities and Buddhas in the medieval age) (Tōkyō: Yamakawa Shuppansha, 2003).

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c­ enturies, it is ­difficult to claim that the term “Heavenly emperor” bears no trace of China. Thus it was that Tsuda, in his 1920 article “Investigation of the term ‘Tennō’,” also said that this term came from Chinese Daoism and the Chinese classics,293 though he believed it was no more than a “borrowing” from Chinese vocabulary.294 But, just as Kuroda Toshio said—whether we speak of Shintō or Tennō, the former a religion forming the foundation of Japanese culture, the latter a s­ ymbol of the Japanese government—protecting the self-mastery and independence of the historical origins of these terms was “for the Japanese, ­unavoidable, not optional, requiring acceptance of latent, deeply-layered forces and values.” 5

Chinese Influence: New Views in Japanese Academia

In historical or documentary terms, then, do the Tennō and the Shintō religion after all exhibit elements, or even influence, from China? Although many Japanese scholars do not wish to acknowledge Chinese ­influence out of nationalist self-regard, others who favor a more objective approach to historical research have examined documents from China and Japan and found ample proof illustrating that Chinese Daoism had a profound influence on Japanese culture (and this was not a matter of mere ‘borrowing’). The scholars of an earlier generation who have dealt with this topic include: Kuroita Katsumi, best known for his Daoist Thought and Daoism in Ancient Japanese History, which discusses traces of Doaism found in the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki, and in archaeological remains; Tsumaki Chokuryō who wrote Daoist Thought in Japan, which discusses the transmission of Daoist classics like the Laozi huahu jing (Book of Laozi’s Conversion of Barbarians) to Japan; and, Oyanagi Shigeta, author of The Essence of Daoism and Its Influence on Our Country.295 To these scholars, especially China scholars whose focus 293 Tsuda Sōkichi concluded that “based on all these facts, we could know that the title ‘Tennō’ was borrowed from Chinese and that it mostly came from tales of immortals and Taoist-related books (such as tales of the heaven emperor, the earth emperor, and the human emperor from Zhenzhong shu (The book received in the dream)).” See Tsuda Sōkichi, Tennō kō (The verification of the emperors), in Tsuda Sōkichi zenshū, vol. 3, appendix 4, 474–490. 294 This idea has been widely accepted. See Nakamura Shōhachi, “Nihon no Dōkyō” (Japanese Taoism), in Daojiao (Taoism), ed., Fukui Kōjun, trans., Zhu Yueli 朱 越 利 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1992), vol. 3, 7. 295 Ueda Masaaki has listed the works of Tsuda Sōkichi, Watsuji Tetsurō, Naba Toshisada ­Kuroita Katsumi, and Shimode Sekiyo. See Ueda Masāki, “Ancient beliefs and Daoism” in

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was to study China, it became clear that ancient Chinese Daoism had deep value and significance for the formation of Japanese cultural identity; and, therefore, they made a special effort to unearth a variety of historical material to establish the traces of Daoism in Japan. Naba Toshisada’s long article from 1952, “Regarding the Transmission of Daoism to Japan,” for example, suggests that Daoist thought was probably transmitted to Japan by Chinese emigrants. Later, by the late Nara period, Daoism arrived and began to combine with Buddhism. During this period Daoist rituals began appearing in Japan.296 Based on the findings of surveys in the villages of Nara county, Daoism scholar Kubo Noritada suggests that the tradition of “assemblies to observe gengshen” (shougengshen) came from the Chinese Daoist belief in Sanshi (three corpses). As Ennin noted, during the Tang dynasty, in his Record of Pilgrimage to the Tang in Search of the Sutras, Japanese customs in this regard were very similar to those in China.297 Besides, many had already noticed the hidden connection with Daoism, namely the similarity in worship of the mirror, the sword and the seal (yin), known in Daoism as the “three sacred treasures of the Son of Heaven”: namely, the mirror Yata no Kagami, the sword Kusanagi Tiancong yunjian, and the Jewel Yasakani no Magatama.298 Fukunaga Mitsuji had long emphasized such proof. In recent years, Sakade Yoshinobu has more comprehensively demonstrated the influence of Daoism on Japan by drawing attention to such elements of Japanese culture as the Yasaka shrine, the cult of Taizanfukun (a deity thought to be on Mount Tai in China) and the Great Japanese Daoist Temple at Fushimi inari taisha (the head shrine of Inari).299 From the beginning, they all felt that Japanese Shintōism resembled, though it remained distinct from, ­Chinese Daoism in terms of worship, ritual, methods, and vocabulary. But there was a definite influence of both Chinese Daoism and ancient Japanese customs, meaning that beneath one “ancient layer” was another “ancient layer.” Even ancient religions, it turned out, have histories.

296 297 298 299

Dōkyō to kodai no tennōsei: Nihon kodaishi shinkō (Taoism and the ancient tennō system: Japanese ancient history new verification) (Tōkyō: Tokuma Shoten, 1978). Naba Toshisada, “Regarding how Daoism was introduced to Japan” (Sequel), in Tōhō shūkyō (The Journal of oriental religion), combined issues of 4–5 (January 1954): 118. Kubo Noritada, “Observing the Gengshen in Japan,” in Tōhō shūkyō, combined issues of 8–9 (March 1955). Yoshida Kanetomo, Yuiitsu shintō myōhō yōshū (The teaching of the one and the only Shintō), in Chūsei Shintōron, 322. Sakade Yoshinobu, Dōkyō to wa nani ka (What is Daoism?) (Tōkyō: Chūō Kōron Shinsha, 2005), Chapter 9.

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And, what of the title Tennō, meaning Heavenly Emperor? After Tsuda Sōkichi, and especially in the free academic environment after World War ii, there were many more studies dealing with this question, including Shimode Sekiyo’s Deities and Daoism in Ancient Japan and Yamao Yukihisa’s The Establishment of the Ancient Tennō System. The most important scholar of the time was again Fukunaga Mitsuji. After his 1982 work Daoism and Japanese Culture, in 1987, he came out with Daoism and Ancient Japan. The latter’s opening essay, “Six Themes on the Verification of Tennō” presents specific evidence on six aspects including the many similarities between Jingū rites and Daoist rites; and, that the very title of “Tennō” (used by Chinese emperors like Tang Gaozu), was influenced by Chinese thought. In the next essay, he investigates diachronically and synchronically how Japan bears many traces of Daoism. For instance, the “flag” and “mirror” of the altars, which symbolize faith in the gods and spirits (shenren), bear shades of Daoism, and Tenmu Tennō (Tenmu Prince) and Jito Tennō reveal a deep connection to Daoism. In 1988, together with Ueda Masāki, Ueyama Shunpei, Fukunaga Mitsuji came out with Daoism and the Ancient Tennō System, which suggested that ancient Japanese thought and views bore a distinct connection to currents affirming the “gods and spirits” and the native Chinese “Way of Gods and Spirits” that went back further in time.300 He criticized Japanese studies of Chinese Daoism for lacking proper awareness of these questions.301 Fukunaga Mitsuji’s own studies on jing “mirror” and jian “sword” in Chinese Daoism are clear examples of the consciousness of its influence on Japan.302 Such output makes me believe more and more that, at times, Japanese inquiry into ‘China studies’ is in a ‘Japanese context’. 6

And on to Goguryeo? A Roadmap of the Dissemination of Daoism in East Asia

If we no longer restrict ourselves to the two particularly sensitive terms “Shintōism” and “Tennō,” we can see that Chinese Daoism has exerted a broad influence over Japan. The Nihon Shoki records how Yūryaku Tennō encountered the immortals of Penglai at the Mount Yamato-Kasuragi in the fourth 300 Fukunaga Mitsuji, “Tennō and the perfected” in Idem, Dōkyō to kodai no tennōsei. 301 See Fukunaga Mitsuji, Dōkyō to Nihon bunka, 19–47. 302 One of his major arguments in his research regards the deep connection between Daoism and Japan. In addition to the title of Tennō, many tales, lengends, rituals, and customs are related to Chinese Daoism.

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year of his reign. Another story tells of how Urashimako was invited to travel to Penglai. “Penglai” is clearly a legend from China, and a Daoist story. Also, the rites of succession from the demise of one Tennō to the coronation of the next, perhaps, derive from ancient rites in China, with some connection to Confucianism and Daoism.303 This begs a further question: How was Chinese ­Daoism transmitted to Japan? Owing to lack of documentary and material evidence, at present, investigations of this question remain preliminary conjecture. Fukunaga Mitsuji himself emphasized the connection between ancient ­Japan and Daoism. He thought that there had been communication between Japan and the ancient lower Yangtze kingdom of Wu. The term “wo ren” has been interpreted to refer to the descendants of the Wu Taibo, and Daoism has been strong and important in this part of China, especially the Daoism of Mount Mao. Fukunaga Mitsuji thus suspected that both Daoism and the wushu (occult practices) of the Jiangnan had deeply influenced Japan. The like-minded Ueda Masāki speculated that Daoism might have come to Japan along with the “Kikajin,” who wrote the Engishiki of 702, with its record of the rites and spells of a palace that had “the imperial Heaven god-emperor and the three Great Rulers” and typically Daoist names like the Queen Mother of the West and the King Duke of the East.304 Refuting Fukunaga Mitsuji’s idea of a connection between the title of the emperor (Tennō) and Daoism, ­Nakamura Shōhachi believed that even though the Daoist associations did not come to Japan to establish temples and to preach, around the time of the fifth century (the Ōjin Tennō and the Nintoku Tennō eras), Daoism existed legally in the lower Yangtze, and its various elements may well have been brought in to Japan by kikajin (immigrants from China and Korea) from the Korean peninsula as well as the lower Yangtze river delta. The kikajin of the Yamato period occupied an important position centrally and locally. Although by no means Daoists, they were capable of transmitting knowledge of Daoist beliefs. Korea was, we hasten to stress here, a major avenue for the transmission of Daoism, and Japan paid increasing attention to this pathway. In his abovementioned work, Ueda Masaaki says that “The Daoist traditions of Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla have been underestimated and neglected. The reason we address them now is because they are related to new research establishing the

303 See the first chapter of Tennō no daigawari to watashitachi, comps., Dohi Akio and ­Tomura Masahiro (Tōkyō: Nihon Kirisuto Kyōdan Shuppankyoku, 1988), 19–48. 304 Ueda Masaaki, Kodai no Dōkyō to Chōsen bunka (Ancient Japan and the Korean culture) (Kyōto-shi: Jinbun Shoin, 1989, 1991), 8.

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connection between Korean, Japanese, and Chinese Daoist beliefs.”305 In fact, the existence of Daoism in Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla had been noted by scholars much earlier. In the History of Daoism in Korea, author Nŭng-hwa Yi describes how the court of the Goguryeo, whose lands abutted territories controlled by China, once believed in the Five-litre Grain Sect, and later studied the Laozi, thereby gradually coming under the influence of Daoism.306 This view was elaborated even further in Korean Daoism by Chu-hwan Chʻa. Chʻa drew on records of Korea in Sanguo shiji (The history of the three kingdoms) that suggest Chinese Daoism reached Goguryeo, which had sovereign territory penetrating deep into the mainland. In 197, the second year of the Jian’an reign of Emperor Xian of the Han dynasty, “China was in chaos, and many Han people were on the run.” Such refugees may well have brought with them the Five-litre Grain Sect popular at the time. As for documentary evidence, records in the Samgungnyusa (Memorabilia of the three kingdoms) clearly state that during the Wude and Zhenguan eras of the Tang dynasty (618–649), Koreans were fervent followers of Five-litre Grain Sect. Daoism of the Jiangsu and Zhejiang regions traveled north along the Yangtze during the Wei Jin and succeeding periods, and changed little in the course of this journey. By the early 7th century, Goguryeo had many adherents, so that when Tang Gaozu heard of the situation, in 624, he presented the Goguryeo Daoists a Tianzun (Celestial Venerable) image and allowed them to preach of the Daode jing. Other records in the Sanguo Shiji show material related to Daoism. One record has it that Gai Suwen reported to the king, “China was in great chaos. Many Han Chinese came [to Goguryeo] to run away from the chaos.” […] “the three religions are like the feet of the tripod. Not a single one can go missing. Now both Confucianism and Buddhism are rising, but this is not happening with Daoism. We have to embrace those who have mastered the Dao of the world. Therefore, I am begging [you the emperor] to send envoys to Tang for Daoism in order to instruct our people.” Then, with the king’s support, Tang Taizong “sent eight Daoists including Shuda, and also granted a copy of Daode jing.” The records indicate that the Goguryeo king was extremely pleased, and housed the Daoists in a Buddhist temple.307 By the time of the early Tang dynasty, at least, Daoism as a systematic religion had struck roots in Goguryeo, scattered elements of Daoist beliefs having 305 Ueda Masaaki, Kodai no Dōkyō to Chōsen bunka, 266. 306 Nŭng-hwa Yi, Chosŏn Togyosa (The history of Daoism in Korea) (Sŏul: Posŏng Munhwasa, 1981), Chapter One. 307 Chu-hwan Ch’a, Chōsen no Dōkyō (Daoism in Korea), translated by Miura Kunio and ­Nozaki Mitsuhiko (Kyōto-shi: Jinbun Shoin, 1990), 39.

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entered Goguryeo and Baekje much earlier. We know that Japan was deeply influenced by Baekje culture. Not only Confucian classics—but also Daoism, possibly—passed through Baekje and across the sea to Japan. The Nihon shoki records that in the winter of 602, the Baekje monk Gwalleuk arrived in Japan, bringing with him “Liben (history texts) and books on astronomy and geography, as well as books on xunjia and fangshu.” Might there have been Daoist elements in these books on astronomy, geography, and various divinatory and occult arts? 7

Scholars of China Studies Joining the Debate: Miyazaki Ichisada’s Theories

Chinese researchers generally prefer to say that Chinese Daoism influenced Japanese culture and that the title of Tennō comes from China. In his History of China Studies in Japan, Yan Shaodang argues that the term “Tennō” ­(tianhuang) is Daoist in origin and thus constitutes traces of Daoist culture entering Japan during an earlier period. Citing Fukanaga, he also holds that the traditions related to the Tennō involve beliefs regarding the mirror, the sword, and the jade, and so serve as evidence of Daoism. He commented in passing that the earliest term for the head of government in Japan was likely Ōkimi (Great King), with the term “Tennō” coming into use gradually from the early 7th century onward.308 Any discussion of the term “Ōkimi” must turn to the research of Miyazaki Ichisada. An outstanding scholar of Asian history, Miyazaki’s vision often goes beyond China to cover the entirety of “the East” (dong yang)—in other words, Asia, though once again the questions and assumptions he brings to the study of China often begin on sovereign Japanese soil. Still, he respects historical material and is reluctant to deny that Japanese culture was influenced by elements of Chinese culture. What he does tend to deny is that there was much direct influence from Chinese Daoism, instead preferring to see the indirect influence of Buddhism from India. In 1978, skeptical of the view in Japanese academia that “Da wang” was the term used in ancient times prior to “Tennō,” he meticulously researched this question—one so fraught in the histories of both China and Japan—and published his results in the April 1978 issue of the famous journal Shisō (Thought) an essay entitled “On the origins of the title ‘Tennō’.” He affirms that there is material in Japan that uses the term daiō, 308 Yan Shaodang 严 绍 璗 , Riben Zhongguo xue shi 日 本 中 国 学 史 (History of China studies in Japan) (Nanchang: Jiangxi renmin chubanshe, 1991), vol. 1, 51–53.

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as for example, inscriptions on swords excavated in Eda Funayama Kofun in Kumamoto Prefecture, painted mirrors from the Sumida Hachiman Shrine in Wakayama Prefecture, and the reverse of Buddhist images found in the Hōryūji Temple. However, the age of Ōkimi must have been during the 5th and 6th centuries. At the time, China was still adhering to an ancient code which held daiō to be merely a term of respect, and not a term of formal address. Japan must also have been doing no more than following the Chinese custom in this. He did, however, speculate that the term tenō had once been popular in all the East Asian states, especially between the 4th and 5th centuries. Rulers of north China like Shi Le had taken this title. They had taken this the term from Buddhism in an effort to revive an ancient system, elevating ō (king) to tenō (heavenly king). During the age when Tianwang was most popular in China, Japan might have been influenced by China through Baekje and Goguryeo, to take for their ruler the title Wang and later Tian wang, and finally elevating it still further into Tennō. He discovered from an old imperial edition of the Nihon Shoki that two places reading Tennō had been altered from the earlier tenō. He conjectured that the ancient Japanese had used tenō in their system around the time of Emperor Yūryaku, during the age of so-called ‘Five kings of Wo’, switching over to “Tennō” when the tradition-bound Prince Shōtoku seized power. To establish this hypothesis, Miyazaki studied the “seven swords” of Japan, the Vaiśravaṇa of Indian Buddhism, and the title tenō and its popularity during China’s northern dynasties period. He concluded that based on such historical evidence, Tsuda Sōkichi’s conclusions were incorrect.309 Tsuda once again denied any history of the use of the term tenō, as he expected to discover the source of the Japanese term Tennō in Daoist mythology. Miyazaki thought otherwise and pointed out that the term as used among the Wuhu shiliu guo (Sixteen kingdoms of the five ethnic peoples) of China might have influenced Japan, because from the time of Prince Shōtoku onward, Japan began having direct relations with China. The problem of titles would have presented itself to the Japanese, spurring them to select something appropriate. It is just possible that the term Tennō might have been borrowed from Indian Buddhism. He also rejected Tsuda’s argument on Daoist influence and asked: The premise of this theory is that Japan was under the deep influence of Daoism and Daoist practices. But is this true? It is a national issue to determine the title of the ruler. Later on, when the ruler decided to take 309 See the collections and conclusions that Miyazaki Ichisada made in his late years. ­Miyazaki Ichisada, Miyasaki Ichisada jibatsushu, 367.

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up the Buddhist names, this caused chaos and tore the country apart. Then why did no one oppose it when the country decided to use Daoist deity names?310 8

The Differences between Chinese Daoism and Japanese Shintōism

We must admit, it’s always the case that “oranges of the south turn out different in the north.” Cultural dissemination often fails to preserve the exact sense of the original. One must consider both the pathways of dissemination and the choice of reception. The method of essentialism is even less useful for historical investigations of the origins of cultural phenomena. Japanese Shintō is complex, with multiple sources. As Sueki Fumihiko has suggested, even ­defining “Shintō” “is a frustrating affair.” Stating precisely what influenced the formation of Shintō is also difficult.311 The biggest difference between Chinese Daoism and Japanese Shintō may well be that though Chinese Daoism absorbed elements of Confucianism and Buddhism, these preserve their independence as religions in terms of beliefs, worship, rituals, or sects. Japanese Shintō, on the contrary, exhibits origins that cut across religions, as well as vague boundaries. The teachings are complex and comprehensive. Generally speaking, the absoluteness and uniqueness of a religion mean that there are differences between it and other religions in terms of object of worship, theological principles, rites and ceremonies, and the organization of followers. There are always boundaries difficult to cross. In China, Buddhism and Daoism may have begun to develop together against the backdrop of imperial authority being higher than the rest of the political system, but Buddhism remained Buddhism, and Daoism remained ­Daoism. The temples of the two religions were never unified. Monks and Daoists each had their own rules and regulations. The followers of Shakyamuni and the followers of the Three Purities remained as separate as oil and water. Japan, on the other hand, exhibited a certain religious phenomenon known as shinbutsu shūgō (alignment of the practices of the spirits and Buddha). According to some researchers, shinbutsu shūgō was the most outstanding characteristic of ancient Japanese religion. Spirits native to Japanese Shintō were a­ ppropriated 310 Miyazaki Ichisada, “Tennō naru shougou no urai ni tsuite” (Regarding the origin of the title Tennō), originally published in Shisou (Thought) (Issue of April 1978), later included in Miyazaki Ichisada zenshū, vol. 21 “Ancient Japan,” especially page 303. 311 Sueki Fumihiko, Chūsei no kami to hotoke (Deities and Buddhas of the medieval period) (Tōkyō: Yamakawa Shuppansha, 2003), 7.

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into the “Heaven” pathway of the Six Paths of Rebirth. As protector spirits, they were placed beneath the Buddha (it was said that though the spirits could not escape the cycles of reincarnation, they had reached the highest of the Six Paths). Altars built for offerings to the spirits were re-appropriated for offerings to Buddha images or the reading of sutras, which were roles aligned with the Buddhist temple Jingūji built alongside these altars. Ancient Japanese Shintō held that Shintō simply was Buddhism, and that the Buddha’s Dharma body could speak Dharma at any time, in response to the moment, while the spirits of Shintō were manifestations of Buddha and the Bodhisattvas. The “Shan wang” of Mount Hiei in Tendai Shintō, for example, was taken to be a manifestation of Shakyamuni.312 Ryobu Shintō, or Amaterasu of Ise Grand Shrine, was a manifestation of Mahavairocana.313 Some even believed that “Shintō was by no means a specific religion, but rather [a set of] traditional practices.” For this reason, when Japan found it necessary to emphasize the autonomy of its nation, the length and breadth of its own Japanese history and culture, and establish the wanshi yixi (ten-thousand-year unbroken) tradition of the sacredness of Tennō, Shintō gradually began to distance itself from Buddhism as part of nationalist tides, each wave of which was higher than the last. ­Between the 14th and 16th centuries, works on Shintō history and theory began to appear by writers like Watarai Ieyuki, Jihen, and Yoshida Kenkō, and during the 17th and 18th centuries there were scholars of Shintō who combined Japanese culture with Confucianism to examine Shintō in a political light; these included Yoshikawa Koretaru (1616–1694), Yamazaki Ansai (1618–1682), Kamono ­Mabuchi (1697–1769) and Motōri Norinaga (1730–1801). By the 19th century, thinkers like Hirata Atsutane (1776–1843) advocated Shintō as part of their conservative advocacy for restoration. Thus, by the early Meiji period, urgent calls for Saise ittchi (ritual practice to be aligned with government) instigated the well-known movement for Shinbutsu hanzen (separating the spirits from Buddha). To demonstrate the independence of Japanese culture and to affirm the sacredness of the Tennō system, Shintōism must own and assert its own long history and be an independent religion, distinct from Buddhism.

312 Tendai Shintō refers to the Shintō doctrines that were based on the Japanese Tendai sect in the Heian period (794–1192). It is believed in the doctrines that Śākyamuni was the embodiment of the Hieizan King. By stating this, it is argued that the deity and the Buddha shared the same body. 313 Ryōbu Shintō is also known as Ryōbu Shūgō Shintō. It is based upon the doctrines of Shingon Buddhism to “combine Buddhism with Shintō.” It was gradually formed between Kamakura period and Muromachi period (1192–1573).

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This history and religion simply did not come to pass for Chinese Daoism. Even if Shintōism and the Tennō system were influenced by Chinese Daoism, we must admit that developing as they did on Japanese soil, there are more sources to them in Japanese culture, and they met their own fate, which was completely different from Daoism.

Conclusion: Behind the Debates about Daoism, Shintōism, and the Tennō System

There are still many Japanese scholars who do not accept the proposition that Shintō and the Tennō system were influenced by Daoism. Fukui ­Fumimasa criticized Fukunaga Mitsuji’s findings all along, strongly refuting the thesis on Daoism’s influence in his work, The History of Daoist Studies in Japan, and R ­ elated Questions. He believed that Fukunaga had not understood the documents compiled in the Koji Ruien (Encylopedia of ancient matters) and ­Gunsho Kaidai (Bibliography of classified collection of books). He also averred that according to Mifune Ōmi, author of Tō Daiwajō tōsei den (Ganjin’s ­Voyage to the East), the Japanese government of the 8th century refused to allow any ­transmission of Daoism into Japan, with the result that Daoism was never transmitted into Japan in any organized way as Buddhism was. He believed that the Daoist elements found in Japanese culture were popular beliefs brought over from China to Japan in a much earlier period, and not attributable to the Daoism of the 5th century.314 He was particularly scornful of French scholars who accepted Fukanaga’s findings and even struck out against Europe in his writings. In September 1985, he held a discussion on “Daoism and Japanese Culture” at the “Japan and France Multi-Disciplinary Conference.” Presenting his paper “On the term ‘Tennō’,” he expressed his dissatisfaction with French scholars who accepted Fukunaga’s proposition that the title of “Tennō” was influenced by Chinese Buddhism and first used in the period of Suiko Tennō. He also found problematic Kristofer M. Schipper’s argument that since the title “Tennō” had been used by the Chinese emperor Tang Gaozu, it could possibly have been extended for use in Japan during the reign of Jitō Tennō (686–697), with supposed earlier instances simply being changed to reflect the adoption.

314 Fukui Fumimasa, “Riben daojiao yanjiushi he yixie xiangguan de wenti” 日 本 道 教 研 究 史 和 一 些 相 关 的 问 题 (Historiography of Japanese Daoism and some ­related issues), translated by Xin Yan, in Shijie zongjiao yanjiu 1 (1996): 129–140, especially on 133–134.

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Fukui emphasized that when it came to the problem of when the title of Tennō had “been established”: The Sinologists of the West (except for a few American scholars) often believe that Japanese culture is the product of imitating Chinese culture and thus is under its influence. They therefore tend to accept the viewpoint that Chinese Daoism had influence on ancient Japanese history. If so, I am worried that this tendency will continue. I thus hope to distinguish ‘real living religious Daoism’ from ‘Daoism that exists only as a form of knowledge’.315 He continued to maintain that Daoist knowledge had been “borrowed” by Japan, Daoism as a religion had not influenced Japan. Daoism was different from Confucianism and Buddhism: “it had never been systematically promulgated and thus there had never been associations that worshipped Daoist deities,” and also “the title ‘Tennō’ could not be said to have come from Chinese Daoism.”316 It is, perhaps, the case that more solid conclusions on the questions of ­Daoism, Shintō and the Tennō system require further discoveries in archival material, and will continue to be debated. But, as I said at the beginning of this chapter, from the perspective of academic history and and intellectual history, the current academic debate shows three features: First, this debate on the history of cultural interaction between China and Japan demonstrates that there is always a pragmatic political context lurking behind academic topics in history. The scholar embedded in the environment of an age can hardly avoid entanglement in the political, cultural and social environment of the time, with the result that to approach research with a questioning consciousness is often to bring with one a trace of practical concerns, and between “Dao” and “history,” the scholar will often encounter difficulties which are hard to resolve. Second, scholars of different countries working on the same history will have different positions, feelings and intellectual currents, and this is normal. Today we face the “Chinese studies” of Japan and find that we must see it as “Japanese studies.” We can understand where their questioning consciousness, their considered position, and their research 315 Fukui Fumimasa, Chūgoku shisō kenkyū to gendai (Research on Chinese thoughts and the contemporary world) (Tōkyō: Ryūbunkan,1991), 216–220. 316 Fukui Fumimasa, Chūgoku shisō kenkyū to gendai, 149.

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methods all come from if we understand the main currents of their political and academic histories. Only in this way can we get a true understanding of “China studies outside China.” Third, in the history of cultural interaction, what is required is a “sympathetic understanding” of the cultures and histories of other countries. Paying attention to historical events that seem similar, we will notice small and subtle differences, which we must investigate more deeply. We should not simply make far-fetched comparisons.

chapter 6

Where are the Borders? Starting with the Context of the Study of “Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet, and Korea” in Japan at the Turn of the Twentieth Century

Foreword: The Question

For a long time, I have emphasized that Chinese academic studies of history and culture, and concerning topics both Chinese and non-Chinese, must attend to the following three issues. First, the political factors influencing the rise and fall of academic trends must be understood. Many believe in a separation between modern academia and the state, which allows academia to establish its autonomy as a field. I do not believe that such a “separation” can ever be clear-cut. Second, we must attend to changes in materials, methods and points of focus. The history of academia is quite distinct from intellectual history in that it cannot depart from specific, professional questions to discuss high, abstract concepts. Major verdicts must always come from minor details. Why did Chen Yinke say one needed to “predict the currents”? Because academia is like a river current, wave following wave, and any shift in materials, methods or points of focus can spur even deeper changes to the direction of history, to cultural identity, and to the interpretation of tradition. Third, we must attend to the conflict and competition between different academic communities. The earliest academic communities focused on China, Eastern studies in Europe and Oriental studies in Japan were each prone to competing with each other. And Chinese scholars, regardless of whether they had never left China, as with Chen Yuan, or they had been deeply influenced by Western academic training, as with Chen Yinke, Fu Sinian, and Hu Shi, all held strongly to the view that the “center of Sinology must be returned to us from Paris and Tokyo.” In this chapter, I examine the history of academia in China and Japan around the turn of the 20th century, that is the late Qing and early Republican periods in China, and the Meiji and Taishō periods in Japan. The following questions would be of interest. Why did Japanese research shift in focus, from the history of the ethnic Han to an intense new interest in Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet, and Korea?

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What is the relationship between this academic interest and the political context of Japan? What is the relationship to research on the Western Regions and the South China Sea in Europe? Why did China not form a similar interest in response to its re-­establishment as a nation-state? How is it that the contrary situation came to pass, with ­earlier Chinese interests in the Northwest and in Mongolia both dying out? 1

Japan’s Interest in the Study of “Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet and Korea” and the Formation of East Asian History

East Asian history took shape in Japan in the late Qing and early Republican eras, which correspond to the Meiji and Taishō periods in Japan. As Nakami Tatsuo writes: The Japanese field of East Asian history formed mostly between 1894 and 1904. The historical setting of these 10 years, which is to say between the Sino-Japanese and Russo-Japanese wars, had the greatest influence on the later development of the study of East Asian history.317 This, for the most part, is accurate, although in this article the “dawning period” of Japanese Oriental studies is broadened slightly to the years 1891–1915, which is to say the whole of the late Qing and early Republic, and the Meiji 317 Nakami Tatsuo, “The Exploration of the materials on the early stage of East Asian history in Japan,” in Shinchō to Higashi Ajia: Kanda Nobuo Sensei koki kinen ronshū (The Qing ­Dynasty and East Asia: A Collection Commemorating Mr. Kanda Nobuo’s Seventieth Birthday) (Tokyo: Yamakawa Shuppansha, 1992), 98. This periodization is widely accepted in the academic community. Here I refer to He Changqun’s periodization. He argues that the years between 1891 and 1915 are the formative period of modern Oriental studies in Japan. This period is divided into 1) 1891–1897, during which Japanese history became independent, Oriental history was forming, and the history of Korea, Mongolia, and Tibet became “equally as important” as Chinese history; and 2) 1898–1915, during which the historical studies in Japan were like “flowers blooming,” forming the two great schools in Tokyo and Kyoto. The study on Manchuria, Mongolia, western regions, and southern seas flourished and far exceeded China. He Changqun 贺 昌 群 , “Riben xueshujie zhi ‘Zhina xue’ yanjiu,” 日 本 学 术 界 之 “支 那 学 ” 研 究 (A Study on “Chinese Studies” in the Japanese Academic Community), originally published in Dagong bao tushu fukan 大 公 报 ∙图 书 副 刊 (L’Impartial∙ Books), Issue 3, October 26, 1933, reprinted in He Changqun wenji 贺 昌 群 文 集 (Collected Works of He Changqun) (Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 2003), vol. 1, 447.

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and Taishō periods. This is because only when we look holistically at this era of Japan and China in flux do we see that this is precisely the period of transformation in discourse on China in Japan’s political community, as well as the key period of the rise of Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet and Korea in the Japanese intellectual community. For this reason, when we reconsider Chinese intellectual history of those times, we can see that Japan’s academic transformations and political situation regarding “China” and “borders” are especially worth examining. It is well known that the Japanese study of China and its borders in this period not only involved the regions surrounding China on the north, east, south and west, but also closely examined each of the minority regions on the margins of the Han areas. These studies involved the history, religion, language and geography of each of these various nations and regions. The range of study was quite comprehensive, and can be outlined as follows: (1) Just as Wada Sei says, Japanese studies of Manchurian history and geography were quite weak before the Meiji period, limited as they were to the work of a few scholars such as Ogyu Kan and Ban Nobutomo. In 1894, the year of the first Sino-Japanese War, the Japanese military strategy board published a Gazzetteer of Manchuria. Just after that, the scholarly community produced works such as Investigations of Manchuria (1903) by Tanaka Suiichirō and History of Ancient and Modern Mongolia (1904) by Adachi Ritsuen and Hirata Kossen. Promoted by key figures in Oriental Studies of Japan such as Naka Michiyo, Naitō Konan, Shiratori Kurakichi, “research on the history of Manchuria has developed, gradually but become greater and greater by degrees. Among the biggest advances in Manchurian History was when Shiratori Kurakichi established the South Manchurian Railway Intelligence Gathering Unit.”318 (2) Following Japan’s invasion of Korea, the academic community produced many works on Korea. After the two works A History of Korea (1892) and History of Early Modern Korea (1901) by Hayashi Taisuke, there was much more research from scholars including Tsuboi Kumezō, Shiratori ­Kurakichi, Ikeuchi Hiroshi, Imanishi Ryū, Harada Yoshito and Fujitsuka Chikashi. In 1908, Shiratori Kurakichi suggested to Gotō Shinpei, then director of the Manchuria Rail, that he establish an institution for the study of Manchurian and Korean history and geography. Later on, there were other scholars of great influence, including Yanai Watari, Tsuda Sōkichi, 318 Wada Sei, Tōa shi kenkyū: Manshū hen (Research on East Asian history, Chapter on ­Manchuria) (Tōkyō: Tōyō Bunko, 1955), preface, 1.

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and Ikeuchi Hiroshi, who all added their own examinations of the history and geography of Manchuria and Korea. (3) As Sugiyama Masāki points out, owing to Japan’s deep memory of the “invasion of the Mongols,” Mongolia had long been a subject of interest, though authentic modern studies of the history, geography and ­language of Mongolia only begin with Naka Michiyo, Kuwabara Jitsuzō, and ­Shiratori Kurakichi.319 Among those particularly worth mentioning is Professor Naka, one of the pioneers of the field. In 1902, Tokyo Bunkyūdō published his translation of Hong Jun’s Yuanshi yiwen buzheng (Supplements and Corrections to Translated Texts of the History of the Yuan Dynasty). When, after this, he discovered that China had new historical materials on the Mongols, he asked colleagues Wen Tingshi and Chen Yi to seek them out for him. These included Huangyuan shengwu qinzheng lu (The Account of Shengwu Emperor’s Expedition of the Yuan Dynasty), Heida shilue (A Brief Account of the Black Tartars), Shuangxi zuiyin ji (The Collected Works of the Drunken Recluse of Twin Creeks), and Yuan mishi Li buzhu (The Supplement to Li Wentian’s Annotation on The Secret H ­ istory of the Yuan Dynasty). From Naitō Konan of Kyoto, he also obtained a handmade copy of the Menggu mishi (Secret History of the Mongols) done by Wen Tingshi. After three years of working with these and other materials, in 1907 he published the monumental True Record of Genghis Khan, which is a commentary to the 12-volume Secret History of the Mongols. This work immediately became the foundation for ­Japanese studies of Mongol history, and the impetus for many more Japanese scholars to examine the Mongols. (4) The study of Tibet also began in this period. Following Japan’s re-­ appraisal of China, both the academic and political communities began to take an interest in Tibet. In 1901, a special mission of the Japanese court led by Narita Yasuteru came to Lhasa to gather Tibet materials.320 The year before, in 1900, Teramoto Enga (1872–1940) discovered Tibetan Buddhist scriptures in both the Huang Temple and the Zifu Temple while he was serving as a translator in Beijing. He persuaded Yikuang, the Prince Qing and Na Tong to give two sets of scriptures over to him. The two sets 319 Sugiyama Masāki, Mongoru teikoku to Dai Gen Urusu (Mongol Empire and the Great Yuan Dynasty) (Kyoto: Kyoto Daigaku Gakujutsu Shuppankai, 2004), 11. 320 Narita Yasuteru once wrote secret reports to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan. Not until 1970–71 did he publish his Tibet Journal, cited from Takayama Ryuzō, “Kawaguchi Ekai,” in Tōyōgaku no keifu (The Genealogy of Oriental Studies), ed. Egami Namio (Tokyo: Taishukan Shoten, 1992), 81.

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(­ after a stay in the imperial palace first) were later separated and stored at the University of Tokyo and in the Otani University Buddhist Scripture Archive. In Japan, these attracted a lot of attention. In November 1901, the first issue of Reports of the Imperial Oriental Society stated in its publisher’s preface, “this is a rare classic work, a great discovery owing to the hard work of Teramoto Enga.” And in 1901, besides Narita Yasuteru, the illustrious Kawaguchi Ekai (1866–1945) traveled to Lhasa. He brought back with him a great number of Sanskrit and Tibetan documents, including Sanskrit and Tibetan editions of the Buddhist Canon as well as many other types of material.321 Later, newspapers in Tokyo and Osaka frequently published accounts of his experiences in Tibet, which aroused great curiosity about Tibet in Japan. The 1909 publication in India and England of the English work, Three Years in Tibet, further “satisfied curiosity about a Tibet still closed to the world on the part of Japanese people just then in an age of ‘civilizing’, and ‘amassing wealth and self-strengthening’. This work also received a warm welcome.”322 Kawaguchi not only collected a great number of materials for the Japanese study of Tibet, but also cultivated future Tibetologists including Ikeda Choutatsu, and Abe Fumio. Thus did Japan initiate the study of Tibetan history and culture.323 (5) Japan’s study of Uighur Xinjiang, or “western” regions developed under the impetus of European scholars. But in the period in question, the field was dominated, on the one hand, by “explorations” bent on stealing all the ancient artifacts and, on the other hand, by military and ­political ­“inspections.” This caused them to jump at their first chance to enter ­Xinjiang, in 1902. Following the path of previous European scholars, Ōtani Kōzui and others started in the west and traveled eastward into Kuchea and Hetian, later entering Xinjiang at least twice on “­ inspection.” Later, two works were published in Tokyo and Kyoto, Explorations of C ­ entral Asia (Tokyo, 1912) and Illustrated Catalog of Archeology of the Western ­Regions (Kyoto, 1915). These are called the “Ur-texts of the Japanese study of the western regions.” In 1905, following secret orders from the ­foreign ministry and the instructions of the military board, Sakurai Yoshitaka traveled to Xinjiang to explore the area. After his return, he wrote a d­ etailed report 321 It is said that these materials included 144 Buddhas, 261 Buddhist paintings, 385 Buddhist instruments, and 28 Sutra printing blocks. 322 Takayama Ryuzō, “Kawaguchi Ekai,” in The Genealogy of Oriental Studies, 78. 323 Qin Yongzhang 秦 永 章 , Riben shezang shi: Jindai Riben yu Zhongguo Xizang 日 本 涉 藏 史 ——近 代 日 本 与 中 国 西 藏 (The History of Japan’s Involvement in Tibet: Japan and Tibet of China in Modern Era) (Beijing: Zhongguo zangxue chubanshe, 2005), 54–98.

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on Inner Mongolia and Xinjiang.324 Other ­Japanese Scholars like Shiratori Kurakichi, mentioned above, as well as Haneda Tōru, Kuwabara Jitsuzō, and Fujita Toyohachi began similar studies very early, all under the influence of European scholars. Their work on the Chinese histories of the western regions, geographical material, new archaeological discoveries in Xinjiang and the many language and writing systems of the western regions, all marked great progress for the study of cultural interchange between the East and the West, as well as the religions, arts and culture of China’s western regions. Looking back at Japan’s scholarship on China’s “borders,” we discover it, on the one hand, influenced by the rise, in European studies of the Orient, of research on China and “beyond” among Japanese China scholars of the Meiji and Taishō periods.325 On the other hand, the rapid rise of Japan and the “Asianism” movement are clearly visible as Japan’s interests turn from traditional Han China towards the history and geography of China’s border regions: Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet and Korea. Back then, by the 19th century China had gradually begun formal study of the history of the northwest and the history and languages of the Mongols, had some major achievements in this field, and had even taken the first steps in the evolution of traditional Chinese text-based evidential studies to more modern and international historical studies. Yet truly modern historical and geographical studies of China’s borders were clearly beginning to develop only somewhat later in the field of Oriental studies in Europe and in Japan (where it was known as “toyo,” meaning Oriental) studies, and under the further impetus of the “study of western regions and southern seas” and the study of “Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet and Korea.”326 324 Recently some scholars have mentioned this. For more detail see Wang Ke 王 柯 , “Riben qinghua zhanzheng yu ‘huijiao gongzuo’” 日 本 侵 华 战 争 与 “回 教 工 作 ” (Sino-­ Japanese War and ‘Work on Uygur’), in Lishi yanjiu 5(2009): 88. 325 Roughly speaking, before 1890, the general educational community of Japan introduced the history of China through Shiba shilue 十 八 史 略 (Outlines of the eighteen histories). Yet, in the higher education community, Chinese history was considered as one part of “Sinology” and was restrained within the Chinese materials of China. Not only did materials not reach beyond Chinese language, in terms of spatiality, Chinese history was not able to extend beyond China neither. Yet, this situation gradually changed with the transformation of Japan after Meiji restoration. The most dramatic change happened after the first Sino-Japanese war. 326 For example, after Wang Guowei translated Paul Pelliot’s work The Invention and Conclusion of Oriental Ancient Linguistics and History in Recent Years, he understood the progress of Western scholarship; after he read Fujita Toyohachi’s “The Knowledge on Cotton

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If we compare in detail the interest of the Japanese Oriental studies community in “Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet and Korea” with the attitudes of Chinese intellectuals towards “the study of the four hinterlands” (or what Fu Sinian called “northern barbarian studies”), we can see the great differences in the politics of both nations and the differing historical consciousness of the intellectual communities in the two countries. 2

Victory over Europe: One Motivation for Japanese Historians to Study Chinese Borders

In the field of Japanese Oriental historiography, the influence of Naka ­Michiyo (1851–1908) was particularly deep. His interest in Mongol and Yuan history and Manchu and Korean history influenced his description of Chinese history, e­ specially his new concept of the history of “China” where “China” was to be a part of the larger context of “the Orient.”327 According to Enoki Kazuo’s (1913–1989) recollection, these ideas were already clear in Naka Michiyo’s mind by the 27th and 28th years of the Meiji period (1894–95)—these were the two years in which the first Sino-Japanese war erupted and the Treaty of Shimonoseki was signed.328 Naka Michiyo’s thought process in this period not only established Japanese Oriental historiography as a field with university standing; it also exerted a deep influence on the later Japanese Oriental academic community (including Shiratori Kurakichi, one of the founders of modern Japanese historiography). Afterward, works like Outline of Oriental History published in the 30th year of and Cloth in Ancient China,” he knew the research of Oriental scholars, see letters to Luo Zhenyu, no. 96 and 117, in Guantang shuzha 观 堂 书 札 (Wang Guowei’s Letters). ­Inspired by Paul Pelliot and Wang Guowei, Chen Yuan wrote “Huoao jiao ru Zhongguo kao” 火 祆 教 入 中 国 考 (A Study of Zoroastrianism’s Entry into China), “Moni jiao ru Zhongguo kao” 摩 尼 教 入 中 国 考 (A Study of Manicheanism’s Entry into China), and “Moni jiao canjing” 摩 尼 教 残 经 (Fragments of Manichean Scriptures) (vol. 1–2, see Beijing daxue guoxue jikan北 京 大 学 国 学 季 刊 (The Quarterly Journal of Chinese Learning at the Peking University), vol. 1, issues 1–3, January, April, and July, 1923. 327 This academic direction of history, though also inspired on the China side when he became aware of historical materials and discoveries on the Mongol Yuan through Chen Yi and Wen Tingshi, still in large part owes its impetus to European Oriental studies and the influence of the Japanese discourse of power. See Miyazaki Ichisada, Miyasaki Ichisada jibatsushu, 22. 328 Yoshikawa Kōjirō ed., Tōyōgaku no sōshishatachi (The Founders of Oriental Studies) ­(Tokyo: Kodansha, 1976), 22–23.

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Meiji (1897) by Ichimura Sanjirō deliberately replaced instances of the term “China” with “the Orient.” This was said to be “in accordance with the current trend in the academic and educational communities.”329 And what was this “trend”? According to Tanaka Masayoshi, it had been in place since the 20th year of Meiji, but especially after the first Sino-Japanese War. In the context of a Japanese nation that was self-strengthening, the trend was towards “Japan very deliberately becoming conscious of itself as an Asian nation, a representative of an Oriental civilization that corresponded to the Occidental civilization.”330 Somewhat later, in the “General Introduction” to the volume Intermediate Oriental History, published in the Taishō period by Kuwabara Jitsuzō, the scope of the historical narrative is expanded even further to include East, South and Western Asia. “This was a new approach never used before,” remarks Miyazaki Ichisada. It dispenses with the historical narrative that places China at the ­center, and instead “seeks to elucidate the destinies of all the nations of the Orient.” It dispenses with the norm that has made China the center, instead “taking each nation of the Orient on equal standing, utterly without difference.” This is what made the Japanese academic community form both a system and a set of values called “Oriental history” to replace “Chinese history.” The major points of difference between these two fields were the new attention to Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet and Korea, with special focus on “the western regions.”331 Whether we look in Tokyo or in Kyoto, we can see in this period many ­Japanese scholars who had this research interest and direction. Among them were two major players in Japanese Asian studies, important figures who defined Oriental Studies in Japan in the Meiji period. One was Tokyo Imperial University’s Shiratori Kurakichi (1865–1942). He very deliberately sought to expand Chinese studies to the borders, at the same time setting as his aim “to awaken Oriental studies in my country, to make it achieve or even surpass world standards.”332 His own studies of Turk, Eusun, Xiongnu, Sogdiana, Kangju, and Korea had earned highly positive reviews from 329 Ichimura Sanjirō himself in 1901 had gone to Beijing to carry out research at the Great ­Eastern Archive, where he discovered the “State Histories of Korea and Other states in western regions,” “Texts of Tibet, Nepal and other states in western regions” and ­“Documents on Korean Incident in the Seventh Year of Chongde Reign etc”. 330 Egami Namio ed., Tōyōgaku no keifu, 29–30. 331 Miyazaki Ichisada, Miyasaki Ichisada jibatsushu, 24. 332 Haneda Tōru, “Shiratori Kurakichi’s Ideas,” in Research on Oriental Studies (Kyoto: Kyoto University, 1942), vol. 7, issues 2–3, 83.

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the European academic community.333 Moreover, under the support of Gotō Shinpei’s Manchurian Rail, he established the “Manchu and Korean History and Geography Inspection Bureau” and edited the Literary Archive of White Mountains and Black Rivers. The other is Kyoto Imperial University’s Naitō Konan (1866–1934), who invested much time in Manchuria, Mongolia and Korea. He collected and compiled a Mongolian edition of Origins of Mongolia, as well as preparing, in Shenyang, photographic copies of more than 4,000 pages of Manchurian texts, with which he compiled the “Manchurian and Mongolian Book Series.” Japanese scholars became more confident about entering the international academic community, to the point that they thought Japanese people understood the new methods of the West better than the Chinese. Also, they were better at reading Oriental texts than Westerners. They began to feel that only Japan should be on the front lines of “Oriental studies.” Chinese scholars, though unwilling to submit, had to acknowledge that: When it comes to the study of historical events in China proper, we have achieved a correct understanding of the underlying patterns. But as regards the surrounding areas, including studies of the western regions, the southern seas, and the history of art and archaeology, we are now far behind.334 Such was the academic current of Japan in these years. This current has its own institutional history and special context. From the perspective of intellectual history, the modernity of the trends in the Japanese academia is very clear. The Japanese academic community developed a notion that Japan would be ideal and better suited than Europe to be the leading authority on China. They acknowledged that in recent years only, as regards the western regions and the southern seas, owing to vast distances in culture, religion and customs, and differences in tools, materials and methods, Europeans were a step ahead of Japanese people. This had made Japan fall behind Europe in understanding “China.”335 333 Besides, he also published “On the Kinds of Ancient States Living at the Northern China” on Shigaku zasshi (Historical Journal), 11:4 (1900). In this article, he comprehensively investigated over twenty alien tribes including Rouzhi, Xiongnu, Donghu, Xianbei, Wuwan, Rouran Khaganate, Khita, Huihu, Jigasi, Wuji, Shiwei, and Nuzhen. This work drew a great response. 334 He Changqun, “Riben xueshujie zhi ‘Zhina xue’ yanjiu” in He Changhui wenji, vol. 1, 447. 335 There is no question that the Japanese academic community was influenced by European Oriental studies. For example, in Kuwabara Jitsuzō’s article “The Mission of scholars on Chinese study,” he bases the scope of his study on the models set by Western sinologists

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There was an apt anecdote told to Kuwabara Jistuzō, that the French scholar Edouard Chavannes had not only read the Wukong xingji (Record of Wukong’s journeys), but had done evidentiary studies on it, supplying explanation and commentary, whereas Kuwabara and his colleagues in Japan had never even heard the name “Wukong.” They were shocked, and felt the urge to catch up to their Western competitors. For this reason, Japan had to exert itself go through the tools, materials and methods of the West, to follow the fields, topics and questions of interest to the Western academic community. They had to apply the so-called objective position, called “impartial,” similar or corresponding to Western science. In terms of the space of research, too, they strongly imitated the European Sinological tradition, which had come from missionaries and anthropologists, and transformed “Chinese studies” into “Oriental studies.”336 This at once expanded the field from Han China to the borders of China for consciously constructing a historical research space that corresponded to the “Occident.” This established a historical discursive space called the “Orient,” which stood side-by-side with “the Occident” in terms of history, culture and nation, and it also distinguished Japan from this “Orient,” making Japan a “nation” with two “others.” Naka Michiyo thus suggested that in addition to “Japanese history,” ­“Occidental history” and “Oriental history” should also be established, and that the Japanese Oriental history community extend “Oriental history” from ­“China” to the “borders,” “ending Japan’s long bias towards taking only ­China as the center, for it must include all the countries of the Orient, and the ­histories of all the nations of the Orient.”337 In the Meiji and Taishō periods, such as the American scholar Rockhill (who studied Tibetan and Mongolian Buddhism, culture and geography, as well as texts relevant to commerce in the southern seas, including Zhufan zhi and Daoyi zhilue, British scholar Phillips (who researched the history of Taiwan under Netherland’s occupation and China’s contact with South Sea in the Ming Dynasty), Wylie (who mastered Mongolian, Sanskrit, and Manchu, and who studied the influence of missionaries on China), Legge (who studied and translated Chinese classics), and the Russian Bretoschneider (who studied the Mongol era). With these in mind, he lamented that “Our country’s [Japan] greatest mistake lies in our study of China, for not having fully utilized scientific methods—and we may even suspect that we are perhaps still not observing the scientific method. Well, the scientific method is by no means only for Western learning. Without a doubt, Japanese studies of China should also be based on it.” Kuwabara Jitsuzō, Kuwabara Jitsuzō zenshū (Complete Works of Kuwabara Jitsuzō) (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1968), vol. 1, 591–594. 336 Discussing the historiographical direction of Shiratori Kurakichi, scholars such as Kuwata Rokurō, Uemura Seiji, and Ishida Mikinosuke all speak of Shiratori Kurakichi‘s vision for “Not Chinese history, but Oriental history.” See Yoshikawa Kōjirō ed., Tōyōgaku no sōshishatachi, 22. 337 Egami Namio ed., Tōyōgaku no keifu, 3.

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the ­attention of every academic journal, as for example Oriental Philosophy, and the academic training of scholars including, for example, Shiratori Kurakichi. Each scholar selected Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang and Tibet for their major academic subjects. All put into practice this pursuit of modernity and intermingling with international currents.338 3

The “Qing State is Not a State” Thesis: The Historical Background and Political Sensibility of the Study of “Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet and Korea” in Japan

However, from the perspective of political history, behind this academic turn lies hidden a deeper context. Since Meiji, “the discourse of expanding state power” gradually extended itself. Japanese nationalism began to appear under the auspices of so-called “Asianism,” especially after the Qing state was de­feated in the first Sino-Japanese war of 1894. Japan began taking a condescending view of this once-largest contender in Asia. Their demands on China and the other sovereign territories on the borders also grew more and more forceful.339 Nakano Seigō once clearly raised the point in his—Big Nation, Great C ­ itizens, and Prominent Figures: A Refutation of the Theory of Abandoning Manchuria and Mongolia—that the rise and fall of traditional Chinese history proved the necessity of Japan’s struggle for hegemony and expansion. He said that ­China first began to weaken when the first Qin emperor built the Great Wall for ­self-defense. He believed: Our country rides new and rising fortunes. Our progress includes ­Taiwan, to which we add Korea. The line of development to Manchuria and 338 Haneda Tōru, who took part in this current, summed it up by saying that in this period Japan’s advancement in Oriental studies is shown in (1) new Eastern archaeological materials and studies of various texts (like The Tablet of Kul Tigin), (2) discoveries of ancient languages (like language of Uighur Khaganate, Tochari, and Western Xia), (3) studies on each of the races of each of the countries of the western regions, (4) new discoveries of texts from various non-Han religions (like the classics of Manicheanism), (5) the influence of Sute culture on the East, and (6) the eastern progress of Huihu culture. Clearly, these new studies far surpassed traditional “Han China.” Haneda Tōru, “The Progress of East Asian studies in recent time,” originally published in Shirin (Forest of History) 3:1–2 (1918), and later in Haneda Tōru ed., Haneda Hakushi shigaku ronbunshū (The History ­Essay ­Collection of Dr. Haneda Tōru) (Kyoto, Toyoshi Kenkyukai, 1975, [1957]), 635–653. 339 See Ichiko Chūzō, Kindai Nihon no tairiku hatten (The Continental Development of Japan in Modern Time) (Tokyo: Keisetsu Shoin, 1941), Introduction, 1.

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­ ongolia has appeared. If we were to build a great wall around the borM ders of Korea, then guard it on all sides, it would weaken our morale. Would this not foretell the downfall of the country?340 Among these, the most influential was the new notion that the Qing state’s “Chinese empire” of the past would no longer be seen as a great “unity.” Rather, according to the new notion of “nation-states” from Europe, one could explain the so-called “China” of the past as different kingdoms. These kingdoms were only an empire by tradition, while in actuality “China” should only take as its main body the Han people, a country that resided south of the Great Wall and east of Tibet and Xinjiang. Meanwhile, each of the nations of the Chinese border ought to be a collective body of different cultures, governments and nations. The so-called “Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet and Korea” were all only the “borders” outside of China.341 This ideological current was widespread in Japan in those times, when there also formed a vision of Japan as the savior of Asia, and which sought to expand the space of Japan. It must seek to strengthen China’s external strength but, at the same time, keep China restricted to the Han zones south of the Great Wall. For example, the East Asia Society and the Common Culture Society at that time obtained the support of Konoe Atsumaro, to apply the “civilization theory,” which is none other than eugenics, to speak of Japan’s leadership role in Asia. They also used “race theory” to discuss the interdependent relationship between China and Japan.342 These made the Japanese cultural community desire that Japan should be the “leader” to save Asia. Also gaining was the 340 Nakano Seigō, Waga mitaru Man-Sen (The Manchuria and Korea in my eyes) (Tokyo: ­Seikyosha, 1915), 355. 341 For example, Wada Sei believed that, “Mongolia, Manchuria and Tibet in the past, were by no means one state with China. The races were different. The languages were different. The writing systems and religions were also different, as were the customs and habits. The histories and traditions present still further differences, for these had only been united beginning with the rise of the Great Qing Empire. In Manchuria, there is no reason to speak of all of these as ‘China’ or ‘Chinese people’. This needs no proof, for one can easily see it himself.” Wada Sei, “The Essential Meaning of the Words China and Chinese,” in Tōashi ronsō (The Collection of Oriental History) (Tokyo: Seikatsusha, 1942), 202–203. 342 Sakeda Masatoshi, Kindai Nihon ni okeru taigaikō undō no kenkyū (The Research of Japan’s Radical International Movement in Modern Time) (Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1978), 113. Banno Junji, “The Theory of Oriental Leader and The Theory of Leaving Asia and Entering Europe: Two Types of Entering and Leaving Asia in the Middle Era of the Meiji Period,” in Kindai Nihon no taigai taido (The Attitude Towards Foreign Affairs in Modern Japan), ed. Satō Seizaburō et al. (Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1974), 39.

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notion that China should strengthen its center while relinquishing the four hinterlands. In the 31st year of Meiji (1898), Fukuzawa Yukichi, one of the founders of Japan’s early modern ideology, published the article “Plan to Divide China Fourteen Years Ago.” In the piece, the author recalls how he himself in 1884 had pointed out that the danger of China being divided was hanging over their heads. It was almost unavoidable. For this reason, Japan, now modernized, must for its own safety take steps to participate in the struggle to divide it.343 This way of thinking was especially widespread in the Meiji and Taishō periods. “The Fate of China Divided,” published in 1912 by Nakajima Tan, and “On Dividing China,” published in 1917 by Sakamaki Teiichirō, both opined that China could no longer escape the fate of tyranny. Further, China could not avoid being divided. Although in his famous essay, “On China,” published in 1914, the renowned Oriental historiographer Naitō Konan, refuted this rhetoric in the strongest terms, on the problem of Chinese sovereign territory, he thought that, from the perspective of political power, China should shrink. The so-called “Republic of Five Peoples” and similar theories were only fantasies, and not worth supporting. Still, considering China’s actual strength, it would be better for a time for it to lose sovereign territory and thereby gain internal unification.344 This ideological current was, as Japanese scholars have said: Formed under the impetus of the eruption of the first Sino-Japanese War, and the context of the Japanese people growing more and more concerned about the Asian mainland. Also on the rise in the second decade of Meiji rule was Japan’s behavior as an early modern country in a hurry To take its place on the world stage. As Japan’s self-awareness as an Asian nation grew each day, it faced Western culture. Under these circumstances it produced and advocated a unique Oriental culture.345 This caused them to feel that Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet and Korea were “just like their own sovereign territory.”

343 Fukuzawa Yukichi, Fukuzawa Yukichi zenshū (The Complete Collection of Fukuzawa ­Yukichi) (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1958–1964), vol. 16, 204–207. 344 See Koyasu Nobukuni, Nihon kindai shisō hihan: ikkokuchi no seiritsu (The Criticism of Modern Japanese Thoughts: The Founding of One Nation’s Knowledge) (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2003), 108. 345 Egami Namio ed., Tōyōgaku no keifu, 3.

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However, it was precisely this political context of nationalism verging on imperialism that invigorated the research interests in academic fields. Meanwhile, the research directions in these academic fields transformed into a new, common notion for understanding China.346 Ties between the academic and the political were commonplace in the ­Japan of that period. To cite one representative example, in 1908, with the support of Manchurian Rail Director Gotō Shinpei, the “Manchurian and Korean Historical and Geographical Inspection Bureau” was finally established. This highly influential institution not only collected a great many documents related to Manchuria and Korea—establishing the “Literary Archive of White Mountains and Black Waters”—but also published in close succession History and Geography of Manchuria and then History and Geography of Korea. It also cultivated a crop of famous scholars who influenced the atmosphere of the entire Japanese Oriental studies community, including Inaba Iwakichi, Yanai Watari, Ikeuchi Hiroshi, Tsuda Sōkichi, Matsui Hitoshi, and Wada Sei. This appears to be an event only related to the Oriental historiographical community. Behind the scenes, however, there are political considerations and a colonial context inside. Shiratori Kurakichi’s Preface to Volume 1 of History and Geography of Manchuria says candidly: Looking back six or seven years, when the wrap-up of the Russo-Japanese War, the management of the economy of southern Manchuria, and the protection and opening up of Korea fell to the people of Japan, I then promoted the study of Manchuria and Korea as the most urgent duty of the academic community. Why? Because he believed that, first of all, Manchuria and Korea had close links to Japan, and secondly, Manchuria and Korea had opened up to Japan by coming out from behind the iron curtain of China. It was these motives that made him push the Japanese academic community to study Manchuria and Mongolia. Just as Gotō Shinpei has said, “One must realize the special mission of the Japanese people for the Orient… Examination of their history, traditions 346 In the 1913 essay, Kuwabara Jitsuzō once remembered the rise of Japan in slogans like “The Integration of Korea,” “East Asia as the Hegemon,” “The First-ranking Nation,” “The ­Importation of Culture,” and “The Wakening of Asian People,” which became common provocations within the Japanese academic community. See Kuwabara Jitsuzō, “To ­Understand the Development of Meiji Era from Oriental History,” in Kuwabara Jitsuzō zenshū (The Complete Collection of Kuwabara Jitsuzo) (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1968), 551–563.

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and habits is extremely important to colonial policy. We must understand this point clearly.”347 This point was made even more explicitly in the “Inaugural Preface” to Issue 1 of The Journal of Manchurian and Mongolian Studies, published in 1915: the study of Manchuria and Mongolia was in no sense a purely academic field. To us [Japanese], one is the key to the north gate, and one is the obstacle to peace in the Orient. Today, the most efficient route connecting Europe and Asia is through Manchuria and Mongolia via Japan. They are located inside of the future rings of contact between Eastern and Western civilizations. How can the people of our country take this lightly? That is why we invested over two hundred million in Manchuria in war costs, not to mention human ­sacrifice of over fifty or sixty thousand.348 As I also point out, this historical research—co-mingled with agendas both academic and political before and after World War ii—continued to develop in the Japanese history community as a topic of discourse as well as a resource for war strategy with an imperialist quality. Among these, the most representative is The Historical and Geographical Reports on Manchuria and Korea in more than 10 volumes, compiled by the Manchurian and Korean Historical and Geographical Inspection Bureau. After the Mukden Incident of 1931, this quickly became a bestseller owing to Japan’s desire for and interest in China’s northeast. All this happened later. 4

Frontiers or Borders: How to Define China in History and in Reality

What was the situation in China’s academic community at this period? As with the academic community in the Meiji and Taishō eras in Japan, what was called “the study of four hinterlands,” especially the study of history and geography of the northwest, developed only gradually. This was the consequence of the ultimate formation of the empire’s borders in the middle 347 Tsurumi Yusuke once believed, Gotō Shinpei’s accomplishments towards an inspection perspective on the history and geography of Manchuria and Korea made “the Japanese nation enter to this advanced stage,” and that only 50 to 100 years later could there be an accurate assessment and understanding of the important place it would hold in the history of culture. Tsurumi Yusuke, “The Era of Manchurian Rail,” in Gotō Shinpei, vol. 4, 343, 336–337. 348 “Inaugurating essay,” Man-Mō kenkyū ihō (Journal of Manchurian and Mongolian S­ tudies), 1 (November 1, 1915), 1.

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Qing and of the foreign powers’ desire to plunder China’s borders in the middle and late Qing. During the middle Qing dynasty, a vast empire of territory was ­basically established through: the suppression of the three feudatories from 1636–1681, the Zunghar Khanate (1681–1760), and the Big and Small Jinchuan (1747–1776); the establishment of the common origins of Shamanism and Tibetan Buddhism to maintain Tibet; and, finally, Manchu-Mongolian intermarriage to subdue Mongolia.349 Due to the expansion of the western regions, and the constant chaos in the northwestern borders with unceasing military activities and frequent diplomatic negotiation, scholars were motivated to pay attention to the geography, ethnicity, and history of the northwestern area. The needs of the times dictated that it was not enough to depend only on the few records in traditional Chinese histories, such as the “Treatise on the Dayuan people” in the Shi ji, or the “Chronicle of the Western Regions” and the ­“Treatise on geography” in the Han shu. Nor was it enough to count on the memories and imagination of “the ridiculous opinions of Zou Yin or the legendary ­accounts in The classic of mountains and seas.” Therefore, after the mid-19th century, this “closed-off knowledge” became a new trend in the academic community. This knowledge went beyond the spatial boundary of the 18 provinces and surpassed the dynastic histories. The rise of this knowledge was, on the one hand, the natural continuity of “evidential scholarship,” and on the other hand, a response to current developments as a kind of “practical knowledge.” Especially when scholars were exposed to the material and research discoveries from overseas, this trend provided the impetus for the evolution of traditional scholarship.350 In that period, some of the more responsive scholars began to engage in some multinational projects such as: the geography of northwest, the h ­ istory of the Liao (907–1125), Jin (1115–1234), and Mongol Yuan dynasties (1271– 1368); the translation of foreign documents; and, research on various kinds of religions in middle Asia. These scholars did so much that even the well-­ established ­ Japanese academic community studying Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang and Tibet had to rely on the works of Chinese scholars such as Zhang Mu, He Qiutao, and Li Wentian when they first started during the Meiji era. The “new-ness” of what Wang Guowei meant by “the scholarship in the Daoguang (r.1820–1850) and Xianfeng (r.1851–1861) reigns became new” refers to a new field that scholars in the earlier Qianlong (r. 1736–1799) and Jiaqing (r. 1796–1820) reigns had never explored. Wang asserts that “those who study 349 Regarding the border issues of the Qing empire, see Owen Lattimore’s Zhongguo de yazhou neilu bianjiang 中 国 的 亚 洲 内 陆 边 疆 (Inner Asian frontiers of China) (Nanjing: Jiangsu renmin chubanshe, 2005), translated by Tang Xiaofeng 唐 晓 峰 . 350 See the first section of the next chapter.

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classics should explore ­contemporary texts”; “those who investigate history should cover the histories of Liao, Jin, and Yuan”; and, “those who examine geography should include the four hinterlands.” The latter two statements are relevant to “the western regions.”351 From then on, this new field did not focus simply on traditional “Han China,” but more importantly on the study of the so-called “western regions.”352 In a period when there was no anxiety about “foreign trouble,” these four hinterlands were probably as Qi Zhaonan has described, “under the control of the Board of Barbarian Affairs.”353 Yet in reality, when “border” disputes arose, the issues relating to these countries, nations, and sovereign territories became focal points. Particularly in a situation of encroachment by foreign powers and the decline of the country, “border” issues were supposed to be the shared cause of anxiety among both the political and academic communities. In 1840, China was forced to open up to the West after the Opium War (1840–1842). In 1870, Ryukyu Islands were integrated into Japan’s territory by force, and Ili was occupied by Russia. In 1890, the Pamir area was invaded by Great Britain and Russia. To these we should add that Korea and Taiwan were taken over by ­Japan after the 1895 Sino-Japanese War. In this way, we establish that “territory” and “borders” had already become a concern by the late Qing dynasty. As a matter of fact, as early as in the mid-19th century, Gong Zizhen (1792–1841) had expressed similar anxiety over border issues in his Xiyu zhi xingsheng yi (On establishing administrative provinces in Western Regions).354 Wei Yuan (1794– 1857) also established categories of “border defense” and “sea defense” under the sub-division of “military affairs” in his Huangchao jingshi wenbian (The collection of “Managing the Country” essays in the imperial empire) compiled at the request of He Changling. Wei considered not only the defense of “coast and 351 Wang Guowei 王 国 维 , “Shen Yi’an xiansheng qishi shou xu” 沈 乙 庵 先 生 七 十 寿 序 (The Introduction to the Seventieth Birthday Anniversary of Mr. Shen Yi’an), in Guantang jilin 观 堂 集 林 (Complete Works of Wang Guowei) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2004), vol. 23, 26–28. 352 See Chapter 7 of this book. 353 Qi Zhaonan 齐 召 南 , “Yitong zhi waifan menggu shuguo shu zongxu” 一 统 志 外 藩 蒙 古 属 国 书 总 序 “(The general introduction to books on alien borders and Mongolian kingdoms in the complete collections [of the Qing Dynasty]),” cited from Qingren wenji: Dili lei huibian 清 人 文 集 :地 理 类 汇 编 (The collections of Qing scholars: The compilation of the geography books), ed. Tan Qixiang 谭 其 骧 (Hangzhou: Zhejiang renmin chubanshe, 1986), vol. 1, 277. 354 Gong Zizhen 龚 自 珍 , “Bingzheng yier” 兵 政 一 二 (Military Aspects, The Twelfth ­Essay), in Qing jingshi wenbian 清 经 世 文 编 (The compilation of the “Managing the Country” ­essays), reprinted by Zhonghua shuju, 1992, vol. 81, 1993–1996.

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sea in the southeast” but also control over the borders in the northwest. This already contains the meaning of “border land” in a modern, national sense.355 This anxiety over “nation” and “border” became clearer in the late Qing. Guo Songtao once pointed out that when Wei Yuan compiled his Haiguo tuzhi ­(Illustrated treatise on the maritime kingdoms), he did not detect these new international changes and “only feared the English because of the opium ban,” and thus he neglected Korea, the Ryuku Islands and Xinjiang. As Russia and Japan became big threats, if there was any chance to re-write the Illustrated treatise on the maritime kingdoms, Xinjiang in the northwest and the Ryukus and Korea in the east “were especially contested in the current situations” and thus worthy of exploring and writing about in the book.356 The many diplomatic disputes on the borders in the late Qing evoked the development of the historical and geographical study of the four hinterlands.357 Wang Zhichang once pointed out from the case of Yao Ying’s (1785–1853) Kangyou jixing (Travel notes on Tibet) that Yao’s motivation is actually related to the nation’s borders: [Yao Ying] described the adventure of his travel and recognized what he saw and what he heard. How can one complain of the bitterness of labor when the reason for broad knowledge is distinct? How could he have complained about his hardships, or exaggerated the activity of [such] amazing wonders? He discussed Zhaya [now Chaya] and also investigated Tibet. From Tibet he extended to talk about Xinjiang since Tibet and Xinjiang were borders of China. After Great Britain-ruled India, it was bounded to our Tibet. Dörbet and Tarbaghatay in Xinjiang were also adjacent to Russia.358 Yet it is puzzling that in the hindsight of scholarship, this study of the history and geography of the four hinterlands did not merge into and establish links 355 Wei Yuan 魏 源 , “Bingzheng yiyi” 兵 政 一 一 (Military Aspects, The Eleventh Essay), in the first volume of “Saifang” 塞 防 (Border Defense) of Qing jingshi wenbian, 1962, cited from Wei Yuan ji 魏 源 集 (Collection of Wei Yuan) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1976), 163. 356 Guo Songtao 郭 嵩 焘 , “Shu Haiguo tuzhi hou” 书 海 国 图 志 后 (Epilogue to the Illustrated treatise on the maritime kingdoms), in Qingren wenji: Dili lei huibian, vol. 7, 494. 357 For example, for the Ili issue, the Pamir negotiation, and the Jiandao dispute, see Guo ­Shuanglin 郭 双 林 , Xichao jidang xia de wanqing dili xue 西 潮 激 荡 下 的 晚 清 地 理 学 (The Study of Geography in the Late Qing Impacted by the Western Ideas) (Beijing: ­Beijing daxue chubanshe, 1999), 161–171. 358 Wang Zhichang 汪 之 昌 , “Shu Yao Ying Kangyou jixing hou” 书 姚 莹 康 輏 纪 行 后 ­(Epilogue to Yao Ying’s Travel notes on Tibet), in Qingren wenji: Dili lei huibian, vol. 6, 1061.

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with international scholarship and was unable to become the new scholarly current in China. Nor was it integrated in the political scenario of the late Qing to echo the nation-state building discourse, as had happened to the study of “Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet and Korea” in Japan. In a larger sense, territorial expansion in the Qing empire was supposed to push the historical and geographical research into “four hinterlands.” Yet the historical consciousness inherited from traditional China placed the focal point on “the homeland” all the time. Why? This is complicated. If I may briefly summarize, there are two reasons for this: first, it is probably because every level of the Qing court had trouble even in taking care of itself when facing huge crises. Thus, this scholarly current did not draw the particular attention of politicians and was not able to become the scholarly resources required for rebuilding China in the late Qing and early Republican eras. Second, the study of history and geography only to serve negotiations were too tightly bound to the nation’s border affairs. It was not influenced by the international academic community’s new approaches, including linguistics, archaeology and folklore investigation. Therefore, there was no new current for the Chinese academic community. It was always a “remote place of ‘closed-off knowledge’” that existed among a very few academic elite. The current only ran among a small circle who considered themselves “erudite.”359 Let there be no doubt: Historical research should involve country, nation, and the four hinterlands. In the Chinese academic community of that period, Kang Youwei, Liang Qichao, Zhang Taiyan and Wang Guowei all explored issues of “country,” “sovereign territory” and “history.” The reason for this is simple. When the imagination of the Qing dynasty as a “boundless empire” or a “heavenly empire” was smashed by blows from the Western powers and Japan, people began to realize the significance of having a “country” with clear boundaries and independent sovereignty.360 In the historical narrative, should China include the vast border area? In the political territory in reality, should China legitimately integrate these ethnicities and border lands? This is a major issue in the field of politics and also a great enterprise for the academic world. 359 Here I use the title of Guo Liping 郭 丽 萍 ’s book Jueyu yu juexue 绝 域 与 绝 学 (Remote Places and Closed-Off Knowledge) (Beijing: Sanlian shudian, 2007). 360 For example, in his introduction to Xijiang jianzhi yange kao xu 西 疆 建 置 沿 革 考 序 (Preface to The verification of the changes in the establishment in Tibet), Liang Qichao asserts that the fact that “more than thousand li of land in Pamir was easily ceded to Russia” should be ascribed to “the poor knowledge of the Chinese literati on the northwestern geography and thus the subsequent failure in diplomacy.” This quotation was originally published in Liang’s Yinbing shi wenji 饮 冰 室 文 集 (Essay collections of ice-drinking studio), vol. 56. Now I cite from Qingren wenji: Dili lei huibian vol. 3, 537.

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Yet, in the late Qing, everyone from the highest authority and ministers on down to the minor literati had different opinions on “Chinese” history and ­“national” boundaries. Since “it is nearly impossible to pay attention to both sea defense and western expedition,” there were even opposing viewpoints within the bureaucratic circles on whether the court should work on western regions or sea defense. Li Hongzhang proposed to focus on sea defense and did not consider retreat from border defense to be a matter of regret. Zuo ­Zongtang vehemently opposed this, arguing that the essential enterprise of the ancestors should not be given up this easily.361 In the academic community of the late Qing, because scholars had different viewpoints on “country” and “nation,” they were divided into two groups: those who considered the territory of the Qing empire as modern China and those who regarded Han China south of the Great Wall as modern China. Some scholars insisted on the political notion of the Qing empire based on space. They thought that the Qing dynasty “established a larger China with the integration of Mongol, Xinjiang, Tibet and three provinces of the northeast, and [the Qing empire was] a government with all these areas peacefully coexisting within one body for two hundred years.” This was after all a huge achievement.362 They tried to bring the large population and space of the previous empire into a modern nation. Yet, other scholars admitted that only “the nineteen provinces” inhabited by the Han Chinese were “China.” They were influenced by the anti-Manchu sentiment born under the pressure of the Manchu Qing dynasty and also by the modern nation-state concept from Europe. “The history of China is the history of the Han Chinese.” They claimed that “for the three remote areas of Tibet, Xinjiang and Mongol, we can let them come and go.” They even thought that Manchuria was not even as close as Japan to China, “Japan is close and Manchuria is estranged.”363 In the eyes of the actual 361 Motegi Toshio, “The Creation of ‘China’ and Japan in the Late Qing,” in Chūgoku, shakai to bunka (China, Society and Culture) 4 (1995): 258–259. 362 Kang Youwei 康 有 为 , “Bian geming shu” 辩 革 命 书 (Treatise on argument on revolution), in Kang Youwei zhenglun ji 康 有 为 政 论 集 (The collection of Kang Youwei’s political treatises), ed., Tang Zhijun 汤 志 钧 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1981), vol.1, 487. 363 Zhang Taiyan 章 太 炎 , “Zhonghua minguo jie” 中 华 民 国 解 (The Analysis of the ­Republican China), and “Zheng chouman lun” 正 仇 满 论 (Justifying the Anti-­Manchu ­Viewpoint) respectively published on Minbao (July 1907, issue 15) and Guomin bao 国 民 报 (Citizen’s Newspaper, issue 4). I cite from Xinhai geming qinshinian jian shilun ­xuanji, vol. 1, 98–99. Also see Tao Chengzhang’s 陶 成 章 , “Zhongguo minzu quanli xiaozhanglun” 中 国 民 族 权 力 消 长 论 (On Vicissitudes of China’s National Power), 1904, in Tao Chengzhang ji 陶 成 章 集 (The Collection of Yao Chengzhang), ed. Tang Zhijun 汤 志 钧 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1986), 212.

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founders of a real modern China, they even believed that in order to make the revolutions successful, they could give the land of Manchuria and Mongolia to Japan, for “China built the nation within the Great Wall.”364 Perhaps real political affairs were more serious than the study of borders, or maybe the actual crises were so huge that there was simply no way to care for the history and geography of the four hinterlands, for the Qing empire was in turmoil. From the emperor at the top, the officials in the middle, to the scholars and even rebels at the bottom, everyone always lacked the self-­ consciousness to argue the legitimacy of the future “country” and “boundaries” from the scholarly perspectives of history, culture, language, and ethnicity. Moreover, they did not consciously place their focus on mainstream society. It was not until the invasive ambition and activities of Japan became clearer in the 1930s, that the Chinese political and academic communities suffered a great shock once again. Only then did the people begin to realize the deeper context and greater significance of the “study of four hinterlands.”365 One issue introduced above is worth mentioning again here. In 1931, after the Mukden Incident, Japan’s interest in the study of Manchuria increased greatly. At about this time, Fu Sinian wrote his Dongbei shigang (Historical outline of the northeast). Although Fu promoted the modern idea that “history is historical materials,” he shares the Japanese scholars’ emphasis on “barbarian ­studies” or the study of the so-called “four hinterlands.” Yet, in his book, he particularly denounced Japanese scholars for their “Argument that Manchuria and Mongol are not China” (these included Shiratori Kurakichi, Yanai Watari, ­Nakayama Kyūtarō, and Yano Jinʼichi). He especially refuted Yano Jinʼichi’s ­article “On that Manchuria, Mongol and Tibet are Not China’s Terrority” from Revue diplomatique. He steadfastly held to the use of the term “the northeast” instead of “Manchuria.” He thought the latter word was “a word created especially to invade and divide China, utterly without national, geographic, p ­ olitical

364 Yang Tianshi 杨 天 石 , “Sun Yat-sen yu ‘zurang manzhou’ wenti” 孙 中 山 与 “租 让 满 洲 ” 问 题 (Sun Yat-sen and the Issue of “Leasing Manchuria”), in Yang Tianshi, Xunqiu lishi de midi 寻 求 历 史 的 谜 底 (Seeking the Answer to the Historical Riddle) (Beijing: Shoudu shifan daxue chubanshe, 1993), 273. 365 In 1915, the government appointed Cai E 蔡 锷 (1882–1916) as the head of Quanguo jingjieju choubeichu 全 国 经 界 局 筹 备 处 (All-China Preparatory Bureau of Border Administration). In it, Cai E “established offices to edit and translate maps and books from the East and West and traced the history of China’s boundaries in detail,” cited from “Cai Songpo nianpu” 蔡 松 坡 年 谱 (The Chronicle of Cai E), in Cai Songpo xiansheng yiji 蔡 松 坡 先 生 遗 集 (The posthumous collection of Mr. Cai Dongpo [E]), ed., Shen Yunlong 沈 云 龙 (Taipei: Wenhai chubanshe, 1966).

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or economic basis.”366 At that time, Fu Sinian’s contemporary, Gu Jiegang was growing more resentful as well. His preface and manifesto for the first issue of the journal Yugong revealed that the journal’s focus on geography had a serious practical purpose. It stated: “Our neighbor to the East has very deliberately invaded us and begun to address our eighteen provinces as the essential body of Japan, implying that our border regions are not historically our own sovereign territory. And we, like idiots, have accepted the mind-numbing nonsense they proffer.”367 It is very clear that when discussions turned to not just the “northeast” or “Manchuria” but also to Tibet, Xinjiang, Mongolia or Korea, Chinese and Japanese scholars frequently took up different positions and academic agendas. This shows us without a doubt that within culture and history studies, and especially of history, we have to face the problem of different academic agendas and ideological positions. As I once said in another article, “the traditional culture and history studies are by no means completely universal sciences ‘without borders’. The evolution of modern fields of study and the renewed definition of the nation-state are always in lock-step. The culture and history studies are either breaking up consensus, concepts, and imaginations or constructing consensus, concepts, and imaginations. When the object of study is related to the nation and cultural traditions, this is especially so.”368 Likewise, the zeal of the Japanese academic community towards the study of “Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet and Korea” may have represented ­simple ambition to attain to modernity in terms of intellectual history, but in political history it became a basis on which to reconstruct an “East Asian New Order” and an “East Asian New World.” Meanwhile, in the China of the late Qing and early Republic, we did not see these clear scholarly ambitions or political inclinations. But in retrospect, we may discover that to study borders, the so-called “study of the barbarians” takes the perspective of traditional Chinese studies and expands it to the border, the better to understand the “distinctive ethnicities and different culture” in terms of their history, culture and geography. This is not only an ambition for modern scholarship, but also a renewal of writing and knowledge for a unified “China.” 366 Fu Sinian 傅 斯 年 , Dongbei shigang 东 北 史 纲 (The historical outline of the northeast) (Taibei: Zhongyanyuan lishi yanjiu yanjiusuo, 1932), 3. 367 See preface to the first issue of Yugong 禹 贡 . According to Ge Jianxiong, this inaugurating issue was written by Tan Qixiang 谭 其 骧 but revised by Gu Jiegang 顾 颉 刚 . See Ge Jianxiong 葛 剑 雄 , Youyou changshui: Tang Qixiang qianzhuan 悠 悠 长 水 ——谭 其 骧 前 传 (A Long River: Biography of Tan Qixiang) (Shanghai: Huadong shifan daxue chubanshe, 1997), 69. 368 See conclusion of this book.

chapter 7

From the Western Regions to the Eastern Sea: Formations, Methods and Problems in a New Historical World

Foreword: Spaces for Inter-Civilization Mixing: The Mediterranean, the Western Regions, and the Eastern Sea

In 1949, Fernand Braudel published his famous La Méditerranée et le Monde Méditerranéen à l’Epoque de Philippe ii about the Mediterranean Sea region between 1551 and 1589, which became famous in the world of history, and very influential. Why did Braudel understand the Mediterranean Sea as a historical space? Why should anyone attend to the Mediterranean during the 16th century? It was because the Mediterranean is a region of unusual complexity in nations, religions and political systems: Egyptians, Assyrians, Persians, Greeks, Romans are all interwoven there, and Jews, Christians, and Muslims all had conflicts there. Over the long course of historical time, sea routes as channels of transportation helped make the surrounding region the “historical world” of relevance. During the period Braudel studied, it was on this stage that the two grand empires of Turkey and Spain, along with a few other nations, religions and cultures, effected exchange and exerted mutual influence. The intersection of politics, religion and culture in this space made it a good focal point for the researching historian. Similar to Braudel, Chinese historian Zhang Guangda has indicated that the Xiyu, or Western regions, meaning central Asia, is also a meeting and exchange point for religions, faiths, and cultures. In terms of religion alone, the region bears the traces of Confucianism and Daoism from China, Buddhism from India in South Asia, and three religions from Western Asia extending out to Europe (Nestorianism, Zoroastrianism, and Manicheanism), which means the region is like another Mediterranean, albeit one involving transportation over land, not sea.369 This is an interesting way to put it, and if we observe the intersecting histories of cultures from the Chinese position and perspective, the 369 See Zhang Guangda 张 广 达 , Wenshu, Dianji yu Xiyu shidi 文 书 、 典 籍 与 西 域 史 地 (Documents, classical books, and the history and geography of the Western Regions) (Guilin: Guangxi shifan daxue chubanshe, 2008), self-authored preface.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi 10.1163/9789004279995_009

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Xiyu, the left-hand side of China in the era before the Mongol Yuan, was indeed a religious, linguistic and cultural Mediterranean-on-land, a place where the Han civilization brushed against other civilizations, making the Xiyu a historical world of great complexity. Looking at the intersecting histories of cultures after the Mongol Yuan, however, I would say that the “Donghai,” or Eastern Sea (which includes the “Nanhai,” or Southern Sea, traversed by the early modern Europeans to reach East Asia), the right-hand side of China, is a “Mediterranean” even more deserving of study, a new Xiyu. This space of intricately interwoven history and culture exhibits a major difference from the Mediterranean and the Xiyu, both of which cultures began very different and, in time, came to have more in common. In contrast, Korea, Japan, China and Vietnam started from common ­historical traditions only to see the cultures grow apart and become differentiated. More than that, following the Age of Discovery and the additional ­element of the Western world, this region which had long been a cultural zone quite different from the Mediterranean or the Xiyu became still more obscure and mysterious. The study of this historical world and its cultural intersections can help create a new academic field transcending national boundaries. And with its uniqueness and difference since entering modernity, perhaps it may offer global civilization a new model. 1 The Xiyu: From Modern European Study of the East and Japanese Study of the East to the Great Discoveries at Dunhuang Comprehensive studies of China by Europe may have begun with the ‘age of missionaries’. But the records of most missionaries who came to China via the Southern Sea are centered on traditional Han Chinese history, religion and language. Europeans had been involved to some extent in Central Asia, southern Asia, and Western Asia for an even longer time, but they had not initially conceived of the Xiyu as a coherent historical world.370 It was not until the 19th 370 Foreign scholars mainly use traditional Chinese documents to describe Chinese history, culture and language. For example, the twelve-volume Zhongguo tongshi 中 国 通 史 (Comprehensive history of China) that was authored by Joseph Anne Marie de Moyriac de Movilla (1669–1748), was based upon Tongjian gangmu 通 鉴 纲 目 (General outline of the comprehensive mirror for aid in government) and Xu tongjian gangmu 续 通 鉴 纲 目 (Sequel to the general outline of the comprehensive mirror for aid in government). Even if some scholars described the history of the Mongols beyond Han China, like Antoine Caubil’s (1689–1759) History of the Mongols, they still borrowed from Shao Yuanping’s 邵 远 平 Yuanshi leibian 元 史 类 编 (Classified writings on the History of the Yuan D ­ ynasty),

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century, in the wake of rising Europe’s growing interest in Asia, when exploring far eastern regions including Western and Central Asia became fashionable, that European scholars began to study what surrounded China; and, the scope of their research expanded, by turns, to include the areas that would come to be called Man, Meng, Hui and Zang (the lands of the Manchus, the Mongols, the Hui, and the Tibetans). They also began to compile records on China in languages other than Chinese, expanding their reach to include documents from Central, South and Western Asia.371 Besides the ‘field explorations’ of China’s hinterlands by Western scholars and explorers, there were a great many ‘documentary explorations’372 of the new bodies of documents unearthed. The focal points of study expanded to include more of the regions surrounding China, and along multiple lines: languages and writing systems, geographical scope, and historical events. The historical world we now refer to as the Xiyu was especially salient among these.373 As Western scholarship and intellect applied itself to the Orient, these transChina Chinese studies also started up in Meiji and later-era Japan. Generally speaking, before the 1890s, the secondary schools introduced Chinese history using the text Outlines of the eighteen histories, while Chinese history in tertiary education was considered one part of “Han xue” (Sinology) and remained restricted to documents from China and traditional Chinese views. Only Chinese records were used, the geographical region under scrutiny never surpassed traditional China, and the position was consistently that of China’s eastern neighbor, Japan. This began to change after the Meiji restoration. The first stage of change can be seen in Naka Michiyo’s The General History of China, a work that “substituted the old historical books that were imported from China with Western ways of understanding the world.”374 Using the newest knowledge

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aka. Xuhong jianlu 续 宏 简 录 (Brief records of continuing the masterpiece). See Ishida Mikinosuke, Ōjin no Shina kenkyū (Research on China by the Europeans) (Tōkyō: Kyōritsusha Shoten, 1932), 206. See Mo Dongyin 莫 东 寅 , Hanxue fada shi 汉 学 发 达 史 (The history of the development of Sinology) (Beiping: Wenhua chubanshe, 1949, reprinted by Shanghai shudian, 1989), Chapter 7, 93–110. For example, Marc Aurel Stein (1862–1943), Paul Pelliot (1878–1945), and Ƭtani Kōzui. Despite the fact that “Xiyu” 西 域 (Western Regions) appeared in the Han documents as a geographical term, it was only in the modern era that “Xiyu” was studied as a historical world that consciously connected histories, languages, and religions of various countries. Remembering Naka Michiyo, Miyake Yonekichi and Miyazaki Ichisada point out the textbooks of Chinese history in middle schools were mostly based on Outlines of the Eighteen histories, Yuanming shilue 元 明 史 略 (Outlines of the histories of the Yuan and Ming dynasties), and Qingshi juyao 清 史 举 要 (Main outline of the history of the Qing

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available from Western scholarship, the beginning of the work summarizes Chinese geography, its different peoples, and transportation between the east and west. Naka Michiyo’s interest in the ancient history of Mongolia also influenced his understanding and description of Chinese history.375 This new direction of thought would influence later Japanese scholars, including Shiratori Kurakichi, considered one of the founders of modern Japanese historical studies. Enoki Kazuo would later remember that Shiratori Kurakichi got his start on this project while still in high school. Later, this pioneering figure would deliberately extend Chinese studies to include the periphery, along with the manifesto, “to make Japanese research on East Asian history surpass that of Western academia.”376 Still later, books like The essential history of China by Ichimura Sanjirō and The intermediate history of the Orient by Kuwabara Jitsuzō illustrated the enthusiasm for enlarging the area studied, until Japan had formed its own “Dongyang shi” (History of the Orient), modeled after “Zhongguo shi” (History of China) but with the difference that in addition to Han China, there should be histories for the Xiyu, including the lands of the Manchus, the Mongols, the Hui and the Tibetans.377 In point of fact, Chinese histories of the northwest also began to emerge in great numbers during the middle and late Qing dynasty. As stated above, during the Qing dynasty, the western border was greatly expanded,378 but the northwest remained unstable, faced with not only constant warfare but also more and more exchanges with the outside, which inspired greater interest in

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dynasty). These historical books touched upon both Chinese history and Chinese literature and thus were very important. However, their styles and editorial agendas were very different from those of European history textbooks. See Miyake Yonekichi, “Biography of Dr. Naka Michiyo” in Bungaku Hakushi Miyake Yonekichi chojutsushū (Collected works of by Dr. Miyake Yonekichi) (Tōkyō: Bungaku Hakushi Miyake Yonekichi Chojutsushū Kankōkai, 1929), vol. 1, 295–296. See Miyazaki Ichisada, Miyasaki Ichisada jibatsushū, 22. Yoshikawa Kōjirō, Tōyōgaku no sōshishatachi (The founders of East Asian studies) (Tōkyō: Kōdansha, 1976), 22–23. Miyazaki Ichisada, Miyasaki Ichisada jibatsushū, 24. This is a major scholarly trend. See Chapter 6 of this book. According to what Wei Yuan states in juan 9 of his Shengwu ji 圣 武 记 (Records of imperial military achievements), in “Jiaqing chuanhushan jingkou ji yi” 嘉 庆 川 湖 陕 靖 寇 记 一 (Suppression of bandits in Sichuan, Hunan, and Shanxi, juan 1), “the country reached its peak during the sixtieth year of the Qianlong reign, with the territory and population double those of the Yongzheng reign, and with the four barbarians even more submissive than during the Kangxi reign.”

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the geography, nations, and history of the northwest.379 Thus, by the middle of the 19th century, this ‘lost knowledge of lost regions’, beyond the dynastic histories of China and outside the regions of the 18 provinces, had become an academic current—partly a natural extension of kaogu zhi xue (evidential studies) and partly in answer to shiyong zhi xue (practical studies). New archeological discoveries and unearthed documents, especially, caused a sea change in the direction of traditional history. Take, for example, histories of Mongolia. After Qian Daxin there were such works as: Yuanshi leibian (Classified writings on the history of the Yuan dynasty) by Shao Yuanping, Yuanshi xinbian (A revised history of the Yuan dynasty) by Wei Yuan, and Yuan shu (The book of the Yuan dynasty) by Zeng Lian; and by the late Qing, the works Yuanshi yiwen zhengbu (Supplement to the translation of the history of the Yuan dynasty) by Hong Jun and Mengwuer shiji (History of the Mongols) by Tu Ji included Mongolia as inherently significant to their histories, expanding the scope of the great Mongol Yuan. Materials used by historian Tu Ji greatly exceeded traditional Han ones and included histories of Koryo, Yunnan, and the Xiyu. Especially noteworthy were the materials in non-Chinese languages, including Rashid-al-Din Hamadani‘s Compendium of chronicles, The chronicles of Sagang Sechen, and Abraham Constantin Mouradgea d’Ohsson’s Histoire des Mongols, Jeremiah Curtin’s The Mongols: A History.380 Scholars of the day began to actively engage in more international projects like the interpretation of the three great Turkic steles,381 the translation of records of the Mongol Yuan,382 and studies of ­Tang-era 379 For example, Tulišen went via Russia to Tu-hu-er-te (a tribe in central Asia) as an envoy and wrote Yiyu lu 异 域 录 (Records of foreign land); during the Qianlong reign, Qishiyi went to Xinjiang and wrote Xiyu wenjian lu 西 域 闻 见 录 (Records of things seen and heard in the Western regions). 380 See Du Weiyun 杜 维 运 , “Tu Ji zhuan” 屠 寄 传 (Biography of Tu Ji), in Idem, Lishi de liangge jingjie 历 史 的 两 个 境 界 (Two worlds of history) (Taipei: Dongda tushu gongsi, 1995), 118–120. 381 The three great Turkic steles, the Stele of Tonyukuk, the Stele of Ki-tegin, and the Stele of Bilgekhagan, were said to have been discovered at the east bank of the Orkhon River of Mongolia and at Khoshoo-tsaydam by the Finnish national A. Geikel. According to another theory, the three tablets were discovered by Russian scholar N. Yadrintsev in 1889 and first interpreted by Vilhelm Thomsen (1842–1927), a professor and comparative linguist at the University of Copenhagen, who based his analysis upon A. Geikel’s report. He published his work as Inscriptions De L’Orkhon Déchiffrées (The Orkhon Inscriptions Deciphered). Shen Zengzhi 沈 曾 植 , a Chinese scholar, who did not know Turkic, also made his contribution to understanding these tablets by combining his reading of the Western works and his rich knowledge of Tang historical documents. 382 See the collation of Huangyuan shengwu qinzheng lu by He Qiutao 何 秋 涛 , Zhang Mu 张 穆 , Li Wentian 李 文 田 , and Shen Zengzhi.

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Zoroastrianism, Nestorian Christianity, and Manicheanism.383 As Chinese academia modernized, there were great changes in perspective, in tools, and in materials used. The “new” Wang Guowei meant when he wrote “learning of the Daoguang and Xianfeng reigns became new” referred to scholars of the era approaching fields of study where older scholars of the Qianlong and Jiaqing eras had never tread before. These new fields were focused on the Xiyu and no longer on the traditional Han China. Of particular note are the Dunhuang documents, which are among the four great discoveries of China’s 20th century. These greatly advanced the study of the Xiyu. More than a thousand years old, this material captured the scholarly world’s attention and their circumstances forced scholars to go beyond the older generation’s methods to face the challenge of foreign scholarship for opening up a whole new world of activity. Fu Sinian and Chen Yinke, then leaders of Chinese historical studies, took note of the new trends. In his manifesto, Fu Sinian laid out “the scholarly purpose of the Institute of History and Philology” calling for China studies to “Go West, step by step, to the center of Asia.” Chen Yinke expressed it more subtly: By silently observing the currents of the world, [I believe that] our country will follow the trajectory of the Han and Tang dynasties in the future and dedicate all its energies to the northwest. This is not doubted. The shift of the currents from the ancient always originates from the subtle and trivial scholarly tendencies of previous scholars. Later on, it will become unstoppable, like thunder destroying pillars and waves awakening seas.384 The links between the Xiyu and the northwest indirectly indicate the direction of scholarship. 383 As for research on Zoroastrianism in China, the earlist work occurs in Wen Tingshi’s 文 廷 式 Chunchangzi zhi yu 纯 常 子 枝 语 (Essays of Wen Tingshi). He probably read works by foreign scholars. As for Manicheanism, the earliest work was Jiang Fu’s 1909 piece “Moni jiao liuxing Zhongguo kaolue” 摩 尼 教 流 行 中 国 考 略 (Brief verification of Manicheanism in China). See Lin Shuwu 林 悟 殊 , “Moni jiao yanjiu zhi zhanwang” 摩 尼 教 研 究 之 展 望 (Goals for research on Manicheanism), in Xin shixue, 7:1 (1996), 200–203. 384 Fu Sinian 傅 斯 年 , “Lishi yuyan yaniusuo zhi gongzuo zhiqu” 历 史 语 言 研 究 所 之 工 作 旨 趣 (The mission of the History and Philology Institute), in Fu Sinian quanji 傅 斯 年 全 集 (Complete works of Fu Sinian) (Taipei: Lianjing chuban shiye gongsi, 1980), vol. 4, 1304–1306; Chen Yinke 陈 寅 恪 , “Zhu Yanfeng ‘Tujue tongkao’ xu” 朱 延 丰 序 (Preface to Zhu Yanfeng’s ‘Comprehensive verification of Turks’), in Lanliutang ji 寒 柳 堂 集 (Collected works of Chen Yinke) (Beijing: Shanlian shudian, 2001), 163.

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2 The Donghai (Eastern Seas): Mixing and Separating of Traditional Civilizations in East Asia The Xiyu was not a space for the conjoining of cultures until after the C ­ hinese Middle Ages and the Mongol Yuan dynasty. Even though Chen Cheng ­(1365–1457) had also been sent as emissary to the Xiyu, circumstances had in any case changed by that time. An example worth considering is that of Bento de Góis (1562–1607), who eschewed the more customary sea route and instead sought an overland route from Europe to Beijing. Though he did reach China, he still records the following: “The farther I go, the more dangers and fatigue I encounter… Roads are dangerous and there is always a chance of robbery”; on the road he not only “fought the whole time against robberies, flood, mountains, and storms,” but also faced plenty of hardship in the Gobi Desert, with its paucity of water or food.385 When transport is unimpeded, communication becomes more and more robust, but blocked transport means blocks in communication. The seven Western voyages of Zheng He represent the rise of the Donghai (Eastern sea) sea route, while the experiences of Bento de Góis represent the decline of the Western routes, with the result that after the Mongol Yuan era, there is a slight pause in the history of the Xiyu as a center of Asian history, culture and religion. However, ever since the northwestern portions of the Chinese silk road of the Tang and Song had been successively cut off by the Turpans, the Khitans, the Xi Xia, the Jurchens and the Mongols, and ever since the Song, once known for “beihai liguo” (turning their backs on the sea to establish the country) began to transfer the focus of their efforts to the southeast, despite the Mongol Yuan encompassing of Europe and Asia, it is still clear that the Donghai—at times wide, at times narrow, at times a place of commerce, and at times a place of quiet—seemed to replace the Xiyu to become the more important exchange hub of China after the Yuan and Ming eras. At the same time, because of many political, economic and cultural factors, Japan, Korea, the Ryukyu kingdom, Vietnam and China began a complex history of contact and separation again, which helped make the Donghai into a particularly interesting historical world. There has long been some amount of research on the eastern sea region (including Hainan). Following the eastward advance of Portuguese and Dutch during the 15th and 16th centuries, with eastward movement of European missionaries led by the Jesuits, and along with the forceful permeation into 385 Louis Pfister, comp., Zaihua Yesuhuishi liezhuan ji shumu 在 华 耶 稣 会 士 列 传 及 书 目 (Biographies and bibliographies of Jesuits in China), translated by Feng Chengjun (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1995), vol. 1, 100.

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and occupation of the various regions of the southern seas and eastern seas, ­research into these topics gradually developed. The rise of this ‘research on foreign cultures’ was also given impetus by the newly-rising renleixue (‘anthropology’, though we might also call it minzu zhi, or records of nations), comparative linguistics, comparative religious studies.386 European scholarship, with its relatively influential Sinology, had been focused on the Xiyu, namely Turpan, Persia, Java, the Chenla kingdom, Annam, Mongolia, the Champa kingdom, the Gochang dolmen sites, India, the Tuyuhun state, the Lixuan state, and the Jibin region. The major religions under study were Zoroastrianism, Manicheanism, Nestorian Christianity, Buddhism, and later Catholicism and Christianity. The most-cited works included Zhufan zhi, Weilue xi Rong zhuan (Records of Western barbarians), Yingya shenglan, Zhenla fengtu ji, Xuanzang zhuan (Biography of Xuanzang), Yuan mishi (Secret history of the Yuan dynasty), Changchun zhenren xiyou ji (The journey to the West of the perfected Changchun), Song Yun xingji (The journal of Song Yun), Shi Yindu ji (Journey to India), and others.387 Yet, with Europeans sailing to Japan, Korea, mainland China, and Taiwan, Vietnam and the Philippines following the discovery of the East India sea routes,388 the periods most researched became the Ming and the Qing. So it was that starting from the the middle of the 19th century, the culture, history, religion, geography, and customs, of locations from the southern seas to the eastern seas also began to become objects of the European gaze.389 However, the project of making the ‘Donghai’ into a well-connected historical world for study developed differently in the academies of the countries of the surrounding Donghai region. Perhaps, China remained self-sufficient in its historical narrative, and often ignored the borderlands surrounding it. Hence, this field of study rose relatively late. But since Japan had its own historical narrative informed by documents, literary traditions, political relations and trade exchanges all touching on China, Korea, the Ryukyu kingdom, terms like ‘dongya haiyu’ (the southeastern sea region), ‘dongya’ (east Asia), and ­‘dongbeiya’ 386 See Wang Yi 王 毅 , Huangjia Yazhou wenhui bei Zhongguo zhihui yanjiu 皇 家 亚 洲 文 会 北 中 国 支 会 研 究 (Research on the North China Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society) (Shanghai: Shanghai shudian chubanshe, 2005), appendix, 182–186. 387 See Xiyu nanhai shidi kaozheng yicong, vols. 1–3. 388 See Chapter 6 of Ishida Mikinosuke’s Ƭjin no Shina kenkyū, 138–257. 389 For example, see all the works about the Ryukyu Islands that S.W. Williams and C.S. Leavenworth published in Journal of the North China Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society and the articles on Vietnam that Henri Maspero, Paul Pelliot, Marcel Aurousseau, and Émile Gaspardone published in Asia Major in the 1920s. See M.S. Bates comp., Xiwen dongfang xuebao lunwen juyao 西 文 东 方 学 报 论 文 举 要 (An introduction to Oriental journals in western languages) (Nanjing: Jinling daxue Zhongguo wenhua yanjiusuo, 1933).

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(northeastern Asia) are all common in Japanese scholarship. Especially in Meiji-era scholarship, the rise of self-aggrandizing national discourses were influenced at once by both the political ideology of ‘Great Asianism’ and also by new trends in historical methodology, including an unusual enthusiasm for the Chinese term ‘four barbarians’ and extraordinary attention to Korea, the Ryukyus, Taiwan and southern Vietnam in the surrounding region of the Donghai and Sakhalin Island in the north.390 As one Japanese scholar writes: Provoked by the Sino-Japanese war, Japanese citizens have become more and more interested in the continent of Asia. This historical concept gradually formed against the context in which Japan, rapidly and selfconsciously rising as an Asian nation in the second decade of the Meiji reign, advocated for the unique East Asian culture against the Western cultures.391 As I mentioned in the previous chapter, the study of Manchuria, Mongolia, the Hui region, Tibet, and Korea, Mongolia, all expanded rapidly in the M ­ eiji and Taishō eras. Take Manchuria, for example: in 1908, Shiratori Kurakichi sug­ gested to Gotō Shinpei, managing director of the Manchurian Rail, that a survey office be established, after which many Japanese scholars including ­Yanai Watari, Tsuda Sōkichi, and Ikeuchi Hiroshi traveled to Manchuria to complete surveys. Also, consider Korea: following the forceful advance of Japan westward, many new monographs on Korea appeared, including large-scale studies such as History of Korea (1892), and Modern Korean History (1901) by Hayashi Taisuke and works by Tsuboi Kumezō, Shiratori Kurakichi, Imanishi Ryū (1875–1932), Ikeuchi Hiroshi (1878–1952), Ogura Shinpei (1882–1944), and Harada ­Yoshito (1885–1974). These trends in research continued for several decades before coming to influence China sometime after 1920. However, most of this research on Manchuria, Korea, Taiwan, Japan, the Ryukyus, and the various regions of the Nanhai were single, independent case studies, which were not yet conscious of a cohesive ‘Donghai region’ or observant of the connections and mutual influence in historical and cultural terms.392 In recent years, however, calls for transcending “guobie shi” (national histories) have increased, and “regional histories” transcending “guojia shi” 390 As for this issue, see the analysis of Chapter 6. 391 See Egami Namio, Tōyōgaku no keifu, vol. 1, 3. 392 Despite the research shift from “East Asian history” to “Asian history” in Japanese academia, scholars did not believe that the East Asian seas and the neighboring area were a self-sustained historical world.

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(national histories) have become the trend. Japanese studies of the southeastern sea regions are among these, as for example the study of the “tribute and trade system” which shows both new developments and new respondents (Hamashita Takeshi, Iwai Shigeki) offering significant new research (by scholars like Ƭba Osamu, Matsūra Akira, Kojima Tsuyoshi) on trade in sea regions centered on Ningbo, Guangzhou and Nagasaki. Theory and methods of “thinking from Asia” are also popular among Japanese academics, and have given impetus to new studies with scope for such research by scholars like Mizoguchi Yūzō and Hiraishi Naoaki. Chinese academia has also begun paying attention to this new field in an effort to see the ‘Dongya haiyu’ (East Asian sea region) as a new historical world. Can the Dongya haiyu, in fact, become a new historical world? Can studies of the Dongya haiyu constitute firm new ground for research? 3

The Emphasis of Research and Research Methods: Differences and Similarities between Studies of the Xiyu and Studies of the Donghai

We can see that the rise of the Xiyu as a field of study has brought many changes to the ideology and methods of international academia. The changes, summarized briefly, are: First, they transform a Chinese history based on the wangchao jiangyu (sovereign territory of the dynasty) into histories of the Orient or histories of Asia, surpassing the traditional scope of Han China, opening up new bodies of documents, languages, histories and cultures for China studies; and, re-establish a ‘civilizational history’ framework transcending political histories of the nation state, ensuring that terms like ‘sovereign territory’, ‘dynasty’, and zhengzhi (‘politics’) no longer serve as absolute indices to the narration of history. Second, this new research perspective takes the conflict and mixing of religion, language, nation, and culture as an important new type of content; research into history, documents, art, and language have all become important, new tools, and the formulation of common questions makes this new field ‘international’. Third, since the new scholarship studies a new space that transcends traditional China, it draws on a much larger scope of documents, and this expansion of the body of documents makes the study of languages and writing systems from Central, Western and South Asia necessary tools. The material quality of ‘xie ben’ (manuscripts)—including methods of dissemination, methods of writing, and techniques for verification—have become important areas of study, and at the same time, surveys of folk customs and archeological research both become necessary ways to discover new materials. In 1923, Wang Guowei wrote in his translation of Paul Pelliot’s article “New

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Discoveries and Conclusions about Ancient Oriental Languages and Histories” in the first issue of the new Beijing daxue guoxue jikan (Quarterly journal of Chinese learning) at Peking University that European Oriental studies had “become more advanced as their knowledge became richer.” This “richness” and “advancement” comprising chiefly “the rise of studies on ancient objects and languages has led to results that are certainly better than those of previous generations.”393 The so-called guwu xue, or kaogu xue (archaeology) along with guyu xue (philology), comprising knowledge of Central, South and even West Asian languages, certainly transcended the traditional space, history, culture, books and languages of traditional China. As mentioned above, whether we speak of the West, the East, or China, these new historical fields and new research methods are possessed of very complex backgrounds, agendas and positions. The weakening and even transcendence of the real boundaries and political sovereign territory of nationstates indicates how Europe and Japan wish to re-define the sovereign ­territory of “China,” and their political intention to re-write Chinese ‘history’. The ancient dynasties and modern China leave behind a heritage of imagining a tributary system and a cefeng tizhi (system of enfeoffment) because the grand state of the Heavenly court was so self-aggrandizing. In more recent times, China has fallen into decline because: not only did Japan make demands on the sovereign territories of Manchuria and Korea, Russia on Mongolia and the Hui region of Xinjiang, the uk on Tibet, and the French on Annam, but also more importantly it was easy to re-issue a new definition of “China.”394 Now, if we put aside for the moment the political intention and context, and only consider the academic research methods, one of the most significant features of Xiyu studies—transcending the borders of Han Chinese politics, language,

393 Paul Pelliot, “Jinri dongfang gu yanyuxue ji shixue shang zhi faming yuqi jielun” 近 日 东 方 古 言 语 学 及 史 学 之 发 明 与 其 结 论 (New Discoveries and Conclusions about Ancient Oriental Languages and Histories), translated by Wang Guowei, in Beijing daxue guoxue jikan 1:1 (1923): 146. 394 The redefinition of “China” did not start today but in the Meiji period in Japan. The Japanese scholars who studied China followed the Sinologies and the idea of nation-state in the West and paid special attention to the four barbarians of China, including Korea, Mongolia, Tibet, and Xinjiang. They no longer saw the dynasties of China as the unified entity that encompassed the frontiers and the alien nationalities. This trend continued until the Second World War. The most representative case is Yano Jin’ichi’s Kindai Shina ron (On modern China) (Kyōto: Kōbundō Shobō, 1937) and Dai Tōa shi no kōsō (The perception of the history of the Great East Asia) (Tōkyō: Meguro Shoten, 1944). Also see the introduction of this book.

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history and culture—is as Fu Sinian says: an advance and expansion of the historical tools and materials, and an advancement in academic research.395 What about the study of the “modern Donghai?” All research methods, doubtless, have something in common. So, whether we study the Xiyu or the Donghai, we discover that once we have transcended the central regions of the traditional nation-state or traditional history, the political borders of the modern nation state and historical narrative, many new materials—and perspectives, methods, and questions—will arise, one after the other. In the course of studying the Xiyu, materials pertaining to languages, religions, histories and the arts have been unearthed, challenging our previous knowledge and methodological tools and also enriching our perspectives, our theories, and the field. Similarly, in the course of studying the Donghai, there will be a sea change in academia, and documents that once appeared strange to us will be used for interpretations; and, new historical clues of various kinds will change the way we look at history. However, in addition to the salient differences between zhonggu and jinshi (“Middle Ages” and “modern”), between manuscript and printed book, between left-wing and right-wing, compared to the study of the Xiyu, there are many issues associated with the study of “Donghai” that deserve our attention. First, unlike the Xiyu of the Middle Ages, which had many different religions and cultures that were constantly impacting and informing each other, the religions and cultures of “modern East Asia” tend towards larger difference. It is not like in the former space, where religions and cultures of various regions began to overlap and mix (as with the frequent advance and retreat in the Xiyu of historical Buddhism, Zoroastrianism, Manicheanism, and Islam). Rather it seems as if they went from a unified culture to cultures intent on independence (as with the gradual cultural distance that has formed between modern Japan, Korea, Vietnam, and China). In other words, because the focus of Xiyu studies is on these Middle Ages, while the focus of Donghai studies is on the modern era (jinshi), for this reason, Xiyu studies must look for “overlap”; while, at the same time, Donghai studies must emphasize “separation.” Now for the 395 In the “Outline of Modern History” in Tōyōshi kyōkasho: Chūtō kyōiku (Textbook for East Asian History: Intermediate Level), the author Kuwabara Jitsuzō states that “the European forces gradually came to press on the Orient, with the British occupying India, the French, Vietnam and Cambodia, and the Russians, Siberia and Central Asia. As most of Asia was occupied by the Europeans, China has become the only one left. But it is also in the zone of these competing forces.” Japan was the only country which achieved independence in Asia and confronted the Western powers. Therefore, it was necessary for Japan to rewrite the history of Asia and reorganize the order of Asia. Cited from Miyazaki Ichisada, Miyasaki Ichisada jibatsushū, 29.

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Donghai as a region, the modern age is most worthy of research, since this is the time of more cultural mixing. This was the age when the Mongols, the Han, and the Manchus took over China successively, leading us to see how a region that once seemed homogenous, namely “East Asia” or the “East Asian Sea Region,” is actually fraught and fragmented. We must see that, first of all, in contrast with the Mediterranean, the “Donghai,” a term that refers as much to the space of relations as it does to sea routes, never had anything like Christianity, which transcending country and ruler to become a common religion, served as a foundation for mutual understanding. Therefore, this region can hardly come to form a trans-national cultural community. Secondly, in contrast with the Xiyu, the Donghai was not characterized by frequent movement of the borders of nations, religions, and languages that lead to a space of mixing and mutual impact. To a large degree, each of the nations, religions and languages preserved their borders and, to begin with, they had some shared classic texts, writing systems and religions. Thus, historians must focus on cultural shifting, which is the collapse of the foundation for this cultural identity. This is a historical transformation that was not present in the Xiyu or in the Mediterranean, the extension of which led to the shift in identity and culture of modern East Asia.396 Although Western Asia in the Middle Ages possessed cultures from South Asia, Western Asia (and even points farther West), northern Asia, and East Asia, with the encounters between religions, languages and books and writings, even when Han and Tang China were at their most prosperous and Confucianism at its most influential, they could not sweep over all to become a monopolizing and all-encompassing civilization. This characteristic of cultural contact underscores the importance of the methods of archaeological excavations, comparative linguistics, history and geography, and manuscript verification; as well as the research fields investigating nations, religion, and art. As Ishida Mikinosuke spoke of in his reminiscences on Haneda Tōru: a major condition for whether a scholar can “predict the currents,” as Chen Yinke says, involves how we apply our linguistics knowledge, how we use newly-discovered fragments of bamboo slips and other texts, and how we appropriate new materials and methods from the West in the wake of the discoveries at Dunhuang, Gaochang, Kucha, and Kingdom of Khotan, as well as the appearance of the 396 Not only Korea, China, and Japan in northeastern Asia, but even Vietnam gradually formed a “southern country consciousness” in relation to the Ming dynasty as “the northern country” since the 15th century. Even though Vietnam still had cultural identification with China, it already began not to identify politically with the northern country. See Monoki Shirō, “Chugokuka to datuchugokuka: Chiiki sekai no naka no betonamu minzoku keiseisi” in Chiiki no rogosu, ed., Ƭmine Akira (Kyōto: Sekai Shisōsha, 1993), 73–77.

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Wooden Slips Buried in Drift-Sand, and Dunhuang documents.397 However, before the 16th and 17th centuries, “Chinese culture,” which some might call “the culture of Chinese characters,” once had such all-encompassing influence. It was after the 16th and 17th centuries that the course ‘from closed country to open country’ began once again, especially in the Qing state after the Opium Wars, in the Japanese state after the arrival of the Black ships, in Joseon Korea after the Ganghwa Island Incident, and in Vietnam—times and places when Western culture was entirely alien, of greater strength, and of ubiquitous influence. For this reason, the study of the Donghai in more recent times requires more complex and important theories, tools and methods. Linguistics, religious history, and studies of writing and painting do not suffice in isolation. Rather, what is required are more complex and diverse perspectives, positions and views as research depends less on new languages, excavations or materials. The near-modern Donghai studies come with a few “dark hot spots” which are difficult to face up to: first, how do we transcend the border regions of countries, to form the historical world of the Donghai? The countries of the regions bordering the Donghai have existed in large part for a long time, and their frontier regions are mostly well settled. Their culture, too, extends far back in time. Stability of history, culture, religion and government are one result of this, as are separate space delimiters of cultural identity and political identity. For this reason, the historical significance of the “guojia” (country; or ‘wangchao’, dynasty) is particularly rich. We must face the question of how to acknowledge the existence of “national history” while at once seeing the deeper regional influence of cultural circulation in the Donghai. Second, because the region once shared a tradition, the cultures of each of the countries seem similar on the surface. Hence, we must consider how research can transform a historical view accustomed to “tongwen tongzhong” (common culture, common race) for providing a finer analysis of the differences between the “guceng” (ancient layers) and “diyin” (low sounds), and investigating the differences between the countries. Third, since all the countries experienced the impact of the West, historical research of this region must focus on each of the countries’ different responses to the impact of the West, as well as the different questions of modernity each country had. Such questions were not, I’m afraid, ever faced by studies of the Xiyu in the Middle Ages.398 397 See the introduction to Haneda Tōru that was collected in Ishida Mikinosuke, Ƭbei ni okeru Shina kenkyū (Study on China in Europe and the United States) (Tōkyō: Sōgensha, 1942), 316–317. 398 See Ge Zhaoguang, “Shijiu shiji chuye miandui xiyang zongjiao de Chaoxian, Riben yu Zhongguo: Yi “Huang Siyong boshu” wei zhongxin” 十 九 世 纪 初 叶 面 对 西 洋 宗 教 的 朝 鲜 、 日 本 与 中 国 ——以 ‘黄 嗣 永 帛 书 ’ 为 中 心 (Korea, Japan, and China

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The study of the Xiyu in the Middle Ages seems to involve ancient texts and quiet old ruins, and these may inspire an antiquarian love for the past, but little real political passion. With modern Donghai studies, on the other hand, historical research has difficulty separating this work from historical memory and the tangles of sentiment. Often they are shaped by the national and political positions of the present reality. Each of the countries alongside the Donghai has its own historical memory, and each has its own political positions. In the court tribute system, for example, was the court in question a master country or merely a country exacting tribute? In war, was the country in question an invader or the country invaded? Did the course of modernization advance the country, or take it a step backward? Here, different memories and positions will influence the way history is examined. These mindsets, positions and sentiments can be a factor in the study of aspects such as historical origins, national borders, and cultural circulation. These factors would suffuse trans-national studies of the borders of Donghai with too many non-scholarly elements. How do we transcend these “national sentiments,” both in Donghai studies and in national history? confronting the Western religions in the early nineteenth century: With the case study of ‘the secret letter of Whang Sa-Young’), in Fudan xuebao, 3 (2009).

Conclusion

Predicting the Currents: New Perspectives on Historical Studies

Foreword: What Does the History of Academia Tell Us?

The modern study of Chinese academic history had become a hot field by the 1990s. Looking back on the significance of academic history, there is more to it than simply giving vent to antiquarian desires when faced with a world that is not as we would like it to be. Nor is it mere hero worship, celebrating the lofty brilliance of past generations of scholars. There is more to consider than the establishment of a system of scholarship; or, describing and summarizing the achievements of certain scholars. I feel that in the humanities, and especially in the field of cultural history, what academic history must discuss includes: first, how traditional academia, pushed by both Eastern and Western currents, transforms into a so-called ‘modern academia’. Second, how the West’s modern academia fashions Chinese academic views and methods in the context of Chinese politics, culture and knowledge. Third, how the materials, methods, tools and views of modern academia yield new interpretations of Chinese history and influence visions and designs for a modern China. From the perspective of academic history, these three questions are crucial because they determine whether our looking back at recent academic history can help us understand how to extend the main currents of academic development and foresee emerging currents and trends. Many have noted that the period from the 1920s to the 1930s was an important one for modern Chinese academia. I once spent a long time studying two of the most successful research organs established in this period. One is the Tsinghua College Research Institute, also known as the Tsinghua Guoxue Institute. Founded in 1925, the Institute left a deep influence though it was open only for four years. The other is the Academia Sinica Institute of History and Philology, established in 1928 by Fu Sinian, and later moved to Taipei where it is known as the “Shi yu suo” (History and Philology Institute). Apart from the fact that this was during a crucial period when Chinese academia was in transition from traditional to modern, that a relatively peaceful and stable outside society gave impetus to the academic world, and that each institution possessed scholars who had mastered both the Chinese and Western traditions, I believe the reasons these two research institutions became models for © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi 10.1163/9789004279995_010

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future institutions include, from an academic perspective, the following three factors: First, they were always on the forefront of modern international academia, grasping the points most attended to by international academia in each of the research fields, but also always keeping up with the methods and tools of international academia. Wang Guowei, for example, worked on the geography of the northwest and the history of the Mongol Yuan dynasty, and applied the method of liangchong kaoju (double verification) to study the earliest stages of ancient history. There was also Li Ji, who pushed for scientific archaeology with his archaeological investigations in Shanxi and subsequent excavation at Yinxu, Anyang. Chen Yinke, as well, studied “the writings of unique nations, and the histories from beyond the frontiers” teaching a catalog of Western studies of East Asia, and also investigated the many languages of the Dunhuang documents. We may also note the phonology and dialect surveys of Yuen Ren Chao and Fu Sinian’s own beloved “luxue” (studies of northern barbarians). These topics, materials and methods represented the state of the art in their time; even Liang Qichao absorbed many of the new concerns and new contributions from international academia for his elucidation of historical research methods and study of Buddhist history. This is what Chen Yinke spoke of as: entry into “a new wave of world academia,” namely the main stream of questions, materials, and methods in international academia.399 Second, beyond “predicting the currents,” the China studies of Chinese scholars must not simply be equated to the “Sinology” of non-Chinese scholars. It must build positions, questions and methods particular to China. At a time when the whole of scholarship, having gone through the late Qing and early republican eras, had turned towards the greater currents, when Western systems of knowledge and research consciousness had invaded every area of

399 In “Chen Yuan ‘Dunkuang jieyu lu’ xu” 陈 垣 〈 敦 煌 劫 余 录 〉 序 (Preface to Chen Yuan’s The Record of the Remains of Dunhuang Treasures), Chen Yinke states, “New materials and questions will always come up in the course of research on each new period. What we call new trends in contemporary scholarship indicate the application of new materials in dealing with new problems. Scholars who can predict the trends are said to yuliu 预 流 (predict the currents, borrowing from Buddhism); scholars who cannot predict the trends are called buruliu 不 入 流 (unable to enter the currents). This is the general principle of the scholarship of the past and the present. It is not something that cloistered, narrowminded scholars would understand. The study of Dunhuang has recently become the new scholarly trend of the world.” Chen Yinke, Jinming guan conggao erbian 金 明 馆 丛 稿 二 编 (Collected works of Chen Yinke, volume 2) (Beijing: Sanlian shudian, 2002), 266.

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­ odern Chinese academia, past Chinese scholars kept their own research m focused squarely on “China.” They neither peddled nor rejected Western ­knowledge, but took a new approach to interpreting China, broaching the idea of taking back for the Chinese the authority to explain China, as with Liang Qichao’s research into nearly three hundred years of academic history, Wang Guowei’s new evidence for ancient history, or Li Ji’s studies of Chinese archaeology, all of which are part of this effort to take back the authority to interpret ancient China. The historical research advocated at the time by the History and Philology Institute had clear goals and major directions. It was said that the main task of Fu Sinian was to build: Scientific Oriental studies as the zhengtong (orthodoxy) in China based on historical research institutes. This call is highly motivating… [Fu] is the ideal leader of this movement and he awakens the utmost national consciousness among Chinese scholars.400 Many years later, Li Ji spoke on this point in his memoir Ganjiu lu (Record of feelings on the past): In academia at the time there existed [towards cultural invasion by outsiders] a general sense of ‘dissatisfaction’ and ‘recalcitrance’. They wanted to oppose this cultural invasion and have only themselves collecting and doing research. Only when the Academia Sinica was founded did they finally have standing as a place with their own national academy, and the feelings in the academy got back on track again.401 Thus, in the final section of his manifesto, “Shi yu suo gongzuo zhiqu” (The mission of the History and Philology Institute), Fu Sinian made the impassioned plea: “We want a zhengtong (orthodoxy) of scientific eastern studies in 400 Fu Lecheng 傅 乐 成 , Fu Mengzhen xiansheng nianpu 傅 孟 真 先 生 年 谱 (Chronological biography of Fu Sinian) (Taipei: Zhuanji wenxue she, 1964), 28–29. 401 Li Ji 李 济 , Ganjiu lu 感 旧 录 (Record of feelings on the past) (Taipei: Zhuanji wenxue she, 1967), 72–75. Cited from Tao Yinghui 陶 英 慧 , “Kangzhan qianshinian de xueshu yanjiu” 抗 战 前 十 年 的 学 术 研 究 (Research scholarship that has been done in the ten years before the anti-Japanese war), in Kangzhan qian shinian guojia jianshe yantaohui lunwenji 抗 战 前 十 年 国 家 建 设 研 讨 会 论 文 集 (Conference volume of research on state building in the ten years before the anti-Japanese war) (Taipei: Zhongyanyuan jinshisuo, 1985), vol. 1, 77.

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China.”402 Perhaps such statements exhibit some academic nationalism, but they advanced the independence of modern Chinese academia, which is perhaps the foundation of the success of these two research institutions. Third, it is perhaps not enough to possess only a fully internationalized class of “predictors of the currents” and a correspondingly self-aware Chinese position. That the Tsinghua College Research Institute and the History and Philology Institute were able to become bastions of influence over modern Chinese academic research is partly a product of their advantageous location. By advantageous location, I mean that in the China of those times, new materials were constantly becoming available. The ‘four great discoveries’—the oracle bones at Yinxu, the Dunhuang documents, the Han dynasty slips found at Juyan, and the Danei dangan (court archives)—were all put to use amidst the new thinking and new views, providing a firm foundation from which to reapproach an understanding of history. Some may point out that oracle bones and the Dunhuang documents were discovered at the turn of the 20th century, and not in the 1920s, but new historical materials need new eyes to ‘ferment’ in the research field. The oracle bone inscriptions and the Dunhuang documents had to wait for the second and third decades of the 20th century before they could transcend and integrate transmitted historical documents and actually be used in a new interpretation of history. This, then, was not an expansion in the quantity of material but rather a transformation of the basic quality of history. In sum, the Tsinghua College Research Institute and the History and Philology Institute of those years used the Shang oracle bones to study the earliest stages of ancient history, used the Han slips and the Dunhuang documents to study later stages, and used the court archives to study the history of the modern era, exploring new historical materials and opening up new fields of study. Among the tools for culture and history studies, there was special emphasis on three in particular: archaeological evidence, comparative language studies, and the application of marginal materials. The new atmosphere and new methods appropriated the reputation of science and borrowed the influence of “Western learning,” but also involved the struggle for an “orthodox” position in Eastern studies, the effort to stand all at once on the international forefront. All of this pushed these two research institutes to the center of attention in Chinese academia and even international academia. These days, in libraries inside and outside of China, I often flip through old academic journals about China, deeply impressed by the international 402 Fu Sinian, “Lishi yuyan yanjiusuo zhi gongzuo zhiqu,” in Fu Sinian quanji, vol. 4, 1304–1306.

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­influence of Chinese research on textual history in that era. Unlike some today, who feel that Chinese research monographs are not worth reading, nonChinese China scholars of that age often had to translate and introduce works by Chinese scholars. One example is the well-known journal Tōyō shi kenkyū (Journal of Oriental researches), still published in Kyoto University, which frequently monitored new advances from Chinese academia, such as: Wen Yiduo’s study of the Gaotang goddess and the historical geography of the school working on the Yugong; the many works of Chen Yinke and Guo Moruo’s study of the Pre-Qin Concept of the Way of Heaven; and, works by Tao Xisheng, Zhu Xizu, Fu Sinian, Gu Jiegang, Quan Hansheng, and Chen Mengjia. Even in the state of war that prevailed after the Marco Polo Bridge Incident, Japanese scholars were still introducing works like Gushi bian (Critiques of ancient history) by Luo Yinze and Gu Jiegang and Nan Song chu Hebei xin daojiao kao (A study of the new Taoism in Hebei in the early Southern Song period), by Chen Yuan. Back then, Chinese textual studies was the equal of China studies anywhere, and Fu Sinian’s fervent desire to take back the orthodoxy of China studies seemed to have great hope of success, reflecting on Chen Yinke’s plaintive cry that “We all learn our national history from the eastern neighbor. This is a humiliation to all Chinese intellectuals.”403 So then, how should the Chinese textual history world of today manage the “new wave of world academia”? How might it go its own road? What follows appertaining to this question is my own opinion on this matter. 1

International Perspective: From “Studies of Northern Barbarians” to “Looking at China from its Borders”

Eighty years ago, in his Zhonguo shi shulun (Preliminary discussion of Chinese history), Liang Qichao divided Chinese history into three stages: “Zhongguo zhi Zhongguo” (China’s China), “Yazhou zhi Zhongguo” (Asia’s China), and “Shijie zhi Zhongguo” (the World’s China), based on three time periods: “the earliest stage of ancient history, from the Yellow Emperor to the Qin unification;” “the middle age of history, from the Qin unification to the final years

403 Chen Yinke, “Beida xueyuan jisi ji shixuexi biye zengjian” 北 大 学 院 己 巳 级 史 学 系 毕 业 赠 言 (Graduating speech of the 1929 grade history students at Peking University), in Chen Yinke wenji shiji 陈 寅 恪 文 集 诗 集 (Collected esssays and poems of Chen Yinke) (Beijing: Sanlian shudian, 2001), 19.

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of the Qing dynasty Qianlong Emperor’s reign;” and, “the most recent age of history, from the late Qianlong era to the contemporary.” This division is very interesting and can be interpreted in various ways. As Xu Zhuoyun has said, it takes as its starting point the interaction and competition of zhongzu (ethnicities), but also implicitly divides the three ages by major political ideology: from the fengjian (enfeoffment system) to imperial regime, to constitutional government.404 I, on the other hand, wish to divide the history of China’s past into three stages centered on China’s understanding and consciousness of itself. The first stage may be called “the visionary age that took Self as center.” The China of this age, owing to the difficulty of transport, the strength of the Han tradition of civilization, and the lack of impact from external civilizations— in other words, when there was no major “Other,” and China seemed to be in an age without a mirror. This formed both the “all-under-Heaven view” that placed Self at the center (displaying condescension and arrogance towards the borders) as well as the “court tribute system” that placed the Self in the dominant position (though beginning with the Song dynasty, the situation begins to change). Practical knowledge of world geography early on was beyond the scope of Han China, as we see in the ancient [records] of the so-called Nine Continuents, the five grades of mourning clothing, the vocabulary of “bei Di, nan Man, dong Yi, xi Rong” (Di of the north, Man of the south, Yi of the east, and Rong of the west), the “Wu fang zhi min” (peoples of the five regions) in the dynastic system, and ancient maps of all under Heaven and chaogong tu (paintings of tributaries presenting tribute).405 But on the all-under-Heaven view, the Chinese customarily placed themselves in the center, envisioning a “China” located in the middle of the heavens. As Westerners began to enter the East, beginning in the late Ming dynasty, and especially after the late Qing when the gunboats of the Westerners forced China to turn Westward in every respect, the “Self” understood by Chinese began to have a major “Other,” namely the West. Thus, we enter the second stage, “the age of the single-faceted mirror.” As Joseph R. Levenson has argued, the transformation from ‘all under Heaven’ to ‘a myriad nations’ was a massive 404 Xu Zhuoyun 许 倬 云 , “Xunsuo zhongguo lishi fazhan de guiji” 寻 索 中 国 历 史 发 展 的 轨 迹 (Tracing the trajectory of Chinese history), in Idem, Jiangzhu hou chaoxi 江 渚 候 潮 汐 (Waiting for the tides at the river bank) (Taipei: Sanmin shuju, 2004), 159–160. 405 See Chapter 2 of this book. Meanwhile, as for the letter between Fu Sinian and Gu Jiegang on the imagination of the world in the Warring states period, it was published Yuyan lishi yanjiusuo zhoukan (Weekly journal of the History and Philology Institute) 1:2 (November 8, 1927, National Zhongshan University, Guangzhou).

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one.406 Chinese people began to understand China in a new way, as reflected in this Western “Other.” This is a great advancement. This new understanding, though, would take “the West”—and a West that seemed unified, at that—as mirror image, a self-understanding that always reflected in a single-faceted mirror, whether it be the late Qing debates on “Chinese essence, western technology” versus “Western essence, Chinese technology,” the views of Li Dazhao, Chen Duxiu, Liang Shumin and others comparing east and west, May Fourth re-interpretations of Chinese intellectual currents, Lu Xun’s analysis of “the national character of Chinese,” or the “culture fever” discussions of the 1980s. But what I wish to ask here is: does this mirror reflect images accurately or are they distorted? Is it the only lens by which to understand the self? Is it possible the lens gives us a full and comprehensive understanding? Just as when we are getting a haircut, a single mirror is insufficient; and, we must “illumine front and rear” to see whether the hair on the back of the head is even. So we might need a single- or multi-faceted mirror besides the West. We have, however, rarely understood with any accuracy or self-awareness what is different about the Others on China’s own margins, including Japan, Korea, Vietnam, India, and Mongolia. People have always thought that such cultures were “marginal” to China’s own culture, and so were never very good at evaluating themselves from the eyes of a different culture. Can this truly be the case? I have always thought that comparing the differences between China and “the West” only lets us see the coarsest and largest-scale features of the Self; and only comparison with countries whose differences are small and even share a common cultural tradition can make us understand finer distinctions, allowing us to ascertain what “China’s” culture actually is. Thus, in the current age, when globalization seems universal, we may have just entered a third age, “the age of understanding the Self in a multi-faceted mirror.” The Song gaoseng zhuan (Lives of eminent monks in the Song dynasty), a Song dynasty work, records a famous design by Fazang, a great master of the Huayan sect. He once faced a scholar, “took out a mirror of ten sides, and set it among Eight Regions,” which is to say he set up mirrors on all the eight directions, each facing the other, and placed the image of the Buddha in the center of this. He used candlelight to illuminate the set-up, upon which the intersecting images illuminated each other, reflecting and overlapping. Of course, our point here is not Fazang’s, that “Buddha Dharma is infinite and interconnected” to make “the scholar touch on endless meaning by realizing Shahai.” Rather, it is like shooting stereoscopic 406 Joseph R. Levenson, Confucian China and its Modern Fate: Volume One: The Problem of Intellectual Continuity, translated by Zheng Dahua 郑 大 华 et al. (Beijing: Zhongguo shehui kexue chubanshe, 2000), 87.

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film, using multiple campers to capture images from all sides and combining them to produce a stereoscopic China. Thus, to see China from its borders is to re-establish the Other and Self. In other words, in understanding China from the regions of the borders, we may renew our understanding of historical China, cultural China and political China. It is beyond our scope here to discuss the significance of this question in terms of intellectual history. From the perspective of culture and history studies, I would rather discuss the significance of this research direction for academic history. If we look over the academic history of China, in a certain sense it seems the first wave of internationalization and modernization can be traced to the midQing study of the geography of China’s northwest and of Mongol Yuan history. After Qian Daxin, owing to the internal patterns of development of evidentiary studies (the opening up and extension of the evidentiary field) and the external context of national change (transformation of international power relations after the Jiajing and Daoguang eras), people became conscious of how the study of northwestern Chinese geography, and the histories of the Khitan Liao, the Jurchen (Jin) and the Mongol Yuan transcended the space of traditional Han China. First of all, it was no longer only about the “Han language,” the “Han nation,” and “Han documents” sought after by evidentiary studies scholars; and second, the scope of research was no longer only the Confucian world and traditional classics so familiar to evidentiary studies scholars; third, their objects of study were no longer limited to the scope of political history. It helps to examine a bit of the Mongol Yuan historical studies, as seen from the previous chapter.407 As mentioned above, Chinese scholars had participated in academic topics of international interest, such as the evaluation and interpretation of the Tujue tablets, the translation of Mongol Yuan documents, and studies of Tang-era Zoroastrianism, Nestorianism and Manicheanism. Even the arrogant Russians could only look on admiringly at Sen Zengzhi’s work on the Tujue tables, “Since the translated version appeared, foreign scholars have often cited his work in their books, referring to him as ‘that writer from the Zongli yamen (Office for the Management of Affairs of All Nations)’.”408 In late Qing and early republican China, when politics, economy and culture were forced to continually become more international, deeper changes occurred in the academic world. In the 1920s, a batch of top scholars appeared in China. Not only did they have wider perspectives, but were also exceptionally 407 See Du Weiyun, “Tu Ji zhuan,” in Lishi de liangge jingjie, 118–120. 408 Wang Sui-Chang 王 遽 常 , Shen Meisou xiansheng nianpu 沈 寐 叟 先 生 年 谱 (The Chronicle of Shen Zeng-zhi) (Taipei: Taiwan shangwu yinshuguan, 1977).

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astute. Whether we speak of Wang Guowei, who took up the study of history starting from philosophy and literature, or Chen Yuan who, despite never having gone abroad, had a firm grasp of trends in international academia; whether we speak of Hu Shi, who advocated comprehensive Westernization, or Chen Yinke, who worked to respect and abide by the standards of traditional ­Chinese culture, all worked hard to “predict the currents” in academia, thus entering into “the new wave of world academia.” Just at this time there occurred the “Four Great Discoveries,” especially the discovery and study of the Dunhuang documents. We know that Wang Guowei did evidentiary ­studies on Dunhuang documents, Chen Yuan edited the Dunhuang jieyu lu ­(Remnants of Dunhuang), and Hu Shi and Chen Yinke were even greater scholars of ­Dunhuang documents. Their work constitutes the second wave of internationalization of C ­ hinese scholarship.409 The reasons for this are that, first, “barbarian documents” induced a conjoining of linguistics and history, as for example Chen Yinke’s use of Sanskrit, Tibetan, and Chinese side-by-side in working with documents from Dunhuang; second, the original documents unearthed at Dunhuang provoked skepticism and careful re-evaluation of transmitted documents, as in Hu Shi’s evidentiary studies of Chan Buddhist documents; third, the documents in many languages preserved at Dunhuang, this place that was neither a political, a religious, nor a cultural center, gave rise to new interest in Chinese relations with non-Chinese and in cultural contact; fourth, the appearance of documents unrelated to either politics or Confucianism gave rise to emphasis on economic history (such as the economy of the Dunhuang temples), religious history (such as the three foreign religions of Nestorianism, Manicheanism, and Zoroastrianism, along with Buddhism and other religions), regional histories (such as of the Guiyi Circuit, Turpan, and the Xiyu), spurring mutual movement of the traditional center and the margins of the fields of historical studies. What will be the third wave? While I cannot offer a definite prediction, I do believe that “seeing China from its borders” is a topic that is likely to initiate changes to academic history in some respects. First of all, in observing the transformations in academia of the first two waves, I see that the spatial regions attended to are all in the northwest, overlapping the traditional Silk Road. Rarely are regions in the east considered, 409 In his 1942 Preface to Zhu Yan-feng’s 朱 延 丰 Tujue tongkao 突 厥 通 考 (A Complete Study of the Turkish Minority), Chen Yinke already detected the relationship between this wave of scholarship with the studies on the history and geography of northwestern China in the Qing Dynasty. He also predicted its development. See Chen Yinke, Hanliutang ji 寒 柳 堂 集 (Collected Writings in the Hall of Cold Willows) (Beijing: Sanlian ­shudian, 2001), 163.

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like Japan, the Ryukyus, Korea, or Vietnam. But, these regions have particularly plentiful documents related to China. The great scholar Wu Han, in his Lichao shilu (Veritable records of the Joseon, Korea’s Yi dynasty), collected several tens of volumes of valuable historical material on China,410 but even this cannot actually compare to the eastern material, such as: the nearly 3,000 massive volumes in the Hanʼguk yŏktae munjip chʻongsŏ,, printed by the Kyŏngin Munhwasa, Press House; the 106 volumes of the Yanxing lu quan ji and the Yanxing lu quan ji Riben suosang bian, the former edited by professor Ki-jung Im of Dongguk University in Korea and Professor Fuma Susumu of Kyoto University, with over 50,000 pages of materials chiefly concerning Korean observations and records of China during the Ming and Qing; the many diaries and poetry collections of the Joseon missions to Japan which record large numbers of Korean and Japanese observations, imaginings and evaluations; various records of Qing imperial ships revived at Nagasaki during Japan’s Edo era; and materials from the Nagasaki Tōtsūji Bureau, such as the well-known Tō tsūji kaisho nichiroku (Daily record of the House of Chinese interpreters). More material is yet to be discovered. All these exhibit a Japan already flexing new muscles and observing China with cool and calculating eyes.411 The socalled “Hán Nôm (Sino-Vietnamese characters) documents” in Vietnam also preserves many records on China. Perhaps, this material can help us “jump out from China, but look back on China” and so understand the true nature of China. Second, in recent times we have become accustomed to comparisons of Eastern and Western culture. From the “xixue zhongyuan” view (Western learning comes from China), with its preference for the old as superior to the new, to the “zhongxue weiti, xixue weiyong” view (Chinese learning for the essence and Western learning for use) of technological difference, with its distinction between essentials and non-essentials, to the the debates on “Eastern and Western culture” since the May Fourth era and the struggle over “total and complete Westernization” and “Chinese cultural exceptionalism,” coming finally 410 Wu Han 吴 晗 comp., Chaoxian Lichao shilu zhong de Zhogguo shiliao 朝 鲜 李 朝 实 录 中 的 中 国 史 料 (Historical Materials on China from the Verified Records of the Li Dynasty in Korea) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1962). 411 We should pay attention to the insights and attitudes behind such works as Terajima Ryōan’s 1712 Wa-Kan sansai zue (Illustrated encyclopaedia of Heaven, Earth, and Man in Chinese and Japanese), which records the general customs and knowledge of China; Nakagawa Tadateru’s 1799 Shinzoku kibun (Records of the customs in the Qing dynasty); and Okada Gyokuzan’s 1805 Morokoshi meishō zue (Illustrated records of famous sightseeings of the Chinese land).

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to today’s theories of “Orientalism” and “postcolonialism,” all discuss Chinese culture with their starting point a context of “the West” as a monolithic and yet vague “Other.” The contrast, clear as hot and cold, makes people feel as if they are seeing clearly, but the contents of this seemingly clear cultural narrative are vague. They beg the question, which “West” is this “West,” and which “East” is that “East”? Thus, perhaps looking at border lands with seemingly small cultural differences as “Other” will let us glimpse the cultural differences between them and the “Self” that are more nuanced and yet no less important. For example, on the surface all share a belief in the scholarship of Zhu Xi, but there are big differences between and among figures such as: the Korean Yangban scholar-offiials who stubbornly and unwaveringly hold on to Zhu Xi thought; the Japanese Confucian scholars who are lacking an examination system; and, the Chinese scholar-officials doubly influenced by evidentiary studies and the different Manchu cultures. In various documents, we often see Koreans mocking the scholarship and thought of the Qing empire. In all cases we see how Korea and Japan sneer at the decline of Chinese culture, referring to themselves as “Zhonghua” (Chinese). Seeing these differences, we can understand more clearly this “East” or “East Asia,” in actuality, was not the “single unit” imagined by Okakura Tenshin.412 Third, just as Fu Sinian says, the expansion of historical materials and advancements in tools spell progress for academia. He says that (1) All direct investigation of material constitute progress, but an indirect investigation of previous studies, or of systems previously created, could actually be a step backward if it lacks detailed and comprehensive reference to the facts. (2) All learning able to expand its range of materials is progress; otherwise it is a step backward. (3) All learning able to expand the tools of research is progress; otherwise it is a step backward.413 In 1928, Fu felt that luxue was important, that Chinese academia “could rarely solve historical problems of the four barbarians,” and that the historical ground for frontier nations and historical studies of Chinese relations with the outside world were both far behind the scholarship of non-Chinese orientalists. Questions on the Xiongnu, the Xianbei, the Turpans, the Huihe, the Khitans, the Jurchens, the Mongols and the Manchus had not received the kind of attention given them by Europeans, which indicated a deep need to expand the historical material studied and tools applied,

412 Okakura Tenshin, “The Ideal of the Orient” in Okakura Tenshin shū (Collection of Okakura Tenshin), ed., Kamei Katsuichirō and Torao Miyagawa (Tōkyō: Chikuma Shobō, 1968), 6–7. 413 Fu Sinian, “Lishi yuyan yanjiusuo zhi gongzuo zhiqu,” in Fu Sinian quanji, vol. 4, 1304–1306.

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by learning from conjoining the methods of history and linguistics. Moreover, he conjectured that Chinese research would “in the future travel Westward step by step until it reached Central Asia.” He also hoped to establish a center for the study of the Nanyang (south seas) in Guangzhou, with the idea that “Nanyang studies should be a part of Chinese learning.” This was a shrewd evaluation, for as we have seen above of the first and second waves, they were, as he said, proceeding Westward step by step from Dunhuang to Xi’an to Central Asia, with the emphasis on the northwest (though at times also farther south). But should the third wave turn eastwards? In 1938, Hu Shi represented China in Zurich at the first International Congress of Historical Sciences. In his English language address, “Recently Discovered Materials for Chinese History,” he spoke on the materials for Chinese history he thought most important, including the Oracle bone inscriptions already considered a major discovery, Dunhuang scrolls, the court archives, and various banned or fragmentary books. Listed along with these great discoveries were “materials on China preserved in Japan and Korea.”414 But nearly 70 years later, it seems that Chinese-language materials on China in Korea have yet to receive thorough sorting and study, and even more seldom is a full use made of Japan’s Chinese materials, like the materials of the so-called ‘Tang translators’, or tō tsūji, of Nagasaki. Of course, I am far from able to predict the direction academic history will take, but if it gradually turns to face the “borders,” it will make the underutilized historical materials elucidated above, as well as the various languages of the borders, become a new field, with new tools. To use a word much applied by economists, it will perhaps become a “new growth area” for academia.415 414 “Hu Shi zhi Fu Sinian” 胡 适 致 傅 斯 年 (Letter from Hu Shi to Fu Sinian) (September 2nd, 1938) and “Shiyusuo cang Hu Shi yu Fu Sinian laiwang hanzha” 史 语 所 藏 胡 适 与 傅 斯 年 来 往 函 札 (Letters between Hu Shi and Fu Si-nian preserved at the Institute of History and Philology of Academia Sinica) compiled by Wang Fan-sen 王 汎 森 , in Dalu zazhi 93:3 (September, 1996), 11. 415 The development of this new research field may, I believe, cause some possible changes in historiography: (A) a new emphasis on linguistics; (B) an emphasis on the history of nonHan religions, (C) a need to consult non-Chinese documents and scholarship, (D) a new definition and understanding of the terms “China” and “other countries,” and (E) a reconsideration of the relationship between nationalism and cosmopolitanism in terms of culture and academic research. On this point, some scholars in Japan and the West have made good contributions. See Colin Mackerras, Western Images of China (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989); also see Arano Yasunori, Ishii Masatoshi, and Murai Shōsuke, Jiishiki to sōgo rikai (Self consciousness and mutual understanding), in Ajia no naka no Nihon shi series (Japanese history in Asia) (Tōkyō: Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 1993), vol. 4.

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The Chinese Position: Comparing with Chinese Studies Outside China

To be sure, Chinese history has not been keen on the study of China’s borders; in fact, it was not even invented by Chinese scholars.416 European and Japanese scholars had “Chinese border studies” of an academic nature even before Chinese scholars did. These non-Chinese scholars achieved major breakthroughs by applying methods from history, wenxian xue (document studies), archaeology, and linguistics all in combination. For example, names that come to mind are Edouard Chavannes, Paul Pelliot, G. Ferrand and Henri Maspero. Though we term them “Sinologists” and their focus indeed was on China, the scope of their research often involved the “four barbarians.” From Feng Chengjun’s translation of the three big volumes Xiyu nanhai shidi kaozheng yicong, we can see, from Turpan to Kashmir, the same place names appearing frequently; and, the same religions, too, from Zoroastrianism to Christianity. We also see mentioned the same books—including the Zhufan zhi, Weilue xirong zhuan, Song yun xing ji and Shi Yindu ji.417 Influenced by Europe, Meiji-era and later Japanese scholars of China have paid more attention to China’s borders, especially the so-called “Man Meng Hui Zang” (Manchuria, Mongolia, the Hui region, and Tibet). Beginning with Naka Michiyo (1851–1908), who combined Korean and Mongolian studies, a great number of Japanese scholars from the Meiji and Taishō to the Shōwa periods took this interest in China’s si wo (four barbarians). Well-known scholars all made outstanding contributions to the study of the history and geography of Mongolia, Korea, Annam, the Xiyu, and Tibet: Shiratori Kurakichi (1865–1942), Fujita Toyohachi (1869–1928), Kuwabara Jitsuzō (1871–1931), Yanai Watari (1875–1926), Ikeuchi Hiroshi (1878–1953), Haneda Tōru (1882–1955), and Wada Sei (1890–1963). Among these, Shiratori Kurakichi, one of the most important figures in establishing Meiji-era Oriental studies, won high praise from the European academic community for his studies of Tujue, Wusun, the Xiongnu, Sogdia, Kangju and Korea, which indicates the then-new currents in Japanese studies of China. This made Japanese scholars more confident about 416 For example, in his 1943 book Chūgoku shūhennshi sōronn (A Complete History of China’s Surrounding Regions), Miyazaki Ichisada discusses Korea, Manchuria (now the Northeastern part of China), Mongolia, Turkistan (the ancient Xiyu and today’s ­Xinjiang Province), Tibet, and the Indian subcontinent. Putting aside his understanding of “China,” the focus and goal in his proposed research are largely different from ours. See Miyazaki Ichisada zenshū, vol. 19, 149–162. 417 See Xiyu nanhai shidi kaozheng yicong, vols. 1–3.

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their entry into the currents of world academia. It came to a point that they felt themselves able to understand new Western methods better than Chinese while also being able to read Oriental documents better than Westerners—a fact that put Japan at the forefront of “Oriental studies.” Haneda Tōru, one of the scholars who was part of this wave, summed up the advances of Japanese Oriental studies in archeology, documents, languages and writing systems, and major research questions by saying that during the Meiji and Taishō eras: There have been many works on art history, the history of customs, and historical geography. Moreover, the historical materials discovered in Central Asia have clarified more facts about Chinese history……From this perspective we will ask what direction should be taken by scholars who work on Chinese history, especially the history of frontiers. He also spoke of the significance of the “number one weapon” for this research, namely knowledge of languages.418 This made Chinese scholars recalcitrant, but they had to admit, “Chinese scholars can hold their own against foreign scholars in terms of the research on orthodox history. But as for the research on the Xixia, the South China Sea, and the history of archeology or fine art, we are far behind.”419 Such an overview of the international academic currents in Europe, Japan and China gives the impression that these currents are uniform and consistent all over the world. However, a more detailed examination reveals that there is a unique political historical and intellectual historical context behind each of these approaches, be they in Europe or in Japan. Where academic history is concerned, Japan, as China’s closest neighbor is the main engine for modernization and internationalization, showing the full force of its modernity. From the perspective of intellectual history, these seemingly purely academic approaches, methods and topics conceal Japan’s ulterior motives towards China. 418 Haneda Tōru summarized the development of East Asian studies in Japan as follows: (1) the study of the newly found archaeological materials and other documents in the Orient (e.g. the Stele of Ki-tegin); (2) the discoveries of ancient languages (e.g. the languages of Uyghur, the Western Xia, and Tocharian); (3) the research on ethnic groups in the countries of the Xiyu; (4) the new discovery of documents related to non-Han religions (e.g. the classics of Manicheanism); (5) the influence of the Sogdian culture on the Orient; and (6) the orientalization of Uyghur cultures. See Haneda Tōru, “Recent Development of Oriental Studies,” originally published in issues 1–2, volume 3, Shilin, 1918, later collected in Haneda Hakushi shigaku ronbunshū, 635–653. 419 He Changqun, “Riben xueshujie zhi ‘zhina xue’ yanjiu” in He Changqun wenji, 447.

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From the perspective of academic history, the modernity of the Japanese approach is clear. The approach led to a crisis in the tradition of China studies in Japan, overturning past traditional understandings of China, transforming past customary methods for interpreting China. As Koyasu Nobukuni has said, the modernity of the research methods were so filled with condescension towards traditional Chinese academia that it caused self-aggrandizement in “Zhina xue” (China studies). The spread of Western academic methods overturned traditional academia and led to a crisis of consciousness: “This consciousness of crisis comes from the modern humanities in Western Europe, which has dominated modern Japanese academic systems.”420 But it also spurred the formation of the modern ideology of China studies in Japan. From the Meiji era forward, Japan, feeling that it had an eternal connection to China, felt that it better deserved the right to lead the interpretation of China. Thus it worked hard to spur the formation of Oriental studies in Japan by (1) taking on tools, material and methods consistent with Western academia, (2) following the fields, topics and questions of interest to Western academia, and (3) adopting the objective position labeled “neutral” corresponding to, or seeming to correspond to, Western science. In terms of research perspective, they carefully imitated the tradition of Sinology they observed among European missionaries and anthropologists, transforming “China studies” into “Oriental studies” and shifting the field from Han China to China’s borders.421 They also explicitly took this Orient as a historical space corresponding to the “Occident.”422 They were at once setting up something that could stand alongside the “Occident” in terms of history, culture and nations, a historical narrative space to be called the “Orient,” while at the same time making Japan the pearl of this “Orient,” making it the “ben guo” (Original country) with two “Others.” Thus, when Naka Michiyo called for “Occidental history” and “Oriental history” as additions to 420 Koyasu Nobukuni, Nihon kindai shisō hihan: ikkokuchi no seiritsu, 115. 421 See Kuwabara Jichuzō, Kuwabara Jichuzo zenshū, vol. 1, 591–594. 422 The goal of Shiratori Kurakichi Was to make East Asian studies in Japan surpass that of Europe. Therefore, years later when he wrote “Thirty years in the research field of Manchuria and Korea,” he states that “in order not to be left behind by Western scholars, we established large-scale associations of East Asian studies and collaborated with entrepreneurs and politicians to advocate the essential significance of East Asian studies. Especially when we face the fact that in the field of East Asian studies, the Europeans and Americans achieved authoritative progress in the history of China, Mongolia, and central Asia, but there are still many undiscovered areas in the history of Manchuria and Korea. Therefore, we Japanese should make our own contributions to the history and geography of Manchuria and Korea which the Europeans have not yet entered.” Cited from Matsumura Jun, “Shiratori Kurakichi,” in Tōyōgaku no keifu, 45–46.

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“ben guo shi” (history of the original country), Japanese Oriental academia expanded “Oriental history” from “China” to the “si yi” (four barbarians), “which ended the narrow research that was only centered around China and made it necessary to include the history of all the countries and all the ethnic groups in East Asia.”423 In the Meiji and Taishō periods, the academic focus of various Japanese journals, like Dongyang zhexue (Oriental philosophy), the academic training of Shiratori Kurakichi and other scholars, and topics like Manchura, Mongolia, the Hui regions and Tibet commonly selected by scholars, all exhibit this pursuit of modernity and attempt to enter international academic currents.424 However, as mentioned above, seen from the perspective of intellectual history, this academic shift conceals a deep political motive. Japanese nationalism, on the rise since the Meiji period, finding expression in so-called ­“Asianism,” led Japan to once again examine China, its largest antagonist in Asia, with the eyes of a superior looking down on an inferior. It no longer considered the “Chinese empire” a large, single unit. Instead, applied the new and popular European concept of the “nation-state” to interpret China as a number of different dynasties, with these dynasties being only a traditional empire, and in actuality, only the main body of the Han nation being understood as “China”—the country south of the Great Wall, east of the Tibetan border. The various nations of China’s borders were rather communities of their own, with different cultures, governments, and nations.425 With the rise of the Meiji-era “theory of expansion of national power,” under the auspices of national security and national interest, Japan made fiercer and more intense claims on the sovereign territory of China and its border regions. China scholars in Meiji ­Japan thus became unusually enthusiastic about the study of the si yi, as well as towards Korea, Mongolia, Manchuria, Tibet, and Xinjiang. They also no longer considered the dynasties of China to have been the single entity encompassing the borders and the non-Han nations there. As Japanese scholar Egami Namio observed: Provoked by the breakout of the first Sino-Japanese war, Japanese citizens became more and more interested in the Asian continent. This historical tendency [of paying attention to the history of frontiers] was formed in the second decade of the Meiji reign, in which Japan, as an Asian nation, gradually rose to face Western countries, and in 423 Egami Namio, Tōyōgaku no keifu, vol. 1, 3. 424 See Chapter 6 of this book. 425 Wada Sei, Tōashi ronsō, 202–203.

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which Japan advocated a unique East Asian culture to face Western cultures.426 At the time, this nationalist political activity instigated interest in fields of research, and the research direction of these academic fields gradually became a universal view of how to understand China.427 This view persisted through World War ii, and even became a hot topic in Japanese academic history. The most representative example of this was Yano Jinʼichi’s Kindai Shina ron (On Modern China), which is mentioned several times above. Yano believed that China could not be called a nation-state, and that Manchuria, Mongolia and Tibet were not Chinese sovereign territory. If China had wanted to support the unity of greater China, then there had been no need to overturn the Manchu Qing dynasty in the first place. But, if the goal was to establish a nation-state, then control over the border regions should be abandoned, including in terms of political affiliation and in terms of historical narrative.428 Modern methods and international perspective in academic history, along with nation positions and discourse strategies in intellectual histories, become here tangled and unclear. Now then, when we speak of “Seeing China from its borders,” are we not liable to face the same problem? Perhaps we could go still further to say that this touches on a basic problem in traditional academic research: what is the meaning of traditional culture and history studies? I feel that besides giving us a feast of knowledge and exercising our powers of intelligence, a major point of significance is to build our understanding of nationstates (guozu)—meaning country in the cultural sense, and not a government in the political sense. In a country (guodu) that needs to build its history and form its present, it supplies memory, collects together shared knowledge, and establishes common identity. American scholar Barbara Tuchman in her Practicing History addresses why it is that Israel takes a special interest in archaeology, saying, “To feel itself a nation, a people must have not only independence and territory but also a history.”429 We have argued that Japanese academia in the Meiji era placed China in the Orient, meaningfully or not, and put the 426 Egami Namio, Tōyōgaku no keifu, vol. 1, 3. 427 See Chapter 6 of this book. 428 See Yano Jinʼichi, Kindai Shina ron (On modern China) (Kyōto: Kōbundō Shobō, 1937). In a critical moment of World War ii in 1943, Yano brought up the idea of transcending China and writing history based on Asia as the unit in his series reports made at Hiroshima University. See Idem, Dai Tōa shi no kōsō (The framework of the greater East Asian history) (Tōkyō: Meguro Shoten, 1944), 31 and on. 429 Barbara W. Tuchman, Practicing History: Selected Essays (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1981), 126.

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other national histories and cultures of the Orient on an equal footing with China, giving them more research emphasis, and that even though this conforms to the modern view of the equality of nation-states, it conceals the political intentions relating to China. If that is true, then when we advocate “Seeing China from its borders,” how do we establish a self-aware problemconsciousness and an independent research position? It must be emphasized here that my advocacy for “Seeing China from its borders” is by no means to re-appropriate European Oriental studies and Japan’s academic interest in Manchuria, the Hui regions, Tibet, and Korea. From a purely academic perspective, their research into the culture and history of Japan, Korea, the Ryukyus, Vietnam, Mongolia, and India can be subsumed under the heading “regional studies,” and this research might have significance that transcends the spatial restrictions of modern “nation states,” causing history and cultural spaces to transcend political spaces, from which we may understand the truth regarding circulation and contact of histories and cultures. Indeed, when we advocate “Seeing China from its borders,” we are still putting the focus on Chinese history. In this civilizational space that was formed in modern times and which, in modern times, has become a political country, in cultural and political terms there is a strong sense of encompassing historical research, which makes China the nation-state, the center, retain its own significance. As I said in the Introduction, transcending nation-state and rescuing history from the nation-state is the post-modern intellectual current forming the context of European history, and may not be applicable in China. Why? One reason is that China and Europe are quite different. China’s political frontiers and cultural spaces are filled from the center outward to the margins. Without even considering the Xia, Shang and Zhou dynasties, from Qin and Han times forward, China, with its “standardized roads, standardized writing, and standardized principles,” and its unity of language, ethics, customs and politics, had already begun to take shape. This was especially so in the Song dynasty when because of changes to the international distribution of power, China had, in actuality, already become a “nation state” with Chinese characteristics. This differs from the proposition of “the nation as a very recent newcomer in human history.”430 China and Japan, on the other hand, were also different. Japan’s single homogenous nation, language, culture and clearly demarcated space all overlap, with the result that during the formation of a modern nation-state, it never had problems regarding complexity of nation, 430 Eric J. Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism since 1780, 5. Meanwhile, he already noticed that it was “the product of particular, and inevitably localized or regional, historical conjunctures,” so when he discusses the language issue of nations, he adds, “except perhaps in China.” 56.

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space, culture or language. Whereas, the building of a modern nation-state in China was always based on the court-lead traditional dynasty, and everything bore the influence of traditions even as it changed. For this reason, the theory that divides the traditional empire of China and the modern nation of China into two ages is not appropriate to Chinese history, and also not appropriate to the national consciousness or national formation history of China. In China, it is not that an empire became a nation-state, but rather that within the consciousness of a boundless “empire” there was a notion of “nation” with limits; while the understanding of a limited “nation” preserved some of the vision of a boundless “empire.” The modern nation-state is the product of metamorphosis from a traditional centralized empire, and the modern nation-state still retains consciousness of the traditional centralized empire, making this history intertwined. Chinese history is by no means a universal science, one “without borders.” The evolution of modern academia has always kept pace with the re-definition of nation-states. The study of history and culture does not mean destroying an identity, or a view, or a vision, but rather building identities, views, visions, especially when what you study is the traditions of a nation and culture. These are what constitute “shared beliefs” and “foundation for identity” at any given time. Back in 1928, Ding Wenjiang published his essay, “Zhongyang yanjiuyuan de shiming” (The Mission of Academia Sinica), explaining the purpose of culture and history studies this way: The greatest difficulty of uniting China is that we lack common beliefs, and such beliefs must be built upon our own understanding of ourselves. History and archeology study the past of our nation, while language, race, and other social sciences study the present of our nation. With a better understanding of both the past and the present of our nation, we can truly know ourselves. His conclusion is “the scientific study of our history can help create a new basis for beliefs.”431 What we call “[Our] nation’s past,” “[Our] nation’s present,” and “[Our] nation’s shared beliefs” are often by no means shared. Thus, in the same way, when studying the history and culture of the borders, the center is not the same as the exterior. Were we to say that their focus is on the “borders,” then our focus is instead on “Zhongguo” (China).

431 See Ding Wen-jiang 丁 文 江 , “Zhongyang yanjiuyuan de shiming” 中 央 研 究 院 的 使 命 (The Mission of Academia Sinica), in Dongfang zazhi 32:2 (January 16th, 1935), 5–8.

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Perhaps, the study of East Asia, Central Asia, West Asia, and South Asia was merely a fashion for European and Japanese academia of a century ago. Perhaps, transcending the nation-state and taking regions as research spaces without regard to national boundaries is the fashion today. Theory is not like wine: it does not gain value with age; but neither is it like fashion, in which only the new stuff sells. At a time when “China in history” is still a significant space encompassing civilization and tradition, to re-establish a new reference system with the borders (Japan, Korea, Vietnam, India, Afghanistan, Tibet, Mongolia) as “Others” for the purpose of understanding cultural China in terms of historical significance is something that can make the study of traditional history and culture have significance for affirming identity, and can also allow us to clearly distinguish historical China on the move from the present political China. At the same time, we can use the reflection offered by the “borders” to examine a culture in history and the “historical China” that remains unbroken with its tradition. Indeed, this is also an effort to have a new understanding of the “present China” itself. As I have said above, the present is an age in need of a multi-faceted mirror. The various border regions have had different understandings of “the Great Other,” and China might offer a multifaceted mirror to examine the details and thereby make for a truer understanding of China. Intimate contact between these nations and China, comparisons between forms of civilization that reveal some “similar qualities,” and the West with its all too “different quality” are like images in a bronze mirror, single-faceted and blurred. Even if we see the accurate outline of Chinese culture, we have no way of seeing the specific details of cultural China. 3

Intersecting Cultural History

Putting the focus on China is meant to renew the field, but not to serve as a restriction on the scope of it. To focus our perspective on our understanding of traditional China, the Chinese historical world also must have interaction between research on China and the civilizations along its borders in the ­areas of literature, religion, academia, and the arts. F. Max Müller, the founder of comparative religious studies, drew on a quote by Goethe: “He who knows one, knows none.” This should forever serve as a warning to us, for though we be Chinese scholars and “Seeing China from the borders” is our research focus, still, our focus should be on the mutual interaction between cultures. An ancient Chan master once said, “One wave follows ten thousand”; the relations between modern China and its border regions is like that. It is just that we do not wish for this contact, interaction, and influence to become a simple

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and inflexible comparison of sizes. Our hope is to use the history of specific contacts between literature, religion, academia, art and languages to see how the main chain of a culture is linked together, ring by ring. In 1940, in his Dongfang de wenyi fuxing he xifang de wenyi fuxing (Oriental renaissance and Occidental renaissance), Miyazaki Ichisada presented a hypothesis: In 15th and 16th century Europe, many forms of the painted Virgin Mother, as for example, one by Enguer and Charonton and one by Jean Perreale from the 15th century might have been influenced by Guanyin’s images from the East with their elongated ovoid faces and clasped-hand gesture. Later, someone else pointed out that it was precisely this resemblance between Guanyin and the Virgin Mother—when Japanese Catholics in Nagasaki were oppressed and had to go into hiding—that Quanzhou-made porcelain images of Guanyin, especially images of a child praying to the Guanshiyin, replaced Virgin Mary’s images used for worship by fervent Japanese Catholics.432 In 1943, the scholar Fang Hao wrote his paper discussing how the style of Japanese fumi-e images—the images of Jesus and Mary that persecuted Christians in Japan were forced to step on—had entered China and influenced the Qing empire from the time of Yongzheng and after, and was used by Chinese officialdom to test Chinese believers.433 These two examples—“images of Virgin Mary” and the fumi-e—thread through many interesting links in cultural history. In modern China and its border regions, knowledge, thought and faith are all connected, with numerous examples of the chain connecting them—some visible, some not. First, on the histories of religion and art, regarding the national rituals of Ming dynasty—especially the music and dances associated with rituals in worship at Confucius temples—according to Belgian scholar Nicolas Standaert, there are innovative descriptions and improvements to the music and dances by the aristocrat Zhu Zaiyu to be found in his Wanli-era text Yuelü quanshu (Complete collection of music and pitch). Even though these were not actually incorporated in the national rituals, they were transmitted to Europe, where they attracted the attention of the French Jesuit Joseph Marie Amiot (1718–1793). The earliest illustration of Zhu Zaiyu’s dances is recorded in Mémoires concernant l’histoire, les sciences, les arts, les moeurs, les usages, 432 Miyazaki Ichisada, “The Renaissance in the East and the Renaissance in the West,” Miyazaki Ichisada zenshū, vol. 19, 33–36. 433 Fang Hao 方 豪 , “Qingdai jinyi tianzhujiao suoshou Riben zhi yingxiang” 清 代 禁 抑 天 主 教 所 受 日 本 之 影 响 (Japanese influence on the repression of Catholics in the Qing Dynasty), first published in 1943, and later included in Fang Hao quanji 方 豪 全 集 (Complete works of Fang Hao) (Beiping: Shangzhi bianyiguan, 1948), 47–66.

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etc. des Chinois (Paris: Nyon, 1780). He sent a book back to Europe with 1400 pages of Zhu Zaiyu’s dance illustrations.434 What influence these large-scale national dances—complete with introductions and the Confucian context in which they existed—might have had in Europe is a matter that calls for further study. Great things come in pairs: during the Wanli reign period, among the national music and dances associated with rites to Confucius, there was one that was revised by the famous Catholic scholar Li Zhizao (1565–1630). The first few chapters of his 1618–19 work Bangong liyue shu (A History of the Sacrificial Rites and Music in the Confucius Temple) speak of the sacred shrines within the local schools, with extensive records and discussion on ritual implements, ritual music and chants. The text records three tao (sets), each of which features 32 posture settings (zitai) of dances from the Da Xia (Great Xia dynasty). Of greater interest is that the dances recorded in Li Zhizao’s Bangong li yue shu made it to Japan in 1672, after the fall of the Ming dynasty, where they were a basic foundation for the loyal Confucian scholar Zhu Shunshui in constructing the rituals to Confucius performed in the Mito branch of the Tokugawa clan, which set the pattern for later ritual dances in Japanese Confucius temples.435 We can see a certain resonance in the dissemination of these ritual dances. The second example touches on political history and the history of Catholic missionaries in Korea. In Joseon Korea, at the turn of the 18th and 19th ­centuries, missionaries like Yi Seung-hun, who had been baptized in B ­ eijing by the Western missionary Alexander Gouvea, brought with him religious texts, crosses, and Catholic paintings to believers in Korea, where they began missionary activities among the yangban officials. However, another important religious leader from Suzhou in China, the Chinese national Zhou Wenmo (Jacques Vellozo), was the one who gave the following command for selecting missionaries: “Meeting people at the border in the disguise of a wagoner. He sleeps in daytime and acts at night. He sneeks into the capital and hides there for years. He will be your leader.”436 He gained entry into high political circles, where they inspired devout faith in Lady Seong and Lady Shin of King Jeongjo’s own household. This turned Catholic missionary work in Korea into an act 434 Nicolas Standaert, “Ritual Dances and Their Visual Representations in the Ming and the Qing,” The East Asian Library Journal (Princeton Univ.) xii, 1 (Spring 2006): 68–181. 435 Lin Junhong 林 俊 宏 , Zhu Shunshui zai Riben de huodong jiqi gongxian yanjiu 朱 舜 水 在 日 本 的 活 动 及 其 贡 献 研 究 (Research on Zhu Shunshui’s activities in Japan and his contribution) (Taipei: Xiuwei zixun keji chuban, 2004), 200–209. 436 This citation comes from the report sent by the Lý dynasty of Korea to the Qing court in 1802. See Yi Man-su, Youche ji 輶 车 集 (Collection of travels by cart), in Yanxing lu quanji 燕 行 录 全 集 (Complete collections of the trips to the capital), ed., Ki-jung Im (Sŏul T’ŭkpyŏlsi: Tongguk Taehakkyo Ch’ulp’anbu, 2001), vol. 60, 533–540.

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of international politics.437 The affair touched on the West, the Qing empire, ­Korea, and to some degree incited the extremely influential “Sinyu Persecution.” The incident indirectly provoked the Qing empire’s imposition of a strict ban against Catholicism in 1805.438 Third is the set of materials relating to Korean missions to China, especially celebratory tribute missions, and the Joseon missions to Japan. How did Koreans, after all, view the culture and politics of the Great Qing empire that had replaced the Ming empire? And, what attitude did Koreans actually take towards the culture of Tokagawa Japan? What attitude did the Japanese, who were on the rise politically and culturally, take towards China, the origin point of Chinese culture, and Korea, which served to transmit it? In extant documents like the hundreds of volumes of Yanxing lu and in related literary collections, we can see the feelings that Koreans harbored towards the Great Ming empire, the worshipful respect for traditional Chinese civilization and the appropriation of Zhu Xi thought. They were very condescending towards and disappointed with the Qing empire, which spurred the Korean extension and preservation of Zhu Xi thought. Through diaries, poems and literary prose received in the Joseon missions to Japan, we know that even if the Japanese unsettled the Koreans with their aggressiveness, the Koreans remained spokespersons for “Chinese civilization,” and in cultural terms, were conceited and even arrogant before Japan. Through the enormous body of extant documents in the Tang reports of Chinese merchants and materials of the Chinese translators sent from the Tang, we can see that the Japanese, for their part, utilized the commercial window of Nagasaki; for questioning and surveying a great number of the Qing merchants who came to Nagasaki, and examining books and texts from Chinese ships to achieve a high degree of familiarity with the Chinese political, economic, military and cultural situation. Thus, in political and cultural terms, they gradually formed a bias against the Qing empire that has persisted into modern times.439 437 As for the study of this event, see Urakawa Wasaburō, Chōsen junkyōshi (History of sacrificing for the church in Korea) (Ƭsaka: Zenkoku shobō, 1973). 438 See Ge Zhaoguang, “Linju jia de mosheng ren: Qing zhongye Chaoxian shizhe yanzhong Beijing de xiyang chuanjiaoshi” 邻 居 家 的 陌 生 人 ——清 中 叶 朝 鲜 使 者 眼 中 北 京 的 西 洋 传 教 士 (Strangers at the neighbor’s house: The image of Beijing-based Western missionaries in the eyes of Korean envoys in the middle Qing), in Zhongguo wenhua yanjiu 3 (2006): 1–12. 439 See Ge Zhaoguang, “Cong chaotian dao yanxing: Shiqi shiji zhongye hou dongya wenhua gongtongti de jieti” 从 朝 天 到 燕 行 ——十 七 世 纪 中 叶 后 东 亚 文 化 共 同 体 的 解 体 (From paying respect to the emperor to the visit of the capital: The collapse of East Asian cultural community after the middle of the seventeenth century), in Zhonghua wenshi luncong 1 (2006), 2–40; Ge Zhaoguang, “Di suijin xin jianyuan: 17shiji zhongye

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For a long time now, our fields of literature, history and philosophy have trapped themselves in lines drawn on the earth to produce borders and walls between each other. And, the lines dividing research inside China and outside China, too, cause our research to seem like it comes with its own country borders and customs offices: no exit without passport or visa. This informs our vision in certain respects. Since ancient times, however, and especially in modern China and its border regions, despite its status as a strictly closed place, exchanges in both directions have been numerous, with literature, religion, scholarship, and arts frequently crossing borders without passports or visas, and forming a map of interactions. It is just that we must focus on the fact that when cultural currents flow outwards from still pools down to various regions, they follow the transformations in the topography, up and down, high and low, changing direction, at times rapid and at times slow, at times pooling into great lakes and at times churning into turbid rapids. Some religions, ideologies, scholarship and arts that seem similar spring roots in different locations to yield different types of fruit; it all depends on the local conditions and customs. The neo-Confucianism of Cheng and Zhu, for example—aided in the Qing empire by the examination systems but challenged by evidentiary studies—lost its authority in terms of knowledge production, lost its intellectual vitality, became more sclerotic in its teachings and turned hypocritical in its formulation. Around the same time in Joseon Korea, neo-Confucianism was steadfastly defended by scholar-officials. Why? The answer is simple: because Korea, at that time, had the “yangban” system allowing only direct relatives of [powerful] clans the right to appear in examinations. This system created an immobile privileged class; and, the arrogance and conceit of the yangban made them stubborn about defending their own culture and experience. NeoConfucianism was what they understood to be the most pure and orthodox form of learning. But in Tokugawa-era Japan, as pointed out by Japanese scholar Watanabe Hiroshi, because Japan lacked an examinations system, scholar officials could not depend entirely on neo-Confucianism; with the result that it could not become a universal and absolute ideology. Because Japanese popular culture itself does not have such a rigorous tradition of daily morality (richang daode) and ethical order, neo-Confucianism never penetrated the Japanese life world (shenghuo shijie) despite the promulgation by Fujiwara Seika and

yihou de Zhongguo, Chaoxian he Riben” 地 虽 近 而 心 渐 远 ——17世 纪 中 叶 以 后 的 中 国 朝 鲜 和 日 本 (The distance is nearer but the hearts grow apart: China, Korea, and Japan after the middle of the seventeenth century), in Taiwan dongya wenming yanjiu xuekan 3:1 (2006), 275–292.

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Hayashi Razan making it the Tokugawa era’s elite ideology.440 The same teachings of Zhu Xi, then, had such different fates in three different cultural contexts. It is for this reason that I admire so much the words of the intellectual historian Quentin Skinner, when he says that what necessitates discussion is not so much ideas suspended in abstract space, but rather ideas in context.441 Because every set of terms, contexts and issues (yujing) comes from a different life-world, with different customs, views, organizations, religions, literature, arts and scholarship transmuted, which will also exhibit salient differences. 4

Conclusion: New Materials, New Methods, New Paradigms: Prospects for Culture and History Studies

When I visited Europe in 2000, once while at the China Studies Institute of Leiden University in the Netherlands, I viewed a set of painted illustrations of the earliest Dutchmen in Nagasaki, and of Japan during the period when it was open to visitors. I was also able to converse with the illustrious scholar in charge of these materials, Erich Zürcher. It left a deep impression on me; it made me think of the archive of materials on modern China stored at the Hoover Institution in Stanford University, of the Historiographical Institute of the University of Tokyo, and of Chinese painting materials archived at the Research Institute for Oriental Cultures at Gakushin University in Japan. As we know, in the field of culture and history studies, all projects of interest begin with the discovery of new materials. In China, the discoveries that we are all familiar with from the last few decades include Mawangdui, Zhangjiashan, Guodian, Shangbo, Zoumalou, and on down to the bamboo slips from the Warring States, Qin, and Han dynasties discoveries at Liye and Xuanquanzhi. There are also the collections of the many new discoveries in stone inscriptions. With the shift in research perspective, we now see a constant new stream of important materials depicting popular daily life, and in the future, when there will be studies of historical materials about China from the border regions. Materials are like a foundation for a construction project; not having a robust foundation is like building a house in the sand. I believe that research institutions doing 440 See Watanabe Hiroshi, “Riben dechuan shidai chuqi Zhuzixue de tuibian” 日 本 德 川 时 代 初 期 朱 子 学 的 蜕 变 (Changing Neo-Confucianism in the Early Tokugawa Period in Japan, Chinese version, in Shixue pinglun 5 (1983, Taipei): 205. 441 See Maria Lucia Pallares-Burke ed., Xin Shixue: Zibai yu duihua 自 白 与 对 话 (The New history: Confessions and conversations), translated by Peng Gangzhong 彭 刚 中 (Beijing: Beijing daxue chubanshe, 2006), 271.

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culture and history studies in China must invest time and effort in building good archives. First, they must collect and preserve new documents as much as possible, which is a basic condition for “predicting the currents.” Second, materials for culture and history studies are not limited to traditional classics, but also include material from the non-academic world. They are not limited to written documents, but also include illustrations and video silhouettes (ying­ xiang). They are not limited to Chinese material, but also include non-Chinese material, which is necessary for expanding the perspective of culture and history studies. Third, we must do everything possible to construct new archives with their own specific strengths, because there are too many materials under Heaven for any single research center to cover them all. Once we have new archives, these new archives will bring forth new, unforeseen questions along with the appearance of new methods. Whether the questions prove sound or not, they will lead to new transformations of our scholarly models. This is what happened with the discovery of the oracle bones: the double verification method of comparing underground materials and transmitted materials was formed via the research in Wang Guowei’s essay “Yinbuci zhong suojian Xian gong xian wang kao” (Study of the pre-dynasty Shang dukes and kings recorded in oracle bone inscriptions). This is also what happened with the discovery of Dunhuang documents about Chan Buddhism: skepticism toward the documents, which were internal to the teachings of Buddhism, revealed exaggerations in the Chan patriarchal genealogy. New materials necessitate new methods, and new methods then give rise to the establishment of new models. This is a necessary and easily accomplished advance of scholarship. Finally, I would like to review the academic history of modern China. When Liang Qichao wrote Xin shi xue (New History) and Lun Zhonggguo xueshu sichao bianqian zhi dashi (On the Major Trends of Chinese Scholarly Thought) in 1902—two works quite different from traditional Chinese historical studies and which were manifestoes of a new research model—the materials relied upon were an enlightened combination of modern Occidental and Oriental history.442 And, in 1919 when Hu Shi wrote the first volume of his Zhongguo zhexue shi dagang (An outline of the history of Chinese philosophy), it became the “kai shan” (mountain opener) of Chinese philosophical research, and just 442 Liang Qichao 梁 启 超 , “Xin shixue” 新 史 学 (New History Studies) and “Lun Zhongguo xueshu sichao bianqian zhi dashi” 论 中 国 学 术 思 潮 变 迁 之 大 势 (On the Great Forthcoming Changes in Chinese Academic Research) in Liang Qichao quanji 梁 启 超 全 集 (Complete Works of Liang Qichao), Vol. 3 (Beijing: Beijing chubanshe, 1999), 736–753; 561–615.

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as it became the new model, he was using was mostly the model of Western philosophical studies.443 The reason they created new models was two-fold. First were the special conditions of the transformative period of scholarship in the late Qing and early republican China, namely the great shift to traditional culture and history studies under the impact of new views and methods from abroad. They were taking full advantage of the moment to jump to the forefront of scholarly currents. Second, they were answering the need for China to create its own scholarly trends and cultural interpretation as a cornerstone for its own national confidence. Thus, what appears to be only scholarly research is actually implicated in the construction of the nation-state.444 Do we now have such an international current, a turning point between ages? I will not make a baseless prediction. As I said in the beginning, the models of scholarly achievement most worth imitating by later scholars happened after the four great discoveries, from the 1920s to the 1930s—with the Tsinghua College Research Institute and the History and Philology Institute, using the Shang oracle bones to study the earliest stages of ancient history; the Han bamboo slips and the Dunhuang documents to study the Middle Ages of ancient history; and, court records to study early modern history. They worked hard to put aside the old and embrace the new, seeking new materials and perspectives to open up new fields in terms of tools, materials, and methods for culture and history studies. These “new” materials, “new” methods, and new “models,” helped them face new questions, changing the face of Chinese culture and history studies along the way. It was precisely because they were able to “predict the currents” that these two research institutions became the stars of the Chinese scholarly world as well as the international scholarly community. 443 Yu Yingshi 余 英 时 has pointed out that Hu Shi’s book “surpasses the individual achievements of evidentiary scholarship in the Qianlong and Jiaqing reigns of the Qing Dynasty. Hu Shi makes the study of classics and history into an organized system and employs the research methods of philosophical history in the West, so much so that in the last section of the book, Hu Shi makes a clear critical assessment in which he uses the arguments of empirism to evaluate the ideas of ancient scholars.” So this book begins a new paradigm, in which the content is Chinese, but the form and concepts come from the West. Yu Yingshi, “Xueshu sixiangshi de chuangjian ji liubian” 学 术 思 想 史 的 创 建 及 流 变 (The Establishment and Changes of the History of Academic Thought), in Gujin lunheng 3 (1999): 68–69. 444 That is why Liang Qichao repeatedly emphasizes that academic thoughts, particularly those in the field of history, are related to the cultivation of national spirit, and that they encourage patriotic feelings and promote national solidarity and the advancement of “qunzhi” 群 治 (grouping). See Liang Qichao, “Xin shixue” and “Lun Zhongguo xueshu sichao bianqian zhi dashi” in Idem, Liang Qichao quanji, 736, 561.

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About 70 years have passed, and the Tsinghua College Research Institute has itself become history. If it is often brought up by enthusiasts of academic history, it is only so it can serve as a foil to the current academic system. The retreating figures of the four great masters loom over academic history at a distance, unattainable. Academia Sinica and the Institute of History and Philology have moved to Taipei. Consequently, the scholarly community involved in the study of traditional Chinese culture and history studies has shrunk. In the textual history world of mainland China today, can this community begin again amidst domestic and international contexts that grow ever more complex? Can there be new research in traditional Chinese textual history? Can we become not just “predictors of the currents” in international academia, but also a new research base for the ways to interpret and explain Chinese textual history?

Index advance Asia 105 Alexander Gouvea 208 alignment of the practices of the spirits and Buddha 145 all under Heaven 22, 23, 30, 32–8, 42, 44, 58n115, 67, 68, 70, 72–6, 83, 85–91, 114, 116, 118, 118n252, 122, 124, 192 all under Heaven-ism 118 ancient layer 128, 128n270, 135–9, 185 Anderson, Benedict 2n3, 19, 21, 22n50, 123 Asia 2n3, 5n10, 6–11, 20, 24n55, 25, 27, 35n65, 81, 82, 82n170, 83, 83n174, 176, 84, 89, 103–26, 131, 143, 160, 161, 164, 165, 172, 174, 177, 178, 180, 181, 183n395, 198n415, 202, 203n428 Asian history 103n212, 143, 178, 180n392 the Asian intellectual community 8 Asianism 8n17, 103–26, 155, 160, 202 Barthes, Roland 101, 101n208 Bei YiDi, nan Man, dong Yi, xi Rongö (Yi Di of the north, Man of the south, Yi of the east, and Rong of the west) 192 Braudel, Fernand 172 Buddhist world view 8–9 Chʻa, Chu-hwan 142 Chan Hok-lam 31n61 Chavannes, E. 159, 199 Chen Yinke 150, 177, 184, 188, 188n399, 191, 195 Chen Yuan 150, 156n326, 188n399, 191, 195 Concentric-circle Theory 10–15 cosmopolitanism 116, 118, 125, 198n415 Daoism 90, 127–33, 138, 138n295, 139–45, 147–9, 172 Dikotter, Frank 58, 58n116, 72n151 the distinction between Chinese and barbarian 30, 110 Duara, Prasenjit 1, 3, 20 Dunhuang documents 177, 185, 188, 190, 195, 212, 213

the Eastern Sea 95, 172–86 empire 2, 5, 7, 7n16, 9, 12, 13, 15, 16, 18, 22, 23, 26, 35–8, 41, 43, 44, 60n118, 95, 101n207, 105n217, 115, 116, 118n252, 133, 161, 164–6, 168, 169, 172, 202, 205, 207 Fang Hao 207 Feng Chengjun 61n122, 91n189, 178n385, 199 Ferrand, G. 199 Foucault, Michel 1, 2n2, 19, 77 four emperors 91n189 From All under Heaven to Ten Thousand Countries 85–9 Fu Sinian 13, 150, 156, 170–171, 177, 183, 187–192, 197–198 Fukuzawa Yukichi 106, 106n219–221, 107, 108, 162, 162n343 Fujita Toyohachi 69, 155, 199 Fukui Fumimasa 129–132, 147–8 Fukunaga Mitsuji 128–131, 139–141, 147 Fuma Susumu 196 Gong Zizhen 166, 166n354 Gotō Shinpei 152, 158, 163, 164n347, 180 Gu Jiegang 171, 191–192 Hamashita Takeshi 6n12, 103, 181 Han China 2, 3, 15, 18, 19, 22, 27, 52, 155, 159, 160n338, 166, 169, 173n370, 175, 177, 181, 192, 194, 201 Haneda Tōru 7n16, 155, 157n332, 160n338, 184, 185n397, 199, 200 Hartwell, Robert 3, 4 Hirata Atsutane 146 the history of academia 150, 187–91 history of Mongol Period 17, 17n38 Ho Ping-ti 17–18 Honda Minobu 16, 17n38 Hsiao Chi-Ching 16n37 Hsing I-tien 54 Hu Shi xiii, 150, 195, 198, 212–213 Huangpu Shi 34, 34n64

216 imagined community 26, 116, 122, 123 Intersecting cultural history 206–11 Itō Hirobumi 114 Japanese study of the East 173–7 Japanism 103, 103n213, 124, 125 Jiang Tong 33 Jinʼichi Yano 7, 170, 182n394, 203 Katsurajima Nobuhiro 9n20, 105, 134 Kamono Mabuchi 146 Kawaguchi Ekai 153n320, 154 Kojima Tsuyoshi 5, 181 Koyasu Nobukuni xi, 162n344, 201, 201n420 Kubo Noritada 139 Kuroda Toshio 136, 138 Kuwabara Jitsuzō 153, 155, 157, 158n335, 159, 163n346, 175, 183n395, 199, 201n421 Levenson, Joseph R. 192, 193n406 Liang Qichao 45, 112, 117, 120, 121, 123, 168, 188, 189, 191, 212–213 Li Dazhao 122–123, 193 Li Hongzhang 114, 114n244, 169 Li Ji 14, 188, 189, 189n401 Li Zhizao 73, 208 Lin Tongchi 27–28 Lin Yusheng xi Liu Shipei 121 looking at China from its borders xii Louis le Comte 53 Mair, Victor H. 54 Manchuria, Mongolia, Xinjiang, Tibet, and Korea 150–7, 160–4, 168, 171, 202 Maspero, H. 179n389, 199 Miyazaki Ichisada 7n16, 8, 15n35, 82, 143– 145, 156–7, 174n374, 175n377, 183n395, 199n416, 207 Mizoguchi Yūzō 5, 103, 108n226, 134n280, 181 modern European study of the East 173–7 modernity 14, 21, 23, 105, 107, 110, 113, 118, 122n263, 123–6, 158, 160, 171, 173, 185, 200–2 Motoori Norinaga 105n217 Naba Toshisada 138n295, 139 Naitō Konan 152–3, 158, 162

Index nationalism 1, 2n3, 13, 14, 19n44, 20n47, 22, 23n52, 25, 28, 30, 35, 46, 106n222, 115n245, 118, 123–6, 133, 163, 190, 198n215, 204n430 nation-state 1, 2, 7, 8, 10, 19–24, 26–8, 31, 37, 39, 46, 47, 50, 89, 101, 104, 123, 125, 133, 151, 161, 168, 169, 171, 182n394, 183, 202–6, 213 Naka Michiyo 152–3, 156, 159, 174–5, 199, 201 new Qing history 18n41 Nishikawa Nagao 22, 28 Nishijima Sadao 24n53, 24n55, 34, 35n65, 128 Oka Motoshi 4, 4n9 Okakura Tenshin 108, 132, 197 Ƭtani Kōzui 154 orthodoxy 24, 29–52, 92, 189, 191 Ouyang Xiu 29, 29n57, 31, 31n61, 37n70, 39, 39n76, 41–3, 49 Pelliot, Paul 91n189, 155n326–156, 174n372, 179n389, 181, 182n393, 199 postmodern history 19–22 predict the currents 150, 184, 188n399, 195, 213 Qian Daxin 176, 194 Qian Mu 33 Rawski, Evelyn S. 17–18 regional studies 3n6, 4, 6, 204 Ricci, Matteo 53–76 Rossabi Morris 36 Said, Edward W. 70, 84, 85n180 Sakade Yoshinobu 139 Shen Zengzhi 69, 176n381, 194, 194n408 Shi Jie 29, 29n56 Shintō 9, 129, 130, 130n274, 133–8, 139n298, 145, 146, 146n312, 313, 147, 148 Shiratori Kurakichi 129–130, 152–153, 155–157, 159–160, 163, 170, 175, 180, 199, 201–202 Siyi (four barbarians) 94 Skinner, Quentin 211 Soja, Edward 102 Standaert, Nicolas 207–208

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Index the study of western regions and southern seas 155 Sueki Fumihiko 103, 135, 136n284, 137n292, 145 Sugiyama Masaaki 16–7, 153 Sun Baoxuan 113 Sun Yat-sen 15n33, 112–113, 170n364 system of enfeoffment 182 Takeuchi Yoshimi 8n17, 103, 104, 104n216 Tang-era Zoroastrianism, Nestorian Christianity, and Manicheanism 194 Tao Jing-shen 35–36 Tarui Tōkichi 107–8 Teramoto Enga 153–4 Thinking from the perspective of Asia 6–10 three sacred treasures 139 transmitted orthodoxy 50 tributary system 23, 30, 35, 107, 182 Tsuda Sōkichi 128–135, 139, 141, 144, 152, 163, 180 Tu Cheng-sheng 11–14 Wada Sei 152n318, 161n341, 163, 199, 202n425 Wang Guowei 155n326, 165–166, 168, 177, 181–182, 188–189, 195, 212 Wang Kaiyun 117 Wang Kangnian 113, 121–122 Wang Xianqian 114, 114n242 Watanabe Hiroshi 9n18, 210, 211n440 Watarai Ieyuki 137, 137n289, 146 Wei Yuan 16, 166, 167, 167n355, 175n378, 176 Weng Tonghe 118, 119n253

the western regions 55n110, 61, 61n122, 62n127, 91, 92, 151, 154, 155, 157, 158, 161n338, 165, 166, 172–86 Wittfogel, K.A. 18 Wu Han 196 Xue Fucheng 116, 116n247, 119, 119n254, 255 Yamazaki Ansai 146 Yang Du 121 yidi (the barbarians) 87, 94 Yoshida Kanetomo 137, 137n290, 139n298 Yu Yingshi 213n443 Zeng Jize 111, 111n233 Zhang Guangda 172 Zhang Qian 54, 55, 60n118 Zhang Taiyan 111–112, 120, 168–169 Zhao Rushi 56, 56n11, 60n119, 62, 62n127 Zheng Ruozeng 94, 95 Zheng Xiaoxu 114, 114n243 Zhongguo 1n1, 6n12, 7n15, 10n23, 12n28, 29, 16n37, 21n49, 24, 29, 29n56, 57, 32–4, 37, 45, 48, 49, 50n102, 57n113, 61n122, 70n145, 77, 78, 78n161, 84n177, 86n183, 87n184, 94, 95n194, 104n215, 109n229, 110, 110n231, 111n232, 113n239, 117n248, 121, 121n260, 262, 123n264, 124n267, 268, 143n308, 154n323, 156n326, 165n349, 169n363, 173n370, 175, 177n383, 179n386, 389, 185n398, 191, 193n406, 205, 209n438, 210n439, 212n442, 213n444 Zuo Zongtang 169 Zürcher, Erich 211