Month: October 2020

A Comparison of Depictions of the Imperial Chinese Worldview: Ge and Wang

Both Zhaoguang Ge and Edward Wang discuss in their respective articles the development of the Chinese worldview throughout the imperial period. They both follow how China sees itself geographically and ethnically within Asia, and within the wider international system, as represented through historical writings from the pre-Qin era (pre-221 B.C.E.) to the Qing dynasty (1644-1911 A.D.).

Ge comments that the first stage of developing a Chinese ‘worldview’ in its traditional historiography takes place during the Han dynasty (206-220 B.C.E.). During this time, Sima Qian and the Shiji had great influence, but Ge argues almost all Han historians “failed to transcend their own ethnocentrism” (2020: 3), and perceptions of the world remained China-centred. Similarly to Ge, Wang highlights the China-focused, hierarchical early Chinese worldview that judged external peoples along their own moral and social lines (1999: 287). However, Wang further reveals that the relationship between the Han and non-Han peoples was complex; the efforts and input of both came together to form the Chinese worldview as it changed over time (1999: 289).

Ge argues that there were several opportunities throughout the history of China’s historiographical development for the acceptance of a wider ranging worldview. He claims it did not achieve this until the introduction of a global perspective in educational history textbooks in the late 19th century/early 20th century. Wang notes that in tracking developments in Chinese history and in demarcating this from the rest of the world, we often incorrectly assume that its present inhabitants are a “fixed entity” (1999: 286). Thus, he notes that in referring to the ‘Chinese’ or ‘Han’ people as an ethnic definition, we must refer to the flux of peoples who inhabited the areas surrounding the Yellow and Yangzi Rivers, and to its self-determining historical past (Wang 1999: 286-7). As opposed to Ge, who focuses China’s philosophical globalisation as occurring during the Qing dynasty, Wang emphasises the achievements of earlier dynasties, such as the Tang (618-907 A.D.) and the Mongol-Yuan (1279-1368 A.D.) dynasties.

In particular, Wang emphasises how the Tang dynasty was known in history for its “openness and flexibility in regard to the other,” and how this was due to its comprehensive culture that was able to encompass almost all ethnicities associated with the dynasty at the time (1999: 299). The Tang’s cosmopolitanism, for Wang, paved the way for a new global Chinese perspective. However, this was lost and replaced by traditional Han and non-Han dichotomies during the Song dynasty (960-1279 A.D.) due to the rise of non-Han powers in the north that challenged the Song’s culturalist approach (p. 300-301). Alternatively, according to Ge the first major transformation in Chinese global knowledge occurred during the Song dynasty (960-1279 A.D.) as a result of the introduction of Buddhism in the medieval period. This helped to develop the idea of territories outside of China consisting of ‘interior’ (close neighbours, named barbarian states) and ‘exterior’ (legitimate foreign powers). Ge argues that China began to think of itself as “among equals” internationally, making distinctions between the self and the other, distinguishing foreign states from barbarian states (2020: 6). Wang corroborates with Ge on this second point, suggesting a multistate worldview existed during the Song dynasty that represented Chinese identity as culturally, rather than ethnically, defined (1999: 302).

Ge emphasizes how the Mongol-Yuan dynasty (1279-1368 B.C.E.) facilitated a continuation of Song ideas and an introduction of a “quasi-global perspective,” but argues that they still placed the people that made up the Han and Tang empires as the central principle of how they observed the world (2020: 7-8). Wang alternatively states that during the Yuan dynasty, the Han ethnic people were “placed at the bottom of its social stratum,” which led to greater differentiation between the self and the other during the Ming dynasty (1368-1644 A.D.) (1999: 303).

However, it is interesting to note that Wang also highlights how – because of the way in which official dynastic histories were recorded, whereby the present empire is required to complete the histories of the previous one – the Ming needed to place themselves as legitimate successors of the Yuan. In doing this, they had to confirm that non-Han peoples could indeed influence the historical development of culture in China. Thus, the outer-periphery model of the Song was adapted to occur by “realpolitik arrangement,” rather than along ethnic lines (Wang 1999: 303).

Although Wang only touches on the developments of worldviews during the Qing period (1644-1911 A.D.) at the end of his article – arguing that the Qing defined China along its physical boundary established through military conquest (1999: 304) – Ge takes the Qing as the centre point of his article. Ge argues that the influence of Western powers and diplomatic pressures on China from outside colonial forces (Britain, Russia, etc.) indicated the need for an intrinsic change in how China thought of itself within the international system. Additionally, translation and publications of several Western written texts within China contributed to this change, as well as Chinese writers’ travelling experiences of foreign countries. China’s domestic and foreign policy came under pressure late in the Qing era, forcing a change in traditional ways of thinking about time and space. How China geographically fitted into this narrative altered its historical conceptions of the wider world (Ge 2020: 9-11).

Thus, although examining the imperial period using the same chronological markers, Ge and Wang’s articles differ in their discussion and opinion of each dynasty, and how the histories of these dynasties intersected with one another. Ge’s article focuses on the Qing dynasty as a final indicator of a globalised Chinese worldview, but only addresses this in his final few pages. Wang, however, explores the changes in this worldview much more theoretically, taking into consideration changes in spatial perceptions, as well as those of the Chinese ethnic identity as a whole.

Works cited:

Ge, Zhaoguang, ‘The Evolution of a World Consciousness in Traditional Chinese Historiography,’ Global Intellectual History, (16th March 2020): 1-19

Wang, Edward, ‘History, Space, and Ethnicity: The Chinese Worldview,’ Journal of World History, Vol. 10, No. 2 (1999): 285-305

How the Basic Annals of Empress Lu demonstrates Sima Qian’s separation from Confucianism

Confucian influences are clearly found in the Shiji as nearly half of the personal comments included in the work refer to Confucius himself.[1] Sima Qian’s approach to history however showcases differences to the morally regimented style of Confucian chronicles which preceded him. The Shiji’s contradictory approach to morality creates a complex narrative in an attempt to create a universal history.[2] Sima Qian often deviates from Confucianism principles as a result. He often forgoes the concrete morals of Confucius by sympathising with historical figures that break rules in order to do the right thing.[3] This is best demonstrated in Shiji 9 which details the reign of Empress Lu. Whilst his description of Lu throughout this chapter depicts the Empress as a particularly cruel figure, the grand historian’s personal judgement paints a different picture.

He says, ‘…Empress Lu, though a woman ruling in the manner of an emperor, conducted the business of government without ever leaving her private chambers, and the world was at peace.’[4]

By presenting Empress Lu as a woman who brought peace to the world after the tumultuous period of the Warring States shows the level of respect Sima Qian had for the Empress. This can be illustrated when delving into Empress Lu’s inclusion into the 120 chapters that feature in the Shiji.[5] In this attempt at universal history, Sima Qian’s judgement is passed in a much subtler manner compared to that of Confucius. Grant Hardy discusses this concept of subtly by suggesting Sima Qian’s method of inclusion or exclusion, amongst manner other editing factors, can indicate the author’s view on these historical subjects.[6] The fact that basic annals mostly dedicated to male emperors and generals included Empress Lu shows the importance the author placed on her. Sima Qian does not attempt to grapple with what many Confucian historians would criticise as a change from the natural order of heaven but instead decides to record her reign in detail whilst also giving his own seal of approval. This is certainly the case when contrasted with other contemporary historians’ opinions of Empress Lu which Hans van Ess elaborates on when contrasting Sima Qian with Ban Gu.[7] The latter’s depiction of the empress is much more condemning when describing her deeds compared to what features in the Shiji. Whilst Sima Qian does not view Lu as perfect by any means, he still attests to her attributes which Confucian ideologies refused to do as explained by Ess when comparing Ban Gu’s biography.

This key difference demonstrates how Sima Qian’s philosophy was different to that of Confucianism. Whilst he recognises the taboo of a woman posessing as much power as Empress Lu did, Sima Qian still appreciates the virtues she held in her position and the effects it had on China. Instead of following on the dogmatic path which saw any empress dowager taking control as an omen, the Shiji takes a more complex approach by acknowledging the benefits of a figure like Empress Lu and how it actually effected the state. The grand historian’s judgement substantiates Lu as a ruler who allowed the world to be at peace. As a result, it shows that whilst Sima Qian clearly holds some apprehension toward Lu, he still acknowledges the impressive attributes and effect she had on China which Confucian scholars (like Ban Gu) do not cite at all. Therefore, this particular chapter shows how Sima Qian was less dogmatic in his approach to history compared to other Confucian chronicles.

[1] Grant Hardy, World of Bronze and Bamboo: Sima Qian’s Conquest of History (Columbia, 1999) pp. 116

[2] Ibid 201

[3] Ibid 199

[4] Sima Qian, Records of the Grand Historian of China Vol 1, trans WM. Theodore, ed. Burton Watson (Columbia, 1971) pp. 340

[5] William H. Nienhauser Jr., ‘Sima Qian and the Shiji’ in Andrew Feldherr and Grant Hardy (eds.) The Oxford History of Historical Writing: Volume 1: Beginnings to AD 600 (Oxford, 2011) pp. 469

[6] Hardy, Worlds of Bronze and Bamboo, pp. 130-5

[7] Hans van Ess, ‘Praise and Slander: The Evocation of Empress Lü in the Shiji and the Hanshu’ in NAN NÜ8, no.2 (1 January 2006): 250-4.

Modern Japanese bushidō: An ‘invented tradition’?

Whilst reading the book Inventing the Way of the Samurai: Nationalism, internationalism and Bushidō in Modern Japan by Oleg Benesch, I was intrigued by his comments linking the ethic of bushidō to the concept of ‘invented tradition’, coined by Eric Hobsbawm. I thought it would be interesting to analyse whether bushido was an ‘invented tradition’ by discussing how bushidō was adopted into nationalistic discourse within Japan, in order to create a sense of national identity. Therefore, I will be discussing the modern rise of bushidō as a Japanese ethic and whether we can approach this ethic as an ‘invented tradition’. 

Firstly, what is bushidō? The popular view across Japan holds that bushidō or ‘the way of the warrior’ was a centuries-old code of conduct and honour embedded in the historical Samurai. However, it came to prominence as an ethic and was well integrated across Japanese society in the modern period. Therefore, Bushidō has become categorised as the “soul” of the Japanese people. 1 The concept of ‘invented tradition’ on the other hand has roots in the historical works of Eric Hobsbawm, whose works became influential during the 1960’s. He argued that new nations which were forming at the end of the Nineteenth Century partook in the invention or re-appropriation of the past for a variety of end-goals. Hobsbawm argued that the concept of ‘invented tradition’ was a particularly contemporary development, because certain narratives were moulded to form an agenda for national renewal during the rise of the nation state. The notion of the ‘invented tradition’ is clear in the modern development of the nation and nationalism, as these traditions attempted to create a sense of unity by establishing a national identity. Eric Hobsbawm wrote that these traditions which “appear or claim to be old are often quite recent in origin and sometimes invented”. 2

It is interesting to ponder whether bushidō therefore can be recognised as an ‘invented tradition’. The formation of bushidō into a national ethic was a modern phenomenon within Japan, as central symbols were borrowed from the historical samurai in order to forge a distinct national identity based on the reverence of “the way of the warrior”. When reading the book Inventing the Way of the Samurai: Nationalism, internationalism and Bushidō in Modern Japan by Oleg Benesch, the author discusses how bushidō was embraced by Imperialist Japan as a cornerstone of loyalty to the state and was therefore utilised for progressive ends. For instance, it was senior military figures and those within the Japanese governmental sphere in the Twentieth Century who stimulated a form of bushido that emphasised obedience and honour, as it supported their ambitions to assert a more forceful foreign policy. This is evidenced by Oleg Benesch writing that those who created the modern concept of bushidō were “concerned less with Japan’s past than the nation’s future”, as bushidō became a useful tool for inspiring nationalistic devotion. 3 This highlights that bushidō was originally promulgated as a traditional samurai ethic, and only later became a defining trait of Japanese national character. 

The formation of bushidō echoes the idea that “communities often (consciously or unconsciously) partake in the invention and re-appropriation of the past for various ends”. 4  Analysing the transformation of bushidō shows that the majority of its legitimacy stems from its alleged historical roots. This is evidenced by the existence of a variety of differing interpretations of bushidō, because “modern theorists often carefully selected aspects of earlier history, philosophy, and legend to support their specific bushidō interpretations”. 5 For example, it is widely understood that the Meiji, Taishō and Shōwa governments utilised and modified bushidō as an ideology which helped to redirect devotion from feudal lords back to the emperor. 

However, this ambiguity has meant that bushidō has been endorsed as a timeless ‘way of the warrior’ and, consequently, this tradition is adaptable due to the lack of an exact definition or historic origin. Yet still it is the perceived historical origin of bushidō as a traditional ethic that has bestowed upon bushidō an amalgamation of legitimacy but also suppleness which has allowed it to be adapted and interpreted across a variety of different time periods and situations. In this way, we can understand how bushidō is viewed as an ‘invented tradition’ by historians who argue that the original concept of the ‘way of the warrior’ has been appropriated for Japanese nationalistic ends and to form a cohesive national identity. 

  1. Oleg Benesch, Inventing the Way of the Samurai: Nationalism, internationalism and Bushidō in Modern Japan, (Columbia, 2011), p.1. [↩]
  2. Eric Hobsbawm, Terence Ranger, The Invention of Tradition, (Cambridge, 1983), p.1. [↩]
  3. Oleg Benesch, Bushido: The Creation of Martial Ethic in Late Meiji Japan, (Columbia, 2011), p.3. [↩]
  4. James Shields, “Review: Inventing the Way of the Samurai: Nationalism, Internationalism and Bushidō in Modern Japan”, Journal of Japanese Studies, Vol. 43 (2017), p.448. [↩]
  5. Ibid., p.449. [↩]

The Odes: How folk songs and high society intersect in the Guó Fēng

The Odes (Shi) are one of the Five Confucian Classics. The title, “Shi”, roughly translated to “poems”, “odes”, or “songs”, and they are also known as the ‘Classic of Poetry’. They are performance texts, composed by unknown individuals and compiled as anthologies. Highly rhetorical accounts of the past, they are thought to represent a cultural legacy and a guide to the distant past by Imperial Chinese elites.

As an anthology, the Odes are split into three rhythmical sections: the “Court Songs” (Ya), the “Hymns” (Song) and the “Airs of the States” (Guó Fēng). The 40 Hymns (Song) were often performed alongside dances and plays to commemorate the Shang, Zhou and Lu ruling dynastic houses, and they formed a key part of state sacrifices despite having no formal rhyme scheme. The Court Songs (Ya), numbering 105 pieces, can further be separated into two categories: major and minor. Used for official state events and entertainment, they conveyed political messages through their musical patterns; “The tones from a time of good rule are peaceful and happy, as the government is balanced. The tones from a time of chaos are resentful and angry, as the government is unbalanced.” (Nylan 2001:81). The most commonly used, and most significant in number with 160 different poems, was the Airs of the States (Guó Fēng). These short, single-themed songs concerned daily life, love, and war, and are structured in brief stanzas with an occasional line-by-line rhyme scheme. The Guó Fēng verses of the Odes anthology found its origins in localised and regional folk songs of the various territorial states of Zhou, and were compiled through mass governmental collection.

It is within the fascinating evolution of the Guó Fēngthat these short, single-themed folk songs concerning daily life developed into extended metaphorical vehicles for expressing emotion and intent in situations of diplomacy and high society. They are said to have been collected by officers dispatched by the Zhou Dynasty court to allow the king to observe the state of the common people. For the Zhou, whose ideological governance style was rooted in the benign nature of their rulers, the conditions of the common people were of great importance in indicating successful rule. As such, the Guó Fēng was compiled and performed for royal audiences to allow them to assert their benevolence.

Despite this, they were very commonly known due to their folk origins, serving a dual purpose of contributing towards common discourse and being expressionistic of high culture. For the elites, they represented a cultural legacy and guide to the distant past. They operated as a didactic instrument, preserving cultural lessons and teachings held only previously in memory – using continuous metaphorical imagery to do so. By the imperial period, the Odes were taught from a young age: an “early thesaurus and book of etiquette rolled into one…” (Nylan 2001:92). Publicly, they functioned as graceful and indirect vehicles for expressing emotion and intent in diplomatic settings, allowing one to address delicate matters subtly, within accepted customs and without embarrassment.

For the non-elites, the Odes placed a strong emphasis on friendship and humans as social beings, operating as a means to integrate oneself within a larger social phenomenon. They facilitated singing in harmony and contributed towards a sense of community. Both performers and listeners – through their interpretations – participated in endowing each Ode with meaning alongside that intended by the original composer.

The evolution of the anthology from its early textual history into what we see now is not cohesively documented, although the fairly consistent voice throughout suggests at least one unified final reworking of the collection. The notion of an original text attached to a single time/place/situation/author is misleading. Rather, conscious repetition and their malleable nature gave the performance texts cultural influence and allowed for elites and royal audiences to renovate individual Odes and endow them with expressions of high culture.

Works cited:

Nylan, Michael, ‘Chapter 2: The Odes,’ The Five “Confucian” Classics (2001)

Mulan’s Feet: The symbolism of foot-binding

Within the dramatization of the tale of Mulan by Xu Wei, a Ming Dynasty intellectual, I found the emphasis on Mulan’s bound feet interesting due to the cultural symbols associated with foot-binding. By drawing attention to Mulan unbinding her feet, Xu Wei places Mulan at the centre of the male gaze. The cultural symbolism behind the sensuality of the bound foot is important to comprehend when understanding the references and motives behind Wei’s inclusion of Mulan’s bound feet into the play. Through an analysis of Xu Wei’s play ‘Female Mulan joins the Army in the Place of Her Father’ we can reflect on its focus on Mulan’s femininity, and on why the inclusion of bound feet is noteworthy within the play. 

“Just-removed, the half-folded Tiny Ripple-Riding Socks bindings… My family has a method for shrinking golden lotuses”

‘Female Mulan joins the Army in the Place of Her Father’1

Within China in the Song Dynasty foot-binding became popular amongst the elite class, and by the Qing Dynasty the custom had been more widely adopted. The bound foot became the focus of female sensuality and a key cultural symbol. The play ‘Female Mulan joins the Army in the Place of Her Father’ includes a scene where Mulan is seen unbinding her feet, and discussing her apprehension concerning the impact of her unbound feet upon her marriage prospects. The text is full of common metaphors, which are utilised to both mystify and eroticise Mulan’s bound feet. ‘Golden lotuses’ is a central metaphor for feet that have been through the process of foot-binding, as it is meant to evoke the idea of “dancing on floating lotuses”, as women who have bound feet walk in mincing dainty steps.2 This effect of bound feet was deemed desirable, as it became a standard of beauty to have petite and delicate feet. In this way, the manner Mulan’s bound feet are discussed in highlights how ‘golden lotuses’ were viewed as an intimate part of the female body and a representation of femininity.3 

So why did Mulan’s feet become erotized in the play ‘Female Mulan joins the Army in the Place of Her Father’? There are notable scenes that display the sexualisation of Mulan’s feet. For instance, as the start of the play as Mulan dresses in male clothing to prepare for military service, she unbinds her feet and states her plan to re-bind them upon her return home so she will still be suitable for marriage. The author’s ambition to please his audience also had a role to play, as Xu Wei allowed Mulan’s feet to be unbound and discussed explicitly on stage, thus intensifying a voyeuristic indulgence for the presumably male audience. Howard Levy supports this, arguing that the process of foot-binding was a feminine mystic created for the male gaze, which transforms the bound foot into a critical manifestation of sensuality.4 Furthermore, it is important to note that Xu Wei gives Mulan bound feet despite the fact that the story is set in Northern Wei centuries before the tradition of foot-binding became a widespread social custom. The play is full of sexual implications due to its focus on Mulan’s feet which, given the audience was likely the male elite class, would have been considered erotic due to the connotations associated with bound feet particularly for upper-class men. Alongside this, the image of Mulan within the play reinforces her as a virtuous woman in Neo-Confucian times, as foot-binding became a manifestation of Confucian ideals and was deemed to be an essential aspect of being feminine. 

Another unusual aspect is the portrayal of Mulan openly discussing and unbinding her feet, as bound feet were traditionally kept private and never exposed, demonstrated by the fact that even erotic images of Chinese women usually portrayed the women with their feet covered by shoes or bindings. Concealment therefore is central to the mystical nature of bound feet. Which is why the authors decision to show Mulan unbinding her feet is particularly striking, as usually “women attended to their feet in the strictest privacy”.5 In this way, we can begin to unravel the reasoning behind the authors decision to give Mulan bound feet, as both a symbol of her feminine identity and in order to please his male audience who would have been shocked yet captivated by the open depiction of Mulan unbinding her feet. 

  1. Wang, Zhuoyi, “Cultural “authenticity” as a Conflict-Ridden Hypotext: Muland (1998), Mulan Joins the Army (1939) and a Millennium-Long Intertexual Metamorphosis”, Arts 9 (2020), p.9 [↩]
  2. Ibid., p.9 [↩]
  3. Blake, Fred, “Foot-Binding in Neo-Confucian China and the Appropriation of Female Labor”, The University of Chicago Press 19 (1994) p.707 [↩]
  4. Levy, Howard, Chinese Footbinding: The History of a Curious Erotic Custom, (London, 1969), p.37 [↩]
  5. Blake, Fred, “Foot-Binding in Neo-Confucian China and the Appropriation of Female Labour”, The University of Chicago Press 19 (1994) p.688 [↩]