China and International Relations: The Chinese View and the Contribution of Wang Gungwu

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China and International Relations

Despite Beijing’s repeated assurance that China’s rise will be ‘peaceful’, the United States, Japan and the European Union as well as many of China’s Asian neighbours feel uneasy about it. Although China’s rise could be seen as inevitable, it remains uncertain as to how a politically and economically powerful China will behave, and how it will conduct its relations with the outside world. One major problem with understanding China’s international relations is that Western concepts of international relations only partially explain China’s approach. China’s own flourishing, indigenous community of international relations scholars have borrowed many concepts from the West, but their application has not been entirely successful, so the work of conceptualizing and theorizing China’s approach to international relations remains incomplete. Written by some of the foremost scholars in the field of China studies, this book focuses on the work of Wang Gungwu – one of the most influential scholars writing on international relations – and includes topics such as empire, the nation-state, nationalism, state ideology, and the Chinese view of world order. Besides honouring Wang Gungwu as a great scholar, the book explores how China can be integrated more fully into international relations (IR) studies and theories; discusses the extent to which existing IR theory succeeds or fails to explain Chinese IR behaviour, and demonstrates how the study of Chinese experiences can enrich the IR field. Yongnian Zheng is Professor and Director of the East Asian Institute at the National University of Singapore. His many books include (as author) Technological Empowerment, De facto Federalism, Globalization and State Transformation in China, Discovering Chinese Nationalism in China, and Will China Become Democratic, and (as co-editor) The Chinese Communist Party in Reform, and China and the New International Order.

China Policy Series Series Editor Zheng Yongnian, East Asian Institute, National University of Singapore.

1 China and the New International Order Edited by Wang Gungwu and Zheng Yongnian 2 China’s Opening Society The non-state sector and governance Edited by Zheng Yongnian and Joseph Fewsmith 3 Zhao Ziyang and China’s Political Future Edited by Guoguang Wu and Helen Lansdowne 4 Hainan – State, Society, and Business in a Chinese Province Kjeld Erik Brodsgaard 5 Non-Governmental Organizations in China The rise of dependent autonomy Yiyi Lu 6 Power and Sustainability of the Chinese State Edited by Keun Lee, Joon-Han Kim and Wing Thye Woo

7 China’s Information and Communications Technology Revolution Social changes and state responses Edited by Xiaoling Zhang and Zheng Yongnian 8 Socialist China, Capitalist China Social tension and political adaptation under economic globalisation Edited by Guoguang Wu and Helen Lansdowne 9 Environmental Activism in China Lei Xei 10 China’s Rise in the World ICT Industry Industrial strategies and the catch-up development model Lutao Ning 11 China’s Local Administration Traditions and changes in the sub-national hierarchy Edited by Jae-Ho Chung and Tao-chiu Lam

12 The Chinese Communist Party as Organizational Emperor Culture, reproduction and transformation Zheng Yongian

14 Legitimating the Chinese Communist Party since Tiananmen A critical analysis of the stability discourse Peter Sandby-Thomas

13 China’s Trade Unions – How Autonomous Are They? Masaharu Hishida, Kazuko Kojima, Tomoaki Ishii and Jian Qiao

15 China and International Relations The Chinese view and the contribution of Wang Gungwu Zheng Yongnian

China and International Relations The Chinese view and the contribution of Wang Gungwu Edited by Zheng Yongnian

First published 2010 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2010. To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk. © 2010 Zheng Yongnian for selection and editorial matter; individual contributors their contribution All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data China and international relations : the Chinese view and the contribution of Wang Gungwu / [edited by] Zheng Yongnian. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-415-57607-9 (cloth : alk. paper)—ISBN 978-0-203-85003-9 (ebook) 1. China—Foreign relations. 2. China—Politics and government. 3. International relations. 4. Wang, Gungwu. I. Yongnian, Zheng. JZ1734.C54 2010 327.51—dc22 2009050155 ISBN 0-203-85003-3 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 978-0-415-57607-9 (hbk) ISBN 978-0-203-85003-9 (ebook)

Contents

List of tables List of contributors Preface Acknowledgements

x xi xiii xix

PART I

Historicity and social foundation of China’s domestic order and international relations

1

1 Historicity and international relations: a tribute to Wang Gungwu

3

ROBERT W. COX

2 A re-appraisal of Abrahamic values and neorealist IR theory: from a Confucian-Asian perspective

17

JAMES C. HSIUNG

3 Historians and Chinese world order: Fairbank, Wang, and the matter of ‘indeterminate relevance’

42

PAUL EVANS

4 The historical roots and character of secularism in China PRASENJIT DUARA

58

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Contents

PART II

Reinterpreting China’s ‘world order’ 5 Rethinking the “tribute system”: broadening the conceptual horizon of historical East Asian politics

73

75

ZHANG FENG

6 Traditional Chinese theory and practice of foreign relations: a reassessment

102

REN XIAO

7 Traditional China and the globalization of international relations thinking

117

BRANTLY WOMACK

PART III

Chinese overseas and China’s international relations 8 Conceptualizing Chinese migration and Chinese overseas: the contribution of Wang Gungwu

137

139

HUANG JIANLI

9 China, Cuba, and the Chinese in Cuba: emigration, international relations, and how they interact

158

GREGOR BENTON

10 Chinese overseas and a rising China: the limits of a diplomatic “diaspora option”

177

LIU HONG

PART IV

China in contemporary world politics

201

11 Understanding the intangible in international relations: the cultural dimension of China’s integration with the international community

203

WANG HONGYING

Contents 12 Has the rise of China made Latin America more unsafe?

ix 221

TONY SPANAKOS AND YU XIAO

13 Japan’s response to the fall and rise of China: the shift of foreign policy mainstream thinking

245

ZHAO QUANSHENG

PART V

Historical continuity and transformation of China’s international relations

269

14 The returned China with Chineseness in history and world politics: a deeper understanding with intellectual guidance from Wang Gungwu

271

SHI YINHONG

15 Organizing China’s inter-state relations: from “tianxia” (all-under-heaven) to the modern international order

293

ZHENG YONGNIAN

16 Wang Gungwu, the transnational, and research imagination

322

ZHANG YONGJIN

Index

342

Tables

12.1 12.2 12.3 12.4 12.5 15.1

China’s exports to Latin America from 2001 to 2009 (Q1) China’s imports from Latin America from 2001 to 2009 (Q1) Wars and militarized interstate disputes (I) Wars and militarized interstate disputes (II) Acute political crises in Latin America, 1992–2009 Institutions governing power relations between and among states in the system

228 229 231 233 236 301

Contributors

Editor Zheng Yongnian, Professor and Director of East Asian Institute, National University of Singapore

Other contributors Gregor Benton, Professor of Chinese History, Cardiff School of History and Archaeology, Cardiff University, Wales Robert Cox, Professor of Political Science and Social and Political Thought, York University, Toronto Prasenjit Duara, Professor of History, Department of History, and Research Director, Vice President Office, National University of Singapore Paul Evans, Professor and Director of the Institute of Asian Research, the University of British Columbia James C. Hsiung, Professor of Politics, New York University Huang Jianli, Associate Professor of History, Department of History, National University of Singapore Liu Hong, Professor of East Asian Studies and Director of Centre for Chinese Studies and Confucius Institute, Manchester University, United Kingdom Ren Xiao, Professor of International Politics, Institute of International Studies, Fudan University, China Shi Yinhong, Professor of International Politics, School of International Relations, Renmin University of China Tony Spanakos, Assistant Professor, Department of Political Science, Montclair State University Brantly Womack, Professor of Political Science, Department of Politics, University of Virginia

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Contributors

Wang Hongying, Associate Professor of Political Science, Maxwell School of Citizenship and Public Affairs, Syracuse University Yu Xiao, MA Candidate, Department of Political Science, New York University Zhang Feng, Assistant Professor of Political Science, Institute of International Studies, Qinghua University, China Zhang Yongjin, Professor of International Politics, Department of Politics, University of Bristol, United Kingdom Zhao Quansheng, Professor of international relations and Director of Center for Asian Studies, American University

Preface Zheng Yongnian

Studies of China’s international relations (IR) are now at a critical point. China is rising fast to become a great power in the world, and its rise is increasingly affecting world affairs. The international community – especially big powers like the United States, Japan and European Union (EU) – is anxious about China’s rise.1 While China’s rise is inevitable, it remains uncertain how a stronger China will behave in world affairs. Among others, one major source of uncertainty comes from the inadequacies of existing IR theories in helping us understand China’s international behaviour, since how China is perceived depends on the theoretical framework employed. Theoretical frameworks have often defined IR debates. In North America and some parts of Europe, the two major IR theories, namely realism and liberalism, and their neo-versions have dominated the field for decades. Realism is associated with the exercise of power by states and it places an overwhelming premium on the concept of power which is a measure of state influence. Liberalism emphasizes the workings of international laws and regimes, morality, as well as international institutions as factors of constraint on the exercise of raw power. Such ideas have imposed the idea of universalism of Western scientific tradition on parts, if not the whole, of East Asia. Neo-liberalism and neo-realism differ little from their older versions. Both neo-liberalism and neo-realism emphasize power relations. In the Western worldview, international relations can be applied to China elegantly as China’s rise is either an opportunity or a threat – depending on the perspective of neo-liberalists or neo-realists. China does not fit into these two major frameworks perfectly. If the influence of a state is proportional to its power, then China seems to be far less influential than its size permits (especially if population is taken into consideration). This is also reflected by the fact that the post-Deng regime did not assert Chinese power projections into the region or the world in proportion to its size and instead harps on peaceful rise. Distinctly non-realist, it has also idealistically promoted six-party talks; an ASEAN–China free-trade agreement (FTA); allowing ASEAN to be in the driver’s seat for regional integration, and so on. It also does not fit into the concept of liberalism, given its ability to strike back when its core interests are threatened (e.g. war against Vietnam in 1979; Paracels in 1974; Mischief Reef in 1995; missile firings across the Taiwan Strait in mid-1990s, etc.) and its suspicions of Western attempts at promoting democratization and human rights as defined by the West

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(e.g. arc of democracy by Shinzo Abe; trilateral talks by Rice and Downer; US allies’ exercises in the region; India-Vietnam-Japan-US cooperation, etc.). Some scholars in the West have also employed constructivism to reconstruct concepts and theories of China’s inter-state experience in the past to explain and predict China’s international behaviour. But these scholars have met with only limited success.2 Scholars within China are often suspicious of any explanation and prediction on China by Western scholars. They, however, are not ready to provide any alternative approach to explain the international behaviour of their own country, despite rapid development of IR studies as a discipline. In China, IR first emerged as an autonomous academic discipline in the early 1980s. Over the past two decades, it has grown into a vigorous field in spite of severe political inhibitions and ideological constraints. China can now boast one of the largest IR epistemic communities in the world in terms of numbers of student, faculties, research centres, policy analysts and practitioners. Increasingly intense discussion about international relations has been taking place among Chinese scholars and those beyond Chinese borders, particularly with the China’s rise in power over the past decades. Nevertheless, the past decades have also witnessed the Americanization of China’s IR studies. Chinese IR scholars have borrowed concepts developed out of Western experiences in international relations to develop IR studies in China. Many inside and outside China have realized that both mechanical applications of the existing concepts or Americanization will not help in the proper understanding of China’s international behaviour.3 Indeed, scholars in other disciplines encounter a similar situation. For instance, Western sociologists and political scientists tend to take, as their starting point, the experiences of European nation-states and ask if the theories derived from Western nationalism could readily be applied.4 In recent years, there has been a call for developing a Chinese school of IR studies, but the call has not gone beyond itself. No serious work has been done in conceptualizing/theorizing China’s international behaviour from a non-Western perspective. While it is debatable whether a Chinese school of IR studies is needed, it is important to analyse China’s international relations within a theoretical framework given the role China is playing on the world stage. Such an endeavour will contribute significantly to IR studies in general and to China studies in particular. Indeed, any IR theory, if it cannot adequately explain Chinese international behaviour, will become less useful. How to bring together the studies of China and theories of IR? This volume aims to move towards that goal by examining Wang Gungwu’s scholarship. As a historian, Wang has written on various subjects, including China’s international relations. Many scholars have benefited tremendously from his insights and wisdom about international relations, especially with regard to China’s relations with the outside world. Although he does not always employ IR concepts to interpret China’s relations with the outside world, his historical and humanist approaches are very heuristic to our thinking about Chinese IR. We believe that his writings can serve as a bridge between China studies and IR theories. All the contributors in this volume are inspired by Wang. The chapters examine China’s international relations from different perspectives, drawing on Wang’s

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insights and wisdom. Therefore, this volume is intended not only to honour Wang as a great scholar, but, more importantly, to make a concrete effort in integrating China into IR studies. In this volume, we want to achieve two related goals. First, we want to examine the extent to which existing IR theory succeeds or fails in shedding light on Chinese IR behaviour. Second, we will show how the study of Chinese experiences can enrich IR theories. In other words, we want to perform two related research tasks. The first important task is, as emphasized by Wang, to demonstrate why we need to realize that human society has progressed and will progress in different ways. This realization will enable us to see how China’s behavioural patterns have differed from those of Western powers. The second task is to explore how China has behaved differently from other powers. This is to examine what distinguishes China from the West. According to Wang, the view that human society has progressed in diversified ways is important in order to understand both a given country’s domestic affairs and its international relations.5 The Western vision that the world would inexorably converge towards something like Western society is problematic. This linear view has particularly dominated the US’s foreign policy agenda since the end of the Cold War, reaching an extreme under the Bush administration when the neo-conservative forces attempted to promote American democracy in different parts of the world. Such a linear view has actually appeared in modern China. Mao Zedong used to struggle with such an idea of progress. The view that human society could progress in a linear way captured Mao’s imagination in his struggle for a new China. Learning from the Western experience of development, Mao was very much convinced that the clue to China’s failures in modern times lay in the lack of application of science. Mao’s generation of elites strongly believed that the solution was to apply scientific thinking to the task of governing China. Mao took such a view even further. In Mao’s view, to progress, one needs to engage in creative destruction. Mao indeed inspired a whole generation of Chinese along this line of thinking. Of course, there were also Chinese classical theorists who tried to revive faith in the human approach as advocated by traditional Confucian teachings. They had to struggle between a pluralistic view and a linear progressive view as advocated by Mao. In Mao’s view, such debates could only be settled on the battlefield and never intellectually. Indeed, in China’s modern times, the proponents of the linear progressive view won. To a great degree, the victory of Mao’s revolution was a victory of the Western view of revolutionary progress. According to Wang, the key question today is whether the present leadership in China is still committed to a linear progressive view or whether it has its doubts. The answer is so far not clear. Chinese leaders somehow remained enamoured of the power of science. They have the mindset that science is supreme. Anything that is not scientific is therefore worthless. If this situation persists, then all else will be inadequate and unsatisfactory. From this perspective, the Americanization of China IR studies should not be regarded as a good sign since it might lead China to adopt a confrontational policy towards the rest of the world when it rises. At the policy level, people could be terrified by the thought that nature can be changed by unrestrained human activities since such activities have already caused irrevocable

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damage to the biosphere. If the linear progressive view is applied to international relations, this might lead to destructive effects to human life and history. On the other hand, Wang also observed that the present leadership from time to time has also begun to employ Confucian terms like ‘harmonious society’ and ‘harmonious world’. Indeed, Wang stressed that China might have actually given the linear progressive view an entirely different character. Confucian scholars who did not win on the battlefield could still play a role by speaking in their leaders’ ears and influencing how the world could be perceived. That fits the traditional Chinese way of thinking that while you might still need ‘yang’ to win battles, you would also need ‘yin’ to remind those in power not to be too arrogant. At the policy level, while the Chinese government is still very much influenced by Western linear progressive thinking, it has also learned from Western experiences of international relations that such a line of thinking could lead to human disasters. Therefore, the post-Mao leadership has proposed different policy concepts with Chinese characteristics such as ‘peaceful rise / peaceful development’ and ‘harmonious world’. A similar change has also occurred in China’s academic circles. While many Chinese scholars continue to believe that only by following Western ways can China become a strong nation-state, they have also realized that concepts or theories of international relations which are based on Western experience can hardly explain their own country’s experience. Therefore, they have begun to search for alternative concepts and theories that are likely to be based on China’s own historical and contemporary experience. That brings us to the second task, namely of explaining the difference between China and the West. In other words, what factors should one consider when conceptualizing and theorizing China’s international behaviour? Wang’s writings are particularly relevant to the performance of this task. Wang has written on a wide range of topics related to IR studies such as empire, nation-state, nationalism, state ideology, Chinese view of world order, Chinese overseas, and religions in world politics. Based on Wang’s writings on all these topics, contributors to this volume have gone one step further to explore the possible explanations to China’s actual international behaviour in the past and in modern times. The chapters in this volume are organized in a way that enables us to perform these two tasks. It would be unwise to provide a summary of each chapter simply because such a summary is impossible. All authors discuss how they have been inspired by, and have benefited from Wang’s writings and ideas one way or another. They have also provided substantial examinations of a particular aspect of China’s international relations. Furthermore, while all authors focus on examining one particular aspect of China’s international behaviour, they have also made great efforts in conceptualizing and theorizing China’s international relations. As emphasized earlier, we hope that an examination of Wang’s writings and ideas will become a starting point in the search for China’s concepts and theories of international relations in the long run. This volume is divided into five parts. Part I looks at historicity and the social foundation of China’s domestic order and international relations. China’s international relations can be regarded as an extension of its domestic order. Elements

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of the social foundation (e.g. morality, philosophy and religions) of China’s domestic order also affect its external relations. Meanwhile, this social foundation also differentiates China from other countries in international affairs. The authors of the four chapters in Part I attempt to explore why a linear progressive way of thinking is empirically not true. They also demonstrate how China has developed its approach to international relations and how this differs from Western ways of thinking. Part II reinterprets China’s traditional ‘world order’. China’s traditional tianxia (all-under-heaven) theory and the institutional expression of this theory, namely the ‘tributary system’, have been explained by various Western concepts and theories of international relations in modern times. The three chapters in Part II provide different (re)interpretations of China’s traditional ‘world order’. These reinterpretations are important to gain an understanding China’s international relations, both in the past and now, since applying Western concepts and theories of international relations to Chinese experience could be too simplistic and misguided. The three authors try to explain China’s traditional ‘world order’ as it was. Part III of the book focuses on Chinese overseas and on China’s international relations. While Chinese overseas have been an important factor affecting Chinese foreign relations, this factor has been unduly neglected both by mainstream international studies and by Chinese scholars themselves. The authors of the three chapters in Part III discuss key issues in the studies of Chinese overseas and their relevance to and implications for China’s international relations. Part IV examines China’s behaviour in contemporary world politics and addresses some important issues in China’s international relations. Finally, Part V discusses the continuity and transformation of China’s international relations. Three authors demonstrate the relevance of Wang’s writings to understanding China’s international relations and directing China’s IR studies. These chapters also demonstrate how China’s past has continued to shape its international relations and how China’s international relations have been transformed in this new age of globalization.

Notes 1 There is a growing body of literature in this area. For some recent works, see, for example, Aaron L. Friedberg, ‘The Future of US-China Relations: Is Conflict Inevitable?’, International Security, 30(2) (2005): 7–45; Will Hutton, The Writing on the Wall: China and the West in the 21st Century (New York: Little Brown, 2007); Zbigniew Brzezinski and John J. Mearsheimer, ‘Clash of Titans’, Foreign Policy, 146 (2005): 46–50; Edward Friedman, ‘China’s Rise, Asia’s Future’, Journal of East Asian Studies, 6(2) (2006): 289–304; and T. V. Paul, ‘Soft Balancing in the Age of US Primacy’, International Security, 30(1) (2005): 46–71. 2 An example is Cultural Realism: Strategic Culture and Grand Strategy in Chinese History (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995) by Alastair Iain Johnston. In this book, Johnston employed a constructivist approach to reinterpreting China’s international behaviour in the Ming dynasty. The book shows how Western scientific approaches could be used in constructing a theory of China’s international behaviour. Nevertheless, his approach has been criticized. For example, Anthony A. Loh, ‘Deconstructing Cultural Realism’, in Wang Gungwu and Zheng Yongnian (eds), China and the New International Order (London and New York: Routledge, 2008), pp. 281–309.

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3 Some China scholars have called for establishing a Chinese school of IR studies. See Ren Xiao, ‘Toward a Chinese School of International Relations?’, in Wang and Zheng (eds), China and the New International Order, pp. 281–92. 4 Wang Gungwu, ‘Nationalism and its Historians’, in Bind Us in Time: Nation and Civilization in Asia (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003), p. 12. 5 This discussion is based on Wang Gungwu’s reply to Robert Cox in their dialogue on the historicity of China’s international relations.

Acknowledgements

This volume is based on the International Conference in honour of Wang Gungwu’s scholarship, ‘Bridging China Studies and International Relations Theory’, held on 26 and 27 June 2009. The conference was sponsored and organized by the East Asian Institute (EAI), National University of Singapore. The chapters in this volume were initially selected from the papers for the conference and were revised by their respective authors for this volume. It took several years to move from the initial ideas to the conference. There are many people whom the editor would like to thank for their enormous contributions. Wang Gungwu is such a great scholar. Without our concerted efforts to convince him that his writings have made a huge contribution to China’s international relations studies, he would not have agreed to our beginning this project. He has been extremely supportive and helpful in identifying key topics in his writings related to IR studies. The initial idea to undertake this project arose from several discussions with Wang Hongying, who has contributed a chapter to this volume. John Wong, Research Director of EAI, provided all necessary intellectual and organizational support. Lian Wee Li and James Tan provided administrative support. Jessica Loon and Roy See provided editorial support. Mr Peter Sowden at Routledge gave useful guidance from the very beginning of the project to the end of the production process. Zheng Yongnian

Professor Wang Gungwu

Part I

Historicity and social foundation of China’s domestic order and international relations

1

Historicity and international relations A tribute to Wang Gungwu Robert W. Cox

As the Italian philosopher and historian Benedetto Croce said: all history is contemporary history. A concern for contemporary problems lies behind the historian’s choice of what history to write. It is not necessarily a history of how those problems emerged. It might be a history of ancient times presented in a way to illuminate the dilemmas – and dilemma is a favourite word of Wang Gungwu – which people are currently facing. Furthermore, the historian’s task is not exhausted by explaining or illuminating the present. It continues in trying to understand the movement of forces that will shape the future and to show how a choice is to be made for the most desirable among possible futures. History is not just a bundle of facts about the past, recent or ancient. History is a way of thinking critically about the present and the future. Wang Gungwu has been a historian in this sense. He has confronted the salient contemporary problems of Asia, and, through Asia, of the world – the apparent contradiction between the rise of nationalisms and the sense of a wider embracing civilization, the encounters among civilizations, the mingling of peoples and the shock of ideas in transforming civilizations, and throughout all this, the problems and possibilities for coexistence among civilizations. His work is always consistent with a feeling for the responsibility of the scholar to enlighten without preaching, to be aware of the different perspectives that confront one another in a contested situation, and to seek some basis for mutual understanding if not for agreement. His style goes beyond exposition to project a mood conducive to dealing in a practical way with the major issues of our time, the issues of world order. In this chapter, I like to emulate Wang Gungwu’s approach to world order, drawing inspiration from his example.

Problems of world order There are without doubt two overriding dilemmas of world order that history has thrust inescapably upon us – upon all of us on this planet. One dilemma is whether the world will move towards a merger of the diversity of cultures into one single form of civilization encompassing all people – the discourse on globalization often seems to imply this – or, whether the course of history may lead towards a

4

Robert W. Cox

continuing coexistence of several civilizations in a hopefully peaceful but always latently conflictual form of relationships. The other dilemma is whether whatever form of governance emerges at the global level – whether unitary or plural – is able to bring about a balance between human activity as a whole and the material capacity of the biosphere to sustain all forms of life. These two dilemmas are related. We now know that the present rate of human activity in consuming the earth’s resources and in polluting the earth’s atmosphere outpaces the biosphere’s capacity to maintain itself. Collapse of the biosphere is predictable unless human activity can be brought into conformity with the material requirements for sustenance of the biosphere. This is the primary challenge to global governance whatever form global governance may take. The challenge is to bring the forms of consciousness of the different branches of humanity to confront a common material necessity: to mobilize the intentions and practices of all the peoples towards sustaining the biosphere upon which all life depends.

Consciousness and history When we speak of consciousness we speak of history. Wang Gungwu has referred in his writing to the ‘inside’ and the ‘outside’ of history. I think we have both learned about this duality of history from the English philosopher and historian R. G. Collingwood.1 The ‘outside’ is what can be traced by external observation – population, resources, military capabilities, economic strength and actions by governments and people. The ‘inside’ is the living, thinking substance that perceives the world and motivates action. The ‘inside’ is the way in which human wills combine through human institutions to move people and to make history. Positivist science knows the ‘outside’. The study of history brings the ‘outside’ to life by understanding the ‘inside.’ How did this duality between matter and consciousness arise and evolve through history? The theory of evolution recounts the emergence of the biosphere, the sphere of life, out of the geosphere, the inanimate sphere; and, within the biosphere, evolution records the emergence of homo sapiens among the different developing forms of life. So when and how did human consciousness enter the picture? In the 1930s, a small group of foreign scholars, some of them ‘exiles’ from their native cultures, who were working together in northern China, came up with some innovations in conceptual thinking that help us frame the duality of consciousness and matter. Teilhard de Chardin was a heterodox French Jesuit who was a brilliant palaeontologist. His work on evolution had troubled the guardians of ecclesiastical orthodoxy in Rome who forbade him to publish or to teach; so he pursued his palaeontological research in a kind of religious exile in China. S. M. Shirokogoroff was an ethnologist from Vladivostok who at the same time was living in exile from the Soviet Union. Together they gave us an explanation of the variety of forms which the duality of consciousness and material life has taken in the course of evolution. Teilhard

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5

de Chardin introduced the concept of the noösphere. The word noösphere was derived from the Greek word for knowledge (nous). It represented the sphere of human consciousness – the inside story – which emerged in homo sapiens as a counterpart to material life, the outside observable sphere of biological existence. Homo sapiens has to be understood from within, in terms of consciousness, as well as from without in terms of material existence. The natural sciences are concerned with the material part, the biosphere. History is concerned with both biosphere and noösphere, with the inside as well as the outside of the human story. Shirokogoroff, the ethnologist, pointed out that homo sapiens was never a single uniform species. Homo sapiens from the beginning existed and evolved in distinct groups which Shirokogoroff characterized as ethnoi (the plural form of ethnos), differentiated by forms of consciousness. Each ethnos developed collectively in the part of the world where it sprang up, and evolved different ways of understanding and dealing with the world in which it existed. How people related to each other, and how they confronted outsiders, or ‘foreigners’, was determined by developments within each ethnos. Language, myth and religion consolidated the realms of consciousness that differentiated one ethnos from another. China was an appropriate site upon which to introduce these dual concepts. China has probably the longest continuous historical record of a people thinking through its way in the world. It provides a record of how a people have evolved and struggled with themselves and with others, all the time shaping and transforming the mentality with which they confront the world. The result of this continuing process of adaptation of custom and practice to the human environment is what we call civilization. So civilizations evolved separately in the different parts of the world that were conducive to the survival and growth of branches of the human species. Each of these emergent civilizations evolved both by encounters with other civilizations and through creative conflict within each. These evolutionary trajectories shaped mentalities, each of which perceived the world around it in its own way.

Religion and the movement of history In the origins of peoples, the different ethnoi lived in a close relationship to nature. Most myth and primitive religion understands life as a circular process analogous to the cycle of the seasons. Most of the peoples of Asia and the indigenous peoples all over the world have retained something of that essential relationship of people to the rest of nature of which they are a part – the relationship of consciousness to the biosphere. The break between humanity and the rest of nature came first with the emergence of monotheism, a totalitarian religion in that it subjected everything to one all-powerful God separate from and standing above humanity and nature. Monotheism originated in the Middle East and spread to Europe and thence via imperial conquest and proselytizing around the world, overlaying the natural religions of other peoples. Monotheism conceives nature as something which the one Almighty God gave

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to man that he might exploit it thus consecrating the break between consciousness and the biosphere. The primitive religions had envisaged man as part of nature charged with the responsibility of living in harmony with nature. The primitive religion was sufficiently robust to survive within monotheism because it was the conception of life most congenial and understandable to people whose life was close to nature. During the European Middle Ages, worship of the saints flourished – a counterpart within a formal monotheism to the many divinities of the primitive religion – and St Francis of Assisi revived within Christianity a particular reverence for the spirituality of nature. The Industrial Revolution struck a blow at this ‘natural’ religion by changing the manner of living of peoples in the new industrial societies. The old sense of cosmic order was undermined by the demonstration of humanity’s ability to dominate and extract from nature what people wanted in order to expand their economies and increase their nation’s power in the world. It has only been in the decades following World War II that the consequences of this rupture between homo sapiens and nature, between consciousness and the biosphere, has been perceived as a looming catastrophe. At the same time fundamentalist forms of monotheism have heightened conflict and violence in the consciousness of homo sapiens. In studying the mental orientations towards the world of different peoples (what French historians call mentalités), the duality of monotheism and primitive religion leads to the dichotomy of absolutism and relativism – of the idea, on the one hand, that there is only one correct way of ordering life and society and world order; and the idea, on the other hand, of a plural world in which different sets of values find a place where the common continuing task is to work towards toleration and consensus on essentials.

Consciousness and history in China and the West Monotheism seems to have been alien to the Chinese mentality from the earliest historical times. From my readings, I have the sense that in Chinese culture there has been a consistently cyclical view of politics and civilization. The cycle of nature was reflected in politics and society. There was a cycle of virtuous government falling into corruption, leading to revolution, followed then by reform within the revolution and a repetition of the cycle. The Chinese mentality was aware of conflict and a struggle of conflicting principles in the process of a people’s existence. There was the contrast between the Confucian primacy of moral principle, of ‘virtue’, with the Legalist, more ‘realist’ view of power backed by force. Taoism also emphasized that conflict was inherent in the historical development of a people. This recurrent conflict was represented in the dialectic between the masculine and feminine principles of yin and yang, which were always bound together in the whole, and which alternated in predominance through the course of history. The West has understood change as a progressive dialectic in which conflict leads all the time to a higher synthesis in a continuing trajectory. The Chinese mentality typically saw a dialectic of opposites seeking a peaceful balance in which

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both antagonistic poles would be momentarily reconciled. Yin and yang cannot destroy one another. They live together as necessary parts of a whole in which the challenge is to achieve a quiescent time of peaceful stability in a continuing condition of latent conflict. China during the Ming dynasty was initially outgoing as a maritime power; then China closed itself off from the outer world in a mood of glorious self-sufficiency. China was beset by nomadic ‘barbarian’ peoples, overrun by them; and then a resurgent China absorbed them into its larger whole. In the Chinese mentality through history, the meaning of change has been a movement to and fro, rise and fall, alternation in a cyclical pattern with a continuing moral injunction to achieve some degree of harmony among conflicting forces. In the West, the eschatology of monotheism – the doctrine of movement towards a final outcome – was reinforced and secularized under the influence of the economic growth of industrialism. It gave birth to the nineteenth-century idea of Progress which was confirmed again by imperial expansionism in the era described by the French historian Charles Morazé as that of les bourgeois conquérants bringing European dominance to Asia and Africa. The meaning of change became movement towards an ultimate preordained unity of thought and organized life that seemed to be latent in the Western historical trajectory. Eschatological movements have broken through from time to time in the course of Chinese history with great destructive effect, proclaiming the end of history and the reign of absolute values. I am thinking, within recent history, of the nineteenth-century Taiping revolt and the twentieth-century Cultural Revolution. But these outbursts, like a momentary excess of the yang principle, succumbed ultimately and were reabsorbed into the more typical pattern of cyclical and pragmatic thinking about politics.

Convergence or pluralism in world order? In the world today, the absolutist eschatological perspective on world history has been expressed in its most fully blown form by the so-called neo-conservatives of the recently displaced Bush administration: the view that the world is inexorably converging towards something like American society, like the American form of democracy and free-market capitalism; and that it only requires a push – or ‘surge’ – of military and economic pressure to accelerate and complete the process. This view comes naturally to the American mind. The United States has known only a history of rising power, never yet the experience of decline and fall. Americans of all parties have cherished their myth of origin imagined by the puritan father John Winthrop in 1630 – America as a new people freed from the evils of an unjust and decadent Europe, ‘a shining city on a hill, a light to the world’. This image was explicitly recalled by President Ronald Reagan and has since been expressed as justification of the aggressive unilateralism of the Bush administration. That administration was swept away by the democratic process in the 2008 American elections. The essence of the same vision, expressed in a perhaps more idealistic and exemplary way, remains, however, central to US foreign policy.

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It promises to take a more gentle multilateral form, retaining nonetheless the finality of ultimate convergence of civilizations in an American-led world. Another view, less utopian in character, is perhaps more congenial to reflective European and Asian peoples whose histories nearly all record periods of great power followed by decline and retreat, and adjustment to coexistence with other powers. This is the idea of a plural world in which several major concentrations of power coexist, expressing different forms of society with different hierarchies of values. In such a world, peaceful coexistence becomes necessary in the interest of mutual survival. Moreover, mutual survival today means coming to a mutual understanding about how global politics and global economic practices can be brought into compatibility with the survival of the biosphere upon which all life depends. The traditional Chinese view of world order, as interpreted in the work of Wang Gungwu,2 was a dialectic between, on the one hand, the myth of inclusiveness of ‘all-under-heaven’ with ‘nothing left out’ and a policy of ‘treating [all countries] with impartiality’; and, on the other hand, a realistic recognition of differences in power and identity among countries. This view, with its pragmatic flexibility, its adaptability to different forms of relationships among the entities which composed the real world, seems conducive to thinking today about the realities of a plural world.3 The necessity of achieving consensus on what is vital to the whole – that is, the continuity of human existence – preserves a spirit of unity while at the same time acknowledging the reality of diversity in power and values. The yin of the yearning for consensus struggles continually with the yang of rival aims and shifting strategies. Now, the question arises as to whether the burst of rapid economic growth in the post-Mao period with the re-emergence of China as a major world power may have encouraged Chinese people to adopt the progressive outlook of the Western mentality and to aspire to American ways. Yet, whatever the shift in popular culture, the Chinese leadership appears still to cling to the pragmatic approach of Chinese tradition. Major questions for the future are whether or not China will ape the West in adopting a unilinear progressive vision of history; and whether or not the West, more particularly America, can adjust to the relativism and search for consensus in diversity characteristic of the traditional Chinese view of the world.

The ‘inside’ of civilizations and the problem of coexistence Oswald Spengler, just before World War I, published Der Untergang des Abendlandes, the English title of which is The Decline of the West. His verdict about the West may have been premature but his mode of analysis and the questions he asked are still of interest. Today, if the West is not irrevocably in decline, the East is certainly on the rise and the balance of world power is shifting. Spengler saw a world of cultures and civilizations coexisting in space and related through time. Though his focus was upon problems of the West, he sought also to capture the inner essence of other civilizations. He observed that the culture of China, prefiguring that of the West, was profoundly historical, while the culture of India, like that of Classical Greece, was

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non-historical, the culture of an eternal present. Spengler was trying to grasp the ways in which people in different cultures and civilizations constructed their views of the world. He certainly did not have the final word on that; but his admonition to move from what he called the Ptolemaic to a Copernican concept of history – from the West being the centre around which all else revolves to an understanding of the individuality of coexisting cultures and civilizations revolving in space together and interconnected through time – is particularly apposite to the present. He was stressing the importance of looking into another civilization so as to see it from within, not just as an external alien thing. This idea of coexisting civilizations each with its own identity is anathema to a mentality shaped by monotheistic absolutism. It is easily denounced as moral relativism. The Western worldview came to fruition in the Enlightenment of eighteenth-century Europe – the essence of which is expressed in the work of Descartes, the forerunner of modern scientific thinking. Behind the rationalism of the Enlightenment lay the residue of a monotheistic absolutism intolerant of the uncertainties in the coexistence of divergent sets of values. But this once predominant mode of Western thought had its dialectical contradiction from the very beginning in the writings of Giambattista Vico, the challenger of Descartes who lived in Naples. Vico was concerned with the origins and transformations of cultures and civilizations. He pointed to the incompatibility of the method useful for the study of physical nature with the method needed for the study of people and history. Vico used the word ‘philology’ rather than history, since evolution in the meanings of words was his primary research tool for studying the rise, transformation and decline of the social and political structures people created. Through language he traced the evolution of minds in their relation to changing realities and to the transformation of societies. For the Enlightenment, by contrast, history was nothing but imprecise mythological stories. In the optimistic view of the Enlightenment, modern science would advance man’s power over nature. The scientific method, not the historical method, was the way towards understanding the world. The idea of Progress that emerged in the nineteenth-century expansion of Europe around the world was already implicit in the eighteenth-century Enlightenment. The idea of Progress, with its linear unidirectional view of history, secularized the eschatological teaching of Christianity, that there is a finality to history – an end of history – in the Kingdom of God on earth. And this ancient religious habit of mind brought with it, albeit in secularized form, a habit of thinking in terms of absolute values, good and evil. The Marxist idea of the culmination of history in the communist society may be seen as a secularized version of the Christian eschatological vision. So may the revisionist neo-conservative vision of the ‘end of history’ in the American form of democracy and free-market capitalism unifying the world. Vico was more pessimistic. He was concerned not only with the birth and rise of civilizations but also with their decline and with the possibility of revival through new creative beginnings. Vico, despite his protestations of Catholic orthodoxy, reflected the pre-Christian Classical civilization’s sense of a cyclical pattern in history which was more consistent with a relative view of values.

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The Western tradition, flowing from this eighteenth-century duality in thought, led, on the one hand, to positivism which became the dominant scientific and philosophical approach; and, on the other, to historicism and a cyclical view of the rise, fall and possible rebirth of civilizations. In the face of a Europe which has become more sceptical today, the hubris of the Enlightenment lives on in America, backed by overwhelming military and economic power. One cannot overestimate the trauma to the American mind that would arise from a manifest negation of America’s destiny to lead the world to its promised end. From that trauma could spring either a disillusioned isolationism or a final burst of devastating aggression. Patient handling of American sensibilities will be high on the list of consensus-seeking tasks in negotiating general acceptance of a plural world and the continuing adjustment in power relations which that implies.

Global governance and mutation in the structure of world power The economic and political structures of world power are unmistakably in a process of mutation. Significant change can be seen in the process of globalization. Globalization has accelerated mass migrations that are rearranging populations in all parts of the world. It has accentuated the disparity between rich and poor. Globalization has accelerated technological development and spread it to new centres of growth. It has also changed the class structure of developing countries with the emergence of a middle class consuming according to the standards of the most developed. For some time the so-called ‘Washington consensus’ defined the institutional and policy context of globalization. Economic globalization was a good thing according to this consensus among the elites of the world economic institutions gathered in the US capital. Deregulation, open markets and privatization were its policy guidelines, coupled with sound money policies by central banks and the application of ‘structural adjustment’ policies to weaker national economies. Politics should not interfere with the assumedly beneficent working of the market. We can trace a slow but steady movement away from this consensus. The East Asian currency crisis of 1997–98, which was seen by many in the West as the failure of the East Asian model of state-led economic growth, was seen in Asia as a demonstration of the dangers inherent in the way global financial matters were managed out of Washington and New York. That crisis may have been a turning point.4 China initiated a move towards increasing intra-Asian trade and investment so as to make the region less dependent upon the US market and to shield Asian economies from US financial dominance and instability. Meanwhile, the massive US trade and budget deficits were financed by other countries, principally by China. On top of the public and private indebtedness which strained confidence in the US dollar, an excess of unregulated speculation in toxic US mortgage debt, spread around the world through ingeniously contrived financial instruments, triggered the collapse of financial markets in 2008 and the likelihood of prolonged worldwide recession.

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One Asian country, Malaysia, had much earlier rejected outright the Washington consensus prescriptions. Other countries, notably in Latin America, joined in rejecting them in the early years of the twenty-first century. China and India, both emerging economic world powers, must manage their own economic growth so as to contain the disparities between rural and urban areas that threaten internal stability. That, for them, will of political necessity be a higher priority than conformity to the precepts of economic liberalism. Their growth, moreover, challenges the dominant economies of the West to adjust to a new global balance of economic power. The burden of these adjustments is borne by working people and their response often calls in question the liberal economic policies that had become the common doctrine of globalization in the developed world. This was certainly an important ingredient in the rejection of the proposed European constitution by the people of France and the Netherlands in 2005. It was not a rejection of the idea of European unity so much as apprehension concerning the European Union’s expansion to the east and a rejection of the neo-liberal vision of Europe’s role in the world that European leaders had written in cumbersome detail into an overly long constitutional proposal. People feared for the loss of the structures of social protection that had been built through long years of struggle. Fear for the loss of social protection, coupled with immigration from poorer countries stimulated by economic globalization, became a central issue in national politics in the West, degenerating at the extreme into an atavistic xenophobia. Politics in all these matters is being reasserted in the sphere of economics, which raises the question whether economic globalization, not so long ago hailed as the inevitable and benign future of mankind, has not reached and passed its peak. The global problem now may better be phrased as how politically to manage a radically shifting balance of economic power with an eye to preserving and advancing social equity. Meanwhile, the political structures aspiring to global governance prove inadequate to the task and are themselves in mutation. The American neoconservative vision of the spread of Western democracy and capitalist prosperity around the world with a special focus on the Middle East and Central Asia is being contradicted every day by events. The overwhelming military and economic power of the United States has been shown to be very effective as a materially destructive force. It can disable a country but it cannot govern a country. A thirteenth-century Kitan nobleman was reported as advising Ghengis Khan: ‘A country may be conquered on horseback but it cannot be governed on horseback.’ He knew something that escaped the understanding of the American neoconservatives of the twenty-first century. The attractiveness of America’s ‘soft power’ was effective in conveying a benign acceptance of American leadership throughout the world during the post-war years. The application more recently of American ‘hard power’ – military and economic coercion – has largely dissipated the gains made by ‘soft power’. The experience of the United States in Iraq and Afghanistan, and of Israel in Lebanon and Gaza, is demonstrating every day the futility of overwhelming military power as a means of

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resolving a conflict where the antagonists see the world in diametrically opposed ways. ‘Shock and awe’ and ‘terror’ are dialectical twins. One is the inevitable response to the other. If there is to be a change it will come most likely from within American society. That was the message to the world from the 2008 US election; but it is still uncertain whether that change will be one of style or of substance, whether the consciousness guiding America’s leaders will accept fully the implications of what one American commentator has called a ‘post-American world’ – the prospect of a still powerful America accepting its role as one power among several in a new world order.5 The challenge to America is to accept a coexistence of civilizations – a plural world – and to set aside the myth of America as the end of history, as the model towards which all humanity will ultimately converge. The psychological difficulty for Americans to make that adjustment challenges the rest of the world to understand America’s trauma and to ease America’s acceptance of the role it can play in a plural world. The new American administration confronts enormous problems of economic and social justice at home, in employment and health care for a start. Dealing effectively with these could help restore something of the ‘soft power’ America had in the post-war world by building a society worthy of emulation. Such an evolution could be threatened by an adventuresome foreign policy in the Middle East, in the Caucasus, in the Russian ‘near abroad’ and in Afghanistan. The international thrust of American power, while failing to make over the world through economic globalization and the universal spread of American-style democracy, has nonetheless dealt a hard blow to the Westphalian state system and its principle of the sovereign equality of states. The residue of that principle is embodied now most of all in the United Nations; and the United Nations was treated for a long time as ‘irrelevant’ by the former US administration. The new American administration has raised the profile of the United Nations but it is too early to know what weight in world affairs the UN will be able to bear. It performs a very large role in helping to build the machinery of government in less developed states, in disaster relief and in peace-keeping operations where these can be agreed upon – or, more likely, ‘peace-making’ operations in situations where all semblance of order has collapsed. The United Nations has, however, in practice been precluded from dealing with the major conflicts in world politics and the major issues in the global economy. The role originally intended for the United Nations has been usurped in these matters for quite practical reasons by groupings of smaller numbers of powerful states; and these groupings are currently under stress and strain. NATO, which was formed during the Cold War confrontation between the Soviet Union and the West, transformed itself into a US-led force girded to expand into Eastern Europe and the Caucasus. While NATO’s members, except for Britain, declined to support the American invasion of Iraq they did rally to the ‘war on terrorism’ in Afghanistan. Afghanistan is now a testing ground for the solidity of the alliance as many of its European members have become doubtful about US

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strategy there and its impact on the political stability of Pakistan. European members of NATO have also recoiled against American pressure to admit Georgia into NATO membership – a decision which could have led them into a confrontation with Russia.6 The G7 and G8 major economic powers have heretofore sustained neo-liberal orthodoxy in international economic behaviour. This grouping is now in the process of gradually morphing into a more comprehensive group to include not only Russia, but also China, India, Brazil and South Africa, countries which all have reservations about neo-liberal economics and would be unlikely to acquiesce in an ideology which precludes governments from intervening in economic processes. Indeed, the deepening recession that began in 2008 has put government intervention in the economy at the top of the agenda everywhere, including in the United States. Future consensus on the world economy will have to be achieved through negotiation among often divergent perspectives, not by the dictates of an economic ideology. As the economic risks of dependence on the United States and weaknesses in the US economy became more manifest, regionalism became more prominent as a strategy for defence against a globally spreading economic crisis originating in the United States. Regional cooperation is most developed in Europe although the recession puts a strain on the institutions of the European Union. Countries in East Asia have worked in a practical way towards regional economic cooperation and increasing intra-regional trade through Chinese and Japanese initiatives in the framework of ASEAN.7 In the Americas, countries seek safeguards against the dominance of the US economy. Even North America – Canada, Mexico and the United States – can hardly be considered as a regional entity.8 In South America, however, the spread of democracy replacing military regimes by leftist reforming governments and the political arousal of the indigenous population, coupled with popular resistance against the neo-liberal ‘structural adjustment’ policies required by the International Monetary Fund (IMF), have consolidated a popular revolt against American economic domination. The Venezuela of Hugo Chávez has led the way towards a degree of regional cooperation independent of US economic power, including an alternative to the IMF in the Banco del Sur (Bank of the South) agreed upon by six South American countries at Buenos Aires in December 2007 and backed by Venezuela’s oil revenues.9 While economic regionalism could underpin a movement towards a politically plural world, one other possibility, however, holds the potential to revive the failed American neo-conservative project in a revised form. This is the project of a US-China economic condominium, a G2: a concerted economic alliance of the world’s greatest debtor with the world’s principal creditor.10 It remains to be demonstrated how such an economic alliance could effectively come about, given the political differences of the two parties, and how it could become acceptable to the other major world economic powers. The idea has the appearance of an attempt to salvage America’s world leadership with the concurrence of China; and this would be inconsistent with China’s affirmed goal of searching for consensus among the major world powers in opposition to ‘hegemonism’.

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Some very difficult problems would remain to be resolved if the structure of world power were to continue to evolve in the direction of a plural world order, and if the leaders of the United States were to accept the idea of a post-American world and to abandon the neo-conservative goal of a unitary American-led world order. After World War II, Britain withdrew from its bases of imperial power in Asia, Africa and the Middle East. Can America withdraw gracefully, like Britain, from its geopolitical ‘beachheads’ in other regions of the world: Taiwan in East Asia; Georgia in the Caucasus; and – above all – Israel in the Middle East? These American ‘protectorates’ would need to stop depending upon US support and learn to adjust peacefully to their regional neighbours, a project which challenges the seeming intractability of the conflicts in which each of the three is involved. Resolving these three problems may be the most difficult obstacle in the way of broad acceptance of the reality of a plural world. A modus vivendi between China and Taiwan is perhaps the most likely of the three to be resolved through mutually beneficial economic relations and political accommodation backed by popular support.11 Georgia, for the United States, opens the way to the energy resources of Central Asia and offers a more secure route to supply the American adventure in Afghanistan, free from dependence on both Russia and Iran.12 For Russia, an American presence in Georgia represents the threat of encirclement by Western intrusion into its surrounding space. The potential for alleviating conflict here would have to include acceptance of Russia’s role in the concert of great powers as well as a less provocatively anti-Russian turn in Georgian politics. Israel remains the most intractable case of all. The United States has consistently supported Israel in the multifarious conflicts of the Middle East. This seemingly unconditional commitment has been a severe constraint on American foreign policy. The Israeli onslaught on the population of Gaza just prior to the inauguration of the new American administration pre-emptively tested the unconditionality of American support for Israel. Israel could prove to be the hard case that blocks the way towards American acceptance of a plural world in our time.

Civilizations, consciousness and the historian’s role Whatever emerges in the ongoing transformation of world order, the moving forces are civilizations. This is not to endorse the ‘clash of civilizations’ thesis. There is much conflict within civilizations between fundamentalist and evolving forces.13 Civilizations are in continuous evolution. The idea of a ‘clash’ of congealed monolithic civilizations is a distortion that ignores all the conflict and change going on in these forms of collective consciousness. The very process of change within civilizations creates a potential for dialogue among them. The challenge is to understand how perspectives in different civilizations are evolving in order to be able to dialogue effectively. States remain the hard units of international relations; but states are animated by the consciousness of people and leaders which transcends specific material interests in a sense of what the world ought to be or ought to become. That is the meaning

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of civilization. When we speak of consciousness, we speak of civilizations which shape, each of them, a different form of consciousness. Each form of consciousness, each civilization, of necessity also confronts the relationship of humanity to the rest of nature, the problem of mutual survival on earth, which is in itself an inducement to constructive inter-civilization dialogue. Finally, the task of understanding different forms of consciousness is preeminently that of an historian. The historian tries to see the inside of events as they are shaped by consciousness. The historian’s job is to bring events alive with the intentions and values of the actors and the constraints they see upon their actions, and to interpret the meaning of the changes these actions bring about. The lasting tribute to the life work of Wang Gungwu is that he has shown in a masterly way how to perform this role.

Notes 1 R. G. Collingwood, The Idea of History (Oxford: Clarendon, 1946). 2 Wang Gungwu, ‘Early Ming relations with Southeast Asia: a background essay’, in John King Fairbank (ed.), The Chinese World Order. Traditional China’s Foreign Relations (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1968), pp. 34–62. 3 Wang Gungwu has written that ‘The multipolar world, if and when it eventually settles down to become the basis of a new world order, does not appear likely to be more peaceful or more stable than the central balance of the two superpowers’ (Bind us in Time: Nation and Civilization in Asia (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 2001), p. 174). He also suggested that Chinese thinking about world order would be sceptical about the idea of a ‘central balance’ since, flowing from the deep background of Confucian ethics, a durable world order would have to have a moral element. The ‘hegemonic’ policy of the Soviet Union based on force alone would be unacceptable in Chinese eyes. The capitalism of a declining moral order would likewise be unacceptable; but that order, in Marxist historical theory, was bound to be replaced by a socialist one; and so ‘the long view should thus concentrate upon the positive qualities of an order about to be replaced and marry them to China’s own sense of a new moral order, which it believes is now pervasive among the poor and oppressed of the underdeveloped world. This, of course, is the long view, and the Chinese are accustomed to the long view – after all, it took over 500 years in the Warring States period before it was recognized that there was only one sun in the sky.’ (‘Strong China, Weak China’, in To Act is to Know: Chinese Dilemmas (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 2002), p. 123). 4 Joseph E. Stiglitz, Globalization and its Discontents (New York: Norton, 2002); and Chalmers Johnson, Blowback: The Crisis and Consequences of American Empire (New York: Holt, 2000). 5 Fareed Zakaria, The Post-American World (W.W. Norton, 2008). Fareed Zakaria is an American citizen of Indian origin. He foresees the rising power of China and India, along with others like Russia and Brazil, participating with a still powerful United States in reshaping world order. 6 F. William Engdhal, ‘NATO scuttled US plan to encircle Russia’, Asia Times (9 December 2008); also Peter Savodnik, ‘Georgian roulette’ in Harpers Magazine (January 2009). 7 S. Haun Narine, ‘From conflict to collaboration: institution-building in East Asia’, Canadian International Council, Behind the Headlines, 65(5) (2008). 8 Stephen Clarkson, Does North America Exist? Governing the Continent after NAFTA and 9/11 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008. Published in collaboration with the Woodrow Wilson Center Press, Washington DC).

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9 Richard Gott, ‘Venezuela under Hugo Chávez: The originality of the “Bolivarian” project’, New Political Economy, 13(4) (December 2008): 475–90. 10 C. Fred Bergsten, ‘A partnership of equals: How Washington should respond to China’s economic challenge’, Foreign Affairs (July/August 2008), criticizes the move towards creating a regional economic bloc in East Asia and proposes as an alternative a ‘G2’ of the United States and China. In practice, this has been initiated in the Strategic Economic Dialogue (SED) between the two countries. See also Gregory Chin, ‘China and the end of the G8’, Far Eastern Economic Review, 121(10) (December 2008). 11 As early as 1982 Wang Gungwu wrote: ‘While reunification with Taiwan would be desirable, it is no longer the urgent matter it was in the 1950s. Good relations with the United States have made the Taiwan question not so much the time-bomb between China and America but almost a special common bond that ties the two together today more than it divides them. It remains the best antidote against careless talk on both sides and encourages both sides to be sensitive and alert to each other’s moods.’ (‘The interests of revolutionary China’ in Chinese Dilemmas (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 2002), pp. 101–2.) 12 M.K. Bhadrakumar, ‘All roads lead out of Afghanistan’, Asia Times (20 December 2008). 13 Dieter Senghaas, The Clash Within Civilizations. Coming to terms with cultural conflicts (London and New York: Routledge, 2002).

2

A re-appraisal of Abrahamic values and neorealist IR theory From a Confucian-Asian perspective James C. Hsiung

Introduction: two faults of the unilinear view Most Western analysts intuitively subscribe to a unilinear view that all non-Western nations will follow the exemplary Western path of development; and that there is no other way. Owing to this conviction, they assume that certain ideas and ideals held dear in the West – such as the democratic theory of development, and laissez faire economics – have transcendental value and hence hold universal appeal. Accordingly, they disparage, even disdain, Asian values and institutions. For example, Max Weber, reputed to be the father of Western social science, berated Confucianism as inimical to economic development for a number of reasons. First, he found the dominant teachings of Confucianism, though rationalistic in form, lacking “an ethical prophecy of a supra-mundane God” and thus without “an inward core, of a unified way of life flowing from some central and autonomous value position.” Without what he called the “religiously systematized utilitarianism” of the Protestant ethic, Weber found Chinese enterprises to lack the compulsive urge to reinvest earnings as in a truly capitalist system.1 Besides, he found that the Confucian emphasis on harmony did not adequately prepare the Chinese for a competitive mode of life typical of the capitalistic world. Parenthetically, since Weber did not know the Chinese language, he misconstrued the word “he” to be “harmony”, instead of harmonization (of contradictions), as Confucius intended it to mean. Therefore, Weber divined that China would be ill equipped, in the language of his day, to adopt capitalism and make it flourish. To translate it into modern-day English, this means that China would be so strapped by its Confucian legacy as to be unable to achieve economic development in similar ways as in the West. It is noteworthy that Weber did not think it was the country (China), so much as its culture (the Confucian values), that presented an obstacle to economic development. Hence, China’s neighbors that were likewise tainted by the Confucian ethic would share the same fate of non-development. But, ironically, eastern Asia,2 where all nations were to varying degrees “tainted” by Confucian cultural influence, is today the fastest growing region, defying the Weberian pessimism. As Wang Gungwu cogently notes,3 China, among other

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Asian countries, has ultimately plowed back into the treasure of its own rich culture in the course of an impressive post-Mao development. I might add that after 1995, not only is Confucius back, but Confucian Analects is taught from the primary school up. Furthermore, following the same unilinear view, neorealist Western international relations (IR) scholars invariably assume that their theory, reflecting the experience of international politics in the modern inter-state system since Westphalia (1648), provides a guide for anticipating and analyzing the behaviors of all states, including a re-ascending China after a century and a half in decline. While this is a complex topic that will be addressed at greater length below, I want to single out for emphasis here that one unique feature found in the traditional Asian system of international relations has been a structure of relations characterized by hierarchy.4 Neorealists, on the other hand, focus exclusively on anarchy (i.e., absence of an overarching supra-national authority, and hence the derived attribute of egoistic self-help by states) as the defining feature of the Westphalian system.5 Wang Gungwu points out that a keen sense of hierarchy has helped mold Chinese behavior from ancient times.6 Thus, a theory that does not take proper account of systemic hierarchy has questionable value in deciphering China’s international behavior today. What follows below is an attempt to amplify these two crucial points made by Wang Gungwu in his prolific writings. In tribute to Wang’s inquisitive mind and broad perspective, this chapter will offer a reappraisal, within the given space constraint, of the Ambrahamic (i.e., Judeo-Christian) values from the standpoint of what has often been deprecated in Western literature as “Asian values.”7 The latter, undeniably, has helped shape the modern, post-colonial (and post-imperialist) courses of development in the vast array of societies from East Asia (China, Japan, the two Koreas, and Taiwan) to Southeast Asia (ASEAN-9, sans Myanmar, the former Burma).8 In order to get to the gestalt of the modern Asian values, I will go to the roots of this legacy in the classical formation and evolution of Confucianism in China, which left a far-reaching indelible imprint throughout the Sinic circles of societies long before the coming of the Western colonialists – and has lingered on long after their departure.

Part I: Fallacy of the unilinear view of cultures Abrahamic values and unilinearity9 Pent-up negative sentiments about Asian values – and conversely an upbeat unilinear view that the Western model is the only path for all nations to emulate – may surface unrelentingly at critical times. One such occasion was the Asian Financial Crisis of 1997–9, when all vibrant Asian economies were sent tumbling down (with perhaps the sole exception of China). Their once-strong currencies faced a sordid meltdown. Every critic in the West blamed the trouble on Asian “crony capitalism,” and the “Asian values” that underpinned it. A swarm of sarcastic laments and gloating denunciations greeted the temporary misfortune of the Asian Tigers

A re-appraisal of values and IR theory 19 and cubs. Christopher Patten, the bitter last British Governor of Hong Kong before its return to China in 1997, could hardly wait to rub it in with a petulant, in a way self-serving, book celebrating “that all tigers are skinned and stuffed.”10 Echoing many acerbic Western critics, the Economist (25 July 1998) even gleefully ran an obituary for the death of “Asian values” and the Asian model of development. Another Pattenesque denunciation was articulated by an enthusiast for Western laissez-faire capitalism, Jeffrey Henderson of the Manchester Business School. While addressing a United Nations audience, Henderson announced that a “tragedy” of the Asian Financial Crisis was that “non-Anglo-American routes to prosperous economies have been de-legitimated ” (emphasis added) and that there was only the Anglo-American way left.11 Sadder still, applying their Western cultural exclusivist view, some critics reacted with utter disgust to any upbeat reports or prognostications about the potential rise of Pacific Asia in the twenty-first century. One such example is the review of a book exuberantly titled: Thunder from the East: Portrait of a Rising Asia, co-authored by Nicholas D. Kristoph and Sheryl WuDunn (2000), both of the New York Times. Reviewing it for Foreign Affairs,12 Walter Russell Mead unabashedly declared that, contrary to the co-authors’ trumpeting for a rising Asia, the twenty-first century will see the “end of Asia” [sic]. His main reason was: The spread of “Abrahamic ideology” (i.e., Judeo-Christian culture) will wipe out the region’s “pre-Abrahamic culture.” In other words, the spread of Anglo-American capitalism and “Abrahamic ideology” would obliterate Asian culture, which Mead dismissed as the “last traces of pre-Abrahamic culture.” The inherent belief that all cultures will head toward oblivion, to be replaced by the “Abrahamic culture” is as alarming as it is arrogant, bordering on the preposterous. The most alarming thing is that Mead is not alone in holding this belief. Another version of the unilinear view of human progress is represented at higher decibels, for example, by the “end-of-history” vision propagated by Francis Fukuyama, following the collapse of the Soviet Union. This triumphalist view sees the Western liberal democracy as the “end point of mankind’s ideological revolution” and the final form of human government.”13 In agreement with Mead, Fukuyama believes that all societies, despite their different cultural and other roots, will end up going the same direction as trail-blazed by the Western example. Without having to wait until the end of the twenty-first century to ascertain the veracity of the unilinear view held by the likes of Mead and Fukuyama, we do, however, have over four decades of human experience by which we can conclusively assess an earlier generation of a like unilinear view. Beginning in the 1960s, at the height of the era of decolonization, Western scholars trumpeted a common thesis that a Western-type democracy (known by the code term “political development”) would be an indispensable pre-condition for economic development in the new post-colonial states. Now, almost half a century later, not only has this article of faith failed to be empirically borne out, but a comparative study by Ashutosh Varshney has proven that just the opposite has been true. His study of some “long-standing democracies in the developing world,” across three continents, has found that all of them “failed to eliminate poverty.”14 In other words, those new,

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post-colonial nations that had an early head start on democratization (that is, political development) all failed dismally in their economic performance.15 Contrary to what mainstream Western academics had preached, Varshney’s research shows that political development (democracy) did not automatically spawn economic development (prosperity) in the post-colonial world. I would add that the high-performance economies in the Asian region, on the other hand, followed a very different path, with very different results. In two of the Asian Tigers, the sequence was just the reverse. South Korea and Taiwan opened up to democracy only after, not before, achieving miraculous economic success. Hong Kong remained until 1997 a British colony and, as such, did not have a democratic system to speak of. However, the absence of democracy did not hamper Hong Kong’s attainment of impressive prosperity. Singapore, the remaining member of the Asian Tigers group, is a country long known for its rule by law, rather than rule of law; but that did not prevent it from being an economic powerhouse – in fact the envy of many nations. The most notable challenge to the Western democratic theory of development is China, whose economy increased eightfold in the 25 years after 1978 and continued to grow at an annual 9 percent clip, or better, before the advent of the current financial tsunami that hit the global economy following Wall Street’s collapse in 2008. Throughout the Asian region, to reiterate, none of the high-performance economies identified by the World Bank16 showed evidence that prior political development (democracy) was a pre-condition for achieving stunning economic success, defying the Western theory to the contrary. Critics might ask if Japan could be an example to bear out (bail out?) the democratic theory of development. This is a tricky question, as there is no consensus about it. Chalmers Johnson, reputedly America’s dean of Japanese political-economy studies, has shown that it was the country’s “developmental state” model that moved it to the forefront of economic powerhouses. By definition, the “developmental state” model, in contrast to the American “regulatory state” model, means that the government actively intervenes in the country’s economy and sets its directions, albeit employing what Johnson calls “market conforming” methods.17 As such, it does not exactly conform to the principles of laissez-faire economics or the democratic theory of development per se. Even on the point whether Japan is a true democracy (although this is generally taken for granted among many Americans) there is not universal agreement among the larger international (as opposed to just American) pool of experts. One such example is a naturalized Japanese citizen and former German Jesuit priest, Professor Peter J. Herzog of Sophia University. Mobilizing massive evidence and documentation in support of his dissenting view, Herzog concludes that Japan only has a “pseudo-democracy.”18 A recent devastating discovery is that of the existence during the Cold War of a CIA-financed “M Fund” for Japan, backed by a reservoir of as much as $500 billion at its peak. The fund was used to support both the Liberal-Democratic Party (LDP) in power (because it was anti-Communist) and the Japanese economy (so that it could be a show window for the democratic-capitalistic path to prosperity).19 It may not be a coincidence that the LDP lost its previous unchallenged grip (since

A re-appraisal of values and IR theory 21 1955) on political power after 1993 and that the Japanese economy has been mired in an unprecedented, prolonged, doldrums after the end of the Cold War in 1990. So, in retrospect, Japan’s fast track to becoming an economic superpower in the 1980s offers no foolproof evidence that it was the result of its having a democratic system as a precondition. The unilinear view and “failed” universality claims of Western liberalism20 I am using “Western liberalism” here as a shorthand label for such keystone Western ideas as the democratic theory of development and laissez-faire economics that are under review in the present discussion. I hope it is apparent by now why these Western keystone ideas failed to live up to their habitual universality claims, when judged against the reality in Eastern Asia. The reason, in short, is largely the fallacy of the unilinear view held by Western analysts, like Walter Russell Mead and Francis Fukuyama, above, to the effect that all things in the human world have sprung from the same root substance and are bound to follow the same trajectory of development. The boldness in this prognosis deserves serious reflection. Ultimately, as we will see, the answer to the universality of ideas across cultures depends on whether we put our faith blindly in the monogenesis and uni-directionality of all things at all times and in all places, or whether we allow for an alternative non-unilinear perspective. For an illustration of this alternative perspective, a metaphor may be found in the field of evolution theory. According to its adherents, the Darwinian model of evolution, which benefited from the method of classification pioneered by the great Swedish biologist Linnaeus, is supposedly applicable to all species in all cases – hence unilinear. On the other hand, an alternative evolutionary paradigm is offered by Alfred Wallace, a contemporary of Darwin’s, who propounded a non-unilinear view. The paradigm of this process is found in the giraffe, which, by reaching upward for a long period of time, somehow willed itself to lengthen its neck. The relevant lesson gained from this paradigm is that one should always be keen on an alternative explanation. In Wallace’s case, the alternative explanation offered is something not reducible to the lottery of heredity or to the cruel vagaries of the environment, which in the unilinear view are held to be the only truths that matter.21 The skepticism inherent in this moral embodies the essence of a non-unilinear approach. What is true of natural science is true of social science. As will be shown below, the non-unilinear perspective has the potential of opening to us a new vista on the whole question of challenge to the alleged universality of certain pet ideas and values held by Western analysts looking cross-culturally to Eastern Asia. For the concerns of this chapter, the non-unilinear perspective holds the key to understanding why the various societies imbued with the Asian values have to be understood in the logical context of their hidden Confucian roots, in contrast to the Abrahamic roots of Western values.

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A non-unilinear appraisal of values: Confucian-Asian vs. Abrahamic Each culture or value system has its inherent logic, emanating from a body of first principles that permeates and connects all derivatives. The Asian values that we find so resistant to the Western keystone ideas mentioned above are rooted in the Confucian ontology that was transplanted to nations traditionally under the sway of Chinese cultural influence in the Asian region. In order to get to the gestalt of the Confucian tradition, I would argue, we need briefly to account for both its fundamental premises (first principles) and the historical circumstances that helped shape its flowering in China. Failing this, not only will we never be able to understand fully the true meaning of the Confucian tradition and the Asian values it gave rise to, but, more important, we will never fully comprehend why keystone Western ideas lose their universal validity or appeal in this region. First principles in the Confucian, as contrasted with the Abrahamic, tradition Two fundamental but interrelated premises in the Confucian tradition merit particular attention: (a) its peculiar assumption about human nature, and (b) the Confucian conception of man-in-society. Before elaborating on them, I wish to stress that these premises provide, in stark contrast, a counterpoint to the Abrahamic ontology. In due course, we will see why the keystone Western ideas of an Abrahamic origin failed to live up to their alleged universality claim when introduced into Asian nations. It is necessary to keep in mind that by “Confucian tradition” we mean more than just the teachings of Confucius. The term “tradition” here implies that while Confucius himself had inherited essential elements from pre-ancient Chinese philosophy and Weltanschauung before him, his teachings were later elaborated and expanded by his followers as well.22 More than that, the Confucian tradition takes on additional coloration as it blends into the native cultural contexts of the nations on China’s periphery that embraced its influence. Despite its amplifications over time, however, the basics of the tradition have remained. Contrary to the Abrahamic ideology in the West, which is rooted in the premise and logic of man’s original sin, the Confucian tradition is predicated on the view that human nature is corrigible, or potentially disposed toward good. I say “potentially” because Confucius (551–479 BC) never explicitly spelled it out beyond indicating that human nature, far from being originally wicked, was moldable to become good. Hence, while it was possible for one disciple, Xun Zi (also Hsuan Tzu; 298–238 BC), to claim that human nature was innately bad, another disciple, Mencius (Meng Zi; 372–289(?) BC), on the other hand, developed an elaborate theory of Confucian humanism inspired by the notion of the innate goodness of human nature.23 Future Confucians and most of the Chinese ever since have accepted the Mencius interpretation, which made him the second sage after Confucius himself. His interpretation is consistent with the original Confucian tenet that what determines human nature is the conditioning effects of the human environment (society), including moral education (li jiao).

A re-appraisal of values and IR theory 23 Two related prescriptions ensue from this prognosis of human nature: (a) that society be cleansed of corrupting influences; and (b) that man finds fulfillment, not in isolation, but in his social environment; hence, the concept of man-in-society. This man-in-society conception, as Donald Munro points out, begins with the premise of man’s natural equality (contrary to the usual Western impression of Confucian values) and ends with the prescription that proper education (a social added value) will help individuals fulfill their respective potentials. According to the Confucian tradition, society should be an enlarged life-time school. True to his belief in universal education, Confucius would not turn away whosoever came to him to be educated (you jiao wu lei). The properly educated elite should be endowed with a sense of mission so that one does not think of advancing just oneself, but aims at advancing the collective self (ji yu li er li ren). The end result from this social variable is a hierarchy of individuals of varying potentials and accomplishments.24 Thus, it would be futile trying to square the Western notion of the man-unto-himself with the Confucian notion of man-in-society. Many ramifications emerge from this contradistinction, such as the competing priority of the free will and rights of the individual vs. the collective will and rights of society; or of the welfare of the individual vs. the collective well-being of men-in-society. The moral of this contrast is that while the concept of (and urge for) human fulfillment is universal, it may take different forms in different cultural and societal contexts. This is not a suggestion of cultural relativism, which is a dirty word in the vocabulary of many Western liberals, but a crucial fact we must confront in search of a true answer to the question concerning the universality of any set of cultural values. To my knowledge, no systematic study has been made of the possible linkage, if any, between the Judeo-Christian premise of the wicked individual (due to the original sin) and modern Western political theories. Nevertheless, I think it appropriate to raise a question whether a logical connection can be found. A cursory examination seems to suggest that there is a deducible connection. For example, for modern Western political theorists from Machiavelli to Hobbes, the central premise of the wickedness of the individual seems compatible with their characterization of human beings as anti-social power-seekers by nature. Hence, a logical deduction is that the state exists to provide security for the people, by putting the necessary fire-wall safeguards (like laws, or wills of the sovereign) between wicked individuals fighting for their own aggrandizement. The state, in this context, does not engage in moral education, as classical (basically ancient Greek) and Confucian thinkers advocated. As Hobbes saw it, unless there be a sovereign, society is a fiction. However, just as the state is necessary to protect self-seeking individuals from one another, institutional guarantees must be erected to preclude abuse of power by the wicked persons running the government. For this purpose, democracy would be the ideal answer as such a safeguard institution: the built-in checks and balances and separation of powers in a democracy would minimize the danger of the wicked individuals (officials) abusing governmental power. On the other hand, as we have seen, given its different assessment of human nature, the Confucian ideal is that the state be the agent whose function it is to keep

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society from corrupting influences. Thus, the government must engage in the moral education of its people (in reality, because of the concomitant Confucian emphasis on familism, the extended family is often the practical agent of moral education in all Chinese communities, at home or abroad). Likewise, it is incumbent upon the government to intervene in aiding society’s collective quest for fulfillment and in engendering societal macro-development. And, to do so, the government must be strong, efficient, and citizen-friendly. Only such a government can transcend any special interests and harness them. The above contrast should not be construed to be an endorsement of one or the other approach to human nature and the suitable mode of governance, but it serves to demonstrate that because of differences in the fundamental assumptions (first principles) between the two traditions, the deduced goals plus the instruments for their fulfillment are also drastically different, and even incompatible. Understanding this point may shed new light on how adequately to evaluate the question of the universality of cultural values and human aspirations. The historical circumstances surrounding the growth of Confucianism in China The ideal of the government’s function in fostering societal macro development (and social justice) was institutionalized early on in China. Following the adoption of Confucianism as the guojiao (national learning) by Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty in 136 BC, China saw the introduction of the keju system (a civil service examination system writ large) by which the state became the certifying agent of social mobility for the whole nation (not just the bureaucracy). While this first civil service system in human history made it possible for a commoner like Kung-sun Hung (Gongsun Hong, d. 121 BC) to become prime minister, two unexpected side-effects also ensued, however. First, the institution paved the way for the legacy that the state was bigger than society. Also, it created a one-career society in China in that all eyes were fixed on acquiring a good enough education to make it through the keju system so as to join the envied ranks of the literocrats, the elite class that helped the Emperor rule the country, while all other professions became trivialized. The former legacy died hard even after the keju system was abolished in 1905. The enduring Confucian influence in Asian values Although the Confucian tradition that seeped through Chinese borders to neighboring nations did not bring with it the keju system, it is nevertheless true that the inherent Confucian exaltation of respect for authority did rub off in various places. In Japan, for example, the legacy of Tokugawa jusha Confucianism, abetted by the native samurai bushido, anticipated the advent of the developmental state that brought instant modernity to the Meiji era (1868–1912). The same symbiotic legacy contributed greatly to Japan’s post-World War II rise to become an economic superpower. That the developmental-state model spread from Japan to

A re-appraisal of values and IR theory 25 other Asian nations is a familiar story. However, I wish to stress that their common Confucian cultural influence paved the way for the other Asian nations to embrace the interventionist state in the enterprise of promoting societal prosperity. Before leaving the subject of a non-unilinear view of history, I wish to add a cognate point about the different “time zones” that complicate our comprehension of the problems confronting the universality of human values. As Paul Bracken wisely notes, the year 1998, for example, may look the same on the calendar to all nations on Earth, but its meaning may be vastly different. For Asia, the year 1998 represented the five-hundredth anniversary of Vasco da Gama’s landing in India, an event that opened the West’s infamous inroads into Asia, a history that the modern West would rather have the world forget. Instead, Bracken adds, the West spent the 1990s celebrating its victory in winning the Cold War. The new epoch, in the view of many, marked the triumphal spread of a Western form of globalization, a linking of economics and cultures; and in it “American values and norms would spread to countries who would willingly embrace the superior ways that gave the United States the world’s greatest military force as well as the world’s richest economy.”25 The trouble with this view, Bracken cautions, is that “the post-Cold War era never came to Asia. It was a Western deceit.” Without using the term “non-unilinear,” Bracken suggests an alternative line of interpretation that sees Asia and the West not living in the same historical time zone (my term) and, hence, having different horizons.26 The very term “post-Cold War era,” he notes, presumes that the US–Soviet struggle was a central event of our time and that its end marked a completely new beginning for the entire world. But the Cold War was not a world war. In Asia, the Cold War was not merely different from that in Europe; it was also relatively less important, observes Bracken, adding: “The central motor of Asia’s history in the second half of the twentieth century was postcolonialism, the efforts of China, Vietnam, India, and others to create viable nation-states after the long period of foreign rule” (emphasis added) or, as in China’s case, of foreign domination.27 To carry Bracken’s view one step further, we may say that throughout the East and Southeast Asian region, the second half of the past century ushered in a new era in which, with the rare exception of Japan (which was itself a colonial power), all countries – including the newly independent post-colonial states plus China and Thailand (the only two other existing independent Asian states, besides Japan, before the end of World War II) – share a common jubilance over the demise of colonial rule or, in the Chinese case, the end of Western “imperialist” dominance. Post-colonial nationalism and the tasks of state- and nation-building that went along with it, as contra-distinguished from the technology-led search for power in the West, lay at the heart of all social and political pursuits in post-colonial (and post-imperialist) Asia.28 In this context, the tasks of securing socio-political stability and economic development to overcome poverty merit greater priority than political development (democratization) plus the promotion of individual liberties and egoistic-centered rights. This is why the Confucian ideals inherent in the region’s Asian values that highlight the fulfillment of collective well-being (men-in-society) make much more sense to most of the nations concerned. In this light, therefore, it is not that the Western liberal ideas are wrong per se, but

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merely that they do not answer post-colonial Asia’s immediate needs and concerns. Besides, when weighed against centuries of Western colonialism and “imperialist” domination, the liberal ideas that the West touts today as universally treasurable cannot but have a hypocritical ring to them, as viewed in retrospect by many Asian nations from a post-colonial (and post-imperialist) perspective.

Part II: Inadequacy of the Western neorealist IR theory The “China threat” (?): myth and reactions The collapse of the Soviet Union coincided with China’s continuing ascent to the position as the world’s third-largest economy, next only to the United States and Japan, at least as from 2008. Scary forecasts by respectable pundits even suggested that China was poised to catch up with the United States economically by 2025, and militarily by mid-century.29 The cries of the “China threat” thus took off relentlessly and spread like a prairie fire. Following the same cue, scholarly warnings about an emerging Chinese hegemony swarmed the literature, to an extent unmatched since the erstwhile alarms about the Soviet threat during the Cold War. The best-known, and most blunt, example was probably the mega opus by John Mearsheimer at the University of Chicago. Writing in the Foreign Affairs in 2001,30 Mearsheimer called for reversal of America’s engagement policy, and suggested that US interests would be best served by keeping China down and encouraging Japan to build up its military capability, to help cope with the China threat. Oddly enough, if Mearsheimer was speaking for the mainstream realist IR scholars at the time, there has since been unforeseen change in the intellectual climate, as we will see below. Kenneth Waltz, arguably the best-known spokesman for the realist school since Hans Morgenthau, for example, had predicted that “secondary states” such as China, Japan, and Russia would seek to balance US power in the post-Cold War era.31 His view was shared by Christopher Layne and other realists.32 And, it certainly jibed with Mearsheimer’s thinking that a rising China would seek dominance at the expense of the United States, the world’s prevailing hegemon. This realist, or neorealist,33 view about the China threat was soon to be countered by a dissenting chorus of IR scholars, as they perceived that in its foreign-policy behavior, China showed a very different pattern from what neorealists from Waltz to Mearsheimer had predicted. However, before we go any further, we need a brief review of the main tenets of the mainstream IR theory under neorealist influence, so that we will be better able to grapple with the question of whether or not the theory is adequate in accounting for the international behavior of a re-ascending China. A brief review of the mainstream IR theoretical paradigm The field of international relations thus far is still dominated by neorealism, or structural realism, an updated form of the realist theory that has wielded overwhelming influence over the field for more than half a century. While the pedigree

A re-appraisal of values and IR theory 27 of realism goes back to Thucydides and Hobbes, among others, modern realism’s popularity surged in the wake of the ugly legacy of World War II. Nazi pursuit of brutal hegemony and world conquest had put into question the efficacy of international law and institutions, and had thus driven home to many IR students the absolute supremacy of power in world politics.34 This historical background seems to have frozen theory in time. With its added concern for structure, or how power distributes across the system, neorealism sees in the Westphalian system the defining attribute of anarchy, or lack of a supra-national authority such as a world government would embody.35 From the central premise of anarchy comes a derived imperative, self-help of states, which reconfirms the cardinal tenet of classical realism – i.e., quest for power as a sine qua non of statecraft – to the exclusion of normative desiderata such as values, order, and international law. A full review of the main IR theory is beyond the ken of this paper. What I hope to do here is to zero in on the theory’s inability to explain the international behavior of the rising China and to venture into the underlying reasons for this failure. Where possible, I shall attempt to suggest how the weakness of the existing IR theory may be remedied, in view of what we learn from the reasons for China’s behavioral deviation from what is considered as the usual mean. Neorealist prediction versus China’s discrepant behavior As seen above, there is an internal logic to neorealist theory’s three key concepts: anarchy, self-help, and power balancing, one leading to the next. In anarchy, the theory holds, secondary states will flock together against the dominant power, their common threat. Hence, as noted above, Kenneth Waltz devoutly believes that while no longer constrained by an arch-rival like the former Soviet Union, the US’s predominant power will illicit efforts by other states trying to balance against it. For “unbalanced power, whoever wields it,” so goes the neorealist refrain, “is a potential danger to others.” To back up this point, Waltz makes references to historical precedents, citing the reactions of other states to the drive for dominance of Charles V, Hapsburg ruler of Spain; of Louis XIV and Napoleon of France; of Wilhelm II and Adolf Hitler of Germany. The trouble with this line of reasoning, and prediction, is that – as Peter van Ness poignantly points out – even though it is now well toward the end of the second decade of the post-Cold War era, none of Waltz’s candidates to be the next great power (China, Japan, Russia, the EU) has shown so much as even the slightest sign of seeking to counterbalance the US’s unipolar dominance. Contrasting his understanding with Waltz’s interpretation, but focusing on East Asia as Waltz has urged, Van Ness takes up the question of why neither China nor Japan has chosen to balance against the United States. Ultimately, he finds that “Chinese and Japanese failure or reluctance to do so can be better explained by alternative understandings of the structure of the global system, based on concepts of hierarchy …,” not of anarchy (emphasis added).36 We need not duplicate the elaborate theorizing and fine points that Van Ness lays out in presenting his thesis. Succinctly, he argues that “China and Japan, both

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in different ways dependents [sic] of the United States, devise their national security policies to deal with a world that is not, for them, characterized by anarchy.” Instead, he explains, “they perceive a hierarchical world environment, structured in terms of a combination of U.S. military-strategic hegemony and a globalized economic interdependence” (emphasis added). Hence, China and Japan “devise strategies based on the perceived benefits/costs of participation in that system, as compared with opting out of it.” In a nutshell, the Van Ness thesis holds that China and Japan, among other candidates to be America’s challengers, have not acted to balance against US power because both countries, as American “dependents [sic],” find themselves reconciled to a hierarchical relationship in which the cost of defiance far exceeds the price of compliance. In other words, it does not pay for either of them to challenge the hegemon when the benefits of compliance far outweigh whatever advantages might be gained from challenging it in the name of balance of power. It must be conceded that the “dependence” premise in the Van Ness hierarchy thesis may sound contrived and unconvincing. The point about a “dependent” relationship with the United States is not so easy to establish for China as it is for Japan,37 although Van Ness did supply the necessary details to support it. Skeptics may promptly point out that during Mao’s times, a much weaker China did not hesitate to defy the United States. But, analytically, indulging in verbal defiance, even of the most vitriolic sort (for example, the Red Guard slogan: “Down with US imperialism!”) was not the same as physically challenging the US with the aim of toppling it as the world’s hegemon. In the interest of parsimony, I would urge that we look to an alternative explanation as to why China today, although increasingly much more powerful over the last three decades since Mao’s death, nevertheless accepts a clearly hierarchical relationship with the United States. The alternative explanation inheres in China’s own history. In pre-modern times, China lived through a hierarchical international system of its own – albeit one in which the Chinese dominated all their neighbors, until the coming of the West in the nineteenth century. And, it did for so long that the country is accustomed to such a hierarchical structure of international relationships (see below), even though the structure it now finds itself in is an inverse hierarchy. The explanatory power of a hierarchic model: lessons from the Eastern Asian experience Extrapolating from the long record of East Asian international relations of six centuries through to the nineteenth century, and using social-scientific language, David Kang38 has developed a model of an Asian hierarchical order. It stood in sharp contrast to the Eurocentric order, which “consisted of formal equality of sovereign states combined with informal hierarchy, since the largest powers had disproportionate influence on the system.” In the Asian model, on the other hand, he finds that the system “consisted of formal hierarchy [but] informal equality.” In this system, “consisting of China as the central state and the peripheral states as the lesser states or ‘vassals,’ as long as hierarchy was observed, there was little

A re-appraisal of values and IR theory 29 need for inter-state war.” Thus, Kang finds fewer wars in the Asian system than in the Eurocentric system over the six centuries.39 I hasten to point out that the Chinese view of hierarchy was not a one-way street; and it allowed for China’s acceptance of an inferior status for itself in the event of an inverse hierarchy. This point came to the fore in some in-depth studies of China’s pre-modern relations with neighboring states on its periphery. For example, a classic Harvard study of the traditional Chinese world order, orchestrated by John Fairbank, the doyen of Sinology, found that the so-called “tribute system” (encompassing China’s hierarchical relationship with the so-called “vassal” states on its periphery) was not based on ethnic Sinic superiority, as many in the West (especially adherents to any cultural theory) might assume. Translated into modern social-scientific terms, the hierarchy was formed by the natural interactions of China with neighboring states up and down the rungs of the prevailing ladder of relative power, although it was often expressed in quasi-familial terms (like uncle–nephew or big brother–small brother ties).40 In normal pre-modern times, the power ratio was overwhelmingly in China’s favor. During the mid-fourteenth through to the mid-seventeenth centuries, for example, China’s GNP was 28–30 percent of the world’s total output, or about where the United States stood relative to the rest of the world at the height of its post-World War II power during the 1950s. For a thousand years, China was the world’s largest economy, hence the most powerful state, until it declined in the nineteenth century, which coincided with the coming of the West.41 By 1800, or on the eve of the West’s inroads, China still accounted for 33 percent of the world’s manufacturing output.42 Hence, China was for centuries at the center of the East Asian hierarchy, as reflected in the country’s Chinese name, Chung-kuo (or Zhongguo), literally the Central State. However, during times when China was weak relative to its neighbors, as during periods of internal division or unrest, the Chinese court showed flexibility enough to accept a reversal of the patron–client status in the hierarchical order. During the weak Southern Sung Dynasty (AD 1127–1279), for instance, the Chinese Emperor received the Chin (or Jin) ambassador in an East-West position, instead of the usual North-South position that suggested Chinese primacy in the hierarchy.43 To make peace in AD 1138 with Jin (a state founded by the Tungusic people, also known as Nuchen, in the Sungari basin in Manchuria, or today’s Northeast China), the founder of the Southern Sung empire in China even accepted the status of a “vassal” (chen) himself. His successor improved the status to that of a nephew (chih, also transliterated as zhi) and addressed the Jin emperor as younger uncle (shu), i.e., the father’s younger brother. The Sung emperors sent to their powerful northern neighboring states annual presents of large amount and value, nominally as a kind of economic aid, but actually as tribute in reverse.44 These little-known episodes are enough to indicate that in the traditional Sinocentric hierarchy of East Asian international relations, the patron–client relationship was at times reversible, although for the most part Chinese primacy was the norm. After the West came, and especially after China’s defeat in the Opium War of 1840, however, the hierarchy was permanently reversed, and the Chinese

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learned to live with the reversal. The decisive part, which most analysts have missed, is whether China is “in” the world’s existing (though hierarchical) system. Maoist China, despite its weakness and an economy in disarray, revolted against US hegemony precisely because the regime was excluded from the international system by dint of the US non-recognition policy, which most of its allies followed. Hence, if the Van Ness thesis – which held China’s “dependency” to be the reason for its reluctance to challenge the American unipolar power – should sound contrived, this alternative interpretation may offer a needed clarification. Chinese disposition toward hierarchy, in other words, may more readily account for why China’s behavior has not borne out Waltz’s prediction about a China possibly counter-balancing the US unipolar power. The critical point, which holds the key to an answer, is that in contrast to Maoist times, China is now “in” the system, albeit that the system is a hierarchical one in favor of the United States. Both the alternative explanation of historical habituation and Van Ness’s thesis point to the same conclusion, namely that hierarchy, not anarchy, explains why the behavior of China is defying the neorealist iron law of power balancing. In a larger sense, the same reason – i.e., hierarchy – may account for why the European powers, the only other states (outside China and Japan) that are on Waltz’s list of rightful candidates to be America’s challengers, have not acted any differently from China or Japan, in their failure to balance against US dominance. (Parenthetically, Russia has been preoccupied with putting its house in order after the collapse of Soviet power and the Communist bloc. Its 2008 war in Georgia, a former Soviet republic and a current US ally, was not per se an attempt to challenge US power. At most, it was Russia’s way of flexing its muscle in response to the US-led attempt to push an expanded NATO all the way through former Soviet-bloc states to Moscow’s doorstep.) This point becomes clearer if we recall Susan Strange’s suggestion that a more reliable way of comparing the United States and its allies (and foes alike) is to use the measure of “structural power,” as distinct from the usual relational power. In each of the four structures she discusses – i.e., security, production, finance, and knowledge – her study found that the United States enjoyed an indisputable edge. “Neither Europe nor Japan,” she concluded, “can equal Americans’ performance across all four structures. Since each of them interacts with the other three, and the Europeans and Japanese are so far behind militarily, it seems likely that America will enjoy the power to act as hegemon for some time to come.”45 In other words, America’s relations with its European allies and Japan are hierarchical by this measure. Times have changed since Strange’s study was published (in 1987), but the structural power ratio she mapped out has remained largely true. Although the erstwhile Cold War alliance system has lost its original meaning, the cross-Atlantic security structure has survived, and NATO has expanded in membership to accommodate the new European geopolitical realities. The other three structures have also survived the change of time. Triumphant capitalism following the collapse of Soviet power has only bred a resurgent American self-confidence, so much so that at the beginning of the new millennium there are signs of a “new [U.S.]

A re-appraisal of values and IR theory 31 hegemony”46 and even an “imperial ambition”.47 (I might add, even the repercussions of the far-reaching effects to all regions of the world of the 2008 collapse of the Wall Street, however paradoxically, demonstrated that the United States is still the world’s only superpower, in the economic as well as the political and military spheres.) In a refreshing exposition on the post-Cold War world order, John Ikenberry suggests that the United States, unlike the last sole superpower (Great Britain) before World War II, relies more on working through a web of multilateral institutions than on the balance of power in order to maintain stable relations despite the extreme disparities in power among the actors.48 This thesis may also tangentially answer the question of why no country thus far is power-balancing against the United States. If the thesis is true, what has changed is the name (i.e., nature) of the game, from the traditional power balancing to the new game of power constraining by means of international institutions. What has not changed, however, is the fact that the system marked by the extreme disparity in power that Ikenberry addresses remains a hierarchical one. And hierarchy makes the difference. Despite the end of the Cold War, America’s military expenditure has risen to a level that is nearly equal to the total defense spending of the rest of the world,49 and its military prowess is second to none. The almighty dollar is the only national currency recognized by all countries.50 Finally, only the United States has global reach that extends across the Pacific and the Atlantic, into Central and Latin America, and deep into the heart of the Middle East and South Asia. But – contrary to the predictions of neorealists like Waltz and Layne – secondary states have not, either unilaterally or in collusion, acted to balance against the US’s unipolar power, unmistakably reflecting the strategic effects of hierarchy on the anarchic system. What we see conforms to a finding in the Kang model above, extrapolated from a study of six centuries of East Asian international relations, that bandwagoning, not power balancing, is a “central feature” in the behavior of the secondary states if the hierarchical structure is overwhelming.51 To the extent that the “central state” has no territorial ambitions, and when there exists a method for resolving conflicts, the model shows that “all nations in the system can find an equilibrium that involves acquiescence to the dominant state.” From this peculiar equilibrium by acquiescence, the secondary states are able to retain their autonomy and de facto equality while enjoying the stability and other benefits the hierarchical order bestows. Hence, bandwagoning by secondary states occurs because it is their optimal choice in a steep hierarchy. The kind of power-balancing that rivets the attention of neorealists like Waltz and Layne was indeed the norm in the Westphalian system from 1648 to at least 1814. And the reason, as K. J. Holsti observes, is that the Westphalian system during most of the said period was one of polyarchical order (made up of eight major powers and many lesser states), in which anarchy, not hierarchy, dominated.52 One could argue that the polyarchical (hence anarchical) structure returned after 1848 and continued through the first part of the twentieth century.53 The neorealist model can explain these periods of the Westphalian system, but obviously not others, including the new post-Cold War era, as we have seen, and possibly even the Cold

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War period. During the latter, in retrospect, two separate hierarchies were pitted against each other, in each of which bandwagoning, not power balancing, was the optimal choice of the secondary states. Steep hierarchy, to reiterate, accounts for the difference, or divergence from the neorealist iron law of power balancing. I would also add that while bandwagoning is the norm of secondary states’ behavior in an entrenched hierarchical system, a protest by them may take the form of feet dragging – i.e., refusal to do the bidding of the dominant power – rather than outright power-balancing against it. The refusal of France and Germany, along with Russia and China, to support America’s war against Iraq that began in the spring of 2003 may be considered feet-dragging behavior of this nature. Change in intellectual climate in the China debate and search for theoretical fine-tuning From observing that China has not tried to balance the United States but instead is bandwagoning, Peter Van Ness, as already noted, speculates that the stiff hierarchy in the present system may provide an answer as to why the realist view is not borne out empirically.54 Following in the same vein, David Kang also raises a question as to why Thailand and other Asian secondary states are not balancing China in the region in “the same way that the United States balanced the Soviet Union.”55 The return, coincidental or not, of scholarly interest in hierarchy – which David Lake (UC-San Diego) calls “one of the dead horses” in the IR literature56 – has called into question the adequacy of the realist paradigm. This slight shift from realist “anarchy” (i.e., lack of a supranational authority over states) to “hierarchy” (a structure dominated by a hegemon, which calls the shots), and from power-balancing to bandwagoning, opened the floodgates to a widening debate on whether the earlier realist fixation with power and power balancing can adequately explain, or anticipate, the behavior of a rising power such as China. Critics may argue that within bandwagoning there may be hidden effects of balancing. My answer is that even if this symbiotic mixture be true, we have to consider the relative weight of the two elements: bandwagoning and counterbalancing. Take China’s role in brokering the six-power talks on the North Korean nuclear problem, for example. To the extent that China may set out to gain prestige, hence power, from its brokering success, it could be an example of diplomatic one-upmanship with hidden balancing undertones vis-à-vis the United States. But if the ultimate goal were to help Washington crack an otherwise hard-to-crack nut, the bandwagoning on China’s part (i.e., brokering the talks at Washington’s behest, as it did) far outweighed whatever hidden effect of balancing against the United States one might imaginatively deduce. Furthermore, China’s bandwagoning behavior is reflective of, and consistent with, the low profile and non-assertive posture it has kept in its participation in key international institutions. In a penetrating study of the “operational constitution” of such institutions as the United Nations, the World Bank, the International Court of Justice (ICJ), the International Monetary Fund (IMF), etc., Jacob Katz Cogan identified a pattern of prerogatives reserved for the P-5, the five permanent members of

A re-appraisal of values and IR theory 33 the Security Council (China, France, UK, the US, and the Soviet Union-Russia). The People’s Republic of China (PRC), however, is the only one of the P-5 that has not fully asserted its prerogatives in terms of membership and participation. For example, it is the only P-5 member that did not have a judge sitting on the ICJ in the years 1972 to 1984, after it regained its right of representation in the UN family in 1972, pursuant to G.A. Resolution 2751. The P-5’s prerogatives also extend to membership and influence in other UN bodies, such as the Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC) and its prolific subsidiaries. China is the only exception among the P-5, in not cashing in on these privileges.57 After the collapse of the Wall Street brought on the global financial crisis, various quarters including at the G-20 meeting in London in April 2009 raised the prospect of an enhanced Chinese participation in the IMF, as China held the world’s largest foreign exchange reserves, equivalent to over two trillion US dollars. The suggested scenario would call for corresponding increases in China’s voting power in the IMF’s weighted voting system. But, quite typically, Beijing’s response was measured and cautious, although largely positive. It pledged to contribute a modest $40 billion toward strengthening IMF’s lending power, while Japan and the EU (plus the US – Congress permitting) each pledged $100 billion. Later, when some mavericks broached substituting G-20 with G-2 (comprising the US and China only), China simply declined the honor, to the puzzlement of many in the West who expected a more assertive response from a country with China’s economic clout and gigantic reserves.58 Intellectual debates on the China threat: a re-direction Picking up on the theme of hierarchy as a structure of international relations, David Lake develops a derivative point regarding the importance of (moral) authority in the conduct of hegemonic foreign policy, if the United States is going to lead. Appling this framework to the future of East–West relations, he sees that conflict with rising powers, especially China, is not “foreordained.” Rather, it is in part a function of the policy choices of the United States, the prevailing hegemon. By building authority, rather than relying purely on brute power, he explains, the United States will have enough followers in the world when it has to face a future Chinese superpower. The US, he adds, “might even succeed in locking China into an American-dominated international order.”59 Rethinking IR theory takes other forms, too, but all tweaked by a curiosity about the prospect of a rising China. For example, Jacek Kugler, at the Claremont Graduate University, who collaborated with the late Alfred Organski in developing the “power transition” theory, steps forward to fine-tune, or clarify, the theory itself. According to the original “power-transition” theory, as is generally understood by most IR students, war is most likely when power is roughly equal. Kugler is now emphasizing what has been said (but often overlooked) in the fine print of the theory as it was first formulated on the basis of historical examples, namely: that “such a war is likely only when the parties fundamentally disagree about the status quo.”60 Thus, an advice offered by Kugler is that the United States

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should focus on Asia far more than on the Global War on Terror. “The path to international peace,” he stresses, “can be ensured if action is taken to enhance satisfaction by China and other growing giants in Asia.”61 This almost certainly anticipated the Bush Administration’s reordering of its priorities by making China a ‘stakeholder” (see below). Another challenge to the realist reflex on the China threat comes from Richard Rosecrance, an International Political Economy (IPE) expert at Harvard, who weighs in by calling attention to the transformation of the Westphalian system as a result of the post-Cold War economic globalization. Realist theory, which is too closely tied to the pre-globalization past, can no longer adequately explain the behavior of states in the new international relations, he laments. Before going on to offer his main points about the changed international system today, he first examines the different implications of power. Noting that power is a protean attribute, he points out that “the amount of power that a nation possesses does not dictate its policy or behavior.” What matters is intention. There is no inevitability of war occurring as a result of one power overtaking an extant hegemonic state. The result depends on whether the newly powerful state has expansive or disruptive intentions. At the turn of the twentieth century, he notes, the United States overtook Great Britain without war. In economic terms, Japan moved ahead of the Soviet Union in 1983, but neither country was tempted to fight over the transition.62 I would add that in the opening decades of the twentieth century, both Germany and France were locked in a fierce arms race. But France remained defensive all along. Only Germany turned expansive. In addition to asking if China has the intention to challenge US hegemonic power, Rosecrance counsels, one has to note the different world system in which China finds itself today. Because of economic globalization, China will enter a world market in which “many of the spoils have already been appropriated.”63 In the world of 1914, he adds, great powers (i.e., Britain, France, Germany, etc.) were not dependent upon the commercial ties forged among them. Those ties could be replaced by other suppliers and markets. Foreign direct investments (FDI) did not flow between the major powers, but from the metropole to the colonies, even then in small amounts. In the world of the twenty-first century, however, Chinese industries, although growing rapidly, may often be subsidiaries (or joint-venture partners) of major world corporations located elsewhere. In the age of what Rosecrance calls “vulnerability interdependence,” not even the United States can boast of having attained unipolarity of economics, despite its overwhelming military might. For the Chinese, it means their country will be studded with foreign firms – including US, Japanese, and European ones – contributing the needed technology for its development.64 Hence, it is unlikely that China will be so insane as to seek self-destruction by trying to destroy the existing system. Economic ties and cooperation with foreign powers, including the US, Japan, Russia, the EU, India, etc., will be preferable to military expansion against them, so concludes Rosecrance. Within this paradigmatic shift, there is a slight geographic shift, to boot. Instead of the earlier “Pacific Century,”65 the term “Asian Century” began to be used. As Abramowitz and Bosworth put it, “[m]uch more than a geographic expression, East

A re-appraisal of values and IR theory 35 Asia is now an international economic power.” What led them to this conclusion are, essentially, a few statistics. For example, East Asia’s share of global GDP has risen sharply from some 12 percent in 1970 to nearly 20 percent in 2004. Its share of global trade has grown even more rapidly, from 10 percent in 1975 to 21 percent in 2003. The world’s non-agricultural labor force has doubled in only a decade as East Asian workers have entered the global economy. And, alarmingly, East Asian central banks now hold over $2 trillion in American assets.66 If Japan used to be thought of constituting the powerful moving force in East Asia, it has phased out from Asia’s center stage, following its decade-and-a-half long economic difficulties. Since the turn of the new century, increasingly some commentators are beginning to lump China and India together as a force (referred to as “Chindia”67) that will excel at the high end and the low end, and in services as well as in manufacturing. A report by the Economist Intelligence Unit, released on 30 March 2006, even forecasts that by 2020 the combined GDP of India and China will be 39 percent of the global GDP, and that Asia’s total GDP will be double that of the United States.68 When the focus is turned away from China to the “Asian century,” more and more analysts are directing their attention to why China’s Asian neighbors, with the obvious exception of Taiwan, are not as worried about the China threat as American officials think they should be. Abramowitz and Bosworth, for example, were even more specific than David Kang,69 who was the first one to raise that question. They noted that Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, while attending a 2005 security conference in Singapore, asked a hawkish question, namely: Since no nation threatens China, why is China increasing its investment in the building of new weapons systems? They turned the question around and asked Rumsfeld: As no nation threatens the US, why is America’s total defense expenditure so high that it is more than the total defense expenditures of all the rest of the world combined? The co-authors question the validity of the Pentagon’s mindset, as represented by Rumsfeld’s question, which they term “ludicrous.” If one follows the Pentagon’s mindset, then one would have assumed that China’s escalating power would cause countries in the Asian region to value America’s presence more highly. But, as Abramowitz and Bosworth hasten to point out, in reality, only Japan, among China’s neighbors, has moved to enhance its alliance with the United States. I might point out that the reason for Japan’s doing so is a running saga of animosity that is deeply rooted in history, and has only been exacerbated by Tokyo’s recent intense feud with China over the vast East China Sea oil and gas resources.70 The most telling of the changes in the intellectual climate, concerning the China debate, is in the subtle but real shift in John Mearsheimer’s own position. Six years after his 2000 article in Foreign Affairs, discussed earlier in the chapter, Mearsheimer wrote an updated article in the April 2006 issue of Current History. Using the ticklish title of “China’s unpeaceful rise,”71 he continued to reason as a realist, flaunting his “theory of international politics that says the mightiest states will attempt to establish hegemony in their region of the world while making sure no rival great power dominates another region.”72 However, unlike other realists previously (including himself), he atypically introduced an extraneous

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variable, namely: “intentions,” next to the usual realist stock of anarchy and power (capability). This “intention” variable recalls a similar point made by Richard Rosecrance, as discussed above. Although Mearsheimer attempts to appear consistent between his two articles, separated by six years, his introduction of “intention,” a volitional-subjective element, side by side with the two non-volitional attributes of the realist “system” (i.e., anarchy and power), transforms the basic assumption in realist thinking that the system’s attributes – principally the power distribution across the system – dictate states’ behavior. To realists, all behavior of states is thus system-induced. The introduction of such a volitional-subjective factor as intention, reflecting a possible influence of constructivism, changes one’s whole outlook on whether and how China is to be a threat. If China does not demonstrate an intention to challenge the existing world order, or if other states (including the ruling hegemon) do not find (perceive) an intention on the part of the rising Chinese superpower to seek to dominate the world, then there is not necessarily going to be a hegemonic war. This is so, because war is no longer automatic, or determined by the system’s power distribution. A logical derivation, therefore, is that whether the rising China is going to be a threat does not purely depend on China alone. Instead, a lot depends on whether other powerful states (especially the existing hegemon) attempt to suppress it, hence creating its dissatisfaction with the system (and an intention to upset and change it), in the sense used by Jacek Kugler above. This subtle change almost reverses Mearsheimer’s own views aired in his 2000 Foreign Affairs article. But, one thing is sure. The Mearsheimer article of 2006 is more in keeping with a growing trend in the intellectual climate on the China debate in America. Lessons from the changing debates on the China threat for IR theory To sum up, there is no question that the new intellectual consensus, noted above, has rubbed off on official US policy. The idea that intention, not power (capability), determines whether a rising powerful state will pose a threat, and that a rising power that is satisfied with the status quo is not likely to challenge and upset it – all seem to have been taken cognizance of and reflected in the changing US policy on the rising China. Former Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice’s point that the United States and other major powers have an “obligation” to make China feel and act as a “responsible” stakeholder fulfills the scholarly exhortation that the rising China be made into a power “satisfied” with the existing world order. Likewise, the wording just cited in the Pentagon’s 2006 Report seems to bend backwards to remind China that it should be “satisfied” with the status quo, as it is a country that, to reiterate, “has derived great benefit” from the existing “global system.” The effects of the change in the intellectual climate, involving a re-evaluation of the mainstream realist theory in the study of international relations, will be much more far-reaching by comparison. It means that from now on, students of international relations (IR) will have to be equally sensitized, for example, to hierarchy as well as anarchy, to intention as well as power, and to bandwagoning as well as balancing. In sum, analysts in both academe and government will no

A re-appraisal of values and IR theory 37 longer conceptualize the possible consequences of a rising Chinese superpower in the same way as before. The erstwhile realist reflex is most likely to prove too simplistic to offer a reliable guide, either to IR students or to policy makers.

Concluding remarks From what has just been discussed in Part II of this chapter, one important lesson learned is that China’s international behavior has been found to be bandwagoning, rather than counterbalancing the hegemonic power. This pattern contradicts the realist (and neorealist) iron law of balance of power. As noted, one reason for this – and a crucial one at that – is rooted in history, encompassing both China’s experience with its Asian neighbors long before the coming of the West and, after 1800, its dealings with the predatory West. As has been noted above, Wang Gungwu, as a historian, was able to trace to ancient times the Chinese acceptance of hierarchy and its effects on their conduct of all human relations. As in the case of our contrast between the Confucian-Asian values and the Abrahamic ideology, the two cultures are not on the same wavelengths, as has been amply demonstrated in our discussions above. In retrospect, I have been pretty remiss in not having delved more deeply into the idea that China is not rising for the first time. Other than mentioning it in passing, I have not made much of the fact the so-called rising of China is in really its second ascent, after having been in eclipse for a century and a half. In the Westphalian system of states, there is no precedent of this sort that would provide a clue as to how a re-ascending state would act. Unfortunately, all the first-time upstarts in the history of modern international relations have been expansionists flexing their new-found power muscles on others. The list includes England following the Industrial Revolution in the eighteenth century; France after the French revolution (the Napoleonic wars); Japan after the Meiji Reform (1868–1912); Germany following the Bismarckian unification and acquisition of superior modern military technology; the Soviet Union under Stalin; and even the United States after winning World War II. Although these examples would give pause to arouse fear among realists when confronting the prospect of a rising China, the truth is that none of them is a reliable guide, for the simple reason that China is not a first-time upstart. Elsewhere I have dealt with this point at length,73 but for lack of space I cannot go into it here. I do want, nevertheless, to suggest a hint, namely that an examination of China’s record during its first ascent, from the mid-ninth to the mid-nineteenth centuries, would probably provide an inkling as to how it will behave during its second ascent. However, that requires that we expand our horizons beyond the knowledge we already command from the history of international relations under the Westphalian system. Considering what has been discussed in both Parts I and II above, if one sentence can properly sum up the lessons we can learn from these broad cross-cultural comparisons, it probably would be the wise old counsel: “You have to know a lot in order to know a little.” Bearing this in mind, there is all the more reason to

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be humble before asserting a universal claim for any idea or theory that we hold dear ourselves. The first step is to dispense with the habitual unilinear view of the world.

Notes 1 Max Weber, The Religion of China: Confucianism and Taoism, translated from the German by Hans H Gerth (Glencoe IL: The Free Press, 1951), pp. 229–32, at 248. 2 In this discussion, Eastern Asia refers to both East Asia and Southeast Asia. 3 Wang Gungwu, Bind Us in Time: Nation and civilization in Asia (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press), p. 37. 4 David Kang, in his study of six centuries of international relations in the Asian system built around imperial China, from the thirteenth to the nineteenth centuries, found that secondary states in a steep hierarchical system chose to bandwagon rather than try to counter-balance the hegemonic power, as in the anarchical Westphalian system. See Kang, ‘Getting Asia wrong’, International Security, 27(4) (Spring 2003): 57–85. 5 For a most representative exposition of this neorealist view, see Kenneth N. Waltz, Theory of International Politics (Reading, MS: Addison-Wesley, 1979). The ‘Westphalian system’ used throughout this essay is a reference to the modern multi-state system that appeared following the Westphalia conference of 1648. 6 Wang Gungwu, Ideas Won’t Keep, The Struggle for China’s Future (Singapore: Eastern University Press, 2003), p. 23. 7 For a cogent discussion of the debate on Asian values, see Surain Subramanian, ‘The Asian values debate: implications for the spread of liberal democracy’, Asian Affairs: An American Review, 27(1) (Spring 2000): 19–36. 8 On this point, see World Bank, The Asian Miracle: Economic growth and public policy (New York and London: Oxford University Press, 1993). The World Bank attributed the success of the “Asian miracle” only to “government intervention” with its “macro-management” (as opposed to laissez-faire economics), plus high savings and reinvestment rates (contrary to Max Weber’s view). More to the point, however, Herman Kant, the late guru of the Hudson Institute, identified the ultimate source of the economic success of the four Asian Tigers as their “shared cultural heritage.” By that he meant their common linkage to the Confucian legacy. See Herman Kahn, World Economic Development, 1979 and Beyond (Boulder CO: Westview, 1979). 9 This section is based on Chapter 3 of my book Twenty-First Century World Order and the Asia Pacific (New York: Palgrave-Macmillan, 2001). 10 Christopher Patten, East and West: China, power, and the future of Asia (New York: Times Books, 1999). 11 United Nations, U.N. Chronicle (New York), 34(3) (1997): at 27. 12 Foreign Affairs (November–December 2000): 156–62. 13 Francis Fukuyama, The End of History and the Last Man (New York: Penguin, 1992). 14 Ashutosh Varshney, ‘Why have poor democracies not eliminated poverty?’, Asian Survey, 60(5) (2000): 718–76 (Berkeley CA: University of California Press). 15 In Varshney’s Table 1, he lists the following as among the democracies in the developing world that have not been able to shake off poverty: India, Sri Lanka, the Philippines, Botswana, Jamaica, Trinidad-Tobago, Costa Rica, and Venezuela (ibid.: 719). 16 See n. 8 above. 17 Chalmers Johnson, MITI and the Japanese Miracle: The growth of industrial policy, 1925–1975 (Stanford University Press, 1984). 18 Peter J. Herzog, Japan’s Pseudo-Democracy (New York: New York University Press, 1993). 19 See Chalmers Johnson et al., ‘The CIA and Japanese politics’ in a special issue on dysfunction in Japan, Asian Perspective, 24(4) (2000): 79–104.

A re-appraisal of values and IR theory 39 20 In this section and below, I am relying on my chapter ‘Universality claims and “failures” across cultures: liberalism vs. Asian values’, in Peter Yu, et al. (eds), International Governance, Regimes, and Globalization (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, forthcoming). 21 Ragahavan Iyer, ‘Spirit, mind, and matter,’ Hermes (September 1984): 3. Available online at: http://www.theosophy.org. 22 For a discussion of this point, see James C. Hsiung, Ideology and Practice: The evolution of Chinese communism (New York: Praeger, 1970), pp. 143–7. 23 Donald Munro, The Concept of Man in Early China (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1969), pp. 74–81. 24 Ibid., Chapter 3. 25 Paul Bracken, ‘The second nuclear age’, Foreign Affairs, 79(1) (2000): 147–8. 26 The idea of time zones is borrowed from Arthur Stein, Why Nations Cooperate: Circumstance and choice in international relations (Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press, 1990), pp. 21–3. 27 Bracken, ‘The second nuclear age’, op. cit.: 148. 28 For many Asian nations, political institutionalization was the main task of state building in the postcolonial period. Cf. Robert Scalapino et al., Asian Political Institutionalization (Berkeley CA: Institute of East Asian Studies, University of California, 1986). 29 Typical of these forecasts was that found in Ronald L. Tammen et al., Power Transition: Strategies for the 21st century (New York: Seven Bridges, 2000). 30 John F. Mearsheimer, ‘The future of the American pacifier’, Foreign Affairs (September– October 2001): 46–61, at 47. 31 Kenneth N. Waltz, ‘Structural realism after the Cold War’, International Security, 23(1) (Summer, 2000): 5–41, at 32 and 41. 32 Cf., for example, Christopher Layne, ‘The unipolar illusion: why new great powers will arise’, International Security, 17(3) (Spring 1993): 5–51. 33 Neorealism, also known as structural realism, differs from traditional realism in that it calls attention to the importance of the power distribution across the system of states and holds that all states’ behavior is determined by this power distribution pattern, hence is system-induced. See Waltz, n. 31 above. 34 For an account of the intellectual evolution of the IR field, see Steven Smith, ‘Paradigm dominance in international relations: the development of international relations as a social science’, in H. C. Dyer and L. Mangascerin (eds), The Study of International Relations: The state of the art (London: Macmillan, 1989). 35 See Waltz (1979), op. cit., n. 5 above. Earlier realists, including Morgenthau (1948), did not explicitly address the concept of anarchy. It was left for the neorealists (notably Waltz (1979)) to develop the anarchic paradigm. Given the neorealist focus on power distribution across the system, anarchy becomes the premise, and natural starting point, for any analysis of the behavior of the system’s units (states) when they interact with one another in the absence of a higher authority over and above them. 36 Peter van Ness, ‘Hegemony, not anarchy: why China and Japan are not balancing against U.S. unipolar power’, International Relations of the Asia Pacific, 2(1) (2002): 132–3. 37 For Japanese dependency on the United States, see Michael Schaller, Altered States: The U.S. and Japan since the occupation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997); Mayumi Itoh, Globalization of Japan: Japanese sakaku mentality and the U.S. efforts to open Japan (New York: St Martin’s Press, 2000); Bruce Stokes, A New Beginning: Recasting the U.S.-Japan economic relationship (New York: Council on Foreign Relations, 2000); and Chalmers Johnson et al. (2000), op. cit., n. 19 above. 38 David Kang, ‘Hierarchy and Stability in Asian International Relations’, American Asian Review, 19(2) (Spring 2001): 121–60. 39 Kang later further developed the point in ‘Hierarchy, balancing, and empirical puzzles in Asian international relations’, International Security, 25(3) (Winter, 2003–2004): 165–80.

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40 John Fairbank (ed.), The Chinese World Order: Traditional China’s foreign relations (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1968). 41 Andre Gunder Frank, ReOrient: Global economy in the Asian age (Berkeley CA: University of California Press, 1998), pp. 52–130. 42 Gerald Segal, ‘Does China matter?’ Foreign Affairs, 78(5) (1999): 24–36, at 25. 43 Benjamin Schwartz, ‘The Chinese perception of world order: past and present’, in Fairbank (1968), op. cit., p. 280 (see n. 40 above). 44 Lien-sheng Yang, ‘Historical notes on the Chinese world order’, in Fairbank (1968), op. cit., pp. 20ff. 45 Susan Strange, ‘The persistent myth of lost hegemony’, International Organization, 41(4) (1987): 551–74. 46 William Cox, ‘International history since 1989’, in John Baylis and Steve Smith (eds), The Globalization of World Politics, 2nd ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001), at p. 122. 47 John Ikenberry, ‘America’s imperial ambition’, Foreign Affairs, 81(5) (2002): 44–72. 48 Ibid. 49 The US defense budget for 2008 totalled $696 billion, which included Pentagon’s spending; the Department of Energy’s nuclear weapons program; the costs of the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, and DOD-related spending by other agencies. Source: Center for Arms Control and Non-Proliferation (2008). US military spending is 48 percent, or almost half, of the world’s total military spending. It spends more than the next 46 highest-spending countries in the world combined. It spends 5.8 times more than China; 10.2 times more than Russia, and 98.6 times more than Iran. Available online at: http://www.globalissues.org/article/75/world-military-spending#globalissues.org 50 Kenichi Ohmae, The End of the Nation State (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1995). 51 Kang (2001), op. cit.: 123; 129–30 (see n. 38 above). 52 K. J. Holsti, International Politics: A framework for analysis, 7th ed. (Englewood Cliffs NJ: 1995), p. 44. 53 After a brief interregnum of Concert of Europe (1815–48), the world saw the return of competitive alliances, or a system of balance of power. See Rene Albrecht-Carrie, A Diplomatic History of Europe since the Congress of Vienna (London: Methuen, 1958); E. H. Carr, What Is History? (London: Penguin Books, 1961); A. J. P. Taylor, Struggle for Mastery in Europe, 1848–1918, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971). 54 Van Ness (2002), op. cit., n. 36 above. 55 Kang (Winter 2003–2004) op. cit.: 172 (see n. 39 above). Kang can find support from Eric Labs, ‘Do Week States bandwagon?’ Security Studies, 1(3) (Spring 1992): 41–61. 56 David Lake, ‘The new sovereignty in international relations’, International Studies Review, 5 (2003): 303–23, at 303. Indicative of the return of scholarly interest in hierarchy is Katja Weber’s Hierarchy Amidst Anarchy (Albany NY: State University Press, 2000). 57 Jacob Katz Cogan, ‘Representation and power in international organization: the operational constitution and its critics’, American Journal of International Law, 103(2) (2009): 209–63, chart on p. 250; and p. 230. 58 Jian Junbo, ‘China says “No Thanks” to G-2’, Asia Times (29 May 2009). Available online at: http://www.atimes.com/atimes/China/KE29Ad-1.html 59 David Lake, ‘American hegemony and the future of East-West relations’, International Studies Perspective, 7(1) (February 2006): 23–30. 60 Jacek Kugler, ‘The Asian ascent: opportunity for peace or precondition for war?’ International Studies Perspective, 7(1) (2006): 36–42, at 39. 61 Ibid.: 36. 62 Richard Rosecrance, ‘Power and international relations: the rise of China and its effects’, International Studies Perspectives, 7(1) (2006): 31–35, at 32. 63 Ibid.: 34.

A re-appraisal of values and IR theory 41 64 Ibid. 65 The term ‘Pacific Century’ was heralded by Staffan B. Linder, The Pacific Century: Economic and political consequences of Asian-Pacific dynamism (Stanford CA: Stanford University Press, 1986); William McCord, The Dawn of the Pacific Century (New Brunswick NJ: Transaction Publishers, 1991); Mark Borthwick, Pacific Century (Boulder CO: Westview, 1992), among others. 66 Morton Abramowitz and Stephen Bosworth, ‘America confronts the Asian century’, Current Century, 105(690) (April 2006): 147–52, at 147. The article was based on their forthcoming book (New York: Century Foundation Press, 2006). 67 Clyde Prestowitz, ‘“Chindia” tilts the playing field’, Current History, 105(690) (April 2006): 148–9. 68 The report was carried in Qiao Bao (the China Press) (New York), 31 March 2006: A2. 69 Kang (Spring 2003) op. cit.: 57–85 (see n. 4 above). 70 See my ‘Sea power, the law of the sea, and the Sino-Japanese East China sea “resource war”’, American Foreign Policy Interests, 27(6) (December 2005): 513–30. 71 Current History, 105(690) (April 2006): 160–2. 72 Ibid.: 160. 73 James C. Hsiung, ‘China’s second ascent and international relations theory’, American Journal of Chinese Studies, 16 (2009): 19–40.

3

Historians and Chinese world order Fairbank, Wang, and the matter of ‘indeterminate relevance’ Paul Evans ‘On balance, after 150 years of interactions, the Chinese have integrated outside and inside views sufficiently to begin to make contributions to a future international order.’ Wang Gungwu and Zheng Yongnian (eds), China and the New International Order (Routledge, 2008), p. 30

‘Perhaps the Chinese have finally joined the great outside world just in time to participate in its collapse.’ John King Fairbank, China: A new history (Harvard University Press, 1991), p. xvii

Introduction Wags muse that the great issues the world faces are too important to be left to historians and too difficult to be left to political scientists. Chinese conceptions of world order can now confidently be placed into the ‘great issues’ category. A decade ago Gerald Segal could pen, with a hint of bitterness but no irony, an essay entitled ‘Does China Matter?’1 The big issue of today is ‘What Does China Think?’ The topic has moved from a mainly academic concern to top-of-mind for government leaders, journalists and pundits around the world. When a Chinese Premier refers to China as a ‘great power,’ as Wen Jiaboa did in London in the spring of 2009, it gets attention, adding a note of immediacy to the earlier debates in China and abroad about ‘peaceful rise’, ‘peaceful development’, ‘harmonious society’, and ‘harmony without uniformity’. The interest in Chinese thinking and attitudes tracks directly the rise of Chinese power and its global reach. China may be a ‘fragile superpower,’ to borrow Susan Shirk’s term, not yet in the same class as the United States in many dimensions of national power. But a little more than a decade ago it emerged from the Asian financial crisis as a significant regional force; in the midst of the current economic crisis

Historians and Chinese world order 43 it is a global force. Decisions of Chinese officials, citizens and consumers have immediate impact around the world. Is there any global issue – climate change, environmental degradation, pandemics, non-proliferation, human security – where the road to a solution does not run through Beijing? Ten years ago the discussion focused on China in regional institutions; three years ago on China in international forums like the G-8 or L-20. Now we are at a moment where many outside China and a few inside it are talking about not just China in the G-20 but the prospects of a G-2. While a G-2 scenario may be premature and even dangerous, it shows how far perceptions have shifted in a breathtakingly short period of time. Most of the academic debate on China’s rise and what China thinks has been handled by political scientists and journalists. They have produced a shelf of articles and books, mainly in English, that use the tools of foreign policy analysis including power transition theory, constructivism, cognitive mapping, and image studies, to assess the patterns of thought and social forces that help explain current Chinese behaviour and predict its future.2 The questions are numerous and persuasive answers few. Can China be a ‘responsible stakeholder’ in the international system? Does China want to dismantle, reform, or abide by the institutions and norms of the current international system? Is it a status quo or revisionist power? What are its views on sovereignty, territorial boundaries, and the use of force; on the future of the international financial system; on America’s international role and military presence in Asia; on managing weapons of mass destruction? Are present international norms universal or the product of specific cultural, civilization and power interests? Who are the key thinkers in China and what shapes their thinking? Is a new pluralism developing in policy circles in Beijing? Is a liberal internationalist foreign policy compatible with China’s illiberal domestic order? Are the patterns and influences from the Imperial, Republican and Maoist periods relevant to the needs and outlooks of global China? Is Middle Kingdomism finished forever or is China ready to reprise its ancient leading role?3 Lingering in the background is a nagging doubt and a new modesty about the capacity of current theories to make sense of this great power shift and its implications. The dozen thoughtful essays by leading political scientists in the US and Asia in a recent book edited by Robert Ross and Zhu Feng all address the complexity of explaining China’s rise and predicting where it, and the international system, might be heading. They reject the two important theories of the 1990s, conflict inevitability and democratic peace, and come to the conclusion that a peaceful outcome to the current power transition is possible and even likely. In the blunt words of two authors, ‘The policy choices of China cannot be adequately explained by any of the major international relations theories.’4

Fairbank and Wang Can historians help? What can China’s past tell us about contemporary Chinese views on world order? John Fairbank and Wang Gungwu are big-picture historians and natural comparators. They have written prolifically about the past and present

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of Chinese thinking and addressed audiences much broader than professional historians. In selection of topics, British doctoral training, careers largely spent in universities, vaunted entrepreneurial and administrative talents, abiding fascination with the cultural and civilizational underpinnings of international relations, encyclopedic and synoptic grasp of the events, institutions and people of Chinese history, and intention to see China from both the inside and outside, they have much in common. I should underline that I am much better versed in Fairbank than in Wang. I spent a decade reading Fairbank’s publications, examining his private papers and speaking with his students, colleagues and critics while writing a biography of him, published in 1988. Fairbank wrote a full autobiography a few years earlier and there is a fairly robust secondary literature looking at aspects of his life and views.5 There is not yet a biography of Wang, nor a full memoir.6 While some of Fairbank’s ideas live on, he is not producing any new ones. He died in the fall of 1991 at the age of 84, at about the time that Deng Xiaoping’s Open Door began to produce transformative economic results. He wrote in his final years about the power of a billion Chinese consumers bursting into life under Deng’s leadership and a restructured Chinese economy. Yet the contemporary for Fairbank was the Maoist period and its immediate legacy. He adjusted his views of China on many occasions as times changed and scholarship produced new evidence and interpretations. He died as global China was being born. A focus on Wang offers the advantage of observing China’s new global era, or what he sometimes calls ‘China’s fourth rise.’7 He is a generation younger than Fairbank and the product of a different continent. Alive and well and living in Singapore, his sense of China’s past resembles Fairbank’s in many ways, but his contemporary is our contemporary, real time. Fairbank’s connections with living Asia were, save for occasional visits to other parts of East Asia and Southeast Asia, almost exclusively with China. He lived in China for several years China during the early 1930s and then during World War II. He spent his entire professional career (minus research and wartime assignments in China), in the United States. He passionately advocated looking at Asia from the inside out and worked with Edwin Reischauer and others on the intellectual and administrative infrastructure for focusing American academic attention on East Asia rather than the Far East. If China was his subject, America was his home and Harvard his base. In writing about China in America and for an American audience, the great issues of social revolution and the rise of Chinese Communism were indelibly connected to a nation’s unexpected war with Japan in Asia; inextricable involvement in China’s civil war; painful recriminations about ‘who lost China?’; a fighting war with China in Korea; Cold War McCarthyism and anti-communism; the delicate dance of rapprochement; the ups and downs of US relations with China through normalization and the late Mao and early Deng periods, and, at the end of his life, the aftermath of Tiananmen Square. Wang’s personal story is rather different. Born in Southeast Asia, he is a product of the overseas Chinese that was the topic of his early scholarship, and

Historians and Chinese world order 45 a professional career outside China but in its hemisphere and most often in its immediate neighbourhood.8 Fairbank spoke of looking at China from the inside out but Wang has lived it. For the latter part of his career he has operated in the political and social contexts of Hong Kong and Singapore, on the edge of China and its gravitational field of power and ideas. His world differs from Fairbank’s in basic attitudes about the role of intellectuals, freedom and autonomy, as well as political inclinations on matters of democracy, human rights, individualism, exceptionalism, universalism, and triumphalism. The very fact that Fairbank repeatedly challenged the universality and soundness of all of these basic pillars of the American perspective was testament to their tenacious hold in America. He perceived his role as vigorously challenging some of his country’s most cherished cultural predispositions. China was a foil, not a target. ‘Our American way,’ he argued in the successive editions of The United States and China, ‘is not the only way, nor even the majority way for man’s and woman’s future.’9 Wang seems to be responding to some of the same concerns but also reacting to a more nuanced set of regional responses to the good, the bad and ugly of modern China and the challenges it raises for those on the immediate periphery who are neither Chinese nor American. If Fairbank is the erudite observer looking at the inside of China from the outside, then Wang is the equally erudite observer half-way in between. Despite these different starting points, their views of history and historiography have some striking similarities. Both are sceptical about the existence of universal values, Western supremacy, the transferability of Western institutions and norms to Asia, and the prospect of a deep convergence of the West and Asia on Western terms. As historians both have been modest about their own impact and comfortable with the idea that theories, including their own, will come and go. In Fairbank’s framing, even academic progress is relative, ‘Each generation learns that its final role is to be the doormat for the coming generation to step on.’10 And they see good scholarship as an antidote to ethnocentrism and a necessary foundation for effective policy. Cultural conflict can lay the powder train to international conflict, but knowledge of the other makes management of differences possible. Both devoted a great deal of time to addressing public audiences and generating a strong following in policy circles in their respective domains. The differences are also revealing. While both doubted that societal convergence was likely, Wang sees greater prospects for Chinese adaptation to outside influences, what he sometimes describes as the blending of heritage with modernity. On the key issue of democracy and human rights, Fairbank, the American, appears more sceptical of their adoption in China, having spent much of his career both observing Chinese autocracy and authoritarianism and arguing that they are at the heart of Chinese civilization and political institutions, past and present. Wang also identifies the autocratic streak in Chinese political culture but sees it as more malleable. Fairbank regularly chastised Americans for failing to understand China on its own terms and for policy errors; Wang is usually more circumspect in directly criticizing Asian officialdom and publics.

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China’s world order: Fairbank and China’s response to the West Fairbank wrote on the domestic sources of China’s foreign relations for almost sixty years. His doctoral dissertation at Oxford (1936) and the ensuing monograph on the Treaty Ports were the foundations of his academic career. He returned to the theme many times, primarily in the context of books, monographs, translations, textbooks and articles on China’s response to the West, aimed at professional historians, students and a broader public audience. China’s response to the West focused on the concept of the penetration of China by an alien and more powerful society. He later put more nuance on the argument and conceded that the Western intrusion was but one of many factors eroding the late imperial order. The methodology of stimulus and response and the theoretical construct of modernization theory combined to produce the conclusion that the Confucian tradition was incapable of modernizing China in accordance with the universal principles of nationalism, science, livelihood, participation and industrialization. Confucianism, he consistently maintained, was complex but did not contain within it the prospects of genuine liberalism or effective modernization. The political significance related to the debate about whether the Nationalists on the mainland or then on Taiwan had a chance of economic and political success. Conversely, he felt that the Chinese Communists were being successful in restructuring society by resonating with the authoritarian elements of China’s great Imperial tradition. Throughout the 1950s and 1960s, in some fifteen books and fifty essays, he painted a picture of the traditional Chinese world order as sophisticated, durable, and based on a sense of superiority and hierarchy without the concepts of sovereignty, territorially bounded nation-states, or a balance of power. Rather, it was given order and unity by the universal presence of the Son of Heaven. The internal order was reflected in the external one, power commingled with culture. In the mid-1960s he organized a series of meetings and commissioned a set of papers that eventually led to the edited volume The Chinese World Order: Traditional China’s Foreign Relations.11 Its fourteen essays, two by Fairbank and the remainder by scholars from Japan, Korea, Malaysia, Taiwan, Vietnam, and the United States, proved to have a seminal impact. Though the book sold only a few hundred copies, forty years later it may be the most cited of his thirty books. Fairbank’s own essay, ‘The Early Treaty System in the Chinese World Order’, drew on Trade and Diplomacy and an essay he had written in 1957, ‘Synarchy Under the Treaties’.12 The treaty system, he argued, was an outgrowth of the earlier tribute system, functioning as both a mechanism for managing trade and diplomatic relations and a ritual reaffirming the universality of the Confucian order. This volume began with a Delphic suggestion about its significance and context: This book is about China’s relations with non-Chinese states before the present century, mainly during the Ch’ing dynasty (1644–1912). The authors look at the Chinese empire and its world order partly through its own eyes and partly

Historians and Chinese world order 47 as seen by half a dozen outside people … The result, I think, opens the door a bit further on a system that handled the interstate relations of a large part of mankind throughout most of recorded history. This chapter of man’s political experience even has some indeterminate relevance to the world’s China problem of today.13 The ‘indeterminate relevance’ was not spelled out in the book but did coincide with his advocacy-based work in the mid-1960s that grew out of a recurrent fear of direct US–China confrontation. China was entering the Cultural Revolution and the escalating American role in Vietnam signalled the prospect of a second hot war with China. In other writings of the time he clearly had in mind refuting Marxist theories of imperialism popular at the time in China and indicating the process of interaction, rather than outright domination, that characterized the system. The Qing leadership could accommodate co-management with the foreign powers but it was the ideas that came in their wake, especially nationalism, which eventually unravelled the system. In considering the impact of the Imperial world order on Communist China, Fairbank and his co-authors took pains to indicate that the treaty and tribute systems were from a different world that was shaken in the mid-nineteenth century and dead by 1911 when the Imperial system disintegrated. He wrote later that ‘Six decades of change in the nineteenth century and six in the twentieth have destroyed China’s inherited order and created an unprecedentedly new one.’14 In the final essay in The Chinese World Order, Benjamin Schwartz sharply observed: ‘When the empire was weak, the Chinese perception of the world had little effect on the course of events. The ultimate fact is the fact of power.’ However real the system was over a long period of time, he was sceptical that it had ‘great causal weight in explaining present or future Chinese policies.’ Elements of Confucianism live on, but Chinese survival depended upon responding to new realities, chief among them that the centre of world order lay elsewhere and that China had inferior status within it. ‘In the end,’ concluded Schwartz, ‘the Western system of international order may prove as transient as the Chinese traditional perception of world order … As of the present, however, it seems to conform more closely to the realities of world politics than anything derived out of the Chinese past.’15 Fairbank did not do the kind of basic documentary research on the Republican and Communist periods that he did on the Qing. But in an outpouring of essays and books, especially the five editions of The United States and China (1948, 1958, 1971, 1979, 1983) he wrote for a broader public on China’s twentieth-century social revolution and its implications for the United States. He often returned to the ‘echoes of history’ that could be found in the views of Mao and the Chinese Communist leadership. Despite the caveats that the old Imperial order was dead and that the Chinese Communists came to power equipped with a different ideology, Fairbank identified recurring patterns in foreign policy attitudes and behaviour. He frequently observed that it is impossible to understand American foreign policy without looking at past

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practices and attitudes: Washington’s farewell address, the Monroe Doctrine and the Open Door formed part of ‘the historical matrix of our thinking’. Though dangerous to suggest that ‘tradition governs Peking’s foreign policy today (however much it may seem at times to govern ours) … to imagine Peking acting completely free of history would be the height of unrealism.’16 When looking for examples of recurring continuities, he most often pointed to the strategic primacy of Inner Asia, the disesteem of sea power, the doctrine of Chinese superiority, and the idea of hierarchy. In explaining Mao’s foreign policy he noted that though Mao’s emphasized egalitarian struggle rather than hierarchic harmony, revolutionary militancy rather than the civility and etiquette of the Imperial era, ‘the ancient idea of China’s central superiority flourishes under his care. As in former times, the doctrine can be used to abet power abroad or equally well to substitute for it.’17 In foreseeing the Sino-Soviet split he argued that China was more nationalist and Chinese than Communist and that there was no single Communist monolith. In explaining Chinese support for people’s wars of national liberation and the slogan ‘surrounding the cities from the countryside’, he emphasized that this was not a ‘Hitlerite blueprint for conquest’ but advocacy of self-reliance such that ‘China could point the way and offer aid but not itself achieve the world revolution by its own expansion. (One is reminded of the ancient theory of tributary relations: China was a model which other countries should follow but on their own initiative).’18 He repeatedly described why Chinese leaders felt so strongly about China’s territorial integrity and the One China policy. ‘It [t’ien hsia] cannot be expunged from the Chinese language or from the minds of the Chinese people. This is not only an idea, but a sentiment, a feeling habituated by millennia of conduct. It attaches the highest importance to Chinese civilization, which consists of all those people who live in a Chinese way … and springs for a sense of culturalism, something a good deal stronger than a mere Western-style nationalism.’19 In 1969, and subsequently, he stated that the sense of superiority, humiliation, and the tough pursuit of national interest would not make China’s introduction into international organizations an easy one. ‘We may at times have to meet righteous vituperation, arrogant incivility. In the end, we outsiders will probably have to make many more adjustments to China’s demands than we now contemplate.’ Chinese diplomacy would not seek territorial expansion but nor would it be friendly in multilateral institutions.20

Wang: inside and outside Chinese world order On many issues and in general approach Fairbank and Wang are on the same wavelength about the sources, content and implications of traditional cultural and civilizational views of tian xia. This even as Wang writes with not just the benefit of hindsight on the Maoist period but from a deeper knowledge of Chinese language, a finer-grained perspective on Chinese culture, closer personal contact with post-Mao China, and the powerful concepts of identity, heritage and what he calls ‘economic global’.

Historians and Chinese world order 49 Wang’s contribution to Fairbank’s 1968 volume on China’s world order concluded with observations about the idea of Chinese superiority that was increasingly important as Chinese leaders began to look more closely at their own history. Where some saw this leading to Chinese aggression and others to a China that was superior and arrogant but peacefully indifferent, he argued that the tributary system demonstrated China’s ‘majesty and power’ as well as the Chinese capacity for adapting their myths to reality, something that might be described as flexible hierarchy.21 He shared Fairbank’s view that China was not territorially expansionist. He noted that ‘No armies marched out of the traditional Middle Kingdom (Zhougguo) lands’,22 and that Chinese rulers were hesitant about foreign military adventures. On the matter of the tian xia legacy in foreign relations, Wang has stressed, like Fairbank, that with the coming of the West, China was forced to enter a new era that involved law, order and the principle of equality. It abandoned isolationist and Sino-centric attitudes. But not completely. ‘Communist Chinese,’ he noted in 2000, ‘still will not play the game and show many signs of continuing China centrism’, including arrogance and cynical use of international institutions to dominate the world. Based on a study of the observations of Chinese traditional historians up to the Tang dynasty, including Ch’ien Ssu-ma and Pan Ku, Fan Yeh and Wei Ching, he demonstrates that diplomatic practice did not always conform with Confucian theory. Emperors and ministers acted on the basis of survival and gain. ‘It was the historians who decided which policy or attitude towards foreign countries was the correct one.’ He concludes that Confucian theory was ‘developed from pragmatic observations and had little directly to do with the philosophic conception of China as the middle of the world.’ The fusion of moral and physical power, the ability to triumph over invasion and catastrophe, determined China’s relations with other countries. The theory of the historians became myth that was first shaken by the Mongol conquest and then undermined by the Western incursion.23 On cultural differences, his essay on ‘Chinese Values and Memories of Modern War’, originally given as a speech in Melbourne in December 1998 about Weary Dunlop’s war diaries, was conceived at the moment the Asian values debate was generated by a controversy in Singapore about Confucian ethics and the role they played in explaining the East Asian economic miracle. It was, in fact, a debate about Chinese values and occurred at a time that arguments about ‘the end of history’ and ‘the clash of civilizations’ were resonating in the US and Europe. Cultural differences were being presented as the post-Cold War equivalent of ‘evil empire’ and he aimed to show that ‘despite the political hijacking of the subject of Asian values, cultural differences are deep and persistent, and should not be allowed to be so politicized, or trivialized by political agendas’. He made his argument by comparing European and Asian conceptions of the total experience of war. Europeans wrote about their wartime experiences, made films about them, and produced official histories. The people of Southeast and East Asia had vivid experiences of war but left no significant writings. Chinese history is littered with wars but only recalled in official histories, without personal heroism or feelings of the protagonists, or books on broad strategy. War was a matter for

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emperors, not soldiers or civilians. ‘Modernization may mean that armies learn the same tactics, use the same equipment, organize the same military units to march, sing, train and fight in similar ways. But it need not necessarily mean that there will concomitant change in attitudes towards soldiers and war, to the way political power is shared, or to the mindset about the proper of government and defence policy-making.’24 These observations built on the foundation prepared in a short book he wrote five years earlier based on a series of lectures in Norway. Wang did not dispute that human rights and democracy were acknowledged by Chinese leaders as ‘universally agreed among civilized peoples’. The real issue is how they are to be defined and applied. ‘We can only hope it is not long before they receive the priority that they deserve. But it will be surprising if the form of democracy that eventually emerges and the legal and administrative framework established for the support of human rights will be the same as that those that have evolved in a Judaeo-Christian and Greco-Roman cultural context.’ Ideas needed to be institutionalized in ‘the Chinese way’ and foreign pressure is likely to be counterproductive in smoothing their adoption.25 His May 2000 essay, ‘Joining the Modern World,’ examines Chinese efforts to be modern over a 140-year period. Where Fairbank emphasized interaction and accommodation, Wang pays more attention to the Chinese desire not merely to cope with outside pressures, but to align with them. There is an undercurrent of both a Confucian identity and a cosmopolitan one. He mockingly refers to ‘supposedly universal ideals’, and echoes Fairbank’s argument about the sense of territorial integrity and Chinese unity that, despite ‘hostile calls for self-determination’, mean that ‘No leader in China can afford to let any land go’. He makes the case for mutual respect in US–China relations, ‘not because the Chinese now know how to behave like Americans, but because they are accepted as people who really want a peaceful environment for their country’s development’. And he sees increasing pluralism in the Chinese elite.26 Wang is most persuasive when looking at current Chinese thinking on world order and contemporary foreign policy. Where Fairbank was writing about a time when China was weak, in turmoil or belligerent, at most a power to be integrated peacefully into the international system, Wang’s essays address the period when China is strong, getting stronger, and a recognized influence on international norms and practices. Power, as Schwartz noted, matters. ‘If China were not rising,’ Wang writes, ‘China’s cultural problems would only have been of interest to the Chinese themselves.’27 In an era of China’s fourth rise defined by its manufacturing and financial power, what he calls ‘economic global’, China has turned a corner. ‘For the first time in its history,’ Wang wrote in 2009, ‘China is reaching across the waves and shooting for the stars.’ The long-distance trade of the tribute system never challenged the Chinese imperial system but now China is transforming and being transformed by its economic connections with the world in unprecedented ways.28 In a 2005 chapter positively assessing China’s role in Southeast Asian affairs, he refers to a ‘hard headed realism, free from outdated rhetoric, is necessary until

Historians and Chinese world order 51 China feels secure and confident enough to redefine itself distinctively in ways that the modern world would respect.’29 Four years later he portrays China as having adapted very effectively to the UN and other institutions devised by the US and its allies after World War II. As representatives of a ‘status quo’ power in the UN system and other multilateral institutions, Chinese diplomats have mastered quickly their operations, not just obeying the rules but often more purist in traditional interpretations of matters of territoriality and national sovereignty. Two forces are at work. The first, similar to Fairbank’s view, is a long tradition of tian xia strategic thinking dating back to the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods. ‘From inside looking out, it does seem that key Chinese leaders and thinkers take as their starting point the deep structure that gave shape to the civilization and state that came into being over 3,500 years ago.’ As he notes, ‘The Son of Heaven was not merely a king or emperor but also the symbol of the system of values that made the Chinese what they were.’ The second is an equally deep-rooted concept of change, and not necessarily progressive change. Not being progress-minded, ‘the Chinese have never viewed any political order as permanent.’ In the contemporary period, ‘What China sees today is not an international order at all, least of all the international order, but merely the product of the struggles among the Great Powers of half a century ago.’ Cold War, bi-polarity, uni-polarity are transient moments. The result is that China supports the existing international system, embodied in its role as a member of the P5 in the United Nations Security Council, but only for so long as it suits its interests. It will support reform but only if it strengthens China’s place in the world. The essay identifies three strands in the existing world order that China seeks to strengthen: a balanced and restraining multi-polar system; a rule-based global market economy; and a world of modern, rational and secular civilizations. The secularism it has in mind is based on a humanistic rationality compatible with the enlightenment histories experienced by the other members of the P5. And it is grafted onto communitarian and family-based values.30 Wang and Zheng Yongnian develop the argument further in the introduction to the volume, claiming that the hegemonic understanding of the international order is quickly corroding. In looking at the domestic sources of Chinese views, they stress the erosion of ideological legitimacy and the rise of nationalism. Referring to Fairbank’s China’s World Order, they emphasize the need for outside-in and inside-out interpretations of how views of world order reflect domestic order, especially in the areas of nationalism, sovereignty and civil–military relations. And they reinforce the argument that China wants ‘a balanced multi-polar world order capable of restraining the United States, but does not want to challenge the US itself’. Chinese officials are generally comfortable with the world’s principal international institutions while being unhappy with US dominance and an alliance system that they see will unravel in due course.31 Coeval with this long-term view is a self-confidence born of economic success and expanding political influence. China has a long way to go before its views on world order can be seen as credible or inspiring when compared with the values

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(if the not the practice) espoused by the United States and the West. China’s communitarianism does not seriously challenge the American dream. However, it has already been successful in challenging some of the ideals that only a few years ago were seen by many Americans as universal. Fred Bergsten and his co-authors recently acknowledged this point when they wrote that ‘China’s rise in influence can be viewed as a prism through which the United States might look afresh at its own international principles and priorities, reaffirming many and reassessing others’.32 Wang notes that while China may be responding to Western demands, it is doing so in its own way and at its own speed, ‘whatever is necessary to sustain civilized living and integrate modern ideas with the best of its own heritage’.33 Wang understands that China’s role is viewed with scepticism and hostility by many, partly because of its military modernization programme but more importantly because it is not obeying ‘universal norms’ that include individual freedom, democracy and human rights protected by the rule of law. ‘Until the nation does so,’ he states, ‘critics see China’s dramatic economic achievements as measures to strengthen an authoritarian state capitalism that keeps the regime indefinitely in power.’34 And he has taken on directly the concerns about ‘the China threat,’ particularly as portrayed by China’s neighbours in South East Asia where memories of China’s history as the dominant empire in Asia combine with concerns about its comparative wealth and power and the fear that the Middle Kingdom will restore an updated version of its traditional tributary system. He acknowledges the legitimacy of complaints about Chinese claims in the South China Sea, but argues that the worries about resurgent Middle Kingdomism and territorial expansionism are misplaced. Though a latecomer to regional multilateralism, China has proven particularly adept at soothing regional sensitivities and building trust and confidence. It has been ‘flexible and pragmatic’ in dealing with its neighbours and has paid ‘great attention to international niceties’.35

Elusive universalisms: democracy and human rights Fairbank and Wang both doubt that democracy and human rights as developed in the West are indeed universal. But their views on the Tiananmen Square episode reveal an important difference. A few days before his death, Fairbank analysed Tiananmen as a replay of the traditional pattern, albeit in front of the world’s media. The absence of open expression had been endemic to a system in which a loyal opposition was impossible because ‘policy was part of the ruler’s moral conduct and so of his legitimacy’. The student protestors in Tiananmen Square were thus enemies. He recalled the episode in Taiwan in 1947 when Kuomintang (KMT) soldiers massacred several thousand demonstrators in Taipei and the millions of executions during the Communist consolidation of power, something he described as ‘the Chinese rulers’ atavistic off-with-his-head tradition’. He portrayed the Tiananmen demonstrators as a variant of the traditional Chinese ritual and theatre of petitioning the authorities. As their protest unfolded, ‘courting martyrdom in the public interest’, the CCP leadership saw them as an attack on their monopoly of power that had to be absolute. It thus destroyed them.

Historians and Chinese world order 53 Fairbank saw in the episode the ‘bankruptcy of the heritage left by the Imperial Confucianism of the Neo-Confucian establishment’ and the suppression of even the modest pluralism required for civil society. The movement toward civil society in China may be a historical trend but was very unlikely to lead to the Western type of democracy ‘with free elections, representative government, and human rights guaranteed by law’. In one of the last sentences he would write, he stated ‘We outsiders can offer China advice about the overriding need for human rights, but until we can set an example by curbing our own media violence and the drug and gun industries, we can hardly urge China to be more like us.’36 Wang took a slightly different position. In a lecture a few months after Tiananmen, ‘Outside the Chinese Revolution’, he drew a portrait of two characters in contemporary Chinese history: ‘Mr. Science’ and ‘Mr. Democracy’, noting the heavy emphasis in China at that time on the former. He suggested that the two are inseparable: ‘Mr. Science needs freedom, to be free to think, to innovate, to challenge and criticize, free from obscurant bureaucrats and rigid authoritarian systems, no less than Mr. Democracy does.’ Without calling for democracy now, he pointed to China’s need for ‘the democratic spirit’ in a fair legal system, free speech, checks and balances to counter corruption and mal-administration; and making lawful the right to criticize those in power.37 A year later he pointed to the steady rise of China’s influence and international reputation in the decade after the Open Door of 1979 and how this was wounded by the outrage and disappointment that Tiananmen produced. Like Fairbank, he saw it as a reversion back to the practice of one voice that brooks no challenge. But unlike Fairbank, he expected more. ‘So long as China remains fearful of political change and insists on the constraints it has so far imposed on itself, it will not be able to allow its scientists, technologists, and other intellectuals, let alone all its people, to be free and creative to utilize the rich resources of the country efficiently … What could they not achieve if they became partners in the running of their own country instead of remaining submissive subjects?’38 The subjunctive form of the question delicately conveyed the belief that Wang could expect and predict the democratic path and the civil society that Fairbank could not foresee. For Wang, China’s future is shaped by its autocratic past but not irreversibly bound to it. And for Wang it is still uncertain whether China can adjust its culture state to the nation-state model of the West. One possibility is that China will indeed accept the norms and rules of the present international system as ‘practicable ideals’ for the creation of a new world order, conceiving of them as ‘not Western but merely modern, with the possibility of becoming universal’. Alternatively, there is the possibility that China will emerge as a ‘countervailing force’ that rejects an international system that is seen as Western rather than modern. In response to the Huntington ‘clash of civilizations’ thesis, he rejects the view that the West is in decline but states that ‘for the first time in two centuries there is convincing evidence of a relative decline of the West’. His civilizational take on the cultural underpinnings of political contestation leads him to conclude not only that China’s long-term response to the state system

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is uncertain, but also that it depends on whether those in the West take a defensive approach to defending their values through alliances and encirclement, or whether they try to find common cultural threads.39

From history and historians to international theory and policy practice In the capstone essay to a journal edition focused on American historians, political scientists and policy analysts, Harry Harding usefully identifies five ways in which history affects China’s contemporary foreign relations: as an inherited set of unresolved problems from earlier times; as the images that China holds of others and that others hold of China; as contentious issue in bilateral relations; as broad narratives; and as lessons with positive and negative examples from past strategies and policies.40 Between history and policy sit historians, like Fairbank and Wang, who try to give meaning to past events and evaluate national claims about these issues, images, narratives and lessons. The strongest thread that links Fairbank and Wang is the view not only that cultural differences and history matter, but that they need hard and careful study, and that they are a necessary part of an effective path to managing international problems. Their mutual conviction is that the West and China can live together even without complete convergence; that engagement is the best general strategy; and that deeper knowledge and empathy are the key to mutual survival. History and historians are only one part of understanding and shaping policy outcomes. The amalgam of heritage and modernity, continuity and change, is inherently fluid and infinitely complex. And in contemporary China, the force of globalization and the structure of China’s market economy make it increasingly difficult for Chinese leaders to escape the liberal ideology that accompanies capitalism. As Wang has noted, China’s past, however skillfully dissected, does not stand still. And in Harding’s words, history is important but ‘its influence may not be consistent or decisive … The narratives of the past, and the lessons drawn from them, may be decreasingly relevant in a world that has changed so radically and for a China that has developed so far.’ In light of China’s history and contemporary weight, there is increased discussion, especially in Asia, about the need for a distinctive theory of international relations reflective of Chinese experience, material circumstances and vantage point. Is a Chinese school of international affairs needed? John Fairbank, despite his epistemological pluralism, never made the case for a distinctively or exclusively Chinese theory of international relations. Nor has Wang Gungwu. Whatever their reservations about the universalism of the American experience, they also believe in what we now might call a trans-national society or epistemic community of China scholars. Fairbank, for example, lived in the hope of meeting every China specialist in the world and he found ways to connect many of them to his Harvard enterprise. That said, he rejected the idea of an objective social science or a single theory. He believed in multiple realities and proximate progress. And he valued the differences in opinion, methods and conclusions that came from scholars in different parts of the world. For his part,

Historians and Chinese world order 55 Wang has encouraged theoretical speculation and emphasized that the purveyors of one approach should be as aware as possible of the purveyors of others. The question is more difficult if we shift the frame of reference from the academic to the policy world. Analysts like Barry Desker already discern a distinctive Chinese approach to contemporary world order that they label the ‘Beijing consensus’. The preceding ‘Washington Consensus’ has emphasized elected democracies, sanctity of individual political and civil rights, support for human rights, the promotion of free rights and open markets, recognition of the doctrine of humanitarian intervention. By contrast, the Beijing Consensus centres on the leadership role of the authoritarian party state, good governance rather than electoral democracy, technocratic approaches to government, emphasis on social rights and obligations, reassertion of the principles of sovereignty and non-interference, coupled with support for freer markets coupled with stronger regional and international institutions. Desker is not triumphalist in proclaiming the inevitability or desirability of the Beijing Consensus, nor does he see it as premised on the decline of the West and the rise of the East. He rejects the idea of an inevitable conflict with a rising China and instead sees a possible emergence of shared values reflecting alternative philosophical traditions on individual and state rights.41 Desker’s perspective has vitality because it resonates with a great deal of thinking in Asia, including in academic circles in China, and draws upon some of the fundamental insights of historians like Fairbank and Wang. For a China that itself was the upholder of a universalism for two thousand years, its confrontation with the current international order puts universalism on a new intellectual and political footing. If we begin from the premise that the current international order is the creation of dominant powers and is neither natural nor perfect, when Robert Zoellick and others ask whether China is a ‘responsible stakeholder’, the inevitable questions are ‘who defines responsible?’ and ‘on what authority?’ Going further, if the growth of Chinese capacity and power can be compared to that of the United States in the first half of the twentieth century, isn’t it reasonable to postulate that every rising power not only shapes international order to meet its interests but injects its values and perspectives into the mix? Sixty years ago Hans Morgenthau, George Kennan, Walter Lippman and others grafted a new brand of realism onto the American traditions of idealism, isolationism and exceptionalism. They produced a set of ideas, guiding principles, and an entire intellectual movement that transformed not only US policy but also the study and practice of international relations around the world. The great strategic issue of our times is not just China’s rising power but whether its worldview and applied theory will reproduce, converge with, or take a separate path from the world order and ideas produced in the era of trans-Atlantic dominance. For political scientists and historians alike, it seems inevitable that a distinctive Chinese theory or school are in the making.

Notes 1 Foreign Affairs (September/October 1999).

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2 See, for example, David M. Lampton, The Three Faces of Chinese Power: Might, money and minds (Berkeley CA: University of California Press, 2008); C. Fred Bergsten, Charles Freeman, Nicholas R. Lardy and Derek J. Mitchell, China’s Rise: Challenges and opportunities (Peterson Institute for International Economics; Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2008); James Kynge, China Shakes the World: A Titan’s breakneck rise and troubled future and the challenge for America (Houghton Mifflin, 2006); Joshua Kurlantzick, Charm Offensive: How China’s soft power is transforming the world (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2007); and Robert Ross and Zhu Feng (eds), China’s Ascent: Power, security and the future of international politics (Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press, 2008). 3 See, for example, ‘How China sees the world’, The Economist (21 March 2009); Pei Minxin, ‘Beijing’s closed politics hinder “new diplomacy”’, Financial Times (12 September 2004); Bates Gill and Michael Schiffer, ‘A rising China’s rising responsibilities’, Working Paper, The Stanley Foundation (November 2008); Avery Goldstein, Rising to the Challenge: China’s grand strategy and international security (Stanford CA: Stanford University Press, 2005). 4 Qin Yaqing and Wei Lang, ‘Structures, processes, and the socialization of power: East Asia community building and the rise of China’, in Ross and Zhu, China’s Ascent, op. cit., p. 136. 5 Paul Evans, John Fairbank and the American Understanding of Modern China (Basil Blackwell, 1988); John K. Fairbank, Chinabound: A fifty-year memoir (New York: Harper and Row, 1982); and, more recently, John E. Wills, ‘How many asymmetries?: Continuities, transformations, and puzzles in the study of Chinese foreign relations’, The Journal of American-East Asian Relations, 16(1–2) (Spring–Summer 2009): 23–39. 6 There are fragments of auto-biography attached to some of the publications. See, for example, ‘The author about himself’, in Wang Gungwu, The Chinese Way: China’s position in international relations (Stockholm: Scandinavian University Press, 1995, as part of the Norwegian Nobel Institute Lecture Series), pp. 79–86. 7 Wang Gungwu, ‘The fourth rise of China: cultural implications’, China: An International Journal (September 2004). 8 Here I use the Gareth Evans’ idea of an ‘East Asian hemisphere’ that conveniently includes Australia. 9 John K. Fairbank, The United States and China (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 4th rev. and enlarged edition, 1983), p. 477. 10 John K. Fairbank, The Great Chinese Revolution, 1800–1985 (New York: Harper and Row, 1986), p. ix. 11 John K. Fairbank, The Chinese World Order: Traditional China’s foreign relations (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1968). 12 In John K. Fairbank (ed.), Chinese Thought and Institutions (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1957), pp. 204–31. 13 Fairbank, The Chinese World Order, op. cit., p. 1. Italics added. 14 John K. Fairbank, ‘China’s foreign policy in historical perspective’, originally published in Foreign Affairs (April 1969) and republished in his collection of essays, China Perceived: Images and policies in Chinese-American relations (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1975), p. 55. 15 Benjamin Schwartz, ‘The Chinese perception of world order, past and present’, in Fairbank, Chinese World Order, op. cit., pp. 278 and 288. 16 Fairbank, ‘China’s foreign policy in historical perspective,’ op. cit, in Foreign Affairs (April 1969): 42 and 43. 17 Ibid.: 45. 18 Fairbank, US and China, op. cit., p. 425. 19 Ibid. p. 463. 20 Fairbank, ‘Chinese foreign policy in historical perspective’, op. cit.: 57. Throughout the 1960s he made the case for ‘contact’ with China (what we would now call engagement)

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21 22 23

24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

38 39 40 41

despite Beijing’s hostility towards the US. See his ‘How to deal with the Chinese revolution’, New York Review of Books (17 February 1966), reprinted in China: The people’s middle kingdom and the U.S.A. (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1967). Wang Gungwu, ‘Early Ming Relations with Southeast Asia: A background essay’, in Fairbank (ed.), The Chinese World Order, op cit., p. 62. Wang, The Chinese Way, op. cit., p. 54. Wang Gungwu, ‘Historians and early foreign relations’, originally published in The Journal of the Oriental Society of Australia and then republished in To Act is to Know: Chinese dilemmas (Singapore: Times Media, Eastern University Press, 2003), pp. 127, 142, 143. Wang Gungwu, ‘Chinese values and memories of modern war,’ a lecture delivered on 17 December 1998 and published in his Joining the Modern World: Inside and outside China (Singapore: Singapore University Press, 2000), pp. 108 and 126. Wang, The Chinese Way, op. cit., pp. 67 and 68. Wang Gungwu, ‘Joining the modern world’, a lecture delivered on 9 May 2000 and published in his Joining the Modern World, op. cit., pp. 6 and 11. Wang, ‘The fourth rise of China’, op cit.: 311. Wang Gungwu, ‘China rises again,’ Yale Global (25 March 2009): 2. Wang Gungwu, ‘China and Southeast Asia: The context of a new beginning’, in David Shambaugh (ed.), Power Shift: China and Asia’s new dynamics (Berkeley CA: University of California Press, 2005), p. 198. Wang Gungwu, ‘China and the international order: some historical perspectives’, in Wang Gungwu and Zheng Yongnian (eds), China and the New International Order (London and New York: Routledge, 2008), pp. 22, 23, 26 and 29. Wang and Zheng, ‘Introduction’, in China and the New International Order, op. cit. Fred Bergsten et al., China’s Rise: Challenges and opportunities (Peter Peterson Institute for International Economics, 2008), p. 226. Wang, ‘China arises again,’ op. cit.: 4. Ibid.: 5. Wang Gungwu, China and Southeast Asia: Myths, threats and culture, East Asia Institute Paper No. 13 (Singapore: World Scientific Press, 1999), p. 47. John K. Fairbank, China: A new history (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1992), pp. 403, 423, 425, 432. Wang Gungwu, ‘Outside the Chinese revolution’, a lecture delivered on 15 May 1989, published in the Australian Journal of Chinese Affairs in 1990 and re-published in his The Chineseness of China: Selected essays (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1991), p. 257. Wang Gungwu, ‘1989 and Chinese history’, first published as ‘China: 1989 in perspective’ in Southeast Asian Affairs 1990 and then republished in his To Act is to Know, op. cit., p. 51. Wang, China and Southeast Asia, op. cit., pp. 66–7. Harry Harding, ‘How the past shapes the present: five ways in which history affects contemporary foreign relations’, The Journal of American East-Asian Relations, 16(1–2) (Spring–Summer 2009): 133–4. Barry Desker, ‘Why war is unlikely in Asia’, RSIS Commentaries 71/2008 (27 June 2008); and his earlier lecture on the same topic at the University of Sydney in July 2007, available online at: http://ciss.econ.usyd.edu.au/events/2007/Desker_Hintze_ Lecture_07.pdf. See also Joshua Cooper Ramo, The Beijing Consensus (London: Foreign Policy Centre, 2004).

4

The historical roots and character of secularism in China Prasenjit Duara

Wang Gungwu has made a very important observation and claim about Chinese religion. ‘[U]nlike the West which had to deal with a powerful Church for centuries, the Chinese had begun with a secular outlook that ensured that no Church could be established to challenge political authority.’1 In light of Wang’s statement, in this chapter, I want to explore the roots and implications of secularism for our understanding of Chinese state and society as an exercise in comparative historical sociology. Wang is entirely correct in suggesting that China has largely escaped the conflicts between faith-based communal religiosities characteristic of Abrahamic religions through most of its modern history and I will explore the reasons for this. However, imperial China had not escaped a different type of conflict over religion, one that is vertical rather than lateral: between state and elites versus popular religiosities. Note this comment from the fourth-century BCE text, Guoyu, quoting a minister explicating cosmology to the king of Chu: Anciently, men and spirits did not mingle … (there were special men and women called xi and wu) who supervised the position of the spirits at the ceremonies, sacrificed to them, and otherwise handled religious matters …. (But later) Men and spirits became intermingled, with each household indiscriminately performing for itself the religious observances which had hitherto been conducted by the shamans. As a consequence, men lost their reverence for the spirits, the spirits violated the rules of men, and natural calamities arose. Hence the successor of Shaohao, Quanxu, charged Chong, Governor of the South, to handle the affairs of heaven in order to determine the proper places of the spirits, and Li, Governor of Fire, to handle the affairs of the Earth in order to determine the proper places of men. And such is what is meant by cutting the communication between Heaven and Earth.2 K. C. Chang notes that this myth is the most important reference to shamanism and its central role in ancient Chinese politics in early China. He argues that the king himself was the most important shaman and he and his priests sought to monopolize access to the sacred authority of Heaven. In other words, the emperor, aided

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by his ritual specialists, claimed monopoly of communication with sacred power not only with regard to other clergy or churches but also with regard to the people. This modality of historical authority was very different from those of other Axial Age (AA) civilizations. Axial Age civilization is a concept pioneered by Karl Jaspers who built on Max Weber’s work, and it was developed subsequently by S. N. Eisenstadt. It has recently become important once again in historical sociology. The period covers a thousand years from 600 bce and concerns revolutionary developments in society, philosophy and religion across the geographical axis of China, India, the Middle East and Greece. Key thinkers and elite intellectuals sought the quest for human meaning beyond this world and beyond magic.3 Key to the AA is the split between transcendence and the mundane. The goals of these civilizations were embedded in a divine transcendent realm. Although the realm was not continuous with the human world and no humans –including the state – could fully realize its goals or will in this world, all humans were expected to aspire towards their realization. Hence the transcendent realm became a source of universal ethics in these religions. In the Abrahamic religions there developed a deep tension between transcendence and human effort to realize it; for example, the ‘city on the hill’. According to Max Weber, Chinese religion was not transcendent but immanent.4 We cannot fully agree with this proposition. In the Chinese religions, Heaven represented a transcendent power and principle, but this power, moral authority and ideals were not approached or accessed principally by faith and messianic prophecy. Rather, as we shall see, the crucial problem was who was able to access it, through what means of cultivation and with what (this-worldly) effects. Nonetheless, the weakness of faith-based and salvational approaches in early Chinese religions was conspicuous and needs some explanation. Salvation and faith are often coupled – not only in the Abrahamic religions but also in Mahayana Buddhism. Mahayana Buddhism, of course, introduced these themes into Chinese religion, particularly after the third century ce in the three-century interregnum between powerful centralized states dominated by the Confucian literati. Salvation and faith are largely responses to the metaphysical problem of death and it is curious that the problem of death and afterlife was not associated with the transcendent principle of Heaven in the way it was associated with God in the Abrahamic traditions. One answer to this problem can be found in the cult of ancestor worship – and what would later become a lineage ideology – which was one the earliest expressions of the sacred in China. Ancestor worship, as we shall see below, was also closely associated with the problem of political power. Faith, salvation and even eschatology became well-developed sub-currents in late imperial Chinese religions when Buddhist-inspired syncretic and redemptive societies with large numbers of women followers flourished. In all AA civilizations, professional clerical groups emerged (church, priests, monks, ulama) as institutionally separate from the state to interpret transcendence and limit the moral authority of the state. They thus dominated a public sphere autonomous from the state. Because of the divergence between the transcendent goals and its practical achievement, AA religions have a built-in motor or

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propensity to challenge the existing establishment and seek new means of personal and institutional change to achieve the transcendent goals. The periodic reform movements aimed against the established clerisy in both the Abrahamic and Hindu-Buddhist traditions (such as Protestantism, Sufism and the Bhakti movements) evoked the transcendent in defying authority and sought to re-create a new order in this world to more truthfully represent the transcendent ideals. In the Hindu traditions, some of these movements also turned to other-worldly pursuits. But co-optation was and is an ever-present possibility. In China, the institutional separateness of Confucianism and Daoism was never fully secured because the state claimed the monopoly of access to the transcendent. However, this should not be allowed to obscure the importance of the Confucian claim on transcendent authority. Confucius and Mencius sought to locate Heaven beyond the exclusive access and control of the ruler and to create a morality that also subjected the ruler and every individual to it. The autonomy and critique of the ruler based on Heaven’s authority was a recurrent claim in the Confucian tradition. The personal quest for sagehood (junzi) and the cultivation of the heavenly endowed nature (tianming zhixing) were the supreme goals of the committed Confucian. In late imperial times, this was best exemplified in the neo-Confucian school of Wang Yangming (heart-mind school or xinxue) and one of the most radical followers Li Zhi argued that the individual was endowed by heaven with the child’s mind (tongxin) which was intrinsically capable of discerning good from evil and thus had no need to conform to external constraints in moral cultivation.5 The tradition of Confucian eremitism where the true Confucian sage rejected political power or suffered from having opposed wrong-headed or immoral policies certainly retained its rhetorical power through the late imperial period, especially when shrines to notable Confucians were created in local society.6 Indeed, many adherents of Wang Yangming or Taizhou school of neo-Confucianism subsequently played an important part in the popular syncretic movements (sanjiao heyi) which arguably became the dominant form of religiosity in republican China. While not intrinsically oppositional, the syncretic movement was deeply redemptive and appealed to a notion of transcendence that combined the Buddhist and neo-Confucian doctrine of the mind. Nonetheless, the three major religious traditions were closely controlled by the imperial state during the late imperial period. Institutional Buddhism and Daoism were controlled largely by state licensing and surveillance. But the imperial state’s relationship with Confucianism was more complex and I will explore it in this segment by considering both cosmological and institutional arguments.7 Cosmologically, the close relationship was forged by the significance of a pre- or non-Axial tradition of sacred authority in Shang and Zhou China. Anthony Yu has clarified a body of scholarship that has suggested that there were two forms of religious authority in China: Heaven and the ancestor. The emperor made both kinds of claim for his absolute sovereignty. One was in the cosmic realm of the relations between Heaven and Earth and the other was in the realm of human relations. The former derived from a transcendent Heaven and the latter from a non-transcendent but no less powerful cult of the imperial ancestor who

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also had sacral potency. For instance, for punitive expeditions during the Shang, the emperor had to receive a mandate from ancestor Di. It was this pre-Axial tradition of ancestor worship – or what Yu calls ‘ancestor-making’ whereby rituals transform a kinsman into a symbol of divine power – that authorized the emperor to trump or pre-empt the transcendent power of Heaven.8 From one perspective, the political history of China may be seen as a contest between imperial authority and elites seeking to claim the authority of Heaven or other forms of transcendence. We are familiar with the drastic measures taken by the imperial unifier, the first emperor of the Qin, to destroy Confucianism by burning the books and burying scholars alive. The subsequent Han dynasty sought to incorporate the Confucians and indeed developed Confucianism into a state ideology. Less well known, however, is that it was during the Han that Confucius was ‘made’ into a lineal descendant of the Shang. Thus he was converted into an imperial ancestor which gave the emperor the greater right of ancestral access to his worship.9 Apart from the Confucians, the Buddhists were the most important claimants to the transcendent authority of the Dharma. The institutional history of imperial China documents the rise and fall of the autonomy of Buddhist monasteries and the changing role of Confucians in the court and in the opposition. But it is also believed that with the Kangxi era, the claims of Confucians to serve as an alternative authority outside the state – except under conditions of individual self-sacrifice – was extinguished and that they were subordinated to imperial power for the last time. From the Confucian perspective, the elite had to fight both the incorporation by imperial power as well as the challenge posed by the Buddhists (and to a lesser extent, by the Daoists). Indeed, it is possible that by fighting the strong notion of transcendence of the Buddhists they were forced into an alliance with the state. The importance of the non-Axial practice of ancestor worship among Confucians was that it was a principal cosmological doctrine that brought them within the embrace of the imperial state, particularly since the Buddhists rejected the very concept. Indeed, according to Kai-wing Chow, the orthodox Confucian reaction against the heart-mind school of neo-Confucian school emphasized not simply ritualism but ancestral ritualism and the lineage system to counter the moral autonomy of the Taizhou neo-Confucianists and syncretists. Indeed some among the orthodox Zheng Zhu neo-Confucianists attacked their rivals’ views of di as a supreme deity and insisted on regarding the di rite as the rite to the king’s first ancestor. They thus associated this imperial rite with the ideology of the descent-line of the emperor rather than the worship of Heaven.10 As mentioned above, we may think of ancestor worship as the non-Axial mode of responding to the problem of death in early China. Ancestor making involved elaborate, regular and continuing ritual performances and sacrifices. Ancestors did not disappear into a transcendent or entirely different world; they continued to have effects in the world of humans. Only those ancestors who were not cared for with proper sacrifices and rituals became restless spirits and ghosts; while those who were cared for properly conveyed good fortune to their filial descendants. Such an anthropomorphic conception of the deceased applied not only to ancestors but also

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to heroes or virtuous men whose spirit protected the communities by occupying the title of a tutelary deity such as the City God. A second mode of co-optation of the Confucian literati was none other than the famed bureaucracy and the examination system. Indeed, the latter was much more important than the former because while the bureaucracy absorbed a small number of officials, the examination system churned out hundreds of thousands of lower degree holders ineligible for office or still larger numbers who aspired to join the degree-holding elite but fail to qualify. These were nonetheless people who had been trained – often from childhood – in the Confucian classics and orthodox ideology. Because of problems of control and management, the imperial bureaucracy was very small in relation to the society it governed. Thus it had to rely on an ingenious model of local government without requiring too much of the imperial government. By the nineteenth century, there was one representative of the bureaucracy governing three to four hundred thousand people. The imperial state was able to govern by delegating the symbolic power of the government while at the same time keeping public funds out of the reach of those to whom it delegated this power. The literati or degree-holding gentry (shenshi) recruited through the examination system possessed the right and symbolic power to distinguish themselves as an elite by their formal access to officialdom. Thus they were designated as community representatives who had the sanction of the imperial state to manage their own problems (perhaps the fengjian model of imperial times did have an influence). The gentry society model involved the entrustment of an ideologically state-oriented elite with the imprimatur of state power without expending fiscal and political power on social maintenance. By the time of the Qing dynasty (1644–1911), an orthodoxy had thus been built around the imperial state which included the lineage ideology, a state-oriented literati and an elaborate state cult. The latter included reverence towards Confucius and Confucian doctrines but was by no means exhausted by them. The sacrifices and reverences (jisi) performed by the emperor, as the supreme priestly figure, to Heaven and deities such as Guandi, the god of war and loyalty, were reproduced through the state cult of sacrifices by bureaucrats and village leaders all the way down to the tutelary deity (tudi) of the village. This was the territorial-ascriptive and bureaucratic model of religion (it combines jisi and jiao as teaching). Thus the imperial state in Qing China had built an elaborate and capacious apparatus of ideological orthodoxy that included cosmological and institutional modes of securing elite loyalties made possible in large part by the existence of a relatively open meritocratic system which fostered aspirations of upward and state-ward mobility among the elites. The genius of this imperial system may be seen by comparing it with the situation in the European states which were radically transformed by the commercial and cosmological (Protestantism) revolutions. The Chinese state was able to forestall the destabilization caused by the pervasive commercialization which burgeoned from the Tang Song transition. In Europe this destabilization ultimately lead to the rise of commercial bourgeoisies that overthrew the imperial orders, but in China the rural and urban commercial elites were often co-opted into the imperial system.

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But if the Qing state was able to co-opt the elites, what about the vast realm of popular society? Early observers of community religion in village society were deeply impressed by the pervasive presence of the state cult particularly as expressed in the tutelary gods and the celestial bureaucracy modelled on the imperial bureaucracy.11 More recently, Stephan Feuchtwang and others have argued that the differences between the two were both organizationally and cosmologically significant. Popular religion conceived the cosmos as more personalized and violent with threatening and rewarding forces operating through mythic efficacy.12 Licensed institutionalized versions of Buddhism and Daoism seem to have had a relatively marginal role in the lives of ordinary people by the late Qing. Thus, for instance, Buddhist monks were mainly called on to perform funerary rites and Daoists for various other ritual services, including magical and prophesying performances. However, communal religion frequently absorbed rites and ideas from these religions and many monks and priests operating at this popular level were not recognized or properly ordained by institutionalized Buddhism and Daoism. Indeed, popular religiosity turned out to be a vibrant field of communication and negotiation, accommodation and adaptation, camouflage and resistance between state and elite orthodoxy and popular culture. In an earlier study of the Guandi cult, I tried to show how the imperial state sought to appropriate the popular hero from the Three Kingdoms as an orthodox figure elevated to the highest of gods and carrying the classics in one hand even as popular lore told martial stories of his bandit-like exploits and vows of sworn brotherhood and loyalty. The figure and myth of Guandi was superscribed by each group and community, drawing on older and contemporary interpretations but each marked by a distinctive interpretation to serve its own charter. As such the myth of Guandi not only preserved the diversity within a capacious culture, but also served as a medium of communication and negotiation among different groups.13 However, the imperial state remained suspicious of popular cults for harbouring heterodox views and periodically both state and elites conducted campaigns to sweep out popular religions that were not state-oriented or part of the state cult. Thus many of the ideas and practices related to alternative conceptions and popular access to Heaven were driven into popular culture where they mingled and often camouflaged themselves in the thicket of popular religiosity. Here it would be difficult to trace what the minister of the state of Chu had proscribed: ‘to cut the communications between Heaven and Earth’ so as to prevent ‘each household indiscriminately performing for itself the religious observances’. Buddhist and Buddhistic sectarian groups would often utilize the tropes of popular culture to accommodate orthodoxy and negotiate the salvationist aspects of the religion which was often viewed as heterodox. In particular, renunciation was regarded as anti-filial and the popular story of Mu Lian which urges how children who have taken the vow of celibacy nonetheless perform the greatest and most valorous deeds of filial piety, rescuing their immoral parents from evil forces, represents this kind of accommodation. The sectarian, sutra-reading societies ideal of salvation were particularly attractive to women who also found an alternative form of sociability outside the home in them. The story of Miao Shan speaks

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particularly to a kind of sectarian, feminist filiality. In this story a young woman who refused to marry the man of her father’s choice is thrown out of the family and joins a nunnery. However, when her family subsequently suffers deep troubles, she returns with the powers of the Boddhisattva to rescue them.14 Beyond the sectarian societies were also the syncretic societies discussed above. As faith-based salvation was largely driven into popular society, intellectuals in this society performed some remarkable syntheses from the variety of transcendent ideals that became available by Ming Qing times – namely from Daoist, Buddhist ideals as well as from Confucian morality. In general, this synthesis came to be known as the three teachings-in-one or sanjiao heyi. While the trope of combining the three in one was almost universal in popular religion, different thinkers and groups performed different syntheses in these redemptive societies. Among the more famous of the redemptive societies were the Daodehui (Morality Society), the Daoyuan (Society of the Way) and its philanthropic wing, the Hongwanzihui (Red Swastika Society), the Tongshanshe (Fellowship of Goodness), the Zailijiao (The Teaching of the Abiding Principle), the Shijie Zongjiao Datonghui (Society for the Great Unity of World Religions first organized in Sichuan in 1915 as the Wushanshe), and the Yiguandao (Way of Pervading Unity). A principal source regarding the spread of these societies in the early twentieth century comes from Japanese surveys of religious and charitable societies in China conducted in the 1930s and 1940s. According to Japanese researchers and officials of the puppet administrations in north China, these societies claimed to command enormous followings. Thus the Fellowship of Goodness claimed a following of 30 million in 192915 and the Red Swastika Society a following of 7 to 10 million in 1937.16 There are also some notable Chinese works on individual societies such as the famous study of the Yiguandao by Li Shiyu of Shandong University who joined the society on several occasions in order to study it. Wing-tsit Chan’s study of Chinese religion tends to dismiss them. He regards these societies as ‘negative in outlook, utilitarian in purpose, and superstitious in belief’17 and cites a figure of a mere 30,000 adherents for the Red Swastika Society in 1927 as opposed to Suemitsu Takayoshi’s figure of 3 million followers in 1932.18 However, Chan does note that the Fellowship of Goodness (Tongshanshe) claimed more than a thousand branches in all parts of China proper and in Manchuria in 1923.19 A recent study by Shao Yong,20 while perhaps even more critical of these societies than Chan, does, however, cite figures that are closer to the Japanese estimates. These societies have to be understood in the context of the complex interplay between the particular historical tradition of their derivation and the contemporary global context of the second decade of the twentieth century. They clearly emerged out of the Chinese historical tradition of sectarianism and syncretism. While some of these societies were closely associated with the sectarian tradition including the worship of Buddhist and folk deities like the Eternal Mother, they also represented the late imperial syncretic tradition (sanjiaoheyi) combining Confucianism, Buddhism and Daoism into a single universal faith. Late imperial syncretism, which urged the extinguishing of worldly desires and engagement in moral action,

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gained popularity among the Confucian gentry and the Buddhist and Daoist laity in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.21 The modern redemptive societies inherited the mission of universalism and moral self-transformation from this syncretism. At the same time, these societies also retained the association of the older syncretic societies with sectarian traditions, popular gods and spirit-mediumistic practices such as divination, planchette, and spirit writing.22 In this way, they continued to remain organically connected to Chinese popular society. Indeed, it was their links to popular culture and local concerns that caused several of them to blur with secret societies at their rural edges. Redemptive societies were important agents of both cosmological syntheses and social integration. On the one hand, they had connections to elite Axial traditions of transcendence; on the other, they remained committed to popular practices concerned with, as Charles Taylor has put it, ‘human flourishing’.23 The new global context of the twentieth century significantly transformed the meaning of their project. A number of them – with a strong elite base – saw themselves explicitly in the new civilizational discourse as representing an Eastern solution to the problems of the modern world. Many of them were formally established or saw rapid expansion during the period from World War I through the 1920s, when the discourse of Western civilization as being overly materialist and violent began to emerge globally.24 These societies sought to supplement and correct the material civilization of the West with the spiritual civilization of the East. The resultant synthesis they envisaged took the shape of a religious universalism which not only included Confucianism, Daoism and Buddhism, but also Islam and Christianity. Several of these societies claimed to represent the essential truth of the five world religions and by spreading this truth, to bring an end to religious partisanship and achieve world peace and personal salvation. Not only did these societies adapt their cosmology to the new geographical conception of the universe (to include Christianity and Islam), but some of them also adapted to the temporal vision of a progressive history. The Morality Society declared that it sought to synthesize the scientific view of the world with the religious and moral visions of Asian thought.25 The society which had Kang Youwei – the great reformer and constitutional monarchist – as its President from 1920 until his death in 1927, argued that without moral and spiritual regeneration, human evolution (jinhua) would stall and turn even more destructive because of the present trend towards hedonistic materialism.26 Even the Yiguandao, perhaps the least ‘modern’ or ‘this-worldly’ of these societies, added the truths of Christianity and Islam to its earlier synthesis and cross-referenced its own esoteric temporal scheme with the modern chronology of dynastic and republican history.27 Their modern orientation is also revealed by their engagement in contemporary projects. Organized with charters and by-laws, armed with a strong this-worldly orientation and a rhetoric of worldly redemption, these societies resembled other modern religious and morality societies all over the world. The New Religion to Save the World (Jiushi Xinjiao) sought to save the world not only through philanthropic activities such as hospitals, orphanages and refugee centers, but also through dissemination and publicity (schools, newspapers, libraries, lectures);

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through charitable enterprises such as factories and farms employing the poor; savings and loan associations, and even by engineering projects such as road and bridge repair.28 As for the ‘red swastika’ of the society with that name, while this can, of course, be understood in Buddhist terms, it was also modelled upon an Eastern equivalent of the Red Cross Society. The Red Swastika society, like several others, not only pursued traditional and modern charities, but its activities also included international activities, such as contributions to international relief efforts and the establishment of professors of Esperanto in Paris, London and Tokyo.29 The Zailijiao, which emerged in the very late Qing period and had established 28 centres in Beijing and Tianjin in 1913,30 appeared to have had 48 centres in Tianjin alone by the late 1920s. It was a strict disciplinarian movement and developed drug rehabilitation centres using herbal medicines and self-cultivation techniques (zhengshen) which were said to fully cure over 200 opium addicts a year.31 This outer or worldly dimension was matched by a strong inner dimension relating to moral and religious cultivation of the individual spirit and body discussed below.32 Some Japanese researchers tried to grasp the class character of these societies through loosely Marxist categories. Takizawa saw them as new religions characteristic of an early capitalist society through which incipient capitalist groups sought to bring the rich and poor together in a traditional idiom. For the rich it was a means of gaining popular support, while the poor welcomed both the philanthropy and the religious ideas. At the same time, these scholars were insistent in recognizing the religious passion and devotion of the adherents to their mission.33 They suggest that those who sought to use these societies could not always appropriate this passion for their own purposes. However, while they may have had the effect of muting class tensions, the religiosity of these societies continued to predispose them towards universalism. Let us look a little more closely at one such society, the Morality Society (Daodehui). Founded in 1919 by the high literati of Shandong around a child prodigy who had once been a companion of the Xuantong emperor, the Morality Society flourished until the establishment of Kuomintang (KMT) power and the anti-religious movements in 1928.34 It had developed a mass following within China and extensive networks around the world. Philosopher Kang Youwei, its president, believed that the ultimate significance of the nation arose from its self-transcendence in the universalist utopia of Datong (Great Unity). In northeast China, the Morality Society suddenly expanded in the mid-1920s, when the legendary Wang Fengyi (1864–1937) joined it, bringing with him his massive following and extensive network of schools in Liaoning and Rehe.35 Wang was a self-educated, rural intellectual who came from a modest rural background in Chaoyang county, Rehe. His adoring followers referred to him as the righteous sage (yisheng) and he was popularly known as shanren (‘man who does good’). His activities have been characterized as being in the tradition of jiaohua or advocating ethical transformation. Upon enlightenment of the dao, he threw himself into lecturing and doing good, urging filiality and the study of the sages, and curing various ills with his theory of nature.36 He developed a doctrine and practice of self-knowledge, self-realization and self-reliance based upon a complex theory

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synthesizing the doctrine of the five conducts (based on the five elements) and yinyang cosmology, with the teachings of the three religions. In brief, the technical aspect of his theory sought to show how the five elements (wuxing) – wood, fire, earth, metal and water – shape the five behavioral characteristics of a person (wuxing) not in a determinative way, but in combination with how the person cultivates (xiudao) these elements in the different circumstances of a life. At one level, his theory prescribed inner cultivation, but the self was ultimately realized in outward actions within a framework of changing circumstances. Self-exploration and self-reliance were the keynotes in Wang’s philosophy.37 Wang’s technology of the self was rooted in the wider religious and philosophical movement of syncretism or the religion of the ‘three-in-one’ (sanjiao heyi). According to Lin Anwu, a contemporary follower and analyst of the philosophy, Wang affirmed the basic goodness of nature or natural dispositions (tianxing) and the three bonds (gang) of Confucianism (father–son, ruler–subject, husband–wife). He found them compatible with the three treasures of Buddhism, and the three transformations (the hua of xing, xin, and shen) of Daoism, all of which could be understood within the Buddhist realms of the three worlds.38 Yet the goal of the philosophy, Lin writes, ‘is neither theoretical nor technical, but practically related to experiences in one’s life; one can in this way find the roots of one’s life. A person may thus return to the principles underlying the bonds between the world, heaven and humans.’39 Through his cosmological synthesis invoking transcendent ideals, Wang Fengyi developed an entire theory of self and social transformation that won him a wide following. Wang’s commitment to ‘transform the world’ (huashi) had been noted locally even before his association with the Morality Society. The Chaoyang county gazetteer observed that his efforts had led to improvement of customs and the spread of education. Over a hundred segregated schools initiated by his son were eponymously called Wang Guohua schools.40 A female devotee, Liu Shuquan, whom the senior Wang had deputed as the principal of a righteous girls’ school in his hometown of Yangshan, was praised in her funerary inscription as having ‘enlightened (kaiming) our women’s world that had been steeped in darkness for thousands of years’.41 Wang himself appeared to be extremely energetic, travelling widely and establishing schools and branches of the society in what might be seen as a process of civilizing the frontier. He received the patronage of important politicians, such as the Manchu literatus, Bai Yongzhen, who had been an important official before the Republic and later served as the speaker of the Fengtian Provincial Assembly (shengyihui jiangchang).42 It is Bai’s calligraphy that adorns Wang’s little book of teachings. Women were particularly important in his mission to restore Chinese civilizational values and ‘transform the world’. The new society that Wang conceived would combine modern ideas with enduring Chinese ideals of selfhood and the world. Wang had been at the forefront of the development of virtuous girls’ schools, having established 270 of them by 1925, all of which became part of the Morality Society when he joined it around that time. While the importance of gender segregation doubtless derived from his commitment to classical morality, he was also clearly committed to a conception of woman who linked the past to the future. He reported

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a conversation with a Christian pastor in which Wang exposes the insufficiency of historical religions. All religions certainly pointed to the same Way (dao), but they neglected or demeaned women in the education of the Way. He insisted that women be educated and independent (liye) so that they could understand the Way.43 Many of the redemptive societies sought to work with the state as long as they were given the space to fulfil their spiritual obligations in relative peace. However, neither the KMT nor the Communist state had a place for them, and in the northeast, many, including the Morality Society worked with the Japanese puppet regime in Manchukuo (1932–45).44 But there were others that were much harder to bring into the realm of the modern civil order. Several sectarian movements as well as the redemptive societies also harboured millenarianism and the coming of a sage to herald a new world. This was perhaps the most heterodox type of organization and one that orthodoxy was most opposed to since it involved a political threat. There were several sources of popular millenarianism in China, including the Buddhist conception of time as kalpas or ages, but also the role of the spirit medium who was able to access the will of Heaven. By the nineteenth century, such millenarianism could be found among sectarian Daoist or Buddhist societies and also among redemptive societies who appealed to Confucian notions of Heaven and sought to access the will of Heaven through spirit-writing. This is, of course, precisely what alarmed the minister from Chu. Indeed, as many scholars have pointed out, popular rebellions through imperial Chinese history were often inspired by religious movements. These included the Daoistic Yellow Turbans, the Way of the Five Pecks of Rice and, later, Buddhistic or syncretic movements such as those associated with the White Lotus and later still Taiping Christianity. Perhaps most interesting in this regard are the Christian Taipings. While for them as Christians, faith was an important dimension of their religiosity, it was through the older Chinese tradition of spirit possession that the Taipings sought to establish their authority. It represented a doubled movement towards transcendence. Note even how the Boxers would perform ritual exercises to appropriate the superior power of Heaven to repulse the barbarian violation of the sacred lands. It is important to view these movements within the AA framework of tension between transcendent and practical order. While they rebelled because of historical conditions and opportunities, they were authorized and legitimated by transcendent ideals. Note, however, that even orthodox religious groups in popular society could and did invoke the gap between transcendent ideals and the present order. They were, as David Ownby has put it, ‘both against and from within the mainstream’. For example, some of them condemned the Buddhist church ‘for having abandoned its own mission of self-abnegation and transcendence’.45 Ownby’s study of the apocalyptic Way of the Temple of the Heavenly Immortals exemplifies how these societies mediated deeply orthodox or ‘fundamental’ values from Confucianism or Daoism with popular cultural traditions to reconstruct community along traditional, even utopian prescriptions.46 These societies call on the ideals of transcendent authority to change the establish order; as such they do evoke the momentum of AA tension to propel society to change towards the transcendent ideal.

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The opposition between imperial orthodoxy and strains of popular religion over the course of Chinese history developed a certain cultural logic: Orthodoxy and the state repeatedly make the claim that this kind of popular religion represents a cover for politics. But at the core of it is the logic of access to transcendent power. Even if it does not apply to the state, the cosmology of religious believers tends to empower those with the right. By banning religious groups the state continues to favour this logic. Note the case of Taiwan when the democratizing state began to legalize the Yiguandao and others. Without the pressure of repression these groups became relatively powerless and piety followed a civic religion model. In contrast to Abrahamic traditions where the conflicts emerged over the true God and filling the world with his transcendent truth, in China the conflict emerged over who had the right to access the will of Heaven. The imperial state sought to monopolize access to the transcendent power of Heaven while seeking to restrict or contain elite and popular religiosity to the non-transcendent realm of human flourishing. While it succeeded in co-opting and containing the elite traditions’ right to such access, notions of alternative means to access or achieve transcendence were driven underground – where they were often camouflaged in the thicket of cultural forms which were accommodative and resistant. As a result, in the religious, cultural and political realm, the fault line in Chinese civilizations emerged as one between the state-elite versus popular culture. In the West and other parts of the world following the Abrahamic traditions, this vertical division (which also existed, to be sure) was overcome by another, lateral, one. Here transcendence and the individual’s proximity to it was forged around faith and belief in a monotheistic, personal God. The distance from transcendence was mediated by faith. While those who believed in the same God were theoretically equal and part of the community, those who did not were excluded. The religious community was driven not simply by faith but by the belief that the world must be saved by a world filled with the truth of God. Non-believers were potentially Others for these communities. Of course, these faith-based communities were hardly always hostile or militant, but they were potentially so particularly since the state was located within the community and could drive hostilities when necessary. In the modern period, when faith-based communities became intertwined with competitive national identities, the potential for violence became much greater. China has indeed been fortunate to not be possessed by faith-based communities because of the powerful role of the state in monopolizing access to the transcendent. However, the vertical division remains a volatile one and the state may consider incremental steps to dismantle the relationship in which it has become locked against communities to whom the older cosmologies and transcendence remain meaningful.

Notes 1 Wang Gungwu, ‘State and faith: secular values in Asia and the West’, in Gregor Benton and Hong Liu (eds), Diasporic Chinese Ventures: The life and work of Wang Gungwu (London: Routledge, 2004), pp. 103–39, at p. 104. 2 K. C. Chang, ‘Shamanism and politics’, in Art, Myth and Ritual: The path to political authority in ancient China (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1983), pp. 44–5.

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3 Shmuel Eisenstadt (ed.), The Origins and Diversity of Axial Age Civilizations (Albany NY: State University of New York Press, 1986). 4 Max Weber, The Religion of China (New York, Free Press, 1968). 5 Kai-wing Chow, The Rise of Confucian Ritualism in Late Imperial China: Ethics, classics, and lineage discourse (Stanford CA: Stanford University Press, 1994), pp. 24–37. 6 Ellen Neskar, ‘Shrines to local former worthies’, in Donald S Lopez, Jr. (ed.), Religions of China in Practice, (Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1996), pp. 292–305. 7 C. K. Yang, Religion in Chinese Society (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1967). 8 Anthony Yu, State and Religion in China: Historical and textual perspectives (Chicago and Lasalle IL: Open Court, 2005). 9 Ibid., pp. 45–7. 10 Chow, The Rise of Confucian Ritualism, op. cit., p. 145. 11 Arthur Wolf, ‘Gods, ghosts and ancestors’, in Arthur Wolf (ed.), Studies in Chinese Society (Stanford CA: Stanford University Press, 1978), pp. 131–82. 12 Stephan Feuchtwang, Popular Religion in China: The imperial metaphor (London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2001), pp. 74–84. 13 Prasenjit Duara, ‘Superscribing symbols: The myth of Guandi, Chinese god of war’, The Journal of Asian Studies, 47(4) (November 1988): 778–95. 14 Daniel Overmyer, ‘Values in Chinese sectarian literature’, in David Johnson, Andrew Nathan and Evelyn Rawski (eds), Popular Culture in Late Imperial China (Berkeley CA: University of California, 1985). 15 Suemitsu Takayoshi, Shina no mimi kaisha to jishan kaisha (China’s secret societies and charitable societies) (Dalian: Manshu hyoronsha, 1932), p. 252. 16 Takizawa Toshihiro, Manshū no kaison shinyō (Beliefs of Manchuria’s towns and villages) (Shinkyō: Manshū jijo annaijo, 1940), p. 67. 17 Wing-tsit Chan, Religious Trends in Modern China (New York: Columbia University Press, 1953), p. 167. 18 Ibid., p. 164; Suemitsu, Shina no himitsu kessha to jizen kaisha, op. cit., p. 302. 19 Chan, Religious Trends, op. cit., p. 165. 20 Shao Yong, Zhongguo huidaomen (China’s Religious Societies) (Shanghai: Remmin chubanse, 1997). Shao Yong does not furnish a systematic estimate of the membership of these societies, which he calls ‘huidaomen’. He supplies scattered figures of membership in different localities drawn from various sources, including the societies’ own statements. Thus, for instance, in one place he suggests that the Tongshanshe membership in Hunan province alone exceeded 20,000 in 1918. (Shao, Zhongguo huidaomen, op. cit., p. 174.) Again, for 1938 he suggests that the societies had a combined membership of one million in the provinces of Henan, Shandong, and Anhui (ibid., p. 325) Most astonishing is his revelation that membership of the Morality Society was as high as eight million in 1936–7 in Manchukuo alone (ibid., p. 321). 21 Chow, The Rise of Confucian Ritualism, op. cit. pp. 21–5. 22 Ibid., pp. 22–7. 23 Charles Taylor, A Secular Age (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2007). 24 Wanguo Daodehui Manzhouguo zonghui bianjike (ed.), Manzhouguo Daodehui nianjian (abbr. MDNJ) (Yearbook of the Manzhouguo Morality Society) (Xinjing: Wanguo Daodehui Manzhouguo zonghui bianjike, 1934), 4: 1; Takizawa Toshihiro, Shūkyō chōsa shiryō (Materials from the survey of religions). Vol. 3, Minkan shinkō chōsa hōkokushō (Report on the survey of popular beliefs). Xinjing: Minseibu, 1937, 67cf; and Xingya zongjiao xiehui (Revive Asian Religions Association) (ed.), Huabei zongjiao nianjian (abbr. HZN) (Yearbook of the religions of north China) (Beiping: Xingyayuan Huabei lianlobu, 1941), 505–7cf. 25 MDNJ, 1: 3–6.

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26 MDNJ, 4:1 and Takizawa Toshihiro, Shūkyō chōsa shiryō (Materials from the survey of religions). Vol. 3, Minkan shinkō chōsa hōkokushō (Report on the survey of popular beliefs). Xinjing: Minseibu, 1937. 27 Li Shiyu, Xianzai Huabei mimi zongjiao (Secret religions in north China today) (1948), pp. 50–5. 28 HZN, 485–6; 491–3. 29 Suemitsu, Shina no mimi kaisha to jishan kaisha, op. cit., pp. 292–305 and p. 354. 30 HZN, 507–27. 31 Suemitsu, Shina no mimi kaisha to jishan kaisha, op. cit., pp. 262–3. 32 For the fullest reports on the social welfare activities of these societies, especially for the Red Swastika Society, see the reports of the Shanghai city social bureau, Shanghaishi shehuiju yewu baogao (Reports of the Shanghai Municipality Social Bureau on Enterprises and Activities) January–December 1930; January– December 1931; January–June 1932; January 1946 (Shanghai). (Abbr. SSJYB 1930–1932, 1946.) 33 Takizawa, Manshū no kaison shinyō, op. cit., pp. 282–4 and Suemitsu, Shina no mimi kaisha to jishan kaisha, op. cit., pp. 337–40. 34 Shao, Zhongguo huidaomen op. cit., p. 321. 35 Ibid., pp. 306–7. 36 Lin Anwu, ‘Yin dao yi li jiao – yi Wang Fengyi “shierzi xinchuan” wei gaixin zhankai’ (Establishing the ‘way’ as religion – explorations of Wang Fengyi’s ‘twelve character teachings’), in Zhonghua minzu zongjiao xueshu huiyi lunwen fabiao (Publication of the Conference on the Study of Chinese Religion) (Taipei, 1989), p. 12. 37 Ibid., pp. 15–17. 38 Ibid., pp. 13–15. 39 Ibid., p. 19. 40 Chaoyang xianzhi (Chaoyang county gazetteer), 1930: juan 19: 14–16; juan 35: 45–6; MDNJ, 8: 23 41 Chaoyang xianzhi (Chaoyang county gazetteer), 1930: juan 35: 46–7. 42 Minguo Renwuzhuan, 166; Dongebi fangzhi, 10: 521. 43 MDNJ, 4: 207 44 For a more detailed account, see Prasenjit Duara Sovereignty and Authenticity: Manchukuo and the East Asian Modern (Boulder CO: Rowman and Littlefield, 2003). When Manchukuo was established, the Morality Society responded to the Japanese formulation of wangdao, and it and the Swastika Society became the most influential groups. Wang sought government permission to organize a major summit in Xinjing and rapidly created branches all across the new state. By 1934, the 312 branches of the Manchukuo society operated 235 ‘righteous’ or ‘virtuous’ schools, 226 lecture halls, and 124 clinics. By 1936, a year before Wang’s death, it boasted 13 head offices, 208 city and county branch offices, and 529 zhen-level branches. Its membership and office holders boasted top officials, merchants, and landowners at all levels of society from the major cities to the subcounty townships. Many of the top Chinese figures in the Manchukuo government such as Yuan Jinkai and Zhang Jinghui were associated with it. The message of peace, morality and spiritual salvation of the world by the East befitted these successors of the old gentry elite. As a jiaohua (moral education) agency it revealed a strong propagandist urge. It set great store by its cadres or activists (shi) who were characterized as benevolent and resolute. Through their activities in schools, in lectures, in spreading baihua commentaries of classical morality, in establishing popular enlightenment societies to ‘reform popular customs and rectify the people’s minds and hearts’ the society propounded a strong rhetoric of reaching out to all – the rich and the poor, men and women. 45 David Ownby, ‘Chinese millenarian traditions: the formative age’, American Historical Review, 104(5) (December 1999): 1528. 46 David Ownby, ‘Imperial fantasies: the Chinese Communists and peasant rebellions’, Comparative Studies in Society and History, 43(1) (2001): 65–91 and 15–20.

Part II

Reinterpreting China’s ‘world order’

5

Rethinking the “tribute system” Broadening the conceptual horizon of historical East Asian politics Zhang Feng

Introduction Among the notable features of the study of historical East Asian politics is the lack of rigorous systemic theories that can explain the working and nature of the relations between imperial China and its neighbors. What we have had for a long time is the idea of the “tribute system” and its central importance in organizing our thinking about historical East Asian politics. But what is the “tribute system” as it is used by various scholars? How useful are these tribute-system perspectives or models in shedding light on the nature of historical East Asian politics? Drawing on the wide-ranging and insightful scholarship of Wang Gungwu and a number of other historians and political scientists, I attempt to critically evaluate the venerable literature on the “tribute system” for some conceptual clarification and broadening of key themes of traditional China’s foreign relations and the larger political dynamics between China and its neighbors. I write from a political science perspective, though I engage extensively with the predominantly historical scholarship on the subject. With a few notable exceptions in recent years, the “international relations” of historical East Asia has been purely the field of historians. Yet, after a remarkable period of intellectual creativity from the 1930s to the 1960s thanks largely to the pioneering work of John King Fairbank,1 historians’ interest in East Asian diplomatic history gradually waned, so much so that the field has become “unfashionable and underpopulated.”2 Researches during this “classic era” on China’s foreign relations produced a number of important insights and laid the foundation for our understanding of historical East Asian politics. But this body of research is also marked by analytical confusion and empirical omissions. Starting from the 1980s, many historians began to re-examine Fairbank’s “tribute system” and “Chinese world order” frameworks, exposing some previously hidden assumptions and bringing to light new historical evidence that contradicted existing interpretations. While these researches critique Fairbank, in general they do not seek to replace the tribute system model with some new explanatory frameworks. Political scientists, particularly international relations (IR) scholars, should be very interested in historical East Asian politics. This can be a fertile field for theoretical innovations, just as European history has been for the development of

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modern IR theories. Yet, although this potential for theory building has always been recognized, relatively few scholars have ventured into this field with in-depth historical and theoretical research. Often researches that do look at the subject rely on secondary sources, thus impeding analytical and theoretical innovations in the first place.3 The few works that have consciously tried to exploit historical Asia for theory development have produced fresh approaches and insights. Two most innovative works in this regard are Iain Johnston’s Cultural Realism and Victoria Hui’s War and State Formation in Ancient China and Early Modern Europe.4 However, although these two books have generated important perspectives on China’s strategic culture and the state formation process in ancient China, they have said little about the tribute system itself. Apart from Brantly Womack’s recent work,5 little IR scholarship has systematically examined the tribute system. Adding to this lack of attention is the widespread “sinocentric” bias in both the existing historical and IR scholarships – their tendency to focus on China’s foreign relations to the neglect of those of other polities in the region. Many Chinese IR scholars, on the other hand, are fascinated by the “tribute system.” Some think that this is one of the key sources for developing a “Chinese school of international relations.”6 This may well be the case. But before we can use the “tribute system” for “Chinese theories,” we first have to know the origin and evolution of the idea of the “tribute system,” the main characteristics of the “tribute system” as a historical institution, and the strengths and weaknesses of the existing models about the “tribute system.” Some scholars tend to take the “tribute system” as a given, and even unchanging, historical entity and to regard as unproblematic Fairbank’s interpretations of it. I shall argue that Fairbank’s thesis is not an adequate basis for developing new theories. More importantly, rather than using the “tribute system” as a concept to develop “Chinese theories,” we might first think about how theories, of whatever kind, can be developed to explain the “tribute system” as a historical institution. The aim of this chapter is more modest. It does not seek to produce a new theoretical framework for explaining historical East Asian politics. New theories are the product of cumulative research over time. Toward the end of the chapter I briefly suggest an alternative framework to explain some puzzles about tributary politics between China and its neighbors. My main purpose, however, is to focus on the “tribute system” concept itself and assess the analytical utility of the models and perspectives that this concept has generated for understanding some key features of historical East Asian politics. There are three interrelated ways in which the concept “tribute system” has been used in the literature. I discuss them in turn but focus on Fairbank’s interpretive model since this has been the most influential and has really established the tribute system paradigm in the study of East Asian diplomatic history.7 The model has been frequently criticized over the years.8 I build on these criticisms and present a systematic evaluation. That many inadequacies have been found should not be surprising: Fairbank was writing in the 1930s and in the political and social contexts of the time.9 But criticism should have positive payoffs. I use the evaluation of Fairbank’s foundational research on the tribute system as a heuristic

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device for shedding light on possible new conceptualizations about historical East Asian politics. Fairbank believed that “every major subject has to be redone for each generation,”10 and he was disappointed that nobody had consciously tried to refine or even dismantle his research program.11 Now the time seems ripe for some evaluation fifty years after the publication of his major works. My general argument is that each of the three views of the tribute system discussed below has limitations for explaining historical East Asian politics. It then makes sense to ask whether we should strive for alternative theoretical frameworks that might produce greater explanatory power. The “tribute system” is, of course, a concept before it is a fact; it is first of all “a Western invention for descriptive purposes.”12 In view of this, one can legitimately ask how useful the invention has been. Although the concept clearly captures a key feature of historical East Asian politics (the apparent tributary relations symbolized by ritual practices between China and its neighbors is a key attraction), an overemphasis on it over the years has also created biases in our conceptual and empirical enquiries. Yet, a pure tribute-system perspective, however well developed, is ultimately inadequate, because historical East Asian politics were not all about “tribute” and its associated practices.

The tribute system: three views Associating the “tribute system” with traditional China’s foreign relations has become a standard practice since the nineteenth century when it was thought that China’s peculiar notions of foreign relations were one of the underlying causes behind its failure to deal adequately with the Western challenge. That unique institutional and textual complex of traditional Chinese foreign policy was referred to as the “tribute system.” But it was not until Fairbank’s immensely influential elaboration of it from the 1940s through the 1960s that the “tribute system” really became the master organizing concept in the study of East Asian diplomatic history. However, although Fairbank’s model has been the most well-known, it is not the only conceptualization of the tribute system. There are broadly three different but interrelated views of the tribute system in the scholarly literature. The first view It is appropriate to begin with Fairbank’s interpretive model since it has influenced a generation of scholars and still serves as a basic reference point for discussion of traditional China’s foreign relations. Although after years of criticisms its influence has gradually waned, many scholars would still find it necessary to grapple with Fairbank’s arguments when writing about the tribute system. A thorough evaluation of the model is therefore essential for assessing the utility of the tribute-system perspective for understanding historical East Asian politics. I do so in the following two main sections; for now I briefly outline its main features. Fairbank and Teng viewed the tribute system as “the medium for Chinese international relations and diplomacy” and “a scheme of things entire … the mechanism by which barbarous non-Chinese regions were given their place in the all-embracing

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Chinese political, and therefore ethical, scheme of things.”13 Following this conception, Fairbank developed a model in subsequent writings that conceived of an East Asian order of tributary relations centering on China – the “Chinese world order,” as it has been called. The model is built on the assumption of sinocentrism – the notion of supposed Chinese centrality and superiority.14 Sinocentrism led the Chinese to devise a scheme which demanded foreign acknowledgment of their superiority. From this assumption, it is argued that China’s relations with other states were “hierarchic and nonegalitarian, like the Chinese society itself.”15 The historical East Asian order “was unified and centralized in theory by the universal pre-eminence of the Son of Heaven. It was not organized by a division of territories among sovereigns of equal status but rather by the subordination of all local authorities to the central and awe-inspiring power of the emperor.”16 The hierarchy of the relations was predicated on Chinese superiority and suzerainty vis-à-vis foreign states’ inferiority and submission. Respect for this hierarchy and acknowledgment of Chinese superiority were absolute requirements of opening relations with China. Thus, “[o]utside countries, if they were to have contact with China at all, were expected and when possible obliged to do so as tributaries.”17 In terms of motivations, the model posits that Chinese rulers initiated tributary relations because they valued the prestige that foreign tribute would bring to their rule, while foreign rulers participated in tributary politics because they valued the benefits of trade with China. Thus, “trade and tribute were cognate aspects of a single system of foreign relations, the moral value of tribute being the more important in the minds of the rulers of China, and the material value of trade in the minds of the barbarians.”18 The “moral value of tribute” implies that for Chinese rulers, the function of tribute lay in enhancing the legitimacy of their rule. For foreign rulers, on the other hand, trade was the most important motive “so much so that the whole institution [the tribute system], viewed from abroad, appears to have been an ingenious vehicle for commerce”19 and “tribute missions functioned chiefly as a vehicle for trade.”20 Further, cultural attraction and “rule by virtue” were the main means through which China exercised its influence while “Non-Chinese rulers participated in the Chinese world order by observing the appropriate forms and ceremonies (li) in their contact with the Son of Heaven.”21 The “Chinese world order,” then, was a pre-eminently cultural system, sustained on both sides primarily through cultural precepts and practices the most important of which was ritual observance. It is clear that this model was meant to describe and interpret the official relations between China and its neighbors. Its scope seems to cover the whole period of East Asian history from virtually the dawn of the Chinese civilization until the nineteenth century. But it needs to be noted that Fairbank, as a historian, did not mean to apply his “tribute system” notion to the “international politics” of East Asia, as a political scientist might do. Fairbank “has made no pretense of establishing a general theory of Chinese history and has stated his distaste for abstract theorizing in many places.”22 For him the main question was how to understand and define the “Chinese world order.” It is for the purpose of defining the scope

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and essence of such an order that he highlighted the sinocentric vision held by Chinese rulers and elites. He probably never assigned himself the task of providing an overall framework of interpretation for East Asian international relations.23 Rather, he was laying out some big ideas as organizing concepts that might be refined and developed in further research. His model therefore should be properly evaluated against the question of how accurately the “tribute system” notion and the “Chinese world order” scheme capture the nature of the historical East Asian order. Its inadequacies can then suggest areas of improvement needed to advance our understanding of historical East Asian politics. The second view The second view, found most frequently among Chinese historians and with a distinguished pedigree in Chinese scholarly discourse, sees the tribute system as China’s bureaucratic management of foreign relations.24 The focus has been on the organizational and functional development of a complex set of principles, rules, and procedures that were developed by China’s scholar-officials to deal with foreigners. This research tradition has been centrally concerned with the historical development of ritual practices and the bureaucratic institutions and cultural assumptions behind such ritualistic expressions of foreign relations. Thus, for example, a study of the Ming tribute system would include the organization of the bureaucracies of the Ming dynasty that dealt with foreign relations, the elaborate set of ritual practices for foreign envoys to observe while in the Chinese capital, details on the composition of foreign tributes and Chinese return gifts, tribute frequency and routes, and so on. Because the tribute system is conceived of as China’s bureaucratic innovation for foreign affairs, this perspective sheds little light on the dynamic interaction between China and its neighbors. The tribute system is viewed strictly on the Chinese side and from the Chinese perspective. Because this is so, this perspective cannot serve as an adequate basis for our understanding of the overall relations between China and its neighbors. It deals mostly with the bureaucratic aspects of Chinese foreign policy, not the larger East Asian order. In terms of Chinese foreign policy, scholars writing from this perspective tend to emphasize its ritualistic and symbolic elements associated with tributary relations. For example, Li Yunquan, in a thorough examination of the bureaucratic development of the tribute system in Chinese history, argues that Chinese rulers valued not so much the substance of tributary relations as the appearance of tribute missions and their function in demonstrating the superiority of Chinese rule.25 While this is true in many cases regarding the tributary part of China’s foreign relations, it cannot be a valid generalization for traditional Chinese foreign policy as a whole. Although the view of the tribute system as the bureaucratic management of foreign relations on the Chinese side is clearly important for understanding the historical development of Chinese foreign policy, especially its bureaucratization through successive dynasties, it does not account for the larger political dynamics between China and its neighbors. Moreover, perhaps because of its emphasis on

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the bureaucratic aspects of the tribute system, its interpretation of Chinese foreign policy tends to emphasize symbolism and thus misses an important part of Chinese foreign policy characterized by flexibility and pragmatism. The third view The third view, found among IR scholars writing from an English School perspective, sees the tribute system as an institution of the historical East Asian international society. According to a classic English School definition, institution refers to “a set of habits and practices shaped towards the realization of common goals.”26 Neoliberal institutionalists define institutions as “persistent and connected sets of rules (formal and informal) that prescribe behavioral roles, constrain activity, and shape expectations.”27 These definitions overlap somewhat; both view institutions as coherent sets of principles and practices that structure and organize relations.28 Following this perspective, Yongjin Zhang argues that the tribute system is the fundamental institution of the historical East Asian order. In his words, “the tribute system is the fundamental institution that embodies both philosophical assumptions and institutional practices within the Chinese world order and that structures relations and ensures co-operation between China and other participants in Pax Sinica.”29 It was through the tribute system that China and other countries conducted meaningful relations with one another. The tribute system in this sense embodies cultural assumptions such as sinocentrism and describes rules and practices such as foreigners’ paying tributes to the Chinese court and the latter’s bestowal of gifts and investiture to the former. Conceived of as an institution in this sense, the tribute system becomes a central interpretive factor for historical East Asian politics. However, although viewing the tribute system as an institution is apparently appropriate from a theoretical standpoint, it also entails some analytical problems. First, the tribute system is only one – though perhaps the more prominent – among several institutions in the historical East Asian system. By itself it cannot capture the whole picture of China’s foreign relations, as these were only partly expressed through institutional practices of the tribute system. Other institutions identified by the English School, such as war and even the balance of power, can also be found in East Asian history. Many analysts tend to overemphasize the significance of the tribute system at the expense of due attention to other institutions that have also played important roles. Second, one problem with the institutionalist perspective is that these institutions often themselves require explanation.30 Thus, in our case, if we are to understand the motives, strategies, and interests behind China’s construction of, and other countries’ participation in, the tribute system, we will have to deconstruct and explain the tribute system in the first place. The question is not whether the tribute system can be seen as an institution, as it surely can be, but how much interpretive or explanatory power such a perspective can generate. Third, seeing the tribute system as an institution without paying adequate attention to its historical evolution will give the misleading impression that the tribute system was somehow static and unchanging throughout history. In practice,

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however, the characteristics and nature of the tribute system varied considerably in different historical periods. We will therefore have to speak about different tribute systems rather than a single tribute system in history. The changing nature of historical East Asian politics will be missed unless the changing characteristics of different tribute systems are examined, even though the tribute system itself is far from the totality of international politics in this region. This also suggests the inadequacy of an institutionalist perspective of the tribute system for understanding historical East Asian politics. Clearly, these three views of the tribute system are interrelated in some interesting ways not only in terms of their substantive arguments but also in terms of their intellectual evolution. For example, it is only one step from Fairbank’s view of the tribute system as the medium for Chinese diplomacy to the third view of the tribute system as an institution in the English School sense. I have already questioned the utility of the second and third views for understanding historical East Asian politics. I now turn to a focused evaluation of the Fairbank model while further developing these criticisms.

The inherent weakness of the model In this section Fairbank’s model is evaluated in its own terms. The question asked is not how well it can stand against historical evidence – the task for the next section – but how logically consistent the model itself is. Evaluating it as an interpretive model, three questions can be asked. First, how useful are the assumptions underlying the model? Interpretive propositions often follow from assumptions; the more useful the assumptions are, the better these propositions will be. Second, how clear and coherent is its internal logic? Ambiguous models with inconsistent logic obfuscate more than they clarify. Third, how much interpretive power does it seem to offer? Assumptions As discussed in the preceding section, the underlying assumption behind the model is sinocentrism, the idea that Chinese rulers believed themselves to be central and superior to other peoples in the known world. It follows from this assumption that they would try to get foreign rulers to acknowledge their superiority by presenting tributes and accepting vassal status. It should be noted, however, that by claiming to be the “ruler of the tianxia,” the Chinese did not intend to rule the entire known world.31 Rather, the tianxia was limited to the surrounding areas of the Chinese empire, roughly corresponding to what we today know as Northeast and Southeast Asia and parts of Central Asia. Gao Mingshi has recently argued that according to the Chinese conception, the world might be divided into three areas with diminishing Chinese influence: inner vassal area, outer vassal area, and temporary non-vassal area.32 The Chinese did not expect the extension of their authority over states of the last category; in fact, they often treated them as equals. For example, before the Chinese were able to

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subject the Turkic, Uighur, and Tibetan states, the Sui and Tang dynasties maintained “brotherly” relations with them; so too the Han with the Xiongnu. And when these tribal states grew powerful and posed security threats, they were regarded as enemies – far from tributaries as the sinocentric assumption would suggest. The first problem with the sinocentric assumption is that its usefulness varies with the historical periods that one examines.33 True, at least in terms of rhetoric as recorded in the Chinese historical sources, Chinese rulers seemed to have held the notion of superiority since pre-Qin times. Yet the apparent constancy of perceived superiority is deceptive, made all the more so by “a respectable tradition of dealing with reality separately so that there was no need to change the rhetoric”34 developed by Chinese scholar-officials as they contemplated their theory of imperial foreign relations. Did the rulers of China throughout its two-thousand-year dynastic history make foreign policy decisions on the basis of Chinese superiority most of the time? At least one has to make a distinction between periods when China was unified and strong and when it was divided and weak, because material power and external environment can often decisively shape rulers’ perceptions and decision making. As Wang Gungwu points out, the rhetoric of superiority “was based on strength and was meaningless during periods of weakness and disorder.”35 He further remarks: “At times it [the idea of superiority] was clearly myth, a sustaining and comforting myth, but equally clearly at other times it was reality, a reality that nurtured cultural pride but also called for moral restraint.”36 The effect of the sinocentric assumption on actual policy making had to be conditioned by power realities. Chinese rulers’ “actions and policies may have been shaped more by the logic of the situation than by the distinctive world-views and values of the Sinocentric tribute ideology.”37 The founder of the Southern Song dynasty, for example, found himself compelled to accept the status of a vassal of the Jin dynasty – his powerful northern rival – in 1138.38 Less dramatically, rulers of various Chinese dynasties such as the Han, Sui, and Tang had to accept “brotherly” or equal relations with their powerful northern and western nomadic neighbors. Sinocentrism can be a useful assumption in times of Chinese strength when the belief of superiority was more or less matched by reality. But even here one has to examine its exact effect on policy making. Many believe that sinocentrism had led to a foreign policy of rigidity and inflexibility. But this need not be the case. The Han, Tang, Ming, and Qing all in different periods displayed a flexible and extroverted pattern of foreign relations.39 Moreover, sinocentrism did not always lead to the demand for the submission of foreign rulers as China’s vassals even during periods of Chinese strength. The Tang, for example, did not insist on the declaration of vassalage from Japan.40 From another perspective, if sinocentrism was such an important motivational force, one might indeed be puzzled by “its relatively weak translation into impulses to conquer and physically dominate ‘inferior’ peoples.”41 Clearly, sinocentrism alone sheds little light on Chinese attempts at domination or the lack thereof. These examples demonstrate not only that the importance of sinocentrism in Chinese foreign policy making cannot be exaggerated but also that the effect of sinocentrism on policy varies in different cases and needs to be empirically determined.

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In times of Chinese weakness, sinocentrism’s dubious utility suggests that the assumption of Chinese superiority alone is insufficient and bound to be misleading. A weak China must also worry about its survival. At least this was what the Song experienced with its powerful northern rivals. For those periods we need an assumption of Chinese rulers’ motivation for the security of their regime. John E. Wills, Jr. reflected this thinking when he emphasized the concept of “defensiveness.”42 Fairbank recognized that for Chinese rulers “the chief political problem was how to maintain Chinese superiority in situations of military weakness.” He then outlined the “aims and means in China’s foreign relations.”43 He did not, however, integrate these thoughts into his model. The model thus mirrored the ideal pattern of the official Chinese view, despite Fairbank’s full awareness of the historical exceptions to sinocentrism on the part of the Chinese rulers themselves.44 The model seems to have given an essentialized view of Chinese culture with respect to foreign relations, leaving the impression that the Chinese were somehow only capable of seeing their superiority. Assumptions are only useful to the extent that they can facilitate model building. Although sinocentrism seems a useful and even indispensable part of these assumptions, it cannot be the only or even the primary one. Indeed, Wills believes that sinocentrism may be the “wrong place to begin” the analysis of Chinese foreign policy because it “short-circuits the necessity of paying attention to all the evidence, to all institutions and patterns of action” and serves to “cut short an interpretive process that ought to begin by assuming broad similarities of human needs and motives.”45 The second flaw with the assumption of Chinese superiority is its one-sidedness or incompleteness. Recall that the model also deals with foreign rulers’ motivations in accepting tributary relations; it is not a model only for the Chinese side of the story, though it is highly biased toward it. And yet the model only contains an assumption on the part of the Chinese rulers without a proper one for that of foreign countries, as if the latter were only passive respondents to Chinese initiatives. Thus, although Chinese rulers are said to hold their superiority in conducting foreign relations, did the rulers of other polities believe in Chinese superiority when considering relations with China? What were their perceptions of China and of foreign relations more generally? From the model one can only infer that they conformed to the Chinese view.46 Finally, sinocentrism is fundamentally a cultural assumption. This reflected the tendency in the American historical scholarship of the 1950s and 1960s to invest enormous explanatory power in the nature of China’s “traditional” society or culture.47 But as pointed out above, cultural assumptions alone cannot be adequate even for Chinese foreign policy during periods of Chinese strength. Socio-cultural explanations are not problematic in themselves; they just need to be supplemented by explanations drawing on other factors and at other levels. Sometimes one can find in cultural analysis another implicit assumption that “traditional China’s foreign relations” are somehow radically different from the foreign policies of other great powers in history and therefore we need a unique set of languages and tools to interpret them. This need not be the case. How, for

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example, can the considerations of power and interest, in addition to culture, not be important in any state’s foreign policy making? Admittedly, concepts such as “power,” “security,” and “interest” may have to be defined and applied differently across time and space, but these concepts are not always reducible to culture. Progress in theorizing historical East Asian politics will require turning away from the assumption of Chinese or Asian uniqueness and instead looking for patterns of similarities as well as differences in political dynamics across different regions. Logic aside, these three problems regarding the assumptions behind the model – the failure to deconstruct sinocentrism, to deal squarely with other countries’ foreign policy assumptions, and to move beyond cultural stereotypes – will compromise the value of its interpretive propositions. Logic The logic of the model is not quite clear cut. Fairbank emphasized that Chinese rulers used tributary relations mainly for the purpose of self-defense. Yet he also said that they could be used for aggression as well. “Broadly speaking under the Sung [Song] it [tribute] appears to have been used mainly on the defensive, while under the Mongols it served for expansion and under the Ch’ing [Qing] it promoted stability in foreign affairs.”48 What accounted for these dramatic differences? Moreover, how is the assumption of Chinese superiority related with Chinese rulers’ use of tribute for defense, aggression, or stability? These puzzles expose a key problem in Fairbank’s thinking about the tribute system. It was perhaps believed that the model could be generalized across Chinese history, but in fact its power fell short of this ambitious goal. Fairbank could have limited the scope of the model to a specific period (e.g., the mid-late Qing) and then dealt with other tribute systems in other periods separately and in their own right. The model says that the relationships between China and other states were hierarchic. Although this hierarchy is easy to understand from the Chinese point of view since Chinese rulers believed in their superiority, one still wonders how they could in fact achieve this hierarchy and make foreign rulers submit. Was Confucian cultural attraction as emphasized by the model sufficient for this purpose? On the part of foreign rulers, was their motivation for trade with China as identified by the model powerful enough for them to accept inferiority? It must also be noted that the rulers of China’s close neighbors, from Vietnam to Japan, had their own self-centered conceptions of world order. Indeed, different self-centered views of superiority existed side by side.49 It is not clear whether, when, and how sinocentrism successfully overcame the self-centeredness of other rulers. Analytically, we lack a mechanism that can explain how sinocentrism might create a genuine hierarchy between China and its neighbors. Also puzzling is the fact that in his “Aims and Means” table Fairbank in fact pointed out the varied aims and means in Chinese foreign policy.50 How do these fit within the model? That the model was underdeveloped is apparent enough.

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Power On the surface, the model claims to explain everything in China’s foreign relations, since the tribute system was said to be “a scheme of things entire.” In substance, what have been written about are often the ceremonial aspects of tributary relations between China and its neighbors. It would also appear that the model was primarily meant to deal with relationships within the so-called sinic zone; that is, those among China, Korea, Vietnam, Japan, and Liuqiu. Yet we know that China’s relations with its northern neighbors constituted the core of a large part of its political history. Although these relations were frequently violent, peaceful tributary intercourse was not absent. Moreover, discussion of the nature of tributary relations has seldom moved beyond the meaning of “tribute” and the relationship between tribute and trade. But tribute and trade are not all or even the most important of what was going on between China and other states. There is a critical failure to take into account the multiplicity of their relationships – the motivations behind their policies, the means and strategies they employed, and the patterns of their interactions: these important questions are at best inadequately addressed. It seems that although the model presents the tribute system as a world order in itself, its central questions are limited to a narrow range of issues in tributary relations. The model is also a heavily biased one. It pays far more attention to the Chinese side of the story than to that of other polities. Its interpretive power with regard to the latter is therefore very limited.51 Moreover, heavily influenced by sinocentric perspectives, the model tends to portray historical East Asian politics from an idealized Chinese view. This surely has something to do with Fairbank’s heavy reliance on Chinese sources. These sources tend to facilitate the reification of the tribute system since they almost universally describe any foreign envoy coming to the Chinese capital as paying tribute to the emperor. Viewed as a whole, the biggest problem with the model is that it is “a static framework, which lacks any sense of change and reflects mainly the world order the Chinese court preferred to perceive.”52 It seems to have regarded the ritualistic aspects of tributary relations as having central importance: granting of patents of appointment and official seals, presentation of tribute memorials and local products, performance of the koutou, receipt of imperial gifts in return, trade privileges at the frontier and in the capital, and so on. The heavy emphasis on these issues makes one wonder whether the Chinese and their neighbors were only capable of repeating these formalities in their interactions. No room was allowed for flexibility in their relations, for change in their attitudes and policies toward each other, and for variations in their underlying motivations and strategies. Historians’ criticisms of the model as “monochromatic”,53 “monolithic,” and “unchanging”54 are wholly justified in this regard.

The model and the early Ming case The tribute system, whether viewed as China’s bureaucratic management of foreign relations or as an institution for interstate relations, found its sophistication and

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expansion during the Ming dynasty, particularly under the Hongwu (1368–98) and Yongle (1403–24) emperors.55 It therefore makes good sense to see how Fairbank’s model works in terms of events in the early Ming period. In political science terms, this period provides an “easy test” for the model. If it fails here, then its general validity will be strongly questioned. In this section I use examples from Sino-Korean, Sino-Japanese, and Sino-Mongol relations during the Hongwu and Yongle reigns to evaluate the empirical validity of the model. Three questions are asked: How useful is the sinocentric assumption when applied to this period of Chinese primacy? How closely does the model catch the “appearances” of the interactions between China and its neighbors? How well does it capture the underlying motivations, strategies, and aims in their policies toward one another; that is, the nature of East Asian politics during this period? Sinocentric assumption Sinocentrism is a useful assumption in periods when China was unified and strong, such as the early Ming. Early Ming emperors generally approached foreign rulers from a position of superiority and demanded their acknowledgement of this superiority and their acceptance of tributary status.56 There are notable exceptions, however. Joseph Fletcher long ago pointed out that the Yongle emperor addressed the ruler of the Timurid Empire as a fellow monarch in a 1418 letter, in effect renouncing his claim to superiority.57 This example shows that at times the Chinese could be uninhibited by sinocentrism and instead pursue pragmatic policies for practical objectives. Thus, even under the condition of Chinese primacy, it is not always true to say that “Outside countries, if they were to have contact with China at all, were expected and when possible obliged to do so as tributaries.” Because the model only stipulates a rigid set of Chinese attitudes toward foreigners, it naturally missed this pragmatism. The deeper problem underlying this neglect is the failure to appreciate the fact that imperial China, like every other state, also had to deal with a variety of security problems that might affect its survival. Under such circumstances, pragmatism would work much better than sinocentrism. Because China had to ensure security as much as it had to promote superiority, we should expect flexibility in Chinese foreign policy. Indeed, early Ming China’s foreign policy exhibited a great deal of flexibility and pragmatism.58 Descriptive accuracy The model posits that all foreign rulers who wanted to have relations with China had to do so as China’s tributaries and describes a set of ritual practices that are believed to have been an integral part of these tributary relations. How accurate is such a picture for East Asian politics in the early Ming? It may be an accurate description of Sino-Korean relations, but it fails to capture major aspects of Sino-Japanese and Sino-Mongolian relations. The Japanese and the Mongols refused to pay tribute to the Ming for a long time. The Japanese

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shogun Yoshimochi isolated Japan from China in 1411–24. Prince Kanenaga had earlier on executed Chinese envoys and challenged sinocentrism in his letter to the Hongwu emperor. The Mongol royal house consistently rejected Ming tributary offers during the Hongwu reign. During the Yongle reign, Mahmud and Arughtai, chieftains of the Oirat Mongols and the Eastern Mongols respectively, only intermittently accepted tributary status.59 For quite some time, therefore, the Japanese and the Mongols were not in the early Ming tribute system, however conceived. It may be said that their “absence” from the Ming tribute system does no harm to the model, the logic being that if they did not accept tributary status then they had no relations with China. If all relations had to be “official” relations sanctioned by the Chinese, then such a defense would probably be justifiable.60 It would, however, strip the model of much of its interpretive value. For, even when the Japanese and the Mongols were outside the early Ming tribute system, their interactions with Ming China – often the more interesting aspects – continued nonetheless. Can we say that Yoshimochi’s 1418 letter to Yongle denying responsibility for Japanese piracy61 is not an instance of interactions between Japan and China, Kanenaga’s execution of Chinese envoys and his defiant letters to the Ming court62 not part of the larger Sino-Japanese relations, or Mongol resistance and challenge against Ming China, often characterized by wars, 63 not emblematic of the nature of Sino-Mongol relations during the early Ming? The relations between China and other countries need to be conceived of broadly beyond those of a tributary nature. This is because international relations in historical East Asia were not all tributary. Fairbank would certainly not assert that China’s foreign relations were all tributary, but his – and many others’ – focus on “tribute” has given the impression that tributary relations were ubiquitous and even the only important thing going on. As it stands, the model misses a large and important part of the political dynamics in China’s foreign relations. The tribute system cannot be regarded as the only medium or institution for interstate relations, much less “a scheme of things entire.” As Wills puts it, “the tribute system was not all of traditional Chinese foreign relations, and may not be the best key to a comprehensive understanding of these relations. The Western literature on early Sino-Western relations may have given excessive emphasis to tribute embassies.”64 Insofar as China’s relations with Korea, Japan, and the Mongols are concerned, the early Ming tribute system, as a mechanism or institution for China’s foreign relations, encompasses only Sino-Korean relations and a small part of Sino-Japanese and Sino-Mongolian relations. Quite a bit of the interesting interactions between China and its neighbors lay outside it. How then can one claim that between 1368 and 1842 “China’s foreign political, economic, and cultural relations were conducted in a world ordered by, and experienced through, the tribute system”65? Interpretive power It is in terms of interpretive power that the model confronts the greatest difficulties. According to the model, Chinese rulers wanted to construct hierarchic relations

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with foreign countries for reasons of prestige and political defense; foreign rulers paid tribute to China because they desired trade and profit; and with a large ideological component in their relationships, Chinese rulers relied chiefly on Confucian culture and the rule of virtue to win foreigners over while foreign rulers acceded to Chinese demands and observed prescribed rituals perhaps because of their desire for trade. Yet, as will be briefly shown below, early Ming rulers demanded tributary relations not just for prestige or legitimation, but also, and in many cases more importantly, for security on the frontier; foreign rulers paid tribute to China not just for trade, but for a variety of purposes ranging from survival, legitimacy, economic profit, military protection, to hegemony; Chinese rulers relied not just on Confucianism to extend their influence – they in fact used both “hard power” and “soft power” to obtain compliance from other states; and foreign rulers did not just obediently observe Chinese regulations – at times they violated these norms to pursue their self-interested objectives. The model is incapable of capturing the multiplicity of the relations between China and its neighbors. To understand the nature of historical East Asian politics, one must have an idea of the motives, aims, and strategies underlying the relations between China and other polities. The model talks of Chinese motives as mainly prestige; aims as mainly defense; and strategies as mainly persuasion. Yet Chinese motives, aims, and strategies were much more varied than these. Consider the example of Ming China’s relations with Korea, the country usually regarded as China’s “model tributary.” In January 1369 the Hongwu emperor dispatched an envoy to Korea to initiate tributary relations. The most urgent task facing the emperor at this point was how to build up legitimacy for his new rule, having just seized power by force from the Yuan.66 Externally, he wanted from foreign rulers the symbolic acknowledgment of China’s cosmological centrality and the legitimacy of his succession to the authority of the great dynasties of China.67 This kind of tributary relations imposed no control on Korea’s internal affairs; they did, however, signal China’s desire to control Korea’s policies toward China. Although legitimacy was the main concern behind his first mission, Hongwu grew increasingly concerned with security in Manchuria, an area not pacified until 1387 and a strategic region where, due to the presence of the Mongols and the Jurchens close to its border, Korea also had substantial security interests. Between 1369 and 1371, Hongwu tried to persuade the Koreans – by dispatching envoys, evoking historical precedents, and bestowing Chinese gifts – to submit to his authority. But after Korea’s 1370–71 campaign into Liaodong, the emperor began to perceive Korea as a security threat and tried to extract Korean compliance by repeatedly blackmailing the Koryǒ court. In 1374, for example, he reduced the frequency of Korean missions to once every three years, perhaps as an attempt to gain Korean concession and cooperation in its northeast security.68 He withheld the investiture of Yi Sǒng-gye (King T’aejo, r. 1392–8), the founder of the new Chosǒn Dynasty in Korea, also as an attempt to extract Korea’s promise of the Ming’s security in the northeast. During this time he was in effect requesting proof of total fealty from Korea.69

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The Hongwu emperor thus tried the strategies of persuasion and blackmail toward Korea. The Yongle emperor was willing to try inducement as well, sending back Korean envoys detained in Nanjing during the Hongwu reign, bestowing lavish gifts, and even proposing intermarriage between the two dynastic houses.70 Against the Mongols, both emperors started frequent military campaigns; Yongle famously led five personal expeditions in the Mongolian steppe.71 The variety of strategies that early Ming emperors employed contrasts sharply with the rigidity and unitary nature of Chinese foreign policy that Fairbank’s model implies. The model talks of foreign rulers’ motives as mainly trade and strategies as mainly accommodation. Yet the motives of the Korean, Japanese, and Mongol rulers during the early Ming ranged from mere survival and autonomy, to economic profit, to steppe hegemony, with their strategic response to China varying from accommodation (when they paid tribute) to resistance (when they refused to establish proper tributary relations). In the case of Korea, accommodation was not its only response to early Ming China. Korean rulers also resisted Chinese demands when they perceived that these were excessive or that they would undermine their core interests in areas such as security. For example, Korean rulers balked at Hongwu’s repeated requests that they should sell horses to the Ming army, perhaps attempting to preserve their own horse supply for use in possible future conflicts in Manchuria.72 Korea challenged Ming China when the latter’s demands impinged on its crucial interests – usually survival and independence. Thus, believing that the Hongwu emperor was demanding Korean territory and that a Ming invasion was imminent, it decided to wage a pre-emptive strike against the Ming in 1388.73 During the Yongle reign, Korea waged a spirited challenge to Chinese penetration into Jurchen lands, because these were believed to be Korea’s sphere of influence that would closely affect its security interests.74 The Mongols, on the other hand, exploited their intermittent tributary relations with the Ming for economic profit, political prestige, and military protection. They tried to take advantage of the Ming to enrich, strengthen, or protect themselves, while pursuing other self-interested goals such as destroying the rival tribes and establishing hegemony in the steppe. Profit was the decisive factor behind their missions to the Ming court. One marvel during the Yongle reign was that as soon as their wars with the Ming ended, the Mongols swiftly came to the Ming court to present tribute. It is hard to come up with a better explanation than their desire for political and economic benefits in addition to ensuring survival after defeat. But the Mongols also challenged the Ming by competing with it politically and militarily. Strengthened by exploiting Ming power, they next tried to expand their own power at the expense of the Ming. Mahmud began to challenge the Ming in 141375 and Arughtai raided the Ming frontier in 1422–24.76 They challenged the Ming because the Ming, which wanted to maintain its own dominance in the steppe by preventing the rise of Mongol power, was seen as an obstacle to the establishment of their hegemony in the steppe. These different motives and strategies in the relations between China and its neighbors are not well captured by Fairbank’s model, partly because the model

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focuses too much on the ritualistic aspects of tributary relations. Fairbank of course recognized the complexity of these relations. In various places and especially in his “Aims and Means” table (as pointed out by James Millward), he indirectly acknowledged that Qing relations with Inner Asia involved something other than the tribute system.77 Yet, although among various types of relations that he identified (military conquest, administrative control, cultural-ideological attraction, diplomatic manipulation) only cultural-ideological attraction can fit within his model, Fairbank did not take the next step of reformulating the model on the basis of these complexities. And although he pointed out that “the Chinese world order was a unified concept only at the Chinese end and only on the normative level, as an ideal pattern,”78 he did not further explore the implication of his own caveat. Mancall also noted “the extraordinary variety of Chinese political strategies.” But he attributed these variations to the “genius” of the tribute system.79 One must ask, however, where the “genius” came from in the first place. The “genius” of specific tribute systems in history is something to be explained. By themselves these tribute systems as historical institutions tell us little about the nature of China’s relations with other countries. The tendency to attribute every variation in the relations between China and other countries to a monolithic and omnipotent tribute system impedes, rather than facilitates, further enquiry into the nature of historical East Asian politics. “Tribute” and the accompanying rituals are almost the exclusive focus of Fairbank’s model. But does it really capture the varied meanings of tribute? If the “moral value of tribute” and the “material value of trade” are all that the model has to say on this question, then it will again fail this critical test. Chinese rulers demanded tributary relations for the purpose of domestic political legitimation80 as well as for security on the frontier. The nature of tribute varies with the tribute-bearer. Tribute embassies did not always imply submission to the Chinese emperor nor can they all be explained by the trade motive. A number of scholars have recently argued, mostly in the case of the Qing, that “tribute” encompassed many different kinds of trading and power relationships.81 Peter Perdue points out that Qing relations with the Dutch, Russians, Kazakhs, Mongols, Koreans, Ryukyus, and later British all fit into the tribute system, but each had a separate political and commercial relationship to the Qing empire.82 The model as it stands cannot incorporate these varied relationships. Its utility is limited even in areas where it is meant to apply the best. The inadequacy of the model in the early Ming puts its usefulness for the larger East Asian history into serious doubt. That the model is incapable of interpreting major events in the early Ming when China was unified and powerful and when sinocentrism found a strong expression makes one wonder how well it can perform in periods when China was divided and weak. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Rossabi and his collaborators found that the “Chinese world order” did not persist for the entire period from the second century BC to the Opium War. During the weak Song dynasty (960–1279), Chinese foreign policy displayed a great deal of flexibility and pragmatism. Chinese rulers could not demand that foreigners adhere to the “tribute system” scheme of conducting foreign relations. The Song’s military weakness

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compelled its officials to treat its neighbors as equals, and a true multi-state system operated during this time.83 Wang Gungwu puts it nicely: “When all you could do was to try to hold the line, there was obviously no Chinese world order.”84 The difficulty the model has encountered in interpreting major events in East Asian history has a simple explanation. The model was mainly based on the experiences of the late Qing and was believed to be able to account for the Qing’s failure to adequately meet the Western challenge. Yet there are assumptions unique to the late Qing period behind the model which may not apply to other periods of Chinese history. As Wills observes, Ch’ing [Qing] policy toward maritime Europeans drifted toward the great confrontation of the nineteenth century isolationist, preoccupied with issues of ceremonial and documentary precedence, seemingly unable to focus on the realities of the intrusion into its world of great powers that did not accept or even tolerate Chinese practices in foreign relations. Isolationism, ceremonialism, and a focus on appearances rather than on realities outside China also were characteristic of the institutions and regulations of the tribute system. The ceremonial core of that system assaulted by Macartney in the kowtow controversy and the request for a resident minister were even more vehemently defended after 1842. Thus it is not hard to see why, especially when looking back from the nineteenth century, it has seemed to make such good sense to refer to the whole pattern of isolationist, appearance-obsessed, Sinocentric foreign policy as a “tribute system.”85 But not all of “traditional China’s foreign relations” are isolationist, appearanceobsessed, or sinocentric.86 That part of the model which may make good sense with respect to the late Qing’s policies toward the Europeans might well be out of touch with Chinese foreign policies in other periods. It is then not surprising that the model has encountered so many difficulties when applied to other periods.

Beyond the tribute system The many problems discussed above at least suggest the need to move beyond the original framework established by Fairbank. Although many scholars have already been doing this for a long time, their critiques, while insightful about the inadequacies of the model, do not suggest abandoning the “tribute system” as an analytical category. Only James Hevia has really set out to bypass it and construct his own analysis from a postmodern perspective.87 Yet recent writings on the tribute system do in fact suggest the need to deconstruct the tribute system as a monolithic entity. Perdue, for example, observes that “this ‘system’ was constantly under challenge, breaking down, being reconfigured and rebuilt. It was never stable, fixed, nor uniform. In regard to some regions, like Korea, relations were fairly stable; elsewhere, particularly in the northwest, wide fluctuations occurred.”88 This clearly implies the need to deconstruct the tribute system and explain the varied degrees of stability in China’s foreign relations.

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Every tribute system has its own content and specificity. If we take the Han as the first historical period when the tribute system began to take shape,89 the system must have evolved with its changing characteristics reflecting the changing nature of the relations between China and other countries. There cannot be one single, unchanging tribute system throughout Chinese history – even ritual practices accompanying tribute missions had changed as different dynasties had their own tributary regulations. One thus needs to recognize the evolutionary nature of the tribute system as a historical institution. The evolution “was determined by past traditions as well as by contemporary conditions” that Chinese rulers perceived and confronted.90 The Han tribute system, for example, must be different from the Ming or Qing tribute system. These tribute systems must be differentiated on the basis of historical realities. They are different systems because the underlying power realities, motives, and aims of China and other countries were differently related in their respective periods. The institution of the tribute system is, therefore, the phenomenon or the dependent variable to be explained. To use it as an independent variable in an institutionalist explanation, one must show how China and its neighbors responded to the constraints and incentives created by such an institution and how their interactions were carried along by the dynamics of path dependence.91 Yet, if the real constraints and incentives were in the final analysis created by China’s material and cultural resources, an institutionalist account based on the tribute system would seem superfluous. If Chinese rulers constructed the tribute system and if foreign rulers participated in such a system out of their respective pre-existing interests, then we do not need the tribute system to explain why their interactions followed an “institutionalized” pattern. We will only need to explain the origins of their interests and how these interests gave rise to patterns of interaction. The tribute system would then appear as a by-product of these interests and actions; that is, something to be explained by these interests and actions. If the underlying interests and strategies of China and its neighbors change, the content and characteristics of the tribute system as a by-product of strategic interaction would also change. Indeed, this is what one can witness in East Asian history and what this paper has partly tried to show. Yet, there is a deeper problem when discussing the tribute system in relation to the nature of historical East Asian politics. Explaining the tribute system in a historical period hardly means explaining East Asian politics of that period. As noted above, the tribute system, if viewed as an institution, is only one among several institutions in East Asian history. An analysis framed around the tribute system is therefore necessarily incomplete for the larger political dynamics between China and its neighbors. This can be clearly seen from the early Ming case discussed above. While some strategies of Ming China and its neighbors such as persuasion can be seen from a tribute-system perspective, other strategies such as war, blackmail, balking, and challenging cannot be neatly put into a tribute-system framework. Of course, no scholar has claimed that the tribute system is everything in East Asian international relations. Their overemphasis on it has nevertheless slighted the importance of other institutions and political dynamics.

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These two points suggest the need to develop concepts and frameworks that will be able to explain both the tributary and non-tributary part of historical East Asian politics. For example, we need to move beyond traditional concepts such as “hierarchy” in understanding the nature of China’s foreign relations. As Wang Gungwu pointed out a long time ago: Traditional Chinese dealings with non-Chinese peoples are often described as having been based on hierarchical principles. This I believe to be inadequate for an understanding of the tributary system. More important is the principle of superiority together with that of security or inviolability. From this, it should become clear that Chinese institutions were not as inflexible as they have often been made out to be by students of nineteenth-century history.92 In moving beyond the tribute system paradigm, one can ask a number of questions derived from the discussions of the preceding sections. How useful is sinocentrism as an analytical assumption for foreign policy making in imperial China? What were the precise effects of sinocentrism on traditional China’s foreign relations? What other assumptions do we need? Why were Chinese foreign policies sometimes characterized by rigidity yet at other times by pragmatism and flexibility? How can one explain the extraordinary range of variations, whether in terms of motives, strategies, or degrees of stability, in China’s foreign relations? What were the motives and strategies in other countries’ relations with China? In what sense can one say that a hierarchy between China and these countries were established? What were the meanings of tribute presentation and its associated ritual practices? What lay behind tribute and ritual? Finally and more generally, what were the patterns of interaction between China and its neighbors? Answering these questions satisfactorily will move us one big step forward toward identifying the multiplicity of the relations between China and its neighbors as well as broadening our conceptual horizon of historical East Asian politics. Once this multiplicity is shown, the inadequacy of tribute-system-centred models will become apparent. From a political science perspective, we need more enduring concepts about international politics than merely the supposedly omnipotent “tribute system.” As I have emphasized, the tribute system itself needs to be explained. We need more fundamental concepts that can lead to deeper levels of explanations for historical East Asian politics. These concepts, whether they are time-honored ones such as power, security, or culture, or entirely new ones to be developed, should be relevant for understanding both tributary and non-tributary politics between China and its neighbors and should be able to cross the analytical divide created by the tribute system paradigm. Following a tribute-system perspective, one would also have to construct a complementary framework for non-tributary relations in order to explain the overall relations between China and its neighbors. Clearly, a model that is able to account for both the tributary and non-tributary part of China’s foreign relations would be superior to one that can only account for one aspect.

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Based on the preceding discussions, I shall briefly suggest the beginning of one such framework with a view toward solving a major puzzle about tributary politics. The tribute system might be seen at two levels simultaneously.93 At one level the tribute system can be seen as a discourse or rhetoric about Chinese centrality and superiority. Such sinocentric discourse remained a near constant for all imperial Chinese dynasties. Even when the empire was physically challenged by other polities, Chinese rulers continued to use the language of sinocentrism to conceal the altered power relations. Prasenjit Duara characterizes Chinese attempts to cover alternative views of world order with the rhetoric of universalism as China’s defensive strategy.94 The analytical task here is to explain the constancy of the sinocentric rhetoric. At another level the tribute system might be seen as a pattern of interaction in the relations between China and its neighbors. In contrast to the tribute system as an imperial discourse, the tribute system as a pattern of foreign relations displayed great variations historically. The variation was apparent not only between strong and weak dynasties, for example between the Tang and the Song, but was also conspicuous between strong dynasties such as the early Ming and the early Qing. The analytical task here is to explain the variation of the tribute system as a pattern of foreign relations. The puzzle about the tribute system is therefore why the discourse remained a constant while its behavioral manifestations displayed variation. The analytical challenge is to devise a framework that can account for both the rhetorical constancy and the behavioral change. One way to begin constructing such a framework is to posit two motivations for Chinese rulers: legitimacy and security. The motive for legitimacy derived from Chinese rulers’ self-prescribed identity as the Son of Heaven, which was further informed by the Chinese conception of tianxia (literally, “all under heaven”) and the historical tradition of seeing China as the universal empire encompassing this tianxia. This legitimacy need would compel Chinese rulers to seek tribute from foreign rulers so as to demonstrate their status as the Son of Heaven. This can then explain why the sinocentric rhetoric remained a constant historically, with variations in the intensity of emphasis corresponding to the differential demonstration needs across time periods. This legitimacy motive explains the rhetorical constancy regardless of the power realities at a given moment, since the need for legitimacy was constant whether China was weak or strong. But the legitimacy motive tells us little about how a sinocentric China might behave other than that it would promote a discourse of Chinese superiority. Would the legitimacy need based on sinocentrism lead to an offensive strategy of conquest to subdue all those unwilling to acknowledge Chinese superiority or would it lead instead to a mentality of self-delusion and gratification, indifference, or even isolation? By itself sinocentric legitimacy is indeterminate on these issues, and we need at least the security motive as an additional motivational assumption and to combine these two assumptions with situational variables for more behavioral implications. The security motive is based on the assumption that the Chinese empire, just like any other state, must worry about its physical security, be it the nomadic invasions from the north throughout its history or the Japanese piracy during the Ming period.

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Behavioral implications can be deduced when the security motive is coupled with the material conditions facing China at a given moment. A strong China (such as the early Ming) would respond to security threats differently from a weak China (such as the Song). The early Ming, apart from promoting the normal tributary discourse, could also request tribute from foreign rulers, even blackmailing them when the request was not met. Facing threats in Manchuria, Mongolia, and the eastern coast, it had a variety of strategies at its disposal, ranging from outright conquest to subtle persuasion. By contrast, the Southern Song, apart from clinging to the tributary discourse as face-saving rhetoric, could hardly do anything other than to offer tribute in reverse to the Jin in order to ensure its survival. The different material conditions – or the “structures” of international politics – help to explain the varied strategies that China could employ toward its neighbors for security. By positing two motivations for Chinese rulers and deducing their behavioral implications under the material conditions of a given period, the framework can help to explain both the constancy and change of tributary politics on the Chinese side. One can apply similar reasoning and posit appropriate motivations for the rulers of China’s neighbors in order to deduce their behavioral patterns toward China. A systemic framework showing the patterns of interaction between China and its neighbors and their underlying motivations and strategies can then be developed. Moreover, such a framework, by taking into account the security as well as the legitimacy motive, can explain historical East Asian politics that were not “tributary.” This is one way to conceptualize historical East Asian politics and one alternative to the tribute-system paradigm; and I have given no more than a sketchy outline of it. Other frameworks are surely possible when major analytical puzzles are tackled and rigorous analysis applied.

Conclusion The purpose of this chapter has been to examine the extant scholarly research on the tribute system and ask how much light tribute-system-centred perspectives can shed on the nature of historical East Asian politics. Three ways in which the term “tribute system” has been used in the literature – as the bureaucratic management of foreign relations on the Chinese side; as an institution of the international society from an English School perspective, and as the medium for China’s foreign relations as developed in Fairbank’s interpretive model – were identified. I focused on Fairbank’s model and evaluated it as a heuristic device for further thinking about a number of conceptual and empirical issues in our understanding of historical East Asian politics. The Fairbank model is problematic for a number of reasons. Not only is it internally flawed, but it is also incapable of interpreting major events in East Asian history. It tries to account for some very long continuities in the relations between China and its neighbors, yet variations and changes in these relations were as impressive as continuities. The utility of the model is limited, and we have to agree with Wills that “we could not keep in focus all aspects of the Chinese diplomatic tradition, all sources of conflict, if we began by calling all of the Chinese diplomatic tradition the

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‘tribute system’.”95 One might add that the model is even less useful when dealing with regional politics as a whole, since it is heavily biased toward the Chinese side. Fairbank, it must be emphasized, recognized various anomalies and offered caveats regarding his framework. He did not, however, systematically refine his model on the basis of these anomalies. It is clear that the model, as Fairbank put it, is a “preliminary framework,” laying out some central ideas and themes for possible further development. It is not my intention to oversimplify or caricature it. Rather, I have wanted to identify its inadequacies and suggest ways that we might move beyond this “preliminary” stage of conceptualizing historical East Asian politics. I have been centrally concerned with how IR scholars can produce better theoretical and empirical work on historical East Asian politics by critically drawing on the foundation so prominently laid by Fairbank and others. At least in the field of historical East Asian politics, we need a fruitful dialogue between political scientists and historians. What of the idea of the “tribute system” then? Wills suggested that “It would be conceptually clearer if the term ‘tribute system’ were used only for this systematic complex of bureaucratic regulation developed around a.d. 1400.”96 This conception of the tribute system might be too restrictive. But at the very least, scholars need to make clear which tribute system is being discussed. It does not even make much sense to speak of the Ming tribute system or the Qing tribute system as a whole, since we know that early Ming foreign policy differed from that of the mid-late Ming, as did early Qing foreign policy from that of the mid-late Qing. The term “tribute system” can still be useful descriptive shorthand, so long as we make clear what is meant by it. In order to avoid essentialization, however, we must take the tribute system of a historical period as the object, rather than the unit, of analysis. The more important task is to explain the various historical manifestations of the tribute system by developing a further set of conceptual frameworks. Enquiry into the nature of historical East Asian politics cannot stop at the tribute system. Yet taking a historical tribute system as the object of analysis in understanding the relations between China and other countries during a specific period is also inadequate, since this will ignore the relations outside normal tributary politics. In fact, one can describe and analyze the relations between China and its neighbors without adhering to the “tribute system” language. The term “tribute system” was a Western invention, dating back at least to the nineteenth century, which was then translated back into Chinese as chaogong tixi. The terms chao and gong do appear in the Chinese historical sources, but the Chinese had no conception of such a system. The tribute system is a modern intellectual construct, and we may refine it or abandon it, depending on the intellectual payoffs that can be generated. The important point is that one can talk about tributary relations without feeling simultaneously obliged to stick to the tribute system. The analytical task is to understand what actually lay behind these relations. This can also serve as an important reminder that the actual “international system” of historical East Asian politics is much broader than the “tribute system.” Since Fairbank’s tribute-system paradigm is problematic, and since the tribute system, however conceived, is only part of the overall picture of historical

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East Asian politics, we should strive to develop new conceptualizations that can remedy some of the problems discussed in this chapter. Ultimately, we may ask a question similar to the one Hevia has posed: If the “tribute system” is removed, what do the relations between China and other countries look like?97 For too long discussions about East Asian international relations have too often come down to discussions about the tribute system. It is time to think about ways to move beyond this paradigm.

Acknowledgement An earlier version of the chapter was published as Feng Zhang, “Rethinking the ‘Tribute System’: Broadening the Conceptual Horizon of Historical East Asian Politics,” Chinese Journal of International Politics, Vol. 2, No. 4 (Winter 2009), pp. 545–74. The author wishes to thank Oxford University Press for granting the permission.

Notes 1 These include J. K. Fairbank and S. Y. Teng, “On the Ch’ing tributary system,” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies, 6(2) (June 1941): 135–246; J. K. Fairbank, “Tributary trade and China’s relations with the West,” The Far Eastern Quarterly, 1(2) (February 1942): 129–49; John King Fairbank, Trade and Diplomacy on the China Coast: The opening of the Treaty Ports, 1842–1854 (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1953), esp. Ch. 2; and John K. Fairbank (ed.), The Chinese World Order: Traditional China’s foreign relations (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1968), esp. Ch. 1. 2 John E. Wills, Jr., “Tribute, defensiveness, and dependency: uses and limits of some basic ideas about Mid-Qing dynasty foreign relations,” American Neptune, 48 (1988): 225–9, at 229. Holding a similar view is Michael Hunt, who wrote in the early 1980s that “little fresh work [on historical Chinese foreign relations] is appearing and … the pool of specialists in the field has not been sustained” (Michael H. Hunt, “Chinese Foreign Relations in Historical Perspective,” in Harry Harding (ed.), China’s Foreign Relations in the 1980s (New Haven CT: Yale University Press, 1984), pp. 1–42, at p. 37, fn. 14. 3 See, for example, Michael D. Swaine and Ashley J. Tellis, Interpreting China’s Grand Strategy: Past, present, and future (Santa Monica CA: RAND, 2000). 4 Alastair Iain Johnston, Cultural Realism: Strategic culture and grand strategy in Chinese history (Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995); Victoria Tin-bor Hui, War and State Formation in Ancient China and Early Modern Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005). 5 Brantly Womack, China and Vietnam: The politics of asymmetry (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006). 6 Qin Yaqing, “Quanqiu shiye zhong de guoji zhixu” (International Order in a Global View), in Qin Yaqing (ed.), Zhongguo xuezhe kan shijie: guoji zhixu juan (World Politics – Views from China: International Order) (Beijing: New World Press, 2007), pp. 11–25; and Qin Yaqing, “A Chinese School of International Relations Theory: Possibility and Inevitability,” World Economics and Politics, 3 (2006): 7–13. 7 By the “tribute system paradigm” I mean a research tradition that has the “tribute system” as the central organizing concept for conceptual and empirical analysis. 8 These include, inter alia: Joseph F. Fletcher, “China and Central Asia, 1368–1884,” in Fairbank (ed.), The Chinese World Order, op. cit., pp. 206–24; Morris Rossabi (ed.), China among Equals: The Middle Kingdom and its neighbors, 10th-14th centuries

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15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29

Zhang Feng (Berkeley CA: University of California Press, 1983); John E. Wills, Jr., Pepper, Guns, and Parleys: The Dutch East India Company and China, 1662–1681 (Cambridge MA: 1974); John E. Wills, Jr., Embassies and Illusions: Dutch and Portuguese envoys to K’ang-hsi, 1666–1687 (Cambridge MA: Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University, 1984); John E Wills, Jr., “Tribute, defensiveness, and dependency,” op. cit.; Arthur Waldron, The Great Wall of China: From history to myth (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), p. 31; James L. Hevia, Cherishing Men from Afar: Qing guest ritual and the Macartney Embassy of 1793 (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 1995); James A. Millward, “Qing Silk-Horse Trade with the Qazaqs in Yili and Tarbaghatai, 1758–1853,” Central and Inner Asian Studies, 7 (1992): 1–42; James A. Millward, Beyond the Pass: Economy, ethnicity, and empire in Qing Central Asia, 1759–1864 (Stanford CA: Stanford University Press, 1998); Peter C. Perdue, “A frontier view of Chineseness,” in Giovanni Arrighi, Takeshi Hamashita and Mark Selden (eds), The Resurgence of East Asia: 500, 150 and 50 year perspective (London: Routledge, 2003), pp. 51–77; Peter C. Perdue, China Marches West: The Qing conquest of central Eurasia (Cambridge MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2005); Nicola Di Cosmo, “Kirghiz nomads on the Qing frontier: tribute, trade, or gift-exchange?” in Nicola Di Cosmo and Don J. Wyatt (eds), Political Frontiers, Ethnic Boundaries, and Human Geographies in Chinese History (London: Curzon Press, 2003), pp. 351–72. See Paul M. Evans, John Fairbank and the American Understanding of Modern China (New York: Basil Blackwell, 1988). Ibid., p. 56. I am grateful to Paul Evans for this information provided during a conversation in June 2009, Singapore. Mark Mancall, “The Ch’ing tribute system: an interpretive essay,” in Fairbank (ed.), The Chinese World Order, op. cit., pp. 63–89, at p. 63. Fairbank and Teng, “On the Ch’ing tributary system,” op. cit., pp. 137, 139. See Fairbank, “A preliminary framework,” op. cit., pp. 1–2. Also see C. P. Fitzgerald, The Chinese View of Their Place in the World (London: Oxford University Press, 1964); and John Cranmer-Byng, “The Chinese view of their place in the world: an historical perspective,” The China Quarterly, 53 (January–March, 1973): 67–79, at 68. Fairbank, “A preliminary framework,” op. cit., p. 2. Ibid., p. 9. Ibid., p. 4. Fairbank and Teng, “On the Ch’ing tributary system,” op. cit., pp. 140–1. Fairbank, “Tributary trade,” op. cit., p. 137. Ibid., p. 145. Fairbank, “A preliminary framework,” op. cit., p. 10. Evans, John Fairbank, op. cit., p. 5. I am grateful to Chen Jian for this point. This is the clearest in Li Yunquan, Chaogong zhidu shilun: Zhongguo gudai duiwai guanxi tizhi yanjiu (A History of the Tribute System: Research on China’s Premodern Foreign Relation Institution) (Beijing: Xinhua Publishing House, 2004). Ibid. Hedley Bull, The Anarchical Society: A study of order in world politics (London: Macmillan, 1977), p. 74. Robert O. Keohane, International Institutions and State Power (Boulder CO: Westview, 1989), p. 3. English School theorists claim that their definition is “deeper” than that of the neoliberals. Barry Buzan, The United States and the Great Powers: World politics in the twenty-first century (Cambridge: Polity, 2004), p. 79. Yongjin Zhang, “System, empire and state in Chinese international relations,” in Michael Cox, Tim Dunne and Ken Booth (eds), Empires, Systems and States: Great

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transformation in international politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), pp. 43–63, at p. 57. For an attempt in the European context, see Christian Reus-Smit, The Moral Purpose of the State: Culture, social identity, and institutional rationality in international relations (Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999). Gan Huaizhen, Huangquan, liyi yu jingdian quanshi: zhongguo gudai zhengzhishi yanjiu (Emperorship, Ritual, and Interpretation of the Classics: Studies of Political History in Ancient China) (Taipei: Himalaya Foundation, 2003), p. 508. Gao Mingshi, Dongya gudai de zhengzhi yu jiaoyu (Politics and Education in Ancient East Asia) (Taipei: Himalaya Foundation, 2003). For a masterful discussion on the evolution of the Chinese idea of superiority, see Wang Gungwu, “Early Ming relations with Southeast Asia: a background essay,” in Fairbank (ed.), The Chinese World Order, op. cit., pp. 34–62. Wang Gungwu, “The rhetoric of a lesser empire: early Sung relations with its neighbors,” in Rossabi (ed.), China Among Equals, op. cit., pp. 47–65, at p. 62. Ibid., p. 57. Wang, “Early Ming relations with Southeast Asia,” op. cit., p. 36. Wills, “Tribute, defensiveness, and dependency,” op. cit., p. 226. Lien-sheng Yang, “Historical notes on the Chinese world order,” in Fairbank (ed.), The Chinese World Order, op. cit., pp. 20–33, at p. 20. See also Rossabi (ed.), China among Equals, op. cit. Michael H. Hunt, “Chinese foreign relations in historical perspective,” in Harry Harding (ed.), China’s Foreign Relations in the 1980s (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1984), pp. 1–42, at pp. 6–7. Song Chengyou, Dongbeiya chuantong guoji tixi de bianqian: chuantong Zhongguo yu zhoubian guojia ji minzu de hudong guanxi lunshu (The Evolution of the Traditional Northeast Asian International System: Interactions between Traditional China and Its Neighboring Countries and Ethnicities) (Taipei: Academia Sinica, 2002), p. 41. Wills, “Tribute, defensiveness, and dependency,” op. cit., p. 226. Wills, Embassies and Illusions, op. cit.; Wills, “Tribute, defensiveness, and dependency,” op. cit. Fairbank, “A preliminary framework,” op. cit., p. 11. See John K. Fairbank, “China’s foreign policy in historical perspective,” Foreign Affairs, 47(3) (April 1969): 449–63, at p. 459. Wills, “Tribute, defensiveness, and dependency,” op. cit., p. 226. As Fairbank says, drawing again on sinocentrism, “the uncultivated alien, however crass and stupid, could not but appreciate the superiority of Chinese civilization and would naturally seek to ‘come and be transformed’ (lai-hua) and so participate in its benefits” (Fairbank, “Tributary trade,” op. cit., p. 132. Paul A. Cohen, Discovering History in China: American Historical writing on the recent Chinese Past (New York: Columbia University Press, 1984), p. 189. Fairbank, “Tributary trade,” op. cit., p. 137. Wang, “Early Ming relations with Southeast Asia,” op. cit., p. 60. Fairbank, “A preliminary framework,” op. cit., p. 13. This “China bias” is, however, a common problem in the literature. Wang Zhen-Ping, Sino-Japanese Relations before the Eleventh Century: Modes of Diplomatic Communication Reexamined in Terms of the Concept of Reciprocity (PhD Diss., Princeton University, 1989), p. 15. See also Perdue, “A frontier view of Chineseness,” op. cit., p. 66. Di Cosmo, “Kirghiz nomads on the Qing frontier,” op. cit. Millward, Beyond the Pass, op. cit., p. 158. Fairbank and Teng, “On the Ch’ing tributary system,” op. cit., p. 137; Mark Mancall, China at the Center: 300 Years of Foreign Policy (New York: The Free Press, 1984), p. 13; Wills, Embassies and Illusions, op. cit., p. 14.

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56 For official statements of the period, see Li Guoxiang et al. (eds), Ming Shilu Leizuan: Shewai Shiliao Juan (MSLLZ) (A Compilation of Materials on Foreign Affairs from the Veritable Records of the Ming Dynasty) (Wuhan: Wuhan Publishing House, 1991). 57 Fletcher, “China and Central Asia, 1368–1884,” op. cit. 58 In various periods of its history China had “an utterly pragmatic and flexible approach toward foreign countries.” Wang Gungwu, “Early Ming relations with Southeast Asia,” op. cit., p. 43. 59 For these events, see Wang Yi-T’ung, Official Relations Between China and Japan, 1368–1549 (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1953); and Edward L. Dreyer, Early Ming China: A political history, 1355–1435 (Stanford CA: Stanford University Press, 1982). 60 It needs to be noted, however, that there are important exceptions to the assertion that all official relations must be tribute-based. Tribute, for example, was not the only way for the Manchu Qing court to arrange official relationships with the nomadic peoples in Inner Asia (Ning Chia, “The Lifanyuan and the inner Asian rituals in the early Qing (1644–1795),” Late Imperial China, 14(1) (June 1993): 60–92, at 80). 61 Wang, Official Relations Between China and Japan, op. cit., pp. 52–3. 62 Zhang Peiheng and Yu Suisheng (eds), Ershisishi Quanyi: Ming Shi (Shanghai: Hanyu Dacidian Publishing House, 2004), p. 6727. 63 See Dreyer, Early Ming China, op. cit. 64 Wills, Embassies and Illusions, op. cit., p. 4. 65 Mancall, China at the Center op. cit., p. 13. 66 Huang Zhilian, Dongya de liyi shijie: Zhongguo fengjian wangchao yu chaoxian bandao guanxi xingtai lun (The Ritual World in East Asia: On China’s traditional relations with the Korean peninsula in the era of feudal dynasties) (Beijing: Renmin University Press, 1994), p. 185. 67 Wang Gungwu, China and the Chinese Overseas (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 1991), p. 112. 68 John D. Langlois, Jr., “The Hung-wu reign, 1368–1398,” in Frederick W. Mote and Denis Twitchett (eds), The Cambridge History of China, Volume 7: The Ming Dynasty, 1368–1644, Part I (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), p. 166. 69 Donald Neil Clark, “Autonomy, Legitimacy, and Tributary Politics: Sino-Korean relations in the fall of Koryǒ and the founding of the Yi” (PhD dissertation, Harvard University, 1978), p. 136. 70 Huang, Dongya de liyi shijie, p. 280. 71 See Dreyer, Early Ming China, op. cit.. 72 Huang, Dongya de liyi shijie, op. cit., pp. 373–5. 73 L. Carrington Goodrich and Chaoying Fang (eds), Dictionary of Ming Biography: 1368–1644 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1976), pp. 1600–1. 74 Henry Serruys, Sino-Jurchen Relations during the Yong-lo Period (1403–1424) (Wiesbaden, 1955). 75 Li et al., Ming Shilu Leizuan, op. cit., p. 19; and Zhang and Yu, Ershisishi Quanyi: Ming Shi, op. cit., p. 6862. 76 Ibid., pp. 6836–7. 77 Millward, Beyond the Pass, op. cit., p. 9. 78 Fairbank, “A preliminary framework,” op. cit., p. 12. 79 Mancall, China at the Center, op. cit., p. 30. 80 On this, also see Wills, Embassies and Illusions, op. cit., pp. 177–8, in which Wills notes the “primacy of domestic audiences.” 81 Perdue, China Marches West, op. cit.; Millward, “Qing silk-horse trade,” op. cit.; Millward, Beyond the Pass, op. cit.; Di Cosmo, “Kirghiz nomads on the Qing Frontier,” op. cit. 82 Perdue, “A frontier view of Chineseness,” op. cit., p. 66.

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Rossabi (ed.), China among Equals, op. cit. Wang, “The rhetoric of a lesser empire,” op. cit., p. 62. Wills, Embassies and Illusions, op. cit., p. 187. Such a characterization may not be accurate even for the mid-late Qing period. Qing policies during this period were not always rigid and sinocentric. Michael H. Hunt, for example, characterizes Qing policy making as flexible and even opportunistic. See Hunt, The Genesis of Chinese Communist Foreign Policy (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996), p. 31. Hevia, Cherishing Men from Afar, op. cit. Perdue, “A frontier view of Chineseness,” op. cit., p. 67. Ying-shih Yü, Trade and Expansion in Han China: A Study in the Structure of Sino-Barbarian Economic Relations (Berkeley and Los Angeles CA: University of California Press, 1967). Wang, “Early Ming relations with Southeast Asia,” op. cit., p. 62. For a recent work that explicates the logic of institutional explanation, see Craig Parsons, How to Map Arguments in Political Science (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), Ch. 3. Wang, “Early Ming relations with Southeast Asia,” op. cit., p. 61. This way of seeing the tribute system was suggested to me by Brantly Womack, though elements of it have already been mentioned in the previous sections of this chapter. Prasenjit Duara, The Global and Regional in China’s Nation-Formation (London and New York: Routledge, 2009), p. 99. Wills, Embassies and Illusions, op. cit., p. 172. Wills, “Tribute, defensiveness, and dependency,” op. cit., p. 225. See Hevia, Cherishing Men from Afar, op. cit., p. xi.

6

Traditional Chinese theory and practice of foreign relations A reassessment Ren Xiao

If we are unclear about our feelings for China, we should not worry over much. Westerners have been unclear about China since they first began to live there in any numbers and to write about the country at length. The history of our confusion goes back more than four hundred years … Jonathan D. Spence1

China’s re-emergence onto the world stage poses a number of questions that scholars want to address, centring on China’s relations with the outside world. In this context, it has become all the more important to understand and grasp the Chinese way of thinking about the world. Increasingly, researchers realize that unless they dig deeply into the infrastructure of China’s international behaviour, they cannot understand the issue well. Looking back is an essential means to look forward and hence there is a growing research interest and related literature in traditional Chinese thoughts on inter-state relationships.2 The Chinese World Order,3 published over forty years ago, of which Wang Gungwu was one of the contributors, remains an important work. Reflecting on that project of the 1960s, Wang writes, The tributary system that was maintained for centuries to support China’s central position has been called a Chinese world order, but that description is misleading. The system was primarily based on rhetoric and a set of rules governing relationships between the Chinese emperor as Son of Heaven and all those who sought a connection with him. It was designed to meet an ancient cosmological ideal; it was relatively useful for purposes of defense, and it served as a control mechanism for the regulation of foreign trade. Despite the grandiose language, the tributary system has never represented any territorial ambitions beyond the frontiers of China.4 In this passage, Wang raises a few critical points of fundamental importance to this current project; for example, to what extent the relationship under the so-called ‘tributary system’ was rhetorical or substantive; the relationship was more designed for the purposes of defence; there was not an element of territorial ambition in it.

Traditional Chinese foreign relations 103 Enlightened in part by Wang’s insight, in this chapter I attempt to reappraise traditional Chinese thinking in terms of China’s handling of external affairs by trying to find some common threads.

East Asian vs. European order Before the arrival of the Europeans in the sixteenth century, East Asia maintained its own world order for centuries. In the English-speaking world, this order has been characterized as a ‘tributary system’. However, this term can mislead people by leaving out some important aspects of the order. For instance, the relationship was actually a two-way street, containing both feng and gong, and therefore is better called a feng-gong system rather than just one side paying tribute to the other, as the English term indicates. Feng or ce feng was top-down. The Chinese emperor conferred titles from above to the rulers of various Asian kingdoms or entities, who respected or accepted the authority of the Chinese emperor. Gong or chao gong referred to the tribute those rulers regularly or irregularly sent through envoys to China. Usually the Chinese court would accept and react to this kind of visit by giving the envoys substantial gifts in return. This formed a relational pattern of interactions. During its heyday, on the one hand, the rulers of those countries sent to China their entrusted officials (gong shi) bringing local products as national gifts (gong wu). They often followed specified routes (gong dao) to visit the Chinese court at regular intervals (gong qi). On the other, the Chinese emperor promulgated the royal documents or offered titles to those foreign rulers when they established relationships with China or when they were about to come into office. The concrete situation varied from time to time and from one dynasty to another, and the detailed arrangements might differ. However, generally speaking, this was the basic pattern of a series of bilateral relationships between China and its neighbouring countries. The status of individual states as seen through China’s eyes more or less differed depending on the degree of closeness of each one’s relationship with the Chinese court. Those relationships formed a seemingly China-centric state system. The question is how real those relationships were. As John King Fairbank pointed out, ‘Tribute, which had originally meant tax payments, generally came to consist of ceremonial presents, typically of local products (fang wu).’5 Therefore, the term ‘tribute system’ is itself misleading as if that was a superior-subordinate relationship and the latter had to ‘pay tribute’ under China’s dominance. In fact, most foreign countries were seeking contact and engagement with China, but they were regarded and recorded in Chinese official records as tributaries. In the Chinese external order, the rulers of those countries were the subjects of the Chinese monarch. Those outer ‘subjects’ who had accepted titles and seals, in one way or another, had obligations to pay tribute, be presented at court, send troops for fighting when necessary, and/or defend their own countries – and therefore China’s security. In the meantime, they enjoyed the benefits of favourable trade with China, received rewards, and were protected.

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In this East Asian model of world order, the status of foreign countries appeared lower. They might genuinely have a heartfelt admiration of Chinese civilization and culture, and some of them might be completely convinced and accept the higher authority of the Chinese emperor. For many years, Korea seemed to belong to this category. However, more often they might just be nominal vassals and the ‘tributary’ relationships were simply ceremonial in nature. For foreign countries, the relations were maintained largely for the sake of economic benefit, through the so-called ‘tributary trade’. The importance of the tribute trade could vary for different countries and the issue remains to be further researched. No matter whether there was such a thing as ‘tributary trade,’ Fairbank insightfully touched upon the nature of the ‘tribute system’ by pointing out, One well-marked feature of this tradition was its preservation of the theory of Sino-centrism by the constant use of Sino-centric terminology, as was evidenced in all aspects of the tribute system, which indeed by Ming and Ch’ing times was partly preserved by means of terminology. Outside countries, if they were to have contact with China at all, were expected and when possible obliged to do so as tributaries. Thus their trade must be regarded as a boon granted their ruler by the emperor and must be accompanied by the formalities of presenting tribute through missions to Peking. Economic relations could be formally permitted only within this political framework. In the last resort, even if the foreigner did not actually comply with the forms of tribute, the terminology of tribute would be applied to him in the Chinese record nevertheless. The case of Lord Macartney in 1793, who only bent the knee before the Ch’ien-lung Emperor but was recorded as prostrating himself in the kotow, was not unique.6 Undoubtedly, conferring titles of nobility or paying tribute regularly or irregularly contained within it apparent unequal elements. The Chinese court’s conferring of titles on foreign rulers was a top-down relationship which seemed to be a superiorto-inferior relationship, while paying tribute was bottom-up – from an inferior to a superior. The characterization of the relationship, at least in China, also revealed inequality. For example, during the Qing dynasty, China was the ‘country above’ Vietnam (shang guo), while the latter was the ‘country below’ (xia guo). However, those inequalities did not hamper the independence of each Asian country. Imperial China and the other Asian states all enjoyed their autonomy. Each of them had its own people, territory, and government, and thus had essential sovereignty, although the idea of ‘sovereignty’ had yet to travel from Europe. Mr Zeng Jize (1839–90), son of the famous late Qing statesman Zeng Guofan (1811–72) and a modern Chinese diplomat who was posted to Great Britain, once compared the relationship between imperial China and other Asian states, which were either regarded, or self-identified, as ‘vassal states’ (shu guo), with the European powers’ relationship with their colonies, and he found great differences. Zeng singled out a key element in China’s foreign relations in Asia; namely, it did not intervene in other Asian states’ domestic or foreign affairs. This in a significant

Traditional Chinese foreign relations 105 way distinguished China’s behaviour from the European powers’ foreign relations behaviour. Even more revealing was how the Chinese court of the Qing dynasty explained its relations with Korea: Paying tribute and accepting our orthodoxy (feng zheng shuo) are what Korea should do towards China, while levying taxes and issuing government decrees are Korea’s own businesses, which are the essence of being a dependent state (shu bang). The responsibilities that China should bear vis-à-vis Korea include helping Korea to overcome its difficulties, solving its disputes, and expecting it to be safe, which are the essence of treating a dependent state. Not to impose upon what it is reluctant, and not to treat with indifference when urgent matters occur are not just the case today. It has been the case how China has treated its dependent states since the early times.7 This is a very important statement which characterizes the relationship between traditional China and a neighbouring country within the ‘tributary system’. In this relationship, China respected the independence of the ‘countries below’ and thus did not impose upon them what the other parties were reluctant to do or what was not acceptable to them. However, while they turned to China for assistance, China did not treat them with indifference, but rather tried to offer what it was capable of offering. This was based on the element of responsibility inherent in the relationship. An example of such a responsibility borne by China was that it would offer assistance and protection when it was approached to do so. The degree of strength of China’s relations varied over time and from one dynasty to another. The tie was stronger when the Chinese rulers governed a prosperous and powerful country. It became weaker when China was weaker and the balance of power was not in the Chinese emperor’s favour. Throughout a long history, except for the unsuccessful direct conquering of Korea and Vietnam during the Yuan dynasty when the Mongols ruled a vast piece of land on the Eurasian continent, the Chinese emperor usually adopted a formula of ‘reigning but not ruling’ when dealing with other Asian countries who were in a ‘tributary’ relationship with China. China mostly sought a more symbolic ‘reigning’ rather than a genuine ‘ruling’. Of much significance, if we are to grasp the essence of the relationship, are the Chinese expressions of ‘subordinating but not governing’ (chen er bu zhi) and ‘neither subordinating nor governing’ (bu chen bu zhi), much in the sense of famous ji mi or ‘Loose Rein’ policy. In fact, paying tribute used to be a widespread practice in Asian inter-state relations, not only between China and other Asian countries, but also among other Asian states, to promote trade and manage ties with stronger states. Examples include, but are not limited to, kingdoms on Malacca and the Malay Peninsula. Malacca’s Parameswara in the early fifteenth century paid tribute to both Siam and Majapahit to appease them. To prevent his immediate neighbours from attacking Malacca, Parameswara also paid tribute to the Ming empire in China. Moreover, according to Anthony Reid, ‘almost all of the rulers of small rivers in the (Malay) Peninsula sent the “golden flowers” (bunga mas) of tribute to Siam intermittently

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from the 15th century to the 19th’.8 The various tributary connections in Asia formed different webs, both big and small. The real picture was not just one big web as was often mistakenly described or understood, but rather a network of multiple webs. Another good example is that, while the Vietnamese ruler claimed himself a subject vis-à-vis the Chinese emperor, he also proclaimed himself to be an emperor vis-à-vis the rulers of several smaller kingdoms in the region. This kind of relationship and the explicit and implicit rules that helped maintain the East Asian order over a long span of time differed profoundly from the European order after the Peace of Westphalia. By the time the Qing dynasty was founded in 1644, the Thirty Years’ War in Europe was nearing its end and the Peace of Westphalia was put in place in 1648. In the case of early modern Europe, the kings, based on their earlier victories over the Church, further consolidated their power base and established secular authority over religious forces. They regarded one another as equals, and equality became a crucial principle in the handling of their relations. Wars were waged and these in turn consolidated the European states.9 In East Asia, however, there was a Chinese empire, and there existed a number of smaller Asian states as well. For the Chinese court, things worked as normal when the foreign envoys carried out the rituals as they were expected to do. The Chinese emperor might be satisfied with the relationship and enjoy the arrangements. For him, China was at the centre and things were operating in their orbit accordingly. It was not a bad situation after all, so long as the parties were satisfied with the status quo and the pattern of interactions. However, Lord Macartney’s encounter with China in 1793 was an important harbinger of change. During the visit, the Qing officials insisted that the visiting envoy from afar should kneel down before the Qianlong Emperor, just as other foreign envoys did. When that idea was rejected, a compromise was reached in that Macartney only bent one knee before the Qianlong Emperor. However, it was still recorded by the Chinese that Macartney prostrated himself in the kotow. Unfortunately, that episode of China’s encounter with the West did not awaken the Chinese rulers, who were totally ignorant of the Industrial Revolution and the capitalist development in Western Europe. The existing order continued in East Asia, until the European powers’ gunboats brought about a collapse of the previously self-sustaining order of East Asia.10

The rationales for the East Asian order For a certain kind of order to operate for many centuries, there must be some cohesive glue or working principles to organize the relationships. This had much to do with the ideas governing ancient China’s domestic political order. The Chinese emperor, self-identified as the Son of Heaven, exercised his rule in accordance with the degree of geographical and political closeness. For historian Gao Mingshi, that was a concentric arc structure. There were three circles with the Son of Heaven at the very centre. The inner circle included the areas directly under his rule, where the elements of zheng (governance), xing (punishment), li (rites), and de (virtue) all could reach. Through education and transformation, those areas

Traditional Chinese foreign relations 107 were fully civilized and administratively integrated. The outer subjects’ (wai chen) areas included the ji mi (loose rein) regions. Interactions in the former contained both feng and gong, reachable for zheng, li, and de. In the latter regions, there was gong but without feng, reachable for li and de. The Chinese court employed zheng, li, and de as the tools to constrain and induce the ‘barbarian’ areas, but did not rule those regions and their people directly. They, in turn, did not have obligations to bear land tax and other levies.11 The more distant areas did not claim to be subjects at all. They were without question the ‘foreign’ countries in the modern sense. Taken together, the three circles were an expanded concentric arc structure. The nature of the relationship depended on how close the ‘foreign’ areas were to the Son of Heaven, both geographically and politically. The relationship was, in fact, extended from that between the prince and the subject domestically. Its degree relied on whether or to what extent the foreign ruler submitted himself to the Chinese emperor. The more distant they were from the centre, the weaker the political link between them. For those remote areas, what was left often was simply an empty shell that only existed in theory. However, as long as those countries continued to send missions which brought tribute, it was understood that they recognized the noble emperor as the ‘common ruler under the heaven’ as well as their identification with the Chinese culture. This kind of thought and practice actually put more emphasis on name rather than on substance. The question that has to be addressed is: why did China and the other countries in the region want to establish and keep up this kind of relationship? The rationales come from both sides. From the Chinese perspective, at least two factors can be identified. First, once the feng-gong relationship gradually took shape, it became a tradition as well as something that a new Chinese ruler liked to inherit. This system played to the vanity of the Chinese emperors because the fact that various foreign countries claimed an inferior status and sent envoys to pay tribute could be greatly pleasing and satisfying at a psychological level, and enhance the consciousness of being the ‘Son of Heaven’ and the ‘common ruler under the heaven’, no matter how much substance actually existed. Second, and probably more important, was the particular security conception of ‘defense through barbarians (si yi)’. According to this concept, China’s security had much to do with si yi on the borders, and it needed to be maintained by keeping a proper relationship with the barbarians, often at arm’s length. Drawing on the experience of the previous dynasties, a Ming dynasty senior official summarized this thought in a cool-minded manner. For him, a great Son of Heaven would defend the country via si yi. Mollifying the barbarians with de, convincing them with strength, and making them defend their own territories are the best option China could have. The official cited historical precedent. Emperor Han Wu Di waged wars frequently and that only exhausted the country without really bringing any benefit. Emperor Sui Yang Di invaded Korea but that in turn resulted in uprisings at home. Even an emperor as wise as Tang Tai Zong regretted invading Korea. Those were all enlightening lessons; the key was achieving defence through si yi.12

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We can thus sum up the crucial points of ‘defence through si yi’. First was to distinguish between the internal and the external, based on geography, and more importantly, based on the degree of cultural sinicization and advancement. The central court and the barbarians had better maintain order in their respective territories and thus keep an equilibrium. Second, a wise and effective way to deal with barbarians was using li and ji mi rather than resorting to the use of force. Third, conquering barbarians is not worth the effort. The Chinese court should not try to subjugate the barbarians at the expense of its own people. Therefore, attracting the surrounding neighbours and establishing a dependent state system was a practice of the security doctrine of ‘defence through si yi’. This practice shares some similarities with establishing a ‘buffer state’ in modern international relations. But in China’s case, much more emphasis was put on resorting to more advanced civilization, moral authority, and wholehearted recognition of other parties. We will further elaborate those points below. There are additional rationales for the outer or neighbouring states to be willing to form such a feng-gong relationship. First, for many centuries, China had been economically more developed and culturally more civilized. History suggests that the less developed and civilized people were naturally more inclined to turn to and learn from China. This mode of feng-gong practice was not imposed upon other countries. Rather, the other countries usually benefited from it. Second, being conferred titles by the Chinese emperor was a recognition and confirmation of the rulers’ domestic status as the supreme leader of their own lands, which was favourable to enhancing their prestige at home as well as strengthening their governing authority. Third is the necessity for security, since conferring a title contained within it an element of promise. In doing so, the Chinese emperor bore some responsibility to support and protect the rulers upon whom he had conferred a title when they asked for assistance. Another example of the system in action is maritime South-East Asia. As Goh Sui Noi writes, to maritime South-East Asia, China was a distant but powerful empire which was unthreatening. Indeed, Malacca paid tribute to Ming China to protect itself from its close neighbours. Various states also paid tribute to China to facilitate trade with the wealthy empire. Maritime South-East Asia was shielded from the Chinese by states which shared borders with it by forbidding mountains and by the ‘Imperial aversion to the sea’. For Vietnam and Myanmar, which shared a long border with China, paying it tribute was a means to keep it at bay. For example, the Vietnamese, after each showdown with China, would restore formal relations through tribute.13 On the Chinese part, the formation of this kind of relationship had deep roots in Chinese thought with regard to dealing with neighbours. The Confucian classic text, The Works of Mencius, has an important statement on the proper way of handling foreign relations and proper corresponding mutual behaviour between big and small: The King Seuen of Tse asked, ‘Is there any way to regulate one’s maintenance of intercourse with neighboring kingdoms?’ Mencius replied, ‘There is. But it

Traditional Chinese foreign relations 109 requires a perfectly virtuous prince to be able, with a great country, to serve a small one, – as, for instance, Tang served Ko, and King Wan served the Kwan barbarians. And it requires a wise prince to be able, with a small country, to serve a large one, – as the King Tae served the Heun-yuh, and Kow-tseen served Woo. He who with a great state serves a small one, delights in Heaven. He who with a small state serves a large one, stands in awe of Heaven. He who delights in Heaven, will affect with his love and protection the whole empire. He who stands in awe of Heaven, will affect with his love and protection his own kingdom.14 This can be further traced back to at least Zuozhuan which states, ‘The reason small serves big is xin (trustworthiness), while the reason big serves small is ren (humane). It’s not xin to betray big; it’s not ren to attack small.’ In other words, a smaller country should treat a bigger country with honesty, while a bigger country should treat a smaller one on the basis of ren. This, in fact, was an extension of the Confucian principles governing China’s internal social and political order. Anthony Reid came to a similar conclusion. For him, ‘The history of Asia provides the richest examples of how to manage unequal relationships – essentially by giving face, in the sense of dignity and centrality, to the bigger power, and reassuring the smaller one that its autonomy and independence will be respected.’15 That being said, one question would inevitably emerge: what explains China’s historical interventionist behaviour? Addressing that issue, Wang Gungwu has pointed out two kinds of situation. First, he reminds us of ‘the traditional pattern of Chinese relations with the region whereby China often offered to protect small states against bigger ones in the vicinity. We can cite many such examples along the Chinese border from earliest times.’16 Second, Wang gained some insight by studying China’s overseas world during the reign of Yongle (1402–24) of the Ming dynasty. In his imperial injunctions, Yongle’s father, the first Ming emperor Zhu Yuanzhang, had explicitly laid down that the Chinese were never to invade certain countries. There was a long list of these countries and it included Vietnam. Yet Yongle went against these injunctions and invaded Vietnam. For Wang, This seemed not to have been for territorial purposes but was, in a way, an intervention to protect a royal family, royal prerogatives or royal rights … In the invasion into Vietnam, Yongle intervened to place the legitimate ruler of Vietnam on the throne against a usurper.17 In other words, one reason was protecting the small, and the other reason was safeguarding what the Chinese court thought was the legitimate order.

The use of de and li in foreign relations Using de (virtue) is one of the fundamental principles in China’s doctrine of foreign relations. Just as, domestically, the emperor’s moral authority and rule-by-virtue were fundamental to his right to rule and method of rule, they were as important

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in relations with foreign countries. Again it is an extension of the principle of domestic governance. As Confucius put it, ‘governing must rely on de’. The moral power of the rulers can have a fundamental impact upon political order. A ‘Son of Heaven’ was told that he should set up and resort to wang dao (the way of a King) rather than ba dao (the way of a hegemonic ruler) to govern his country. Namely, he should convince others by li (reason) rather than coercing foreign countries using another, very different, thing, also pronounced li (force). Most major Chinese political ideas originated in the Zhou period (1046–256 BC). The Zhou used to be a small tribe, but later they rose and took over from the Shang because the latter lost the hearts and minds of the people, namely, it lost de – and that led to the loss of the people’s support. For the Zhou, the loss of de directly related to the failure of the Shang regime. That was a key lesson the Zhou learned. The Zhou triumphed because of de, and it must also rely on de to govern the country. That became a fundamental intellectual legacy the Zhou left behind which was inherited by later generations of Chinese thinkers and rulers. There is also an introspective spirit in this line of thinking. If the faraway foreign countries came to China under the ‘tributary system’, it was because the Chinese ruler had de. If they did not come, it was not their fault. Instead the Chinese rulers had to rethink themselves and nurture their own de. As Confucius said, ‘If remoter people are not submissive, all the influences of civil culture and virtue are to be cultivated to attract them to be so; and when they have been so attracted, they must be made contented and tranquil.’ When foreign countries did send envoys, China should pacify them. For many centuries, Chinese scholar-officials often held the ideal of relying on the splendid Chinese culture to induce others’ acceptance and submission. In terms of material means, China often resorted to ‘giving more while taking less’ (houwang bolai) measures to entice and win over the faraway foreigners. Only through this kind of behaviour could Chinese rulers show their benevolent virtue and arrive at a scenario in which foreign countries sincerely submitted themselves to China. Rites (li) was another profound element to construct a desirable domestic social and political order. It was also key to China’s thinking about its relations with foreign countries. In form, li appears as a combination of rituals and ceremonies, but, in essence, it entails a relational arrangement. Once again, as an expansion of the domestic order, foreign relations were also structured in accordance with li. In this kind of relationship, each party has an appropriate role to play. Between Chinese and foreign rulers, li had to be stressed and practised, for instance, through conferring titles and paying ‘tribute’, in order for a certain form of structure and order to be established, just as the ‘Son of Heaven’ and the foreign rulers should behave like emperor and subject at home. When such an order is created, peace under heaven can be achieved and maintained. Also in that sense, Huang Zhilian calls the ancient East Asian order a rule of the li (lizhi) system of China. Domestically, li organized and regulated the whole society; externally, li governed China’s relations with outside countries. The Chinese word for the state, guojia, is a combination of guo (country) and jia (home). To a large extent, guo is an extension of jia. Just as Confucian ethics and values were

Traditional Chinese foreign relations 111 observed in daily life and in Chinese society, just as these values were embedded in relations between the emperor and subject and between the father and son, so the prince should treat his countrymen the way they should be treated. Similarly, China should base its foreign relations on li, by leading by example and letting foreign countries have access to civilized China and its economic prosperity. Displaying benevolence rather than resorting to force was long established as a Chinese tradition of international behaviour. China’s rule of li tended not to exacerbate the existing contradictions and problems, nor to impose Chinese values, even if there was a conflict of values between China and some foreign country. The rule of li put emphasis on persuading and convincing and allowing time to work. This required adequate patience to wait for other parties to correct their own behaviour. This can be applied today in the practice of global politics. When a problem is solved in this way, it will be acceptable to all parties and is therefore more sustainable.

A transformed ‘tianxia’ theory debated Now we come to the ‘tianxia’ concept that has re-emerged recently and is being debated both in and outside China. In April 2005, a Chinese philosopher, Zhao Tingyang, published a short but important book, Tianxia Tixi.18 It soon aroused lively discussions and drew considerable attention from the Chinese International Relations community. The next year, Wang Gungwu chose ‘Tianxia and Empire: External Chinese Perspectives’ as the topic for his inaugural Tsai Lecture at Harvard University, bringing the discussion on to a wider platform. By reviving the tianxia idea, Zhao attempted to rediscover and emphasize the usefulness and significance of China’s intellectual legacy. For Zhao, tianxia is a significant concept not only for China but also for the whole world. Through his rediscovery and reinterpretation, Zhao has promoted tianxia to ‘a philosophy for the world institution’. Zhao’s supporters warmly embraced his reinterpretation and development, while his critics offered sharp criticisms.19 In any case, the exchange provides researchers with an excellent opportunity to re-examine the traditional Chinese concept of tianxia to see how useful it can be for the world’s future. Like other key Chinese concepts, tianxia has multiple meanings. Having examined its connotation in different contexts, I argue that we can distinguish four of its subtle meanings as follows. First is geographical tianxia. This is its original and basic meaning, and is obvious. During the Zhou Dynasty, people had already begun to understand the world they lived in according to position. Their perception of the centre and the four directions later became a fundamental element in the tianxia view of China. From the very beginning, tianxia seemed to have narrower and broader meanings. While the broader one meant all places under the sun, the narrower usage just referred to zhongguo (China) within the four seas. Second is tianxia in the political sense, meaning the regime and sometimes referring to the nation. Tianxia has been widely used in this sense in Chinese discourse. Phrases include ‘de (gaining) tianxia’, ‘zhi (governing) tianxia’, and ‘da (fighting for) tianxia’. Sun Yat-sen, founder of the Chinese republic, put forward a famous

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motto ‘tianxia weigong (Tianxia for the Public)’. For Zhao, that means tianxia is the people’s tianxia and people work for their common tianxia.20 The opposite is ‘jia tianxia’, meaning regarding tianxia as one’s private property. The third is cultural tianxia. This is a profound use of tianxia. The important contributions that the Zhou dynasty made to the tianxia idea went far beyond merely inheriting a rather mechanical view of position from the preceding Shang dynasty. The Zhou dynasty gave birth to a cultural view of tianxia. The Zhou people made an important distinction between themselves who were culturally more advanced, called ‘huaxia’, and the surrounding regions that were thought of as culturally more backward. This indicates that early on, the Chinese already saw their country as a cultural entity rather than a political entity, and felt that the surrounding ‘barbarians’ would do themselves good to accept the influence of huaxia’s cultural, ethical, and legal systems. However, what is important here is that no imposition of huaxia culture was advocated because the way to exert that influence was to use example and attractiveness. This also highlighted China’s cultural confidence long held by the Chinese rulers and scholar-officials alike. Long before the term ‘soft power’ was coined,21 using China’s cultural attractiveness in dealing with foreigners had already been advocated and practised in traditional China. There was one thing that distinguished China’s behaviour from that of the Christian states. While the latter were inclined to spread religious belief of the Christendom to and impose it upon other parts of the world, even by resorting to the use of force, China chose to show itself as an example for others to choose to follow. Such a tradition in foreign relations is a crucial thread that can be traced to early Chinese history and can lead us to understand China’s future trajectory. Fourth is moral tianxia, by and large referring to the common aspiration of the people. There is a difference between a regime that possesses certain territory and one that also satisfies ordinary people’s needs and makes it possible for them to know about social mores and propriety. Only when both demands are met can it be called ‘safeguarding tianxia’. Thus, ‘losing the regime’ is different from ‘losing tianxia’. For example, when it was overthrown in 1644, the Ming dynasty not only lost its regime but also the popular will of its people. Therefore, tianxia is both an idea and an ideal. As an idea, it is a framework that incorporates geographical, political and cultural elements. As an ideal, it aims at eventually heading for ‘tianxia yijia’ (literally, ‘one family under the sun’) which is an all-inclusive (wuwai) order. Within the framework, no difference is made between the internal and external, but rather there is simply a process of extending the same principles and ideals from inner to outer realm as a continuum, which ends up with a whole that combines the near and the distant; namely, a tianxia order. We have demonstrated that the Chinese view of tianxia has a long history and a rich tradition. The idea originated in the Zhou period and matured in the Qin and Han periods. As an intellectual framework in which position, level, and cultural perspectives converge into one concept, it has lasted for over two thousand years and has maintained an amazing continuity. Its prominent feature has been that the Chinese always keep with them an ideal beyond reality.22 Given that there is

Traditional Chinese foreign relations 113 indeed a rich Chinese tradition of tianxia, the question now becomes this: building on the historical tianxia idea, what should be inherited and further developed? In that regard, Zhao’s efforts to reinterpret the tianxia idea and to adapt it to today’s world should therefore be given credit. William A. Callahan criticized Zhao by stating that ‘proposals for a “post-hegemonic” system often contain the seeds of a new (and often violent) system of inclusion and exclusion: Tianxia presents a popular example of a new hegemony where imperial China’s hierarchical governance is updated for the twenty-first century.’23 However, this criticism is mistaken because the tianxia idea is unquestionably inclusive rather than exclusive. Also, Callahan wrongly takes for granted, without the necessary supporting evidence, that a reinvigorated tianxia concept is politically related to, if not geared toward, a ‘new hegemony’. In fact, the transformed tianxia idea has intellectual and theoretical value exactly because it is a scholarly rather than a political enterprise. Now we come to an assessment of Zhao’s efforts. As his point of departure, Zhao argues, Because China is increasingly an integral part of the world, we must discuss the implications of Chinese culture and thought for the whole world. What needs to be studied are the contributions China can possibly make to and the responsibilities China should bear for the world.24 For Zhao, if the serious self-criticisms and even severe self-attacks over the past one and a half centuries were a movement to ‘examine China’, then ‘rethinking China’ has been the most important intellectual movement since the 1990s, and is intellectually more deep-seated and scholarly as well as much more profound. Moreover, in today’s China there is no shortage of all kinds of Western ideas. What is lacking is China’s own overall thinking and holistic thought. The historical implications of ‘rethinking China’ lie at the heart of the efforts to revive China’s own capability of thinking and to rethink China’s place in the world. In other words, this is to think about China’s road ahead, as well as China’s role and responsibility in the world.25 Zhao argues that China’s world view is the tianxia theory. China’s idea of tianxia is above and beyond the idea of the state. While Western thought thinks of conflict, Chinese thought is capable of thinking of harmony. Distinct ideas do exist and they can serve as an important and constructive anchor for the world’s future. They cannot be expressed within the Western intellectual framework, and thus they need to be displayed in a new framework and developed into a new theory.26 Again, for Zhao, the option is the tianxia theory. Especially important in this theory is the principle of ‘all-inclusiveness’ (wuwai) which can help eliminate a stubborn flaw in Western thought, namely, the ‘enemy assumption’ or the ‘politics of separation’, developed from the ‘pagan awareness’ which is based on religious irrationality. In contrast, tianxia is a theory of converting enemy to friend. It advocates conversion (hua) which is a way to attract others rather than to conquer them.27 Zhao’s reinterpretation of tianxia is stimulating and thought provoking. Two of his main points can be stressed: first, tianxia is a larger and a more desirable unit

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of analysis we can use to look at the world as it goes beyond the state; second, tianxia is a philosophy and a world view that can hopefully lead to the ideal of tianxia, ‘one home’. In the world of today, humankind is faced with enormous challenges and problems in different parts of the globe, including those concerning conflict and development. The Western model has undergone various frustrations in that regard. Very often, the West tends to apply elections, as reduced from the Western-style democracy, to the entire world as if it were a panacea. Practice over the past years has suggested it does not work well; in some cases this has even given rise to more problems, such as intensifying ethnic strife. There is an increasing demand in the world for new ways to redress the balance. Against this backdrop, an emerging school of thought argues that the tianxia idea may provide an alternative way to think about various kinds of relationship in the world and to find a new and more constructive way forward. In this sense, tianxia theory has a potential to make a difference in tomorrow’s intellectual world.

Conclusion For many centuries in history, when different parts of the world did not know about one another, East Asia operated on its own track and formed a distinct regional order. Thus East Asia and Europe had two contrasting types of regional system. China, because of the advancement of its civilization as well as economic prosperity and technological development, emerged as a leading state in Asia and was often attractive to the surrounding countries, which, for whatever motive, wanted to seek a relationship and connection with China. However, to characterize the traditional East Asian order as a ‘tributary system’ is misleading. This is because the purpose of the foreign countries seeking connections with the Chinese court usually was to gain economic and material benefits, especially when they were offered favourable tax waiver status. In fact, ‘paying tribute’ was mostly presenting local products as presents. Besides, the way foreign countries perceived this relationship with China might differ significantly from the way China recorded it. The Chinese rulers did confer titles on the new kings of the foreign countries when there was a change of leadership, and they might be complacent as this made them feel good. On the other end, foreign envoys were sent to China bringing ‘tribute’ to the Chinese emperor. Very often, China made efforts to maintain this relationship by offering more and taking less. At times it could afford it, and sometimes it could not. In the latter case, China had to limit or reduce the frequency of the ‘tributary’ visits. In fact, this kind of relationship was more symbolic than substantive. To understand the traditional Chinese theory of foreign relations, which took shape over centuries, it is essential for us to understand the traditional order in East Asia and its organizing principles, particularly that of de and li. By and large, they are an expansion of China’s domestic political principles. To understand traditional Chinese theory is also very important if we are to understand contemporary China’s international behaviour. There are many puzzling questions in that regard. In 1962, when the invading Indian troops who were encroaching on Chinese territory were

Traditional Chinese foreign relations 115 defeated, why did Chinese leadership order its army to withdraw 20 kilometres further inside China than the original control line? In 1979, why did China decide to wage a war against Vietnam to teach it a ‘lesson’? Besides alleviating the heavy pressure on Kampuchea and counterbalancing a ‘regional hegemonism’, what was behind the thinking of ‘teaching somebody a lesson’? Those puzzles have answers once we have understood that one key factor that traditionally drove China’s foreign behaviour was ‘righting the order’. It is very probable that in the eyes of China, both India and Vietnam’s behaviour violated the principle that constituted a normal and right order, and therefore they had to be dealt with. This may be a new hypothesis for future research. In the meantime, China did not want to grab any piece of land from any foreign country – another interesting Chinese perspective – because no ‘barbarian land’ was desirable since it was often more a liability rather than an asset. In the twenty-first century, restoring the so-called ‘tributary system’ in Asia in whatever way is clearly out of the question. However, it is useful to grasp and remould the traditional Chinese theory of foreign relations, eliminate its component of inequality, and propagate its healthy elements. Here is the key: countries, big or small, which have different but equal values, should find their own appropriate places in their relationships and treat one another in line with li to achieve harmony. Although no order is perfect in social and political life, in this way, countries can expect a reasonably just order. To a large extent, Wang Gungwu’s insights shed much light on today’s China and East Asia. Let me end by quoting him. There has been a great deal of misunderstanding about China’s traditional dominance over Southeast Asia. The Chinese did believe that theirs was the Middle Kingdom, but such a view was mainly of symbolic or cosmological significance and did not involve questions of actual control. To outsiders, however, this Chinese view of themselves has made it seem as if the Chinese have always been ambitious to dominate their neighbors. The historical evidence does not show old China as having such ambitions. On the contrary, it shows how extraordinarily passive the Chinese were except when China was severely threatened, and this was usually from the north, northwest and northeast.28

Notes 1 Jonathan D. Spence, ‘Looking east: the long view’, in Jonathan D. Spence, Chinese Roundabout: Essays in history and culture (New York: W. W. Norton, 1992), pp. 78–9. 2 One recent example is Yan Xuetong and Xu Jin (eds), Zhongguo xianqin guojia jian zhengzhi sixiang xuandu (Pre-Qin Chinese Thoughts on Foreign Relations) (Shanghai: Fudan University Press, 2008). 3 John K. Fairbank (ed.), The Chinese World Order (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1968). Wang is the author of the chapter, ‘Early Ming relations with Southeast Asia: a background essay.’ 4 Wang Gungwu, ‘Culture in state relations’, in Wang Gungwu, China and Southeast Asia: Myths, threats and culture (Singapore: World Scientific Publishing. and Singapore University Press, 1999), p. 65. 5 Fairbank, ‘A preliminary framework’, in Fairbank, The Chinese World Order, op. cit., p. 7.

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6 Ibid., p. 4. 7 Qing Guangxu chao zhongri jiaoshe shiliao xuanji, Vol. 1 (Taipei: Datong shuju, 1984). Quoted in Zhang Zhenkun, ‘Qingdai zhongguo yu linguo chuantong guanxi de yige biaoben: zhongguo yu yuenan guanxi’ (A Sample of Qing Dynasty China’s Relations with Its Neighboring States: The Sino-Vietnamese Relationship), in Chen Shangsheng (ed.), Zhongguo chuantong duiwai guanxi de sixiang, zhidu he zhengce (Thoughts, Institutions, and Policies of Traditional China’s Foreign Relations) (Jinan: Shandong University Press, 2007), p. 27. 8 Quoted in Goh Sui Noi, ‘Of tribute, trade and influence’, The Strait Times (24 February 2009). 9 For an excellent analysis, see Victoria Tin-bor Hui, War and State Formation in Ancient China and Early Modern Europe (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2005). 10 For Jonathan Spence, ‘the tributary system sputtered to its end in the late 1820s and 1830s’. See Spence, Chinese Roundabout, op. cit., p. 84. In making this statement, Spence may be using the Opium War of 1840 as a demarcation line. In fact, elements of the ‘tributary system’ lingered in one way or another till the late nineteenth century. 11 Gao Mingshi, Tianxia zhixu yu wenhuaquan de tansuo (Exploring the Tianxia Order and Cultural Areas) (Shanghai: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe, 2008), pp. 22–3. Note that the foreign relations Gao describes were during the Sui and Tang dynasties. 12 Quoted in Fang Tie, ‘Lun zhongguo “shou zai zhi bian” and “shou zai si yi” de chuantong zhibian sixiang’ (On China’s Traditional Thought of Governing Its Frontier) in Chen Shangsheng (ed.), Zhongguo chuantong duiwai guanxi de sixiang, zhidu he zhengce (Thoughts, Institutions, and Policies of Traditional China’s Foreign Relations) (Jinan: Shandong University Press, 2007), p. 39. 13 Goh Sui Noi, ‘Of tribute, trade and influence’, op. cit. 14 The Four Books: Confucius Analects, The Great Learning, The Doctrine of the Mean, and The Works of Mencius with English translation and notes by James Legge. (Shanghai: The Chinese Book Company, n.d.), pp. 474–5. 15 Quoted in Goh Sui Noi, ‘Of tribute, trade and influence’, The Strait Times op. cit. 16 See Wang Gungwu, To Act is to Know: Chinese dilemmas (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003), p. 111. 17 Wang Gungwu, ‘China’s overseas world’, in Wang, To Act is to Know, op. cit., p. 302. 18 Zhao Tingyang, Tianxia Tixi: Shijie Zhidu Zhexue Daolun (The Tianxia System: A Philosophy for the World Institution) (Nanjing: Jiangsu Jiaoyu Chubanshe, 2005). 19 For the criticisms, see, for example, Zhou Fangyin, ‘Tianxia tixi shi zuihao de shijie zhidu ma?’ (Is the Tianxia System the Best World Institution?) Guoji zhengzhi kexue (Quarterly Journal of International Politics), 14 (February 2008). For more balanced discussions, see Xu Jianxin, ‘Tianxia tixi yu shijie zhidu’, (The Tianxia System and World Institution), Guoji zhengzhi kexue (Quarterly Journal of International Politics), 10 (February 2007). Zhao later wrote a response ‘Tianxia tixi de yige jianyao biaoshu’ (A Brief Expression of the Tianxia System) which appeared in Shijie jingji yu zhengzhi (World Economics and Politics), 10 (2008). 20 Zhao, Tianxia Tixi, op. cit., p. 30. 21 Joseph Nye, ‘Soft power’, Foreign Policy (Fall 1990). 22 For an excellent analysis, see Xing Yitian, ‘Tianxia yijia – zhonguoren de tianxia guan’ (Tianxia One Home – The Chinese Tianxia View)’, in Liu Dai (ed.), Yongheng de juliu (Taipei: Lianjing chuban shiye gongsi, 1983), pp. 467–8. 23 William A. Callahan, ‘Chinese visions of world order: post-hegemonic or a new hegemony?’ International Studies Review, 10 (2008): 749–61, at 759. 24 Zhao, Tianxia Tixi, op. cit., pp. 2–3. 25 Ibid., pp. 6–7. 26 Ibid., pp. 15–16. 27 Ibid., p. 33. 28 Wang Gungwu, ‘The re-emergence of China’, in Wang, To Act is to Know, op. cit., p. 77.

7

Traditional China and the globalization of international relations thinking Brantly Womack

Traditional China and the modern West1 have each in their own way claimed to be tian xia (all under heaven). The claims are not without substance, and the attitude of being center of the universe, or at least of that part of the universe worthy of concern, is an essential character trait of both civilizations. But the reality of limitations, compounded by the mistakes and missed opportunities created by the hubris of false self-consciousness, have co-determined the historical track of each. From his vantage point of external China, Wang Gungwu has done more than anyone to bring to light the ambiguous edges and limitations of both. Contemporary thinking about international relations shares the unconscious parochialism of Western tian xia. But globalization increasingly confronts the West with the costs of its hubris, and China is the most prominent part of the contemporary challenge. As a useful social science, it is the task of international relations theory to rise to the challenge. The challenge and opportunity that China presents to international relations thinking does not begin with its recent “peaceful rise,” however. Globalization cannot be grafted on as the latest stage in Western consciousness; instead, thorough globalization must encompass the previously ignored histories and lessons of the non-Western world. The fundamental task of this chapter is to reflect from a global perspective on what Wang Gungwu has taught us about China and to explore its heuristic insights for the modern tian xia. This will involve, first, an exploration of the salience and limitations of China’s traditional centrality, and of the methods it developed in order to cope with an international environment in which it had no comparable challengers and yet could not force compliance. Second, we will briefly review the context of Western international relations. Lastly, we will consider the lessons of traditional China both for its own contemporary diplomatic challenges and as a contribution to global thinking.

The Middle Kingdom The simplest contrast between East Asia and the West is that East Asia has a Middle Kingdom, while the West has a Middle Sea, the Mediterranean. East Asia has a solid center, and the West a liquid one. In time the North Atlantic became the new Mediterranean, but the basic situation of commercial contact and competition

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among multiple powers persisted despite changes in major actors and technologies. Similarly in East Asia, the presence of a demographic and agricultural solidity in its middle has continued to provide the deep context of its regional relationships. The consequences of this difference are profound. Although too much can be made of contextual determinism, political communities must bloom where they are planted. In the case of East Asia, the centrality of China has not always meant stability, but it created a situation of non-transposable relationships between China and its neighbors. In times of peace, it was the central power, though usually not able to subject its neighbors to its unilateral will. In times of chaos, its reunification was the great prize of domestic contenders, and its conquest was the ultimate object of success for neighbors. The exceptions do not disprove the rule. The Warring States era was certainly a period of “great power” competition similar to that in Europe, but through its competition and warfare it created an oecumene, an “inhabited area” of cultural interaction and convergence, from which the Qin and Han could emerge. The submission of the Song to the Jurched Jin was a concession to an enemy within the walls, and ultimately the Jin were not able to consolidate their power.2 The Mongols and the Manchus conquered China, but Mongolia and Manchuria did not become the new centers of Asia, nor did they obliterate the old one. As the examples of the conquest dynasties illustrate, China’s power could be challenged, but its centrality was not questioned. Even in calmer periods China was most successful when it negotiated its external relationships. Perhaps the best example of the failure of Chinese domination even at its apogee was the failure of the Ming’s twenty years of occupation of Vietnam in 1407–27.3 And the Ming learned its Vietnam lesson. Thereafter China was content to recognize the autonomy of Vietnam in exchange for Vietnam’s deference. China did not bestride East Asia like a mighty Colossus of Rhodes; rather, it has always sat in the middle of Asia, with its largest population and its largest traditional agrarian economy.

The limits of land China’s land-bound centrality involved both blessings and curses. On the positive side, as the scale and sophistication of its traditional economy increased it could accumulate immense material and cultural resources. Domestic trade expanded into more complex patterns of interdependence, and exotic and prestige goods could be attracted from afar. China could see itself as self-sufficient, both economically and culturally, even though it existed in a broader regional world. The primary curse was that the nomadic neighbors to the north and west were more attracted by China’s wealth than by its virtue, and their combination of mobility and a vast, inhospitable hinterland made them a border problem for which there could not be a final solution. Northern nomads had a formidable rear territory. It is as far from Beijing to the Arctic Ocean as it is from Beijing to Borneo. Agrarian China’s chronic exposure to the northern “sea of grass” was symbolized by the Great Wall. China’s security curse was not that of being a weak power surrounded by stronger ones, but that of being a rich target for neighbors that could be defended

Traditional China and the globalization of IR thinking 119 against but not eliminated. China could see its superiority reflected in the intense and discomfiting interest of its neighbors. It could defend itself in battle, but the choice of attack was largely up to its opponents, and the costs of a standing defense were considerable. Fortifications and strengthened interior communications were reasonable investments. Since China was less interested in the goods of its neighbors than vice versa, isolation made sense. In effect, China became Asia’s first gated community. China’s vast scale was a mixed curse. On the one hand, when its capacities could be coordinated it was a formidable potential adversary, and even in disarray it was more than most invaders could manage. Conquest dynasties followed existing patterns of rule not only because custom provided convenience, but also because the sustained effort that political transformation required would be exhausted by China’s scale. On the other hand, size made fragmentation and localism a constant challenge. It also gave China such a vast perimeter that displacement of resources toward an opponent in one direction could create vulnerabilities elsewhere. Even when vulnerability was not a problem, China’s situation carried the curse of the limited horizons of a landed power. A major theme of Wang Gungwu’s research has been that China restricted its own opportunities in coastal and maritime trade. With pre-modern transportation, distance is effort to an agricultural polity, and the consequent diminishing returns can quickly reach a vanishing point and thereby create a horizon of disinterest. Land-bound China tended to be complacent and uninterested in seaward development, preferring to avoid trouble and loss of control rather than to engage actively. Here the apparent exception is the best proof of the rule: Admiral Zheng He’s voyages in 1405–23 were intended to spread the glory of the Ming but not to encourage private trade.4 The development of China’s maritime commerce occurred in spite of the Chinese government. Perhaps the deepest curse created by China’s success as a land-bound polity was the development curse. As Mark Elvin has argued, China’s expansion and intensification of agriculture created over time a situation in which population pressures created a “high-level equilibrium trap” discouraging labor-saving technologies.5 Moreover, each improvement in irrigation or soil productivity increased a burden of constant maintenance, putting rural China on a treadmill of routine mending and patching that became increasingly difficult with less reward.6 And in the background, the grand environmental effects of an expanding agrarian civilization were the impoverishment of flora and fauna, and in particular the reduction of forest cover and consequent crises in fuel and lumber.7 The development curse was created by ingenuity and success. Nevertheless, it was a double curse because it created an impasse in continued traditional development and at the same time pre-empted modern breakthroughs.

Centrality and polarity Although location was important, the key to China’s centrality was its relative concentration and abundance of productive capacity. As many historians have pointed out, too much can be made of China’s military superiority. Not only did China lose

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occasionally to conquering nomads, but just as importantly it was usually in a situation of give and take on its northern border before the Qing.8 But to say that China was “among equals” would be missing a key element of the regional situation. Even to Toyotomi Hideyoshi, Japan’s second “great unifier,” the (unachieved) ultimate glory would have been to rule China. China was at the center of a set of regional relationships that it could not force, but were not transposable. The basic regional pattern created by centrality is a pattern of attention rather than one of power. Because of the center’s greater capacities, the others are more exposed to the risks and opportunities of the relationship than vice versa, and therefore are more attentive in that direction. Asymmetry of interest creates asymmetry of attention.9 In an asymmetric bilateral relationship, the larger power is usually less exposed and therefore less attentive, while the smaller side has reasons for greater interest. In a multilateral, regional situation, attention becomes centered on the largest actor, and the center of attention becomes a center of regional communication as well.10 Centrality of regional attention creates a characteristic pattern of interactions. On the one hand, the apparent disparity between the center and each non-center is amplified by regional centrality. The center represents the system as well as itself. On the other hand, the center is weaker against all non-centers than it would be against any one of them. Even if the periphery does not band together, the use of central power against one opponent will weaken its relative advantage against others and is likely to increase the alienation of others. An “anti-empire” mentality is inevitable at the periphery because each non-center can see the difference between its own interests and the Panglossian official system-image of universal, ordered harmony.11 But the center’s abuse of its capacity advantage can convert the inevitable distance between center and periphery into a hostile frontier of evasion, sabotage, and eventual challenge. Imperial overreach is best understood not as a simple geographic or military over-extension but as the creation of an alienated periphery and the consequent increasing cost of domination. Thus leadership by means of prestige and authority is less risky and more sustainable than domination by means of power. The lesson of central self-restraint was not learned easily.12 The Song was forced to humiliate itself before the power of the Jin, and to acknowledge the independence of a Vietnam that it could not discipline. The Yuan despised the Song for its weakness, and throughout Asia pushed the margin of its military advantage to the limit. But the Yuan did eventually reach its military limits in Southeast Asia and in Japan. More importantly, its prairie-fire approach to conquest required the division of the khanates and produced problems of internal governance that eventually brought down the dynasty. Moreover, the Mongol threat stimulated the exploration and assertion of national identity among the endangered polities.13 The lesson of Yuan overreach was not lost on the Ming. As the Ming founder put it in his “Ancestral Injunctions”: The overseas foreign countries like Annan [Vietnam], Champa, Korea, Siam, Liuqiu [Ryukyu Islands], [the countries of the] Western Oceans [South India]

Traditional China and the globalization of IR thinking 121 and Eastern Oceans [Japan], and the various small countries of the southern man [barbarians] are separated from us by mountains and seas and far away in a corner. Their lands would not produce enough for us to maintain them; their peoples would not usefully serve us if incorporated [into the empire]. If they were so unrealistic as to disturb our borders, it would be unfortunate for them. If they gave us no trouble and we moved troops to fight them unnecessarily, it would be unfortunate for us. I am concerned that future generations might abuse China’s wealth and power and covet the military glories of the moment to send armies into the field without reason and cause a loss of life. May they be sharply reminded that this is forbidden.14 The ancestral advice was not followed by his son Yongle, and his failed occupation of Vietnam became the disaster that proved the rule. The grandeur of the Forbidden City, then, is not simply a narcissistic celebration of superiority. Likewise, the claim of leadership by virtue can be seen as a management challenge rather than as self-satisfaction.15 Maximizing prestige required a protocol of hierarchy and an official posture of gracious virtue and infallibility. The attitude of other states toward China’s centrality was necessarily more complex. While China provided an assemblage of “best practices” and a common cultural language for the region (there was no need for China to propagate “Confucius Institutes”), it could hardly be expected that others would simply accept their own inferiority. They could note privately, and with deep satisfaction, the hollowness of China’s pomp, the mendacity of China’s motives, and the mistakes of its emperors and generals. While central powers might suffer from “imperial amnesia,” the eyesight of the periphery is sharp and its memory of abuses is long.16 Besides setting attention patterns, centrality shapes the meaning of boundaries. For China, borderlands were a necessary burden. Constant vigilance was needed, armies had to be maintained, and leadership was distracted from the responsibilities of domestic governance. As Woodside puts it, “For Chinese political theorists, until recently, the problem was not an imperial center that created underdevelopment on its borderlands but, rather, imperial borderlands that threatened to create underdevelopment at the center.”17 This was true not only for international frontiers but also for ethnic minority areas within China such as western Sichuan and Guizhou. Since boundaries were typically on the outside edge of geographical and ethnic frontiers, the difficulty of managing border conflicts increased and the significance of border incursions decreased. Pacification was the primary concern, and with vulnerabilities in all directions the Ming required a military force of four million, ten times the size of the largest European army at that time.18 Nomads, by contrast, had an active interest in subverting boundaries, either by raiding or by enticing agricultural settlements beyond the pale of the empire.19 Given its situation of centrality but not dominating hegemony, China’s diplomatic options included the two logical extremes of extermination of opponents or of self-isolation, and a vast and more practical middle range of accommodation. As satisfying as extermination might be, it was expensive. Kangxi’s relentless pursuit of Galdan’s Zungars in 1696 required eighty-three thousand troops (and

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six thousand provision wagons) against five thousand enemy.20 Self-isolation was much less expensive, and it was plausible given China’s relative self-sufficiency. But it was a passive policy that left the field beyond the gates under the control of others and deprived China of contingent diplomatic incentives. In the case of the prohibition of maritime trade, it reinforced the land-limited horizons of the Empire. The broad middle of diplomacy required arriving at solutions that paid sufficient attention to the basic interests of all parties and yet maintained the protocol of tian xia. However pragmatic the actual arrangement, the presentation had to be in terms of a central dispensation rather than in terms of a negotiation among equals. Underlying the formalities was an asymmetric situation. China needed deference from its interactors because the settlement must promote the stability of the system. Deference did not mean subservience, however, but simply an acceptance of the existing asymmetric pattern of authority. The other actor needed acknowledgement of its autonomy from China because of its greater exposure. Without China’s acknowledgement of its autonomy, the other actor remained vulnerable. An exchange of commitments of autonomy and deference was unequal, but it served the interests of both parties. Polarity is an unusually important aspect of traditional China’s centrality. To put it a bit too simply, China was vulnerable in the north and safe in the south. In the north it faced the task of managing a military frontier, while in the south the characteristic task was that of managing an administrative frontier. The closest China came to solutions of its nomadic problems occurred when the nomads won. The new conquest dynasties then brought in their former bases. The last and greatest success of this sort was the Qing dynasty’s creation of a vast buffer zone of territories under Manchu rule stretching from Tibet to its homeland in the northeast provinces.21 To the south, China faced a general task of maintaining order rather than of risk management. But the southern front was also crucial, since “imperial overstretch” such as the failed re-annexation of Vietnam in 1407–27 was costly. As Wang Gungwu has pointed out, the two theaters were linked. China could be expansive in the south only when it was secure in the north, and it had to manage limited resources in the south when military attention was concentrated on nomadic threats.22 On a deeper level, the rhetoric of the central kingdom and the structuring effects of centrality in Asia were apparent in both north and south, though in different forms.

The management of superiority In line with its general structure of domestic governance, the ideal of China’s external politics was low cost, low volume. Sustainable centrality required maintaining a larger international order that was effortlessly stable. Given the asymmetries of capacity, stability did not require a balance of equal powers, but rather equilibrium based on a proportional relationship. Like a Calder mobile, a large central piece could match outlying smaller pieces, and while each responded to exogenous winds the structure could be maintained.

Traditional China and the globalization of IR thinking 123 Key to the success of sustainable diplomacy were the three traits of Ming diplomacy described by Wang Gungwu in his classic essay in the Fairbank volume: virtuous superiority, impartiality, and inclusiveness.23 The Confucian emphasis on inducing virtuous behavior by showing humanity to others was particularly important. To emphasize virtú in the Machiavellian sense of manly prowess would add the cost of compliance to the system. To be sure, China could not afford to appear weak – and archery was another Confucian virtue – but China succeeded best at lowest cost when the velvet glove did the trick without revealing the iron hand. Impartiality was important because the presumption of equal treatment was essential to any mediating role that China might have. The level of activism implied in mediation differed according to China’s interests and power in the area, but the posture of impartiality was necessary however faint the imperial presence. Inclusiveness, the final trait, was especially important during the Hongwu and Yongle reigns, when the southern limits of tian xia were uncertain. The idea of “show nothing left outside” (shi wu wai) meant that all rulers of foreign lands could be associated with the Emperor and their lands and peoples could benefit from imperial benevolence. Bringing the three traits together, China’s place at the center was justified by its virtue, its function was one of mediation as well as inspiration, and no potential participants were excluded. China’s best-known mode of traditional diplomatic management was the tribute system. I have avoided referring to it until this point because its popularity since the Fairbank volume has led to a stereotyping of its meaning and consequently to attacks on its validity.24 The tribute system is often assumed to be a ritualized system of regional hegemony, implying subservience of the tributary states and the unquestioned domination of China. It should already be clear that the idea of China’s centrality presented here is quite different, and thus that the rationale of the tribute system must be different as well. The tribute system had deep roots in Chinese diplomacy. Tribute (gong) and imperial bestowals (ci) have been exchanged from the beginning in rituals of bringing tribute to the center (chao gong), but the process was formalized as a result of the Ming’s recognition of the limits of power. As Wang Gungwu observes, “The Chinese tributary system had been formally institutionalized during the Ming dynasty, partly in reaction against the Mongol urge to conquer vast areas of territory, acts of expansion that could only lead to eventual defeat, withdrawal, and exhaustion.”25 However, the Mongol experience raised the horizons of the Ming, creating an exploratory spirit exemplified by Zheng He’s voyages. The challenge was to extend the reach of the empire without creating overreach. The tribute system provided rituals and routines that met the needs of both the center and the various polities on the periphery. The regular and regulated official visits to Nanjing and later to Beijing confirmed deference to China’s centrality and virtuous superiority. At the same time, the imperial audience confirmed China’s recognition of the legitimacy of surrounding rulers and of the autonomy of their domains. The exchange of deference for recognition of autonomy was a fundamental contribution to stability. It was also important to all parties that China was anchoring a regional system that no single actor – including China – could provide unilaterally.

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The relationship between formal diplomatic arrangements and trade was complex, and Wang Gungwu has provided a comprehensive overview of its evolution with regards to overseas trade.26 He argues that before the Ming, trade emerged apace with its demographic, material, and financial prerequisites, and ideological/ political constraints were minor. However, from the Ming, conditions were in place for China to develop into a major maritime power, and Confucianism – here the low opinion of trade and the conviction that official control of trade is necessary – was a major inhibiting factor in economic and technological change. Private trade continued, but under the cloud of official suspicion and sometimes prohibition. There were some trading patterns separate from the tribute system that were fostered by the government, for instance the purchase of horses from the Kazakhs during the Qing, but these served official purposes.27 The primary purpose of the tribute system was the mutual security provided by the exchange of autonomy and deference rather than the development of economic relations. Asia became increasingly decentered as Western presence increased from the mid-nineteenth century. China’s role was directly challenged by France in Vietnam and by Japan in Korea, but even Siam allowed its tributary relationship to wither and die. China was no longer the center of attention. It became a fellow victim overshadowed by the capacities of the developed world in a global political economy. The re-emergence of China as a regional center in the present era is also occurring in a globalized environment, but its heritage as a traditional center remains important. Even without the deus ex machina of Western imperialism, the inherent curses of Chinese agrarian centrality would likely have led to further adaptations in the East Asian region. I would suggest that if China had successfully resisted the British in 1840 and had defeated Japan in 1895 its domestic situation would have been much improved, but its relationship to the rest of Asia would have been transformed by even a peaceful Western presence. In general, the rest of Asia was not in a defensive central position, and the options of self-isolation available to Japan and Korea were more self-constricting and fragile. Perhaps technological and trade innovations would have produced a challenger to China, but in any case this first phase of globalization would likely have reduced the salience of the asymmetry between China and its neighbors, and given the neighbors more opportunities away from China. As Wang Gungwu points out, until the Opium War, the Western presence in Asia was much like other imperial presences.28 Without guns but with steel, the new sea-borne presence of the West would have reshaped the regional consciousness, and with it the basic context of China’s external relations. China would likely have remained a sub-center, a regional center, but not a tian xia. The transformation of Chinese consciousness so well described by Joseph Levenson29 was not the result of humiliation, but rather of modernity.

The West and the conceptualization of international relations The Western tian xia is of more recent vintage than the Chinese, but its roots encompass the whole of the Western experience of dealing with others in its own

Traditional China and the globalization of IR thinking 125 neighborhood around the Mediterranean and later in the North Atlantic. From the time of the Phoenicians by sea and the Celts and other wanderers by land, Western history has involved conflict among potential challengers and trade with distant places. The major exception was pre-Ptolemaic Egypt, where the Nile provided a resource center and the desert natural barriers. But Egypt was not massive enough to anchor a broader regional pattern, and it was not maritime. Alexander founded Alexandria, its major port. Turkey was more typical: from earliest times it has been a palimpsest of residues of peoples on the move by land and by sea. The Phoenicians established trading colonies throughout the Mediterranean, followed by the Greeks and the Romans. Ironically (by Chinese standards), the success of Corinth and later of Athens was based on bad land and good commercial location. The glories of Venice, Portugal, Spain, Holland, and England applied an ancient pattern to new opportunities. There was a hunger for riches from abroad and a communal excitement about distant possibilities that never possessed China. Western empires arose in competitive environments. They were centers of relative power rather than natural centers of capacity. Some relied on raw power to demolish some opponents and to intimidate the rest; others reassured neighbors with tolerant policies and assurances of respect.30 In all cases, however, relative power was decisive not only for the fate of the ruler but also for the location of the imperial center. The Mediterranean was the central space around which armies contended, but there was no central place. The Roman Empire was the exception that proved the rule. Rome succeeded in surrounding the Mediterranean, but it still had a central space rather than concentrated resources at its heart, and this complicated its security.31 Luttwak describes Rome as a hegemonic empire, relying on the control of clients on its borders to supplement and buffer the Empire’s security. But security remained at risk to the loyalty of the clients, which depended in turn on the credible sanctions of the Roman legions. But as the Empire succeeded, it expanded. As it expanded, it developed greater territorial vulnerability and dependency on clients. A monopoly of the Mediterranean world did not solve the problem of fight for survival, but rather metastasized it. Rome also provides an example of the mobility of empire. Since Rome itself depended on its favorable balance of power, the center of gravity of its internal politics could also shift with its legions. When Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon, he was asserting the strength of his legions against the center. Finally the eastern and western empires split and the western part fragmented. Byzantium fell to the Turks, who established a dynamic empire based on conquest and relying eventually on the management of increasingly autonomous sub-centers. The expansion of European trading routes in the fifteenth century began to change the West into a global center, but global reach only intensified conflict within Europe itself. Multiple “great powers” emerged, each capable of challenging the others. The balance of power in Europe became the focus of attention, with the rest of the world important only insofar as conquest and exploitation affected the capacities of the metropolitan powers.32 The “industrial wars” of the twentieth century became world wars, and the United States, the largest and best

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sheltered of the industrial powers, rose to pre-eminence, challenged only by the Soviet Union.33 The bipolar competition of the Cold War was in some respects the ultimate expression of the reorganization of the world in the image of competitive challengers, but the destructive capacity of nuclear weapons and the simplification of competition had fundamentally changed the premises of the imperial order. Great wars were now counterproductive, though the arms race continued the economic importance of industrial warfare. In fact, though, the bipolar battles occurred in “small wars,” asymmetric conflicts of which the American war in Vietnam was the most prominent example.34 As the only remaining superpower in the post-Cold War era, the United States was the apparent final victor in globalized Western competition for power. But small wars continue, and the US wages an arms race against itself in anticipation of future challengers. 2008 marked the transition of the post-Cold War era into a more de-centered era of global economic uncertainty, however, and fundamental questions should be raised concerning an appropriate paradigm for global international relations.

The limits of the Middle Sea The above brief sketch of Western and then global history allows us to make some equally simplistic contrasts with the experience of Asia. The first point that bears reiteration is the importance of the Mediterranean as both a medium of transport and as a barrier to invasion. Water provided long and thin transport that required a technology-dependent vehicle, while land movement was short and thick, requiring only legs and provisions.35 Water made it possible for polities to extend their reach without leaving home. Complemented by nomadic populations on land who were perfectly willing to move, the political demography of the West was considerably more complicated and more fundamentally volatile – in both time and space – than Asia’s. The West’s fluid center brought with it a corresponding set of blessings and curses. The blessings derived from restlessness around a central space combined with access to distant lands. The Western security curse was that of relative power. The presumption of competitive challenge put a premium on being capable of defeating the others. This was true of land warfare with its risk of occupation, and of naval warfare, with its risk of ship destruction, commercial embargo, and raiding. At the extreme, the premise would hold that relative gain is more important than absolute gain: an enemy’s loss is more important than a mutual benefit. By contrast, in China’s asymmetric situation even nomads would be less averse to absolute gain as long as they remained mobile enough to dodge China. The cumulative productive and demographic success of traditional China and of Asia in general might be attributed in part to the absence of the curse of relative power and the consequent avoidance of destructive competition. The most profound expression of the curse of relative power is Hegel’s metaphor of the master-servant (Herr-Knecht) relationship in his Phenomenology of Mind.36

Traditional China and the globalization of IR thinking 127 In Hegel’s narration of the emergence of self-consciousness, the discovery that there are other subjectivities requires a struggle for supremacy. The struggle ends not with the death of the other, but with the other submitting its will to the victor under the threat of death. But submission is not the end of the story. The servant must master nature in order to fulfill the wishes of his superior, and thereby the servant achieves real freedom through an objective extension of his consciousness. Although presented at the individual level, the application to class struggle and to international conflict is obvious. A second curse of the West was that of avarice.37 In contrast to China’s limited agrarian horizons, the Phoenicians and their successors could imagine themselves in possession of the best of the world’s riches, and their worldly horizons could be more easily expanded by adventure and technology. Except that the word has an unpleasant ring, avarice might seem to be an energizing and thoroughly modern vice rather than a curse, as Bernard Mandeville argued long ago.38 It might be said that the children of the avaricious shall inherit the earth. Clearly, however, the disinherited suffer, and their defense of their interests can be expected. Moreover, from the time of Alcibiades’ ill-fated invasion of Sicily, international avarice has poisoned and misled domestic politics. It is hardly necessary to mention contemporary examples. Lastly, as the limits of global resources are increasingly challenged by technology and consumption, the competitive game can shift from win-lose to lose-lose. The difference between the avarice curse and China’s more limited horizons of cupidity can be illustrated by a brief comparison of two famous realists, Machiavelli and Han Fei Zi. Neither were moralists, and Han Fei Zi would undoubtedly agree with Machiavelli that the appearance of virtue is more important than virtue itself. But Machiavelli was an entrepreneurial realist. His hero was Cesare Borgia, a man who fought well with fortune and created his own opportunities. Han Fei Zi was a bureaucratic realist, with the maxim, “Be empty, still, and silent, and from your place of darkness observe the weaknesses of others.” Han Fei Zi was the more thorough cynic, but he presupposed an existing structure of authority in which king and ministers would fight their hundred daily battles. He was a spider in a web rather than a hunter. A third curse is that of disequilibrium. It follows from the focus on relative power that parity between states, the apparent stability point, is actually the point of greatest instability.39 With parity the prior situation of domination is undercut, and the possibilities of either its restoration or of a new pattern must be decided by the outcome of challenge. But even an established hegemonic system will ultimately be destabilized by technological change, by the greater productivity of the periphery, or by its own mistakes.40 The cycle of hegemonic rise and fall is inexorable, and yet is contested at every step. Even the apparent stability of a system of international balances is not based on the successful management of asymmetries, but rather on the complicated tying together of relatively equal bundles of states. The Western fascination with the rise and fall of hegemonic states can be contrasted with the Asian interest in the fates of dynasties. From the Iliad, and most classically in Thucydides, the displacement of one hegemonic nation by another has been a principal object of attention in the West. The exception is pharaonic

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Egypt;41 the exception that proves the rule is that of Israel in the Bible, whose centrality was as a people chosen by God and whose sufferings and wanderings confirm worldly disequilibria. By contrast, not only China, but also Korea and Vietnam kept “veritable records” for the purpose of composing dynastic histories and thereby edifying their successors.42 The implicit confidence in the located stability of states in Asia is impressive. Explaining change in fortune fascinates all observers of history, and Asia and the West would agree that “the empire, long united, must divide.” The difference is that in Asia it is the same empire that “long divided, must unite.”43

The West as the middle power From the 1500s on, the West remade the world, not in its image, but in its service. It would excessively romanticize existing conditions to say that it introduced new forms of oppression – after all, Qing China and Mughal India were ruled by foreign minorities, and Moctezuma II was known for conquering his neighbors and favoring aristocracy before being conquered in turn by Hernán Cortés. The effect of imperialism was not the destruction of innocence, but rather the restructuring of world attention around new risks and opportunities. As one might expect, the attention of Western powers remained concentrated on itself. While no European country could consider itself the center of the world, the world’s heartland was Europe, and that was where the fate of each would be decided. Colonies were targets of opportunity, but were not threats, and the consciousness of threat trumps the awareness of opportunity.44 The “great game” was among the great powers, wherever it was played. Knowledge was power, modernity was power, power was virtue. The tribute of the unpowerful was collected on site and was brought to museums by the powerful. The unpowerful merited only the bestowal of integration into the modern world and condescending working of their exotica into more scientific world views. Imperialism was founded on conquest rather than deference, and on subjugation rather than autonomy. Contrary to the parochial self-absorption of Western imperial consciousness, the actual governance of each colony required constant adjustment to the limits of the actual forces available and the reality of local interests and resistance. The Western enclaves originally were not dramatically out of step with other patterns of rule in Asia. The balance shifted with the coming of steamships and firepower, but only to new limits of colonial extension and intensification. Francis Younghusband in 1904 could use Maxim machine guns against matchlocks to massacre the Tibetan army, but to his chagrin the Foreign Office decided that Tibet would be a bridge too far for the British Empire.45 The French could subsidize Pham Quynh’s publications in an effort to broaden their cultural base in Vietnam, but they had to allow him to put his own spin on Vietnamese nationalism.46 Ultimately, however, the intensity of colonial subjugation and exposure to new modes of thought contributed to a push for national liberation that was ultimately successful. The Cold War drama of two nuclear powers facing off was riveting to the superpowers themselves and to Europeans in the middle, and it provided a new form of

Traditional China and the globalization of IR thinking 129 competitive centricity to the global picture. The contentious heartland of power was simplified into two great camps. But the magnitude of the contending capacities distracted viewers from the practical question of each state’s actual exposure to risk and opportunity. As Allen Lynch has argued, the Cold War confrontation has had many endings.47 The global policy of the superpowers was derivative from their new great game, but the actual crises arose from more local roots. The American war in Vietnam revolved around containment of Communism; the Vietnamese war with the Americans was about national liberation. The disjunction between global intervention and local realities produced crises of frustrated power. The curse of fixation on relative power produced blindness to the realities of asymmetric conflict. Historians will see the post-Cold War era, 1991–2008, as the ultimate expression of Western parochialism – and let me be the first! The collapse of the Soviet Union led to two equally fallacious expectations of its consequences. The first to fall was the expectation that American domination would quickly be challenged by other countries balancing against it. The second, which lasted until 2008, was that the sole superpower was safe in its hegemony until a challenger emerged. Both were founded on a notional bedrock of relative power, avarice, and disequilibrium. But the supporting realities of heartland contention, of open frontiers for avarice, and of alternative centers of order had eroded. In the 1990s the world was ready for a leadership by authority rather than by force, but the United States could not imagine such a role. With the shock of 9–11, the United States became a rogue center, with broad threats to the security of others while at the same time undermining its capacity advantages. Appropriately enough, the future of the current era of global economic uncertainty that began in 2008 is unclear. But definitely the post-Cold War era is over. The confidence of the world in the global system and the self-confidence of the United States are not likely to be restored in the near future, and when they are restored it is likely to be a quite different global system and a changed American self. Although relative capacities are even more important in a globalized world, the United States has demonstrated that relative power is not sustainable as an instrument of domination. The avarice of easy wealth that came to a crescendo at the end of the post-Cold War era is being replaced by a cautious localism. Individuals and states will be more keen to preserve what they have rather than to undertake the risks of aggrandizement. Finally, the restructuring of world order is not likely to eventuate in the challenge and displacement of one hegemonic system by another. Differences in capacity are more likely to produce a multi-nodal pattern of world attention. Unless the United States isolates itself from the rest of the world, it will remain the center, but as primus inter pares rather than as world hegemon.

Lessons from Chinese history China was eliminated from the lesson book of international relations thinking by its impotence in the face of Western imperialism and by its inability to adapt to the realities of the modern era. As Woodside argues, the discarding of the Chinese past extended even to areas in which China had been the leader in the pre-modern

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era. As Western countries were expanding their civil service examination systems, China was discontinuing its examinations in the name of progress, and when public administration was re-introduced in Nanjing in the 1930s it was based on Western models.48 If history must become passé in order to provide lessons, then Chinese history meets the criterion. It is, of course, a familiar truism that the lesson of history is that no one learns the lessons of history. To use Hegel’s somber metaphor, the owl of Minerva flies only with the coming of the dusk. And in trying to bring the experience of China’s international relations into global thinking we are, in effect, asking Minerva’s owl to fly even higher than usual in order to broaden its horizons. In a new era of global economic uncertainty, progress will be made by trial and error, and eyes will be glued to the road ahead rather than to the rearview mirror. Nevertheless, any learning process is an intellectual activity as well as a practical one, and the richer the conceptual arsenal the fewer the errors and the more productive the trials.49 We will first consider the applicability of China’s traditional diplomacy to its current situation in a globalized modern world, and then more general global lessons.

Lessons for a globalized China China is certainly in a different international situation from the days of tian xia, and its growing capacities are not simply restoring the earlier environment. The current tension in China between globalization and national identity is quite different from the traditional discrepancy between China’s official claims to centrality and unadmitted practical shortcomings and vulnerabilities.50 While modernity is no longer identified with Westernization, there is still the presumption that “Chinese characteristics” are idiosyncratic to China rather than modifications with a broader significance. The most basic difference between China today and its past is the acceptance of universal values and international equality in place of the pervasive particularism and formal inequality of the tribute system.51 Nevertheless, some common basic instincts can be seen. The emphasis in the “Five Principles of Peaceful Co-existence” on non-interference in domestic affairs and mutual benefit are akin to earlier recognitions of autonomy, even if the proximate origins of the Five Principles were the shared Third World experiences of victimization by imperialism. A closer match would be the caution and awareness of limits of the Deng Xiaoping era, especially in the 1990s. The first three lines of his famous “28-character expression” could have been uttered by many an emperor, though the last four suggest a non-centric location: Lengjing guancha (watch coolly and analyze) Wenzhu zhen jiao (secure your position) Chen zhuo ying fu (deal confidently with changes) Tao guang yang hui (hide your capabilities) Shanyu shou zhuo (keep a low profile) Jue bu dang tou (do not assume leadership) You suo zuo wei (make some contribution)52

Traditional China and the globalization of IR thinking 131 In the reform era China’s economic growth combined with its openness policies have made it increasingly central to Asia, and the return of a familiar role though in an unfamiliar setting resonates with China’s diplomatic past. The impressive successes of its good-neighbor policies have been based on a sensitivity to the vulnerabilities and anxieties of smaller states and on an skillful utilization of official visits to ritualize the normalcy of these asymmetric relationships. A new element has been the promotion of multilateral bodies such as the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) and ASEAN+3, but multilateralism is not contrary to the spirit of traditional mutual assurances. Besides China’s re-emergence as an Asian center, the polarity of its new centrality has some similarities to the past. No longer is it a north-south polarity of nomads and settled neighbors, however. China could be said to be in a tri-polar regional environment in which Southeast Asia is again the most stable direction (after forty years of tension) and Central Asia is the new and complex zone in which China’s efforts with the SCO have borne much fruit. The most problematic area is Northeast Asia, both because of the implicit rivalry with Japan and the volatility of Korea. In general, however, it is true now, as in the past, that China’s capacity to act in any one area is conditioned by its indirect effects on other areas, and that this provides an additional incentive for careful and other-regarding diplomacy.53 It is still a matter of concern, however, that China’s success in Asia will lead to an arrogance of power that will be self-limiting, at least, and perhaps self-defeating. Just as the Yongle emperor exceeded the Ancestral Injunctions, it is imaginable that China could “outgrow” the sobering lessons of the Cultural Revolution and begin to use its preponderance of power vis-à-vis its neighbors to maximize its interests at their expense. To be sure, there will always be differences of interests between China and its neighbors, as demonstrated for instance by the “Garlic War” with South Korea.54 Neighbors will be quick to call foul, and because of their vulnerability they will exaggerate the dangers of China’s actions. But it is in China’s long-term interests to manage its asymmetric relationships rather than to force them for immediate advantage. China’s traditional diplomacy also has relevance for its new role in a multi-nodal, globalized situation. The principles guiding its relationships with Africa and South America can be seen as extensions of its regional polices, but with some important differences. Certainly mutual assurances, win-win policies, and diplomatic ritual are as important with Brazil as with Thailand, but relations with Brazil are more elective and tend to be focused on specific items of mutual interest. Moreover, as important as China has become as a global presence, it is not the global center. Indeed, if it had aspirations to become the global center its global relationships would be the first to suffer. Essentially, therefore, in its extra-regional relationships China is dealing with equals, regardless of asymmetries, and it must base its behavior on shared principles of international law and on global organizations rather than on regional arrangements. At this level, and beyond the post-Cold War era, China is dealing with a center in which the United States is the major but not hegemonic power, and this is a new environment for all.

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Global lessons It would be hard to imagine an international situation more different from China’s traditional tian xia than the present. The American share of the world’s GDP is roughly the same as the Chinese share of the world’s population, one-fifth of the total.55 There is now neither a central place nor a central space, but rather a global matrix of states with an unprecedented intensity and scope of interaction. The daily attention that the world pays to the Wall Street is reciprocated by the Wall Street’s alertness to bumps in the global business outlook. Although national interests remain located, they no longer have horizons of attention. It would be most accurate to say that the system is the center, though the United States is in the central position. The key to the global importance of the United States lies not so much in its own capacities, but in the dependence, symbolized by the dollar, of every state on a stable system of interaction. The current global economic uncertainty will weaken the specifically American role in the global system, but it underlines the overall importance of the matrix. For better or worse, the contemporary tian xia is in fact “all under heaven.” Asymmetry has increased in importance. Although the patterns of international interaction are far more complex and volatile than in the past, disparities in capacities remain important. Discrepancies in exposure to risk and opportunity in bilateral relationships remain great, and it is even more difficult for larger states to force compliance by smaller states. Globalization has diversified each state’s exposure, both in terms of partners and of issues. There are now global issues, like pandemics and global warming, that are not simply the aggregate of national problems, and transnational actors of all sorts as well. Common problems and greater interaction do not produce symmetry, but they do create a common need for an effective and collaborative approach to developing international institutions and solving problems. A multi-nodal international situation means more than the emergence of new powers and the expansion of a competitive great powers framework. It would be Western, all too Western, to view the emergence of China, India, and Brazil as simply an expansion of the existing power club. While the middle-income countries are likely to make the largest relative gains in an era of economic uncertainty, the major inhibitor of global recovery is likely to be the general persistence of anxiety concerning national interests. To the extent that inclusion of the largest middle-income states implies the exclusion of the rest, tensions between insiders and outsiders might increase. Beyond its heritage contribution to China itself, what can Chinese history offer to the globalized world? The most basic thread of situational similarity is that most states, and especially the United States, are facing the problem of challenge without challengers. The limits of power are not defined by symmetric opponents, but rather by the sustainability of relationships. A preponderance of relative power does not solve the problem of international relations in favor of the stronger, but rather requires a structure of interaction in which both – or all – can get what they need and feel secure in their expectations. East Asian historical experience

Traditional China and the globalization of IR thinking 133 offers the example of mutual assurance as a strategy of managing international relationships. The contemporary utility of China’s traditional mode of managing asymmetric relationships is certainly undermined by its presumption of status inequality, but to the extent that asymmetric relationships are in fact unequal, the posture of principled action, impartiality and inclusiveness is still relevant. Even the tribute system holds lessons in that public exchanges of recognition of autonomy and expressions of deference are still important. China’s contemporary diplomacy has been a model in this regard, with a full range of active official visits in all directions. Perhaps the most spectacular was the Africa Summit of November 2006, which brought leading officials from nearly fifty African states to Beijing. By contrast, the United States recently has been a teacher by negative example regarding diplomatic ritual. The manifold mismanagement of the visit of President Hu Jintao to Washington in April 2006 was a notable example.56 The importance of asymmetric summit meetings is not the “deliverables,” but rather the implicit recognition of the autonomy of the smaller state. Goethe once said that one does not know one’s own language until one learns another, and this may be particularly true for international communication. The road ahead will require diplomatic ingenuity and creativity, and a lively intellectual awareness of options is important to both. Ultimately the actual interaction of all under heaven in a globalized world is too far removed from the premises of either the Chinese or the Western tian xia for either to prove a reliable model. Since the Western tian xia is the world’s default setting for thinking about international relationships, perhaps the greatest contemporary utility of exploring traditional Chinese diplomacy is that it demonstrates that other paradigms have been successfully applied. The most basic contribution of the study of history is not its ready-made lessons, but the questions that it raises that test the preconceptions and stereotypes of the present. No one has been better positioned to query the assumptions of both China and the West than Wang Gungwu. As a Nanyang Chinese eminently successful in a Western academic environment, he is an “inside outsider” to China and an “outside insider” to the West. His work has stimulated both to rethink themselves.

Notes 1 For the convenience of concentration on the general argument I will use contemporary state names throughout this essay, as well as vague terms such as ‘the West’ and ‘Asia’, despite their manifold historical inaccuracies. Similarly, the historical focus of my ‘traditional China’ is sharpest on the Ming and Qing, and earlier periods are increasingly out of focus. 2 Wang Gungwu, ‘Ming foreign relations: Southeast Asia’, in Denis Twitchett and Frederick Mote (eds), The Cambridge History of China, Vol. 8: The Ming Dynasty, 1368–1644, Part 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), p. 304; Lien-sheng Yang, ‘Historical Notes on the Chinese World Order’, in John King Fairbank (ed.), The Chinese World Order: Traditional China’s foreign relations (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1968), pp. 20–33. 3 Brantly Womack, China and Vietnam: The politics of asymmetry (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006), Chapter Six.

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4 Wang Gungwu, ‘Ming foreign relations’, op. cit., pp. 319–23. 5 Mark Elvin, The Pattern of the Chinese Past (Stanford CA: Stanford University Press, 1973). 6 Mark Elvin, ‘The environmental impasse in late-imperial China’, in Brantly Womack (ed.), China’s Rise in Historical Perspective (New York: Rowman and Littlefield, forthcoming). 7 Mark Elvin, The Retreat of the Elephants: An environmental history of China (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004). 8 Evelyn Rawski, ‘Chinese strategy and security issues in historical perspective’, in Womack, China’s Rise, forthcoming, op. cit. 9 Brantly Womack, ‘Asymmetry and systemic misperception: the cases of China, Vietnam and Cambodia during the 1970s’, Journal of Strategic Studies, 26(2) (June, 2003): 91–118. 10 Of course, attention is not simply a matter of capacity. North Korea receives quite a bit of attention at present because of its erratic policies on weapons development. However, attention patterns generated by crisis are in disequilibrium with default patterns based on capacities, and so the pattern is likely to be as temporary as the crisis. 11 Wang Gungwu, ‘Empires and anti-empires: Asia in world politics’, in Geir Lundestad (ed.), The Fall of Great Powers (Oslo: Scandinavian University Press; New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), pp. 235–55. 12 Wang Gungwu, ‘Early Ming relations with Southeast Asia’, in Fairbank, The Chinese World Order, op. cit., pp. 34–62. 13 Womack, China and Vietnam, op. cit., pp. 122–6. 14 Ming Taizu, as quoted in Wang, ‘Ming foreign relations’, op. cit., pp. 311–2. 15 Wang, ‘Early Ming relations’, op. cit. 16 David Armitage links European “imperial amnesia” with the nationalist dissociation of domestic history and external empire. However, perhaps it has deeper roots in the inevitable attenuation of interest of a central power in the periphery. See David Armitage, The Ideological Origins of the British Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), esp. pp. 12–15. 17 Alexander Woodside, ‘The center and the borderlands in Chinese political theory’, in Diana Lary (ed.), The Chinese State at the Borders (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2007), p. 21. 18 Ibid., p. 20. 19 IWAI Shigeki. ‘China’s frontier society in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries’, Acta Asiatica, 88 (2005): 1–20. 20 Peter Perdue, China Marches West (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2005), pp. 180–90. 21 Evelyn Rawski, ‘Re-envisioning the Qing: The significance of the Qing period in Chinese history’, Journal of Asian Studies, 55(4) (1996): 829–50. 22 Wang, ‘Ming foreign relations’, op. cit. 23 Wang, ‘Early Ming relations’, op. cit. 24 On the first page of his introduction, Fairbank himself refers to the ‘the hoary stereotypes of the tribute system’. Fairbank, The Chinese World Order, op. cit., p. 1. 25 Wang, ‘Empires and anti-empires’, op. cit., p. 239. 26 Wang Gungwu, ‘“Public” and “private” in overseas trade in Chinese history’, in Wang Gungwu, China and the Chinese Overseas (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003), pp. 129–43. 27 Perdue, China Marches West, op. cit., pp. 400–406. 28 Wang, ‘Empires and anti-empires’, op. cit., p. 238. 29 Joseph Levenson, Confucian China and its Modern Fate (Berkeley CA: University of California Press, 1968). 30 Stuart Kaufman (ed.), The Balance of Power in World History (New York: Palgrave, 2007).

Traditional China and the globalization of IR thinking 135 31 It is estimated that sailing from Naples to Alexandria would take from 9 to 42 days, while the same march would take between 180 and 210 days (Edward Luttwak, The Grand Strategy of the Roman Empire (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1976), p. 84). 32 David Hume, ‘Of the balance of power’, in Charles Hendel (ed.), David Hume’s Political Essays (New York: Liberal Arts Press, 1953), pp. 142–4; Martin Wight, ‘The balance of power and international order’, in Alan James (ed.), The Bases of International Order (London: Oxford University Press, 1973), pp. 85–115. 33 Rupert Smith, The Utility of Force: The art of war in the modern world (New York: Knopf, 2005). 34 William Turley, The Second Indochina War, 2nd ed. (Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 2009). 35 The role of water in defense is emphasized by John Mearsheimer in The Tragedy of Great Power Politics (New York: Norton, 2001). 36 G. W. F. Hegel, ‘Selbstständigkeit und Unselbständigkeit des Selbstbewusstseins: Herrschaft und Knechtschaft’, Phänomenologie des Geistes (1807). 37 I use “avarice” in the sense of Thomas Aquinas to signify the pursuit of goods or wealth for its own sake. It was sanctified in the modern era as “possessive individualism.” See Anthony Parel, ‘Aquinas’ Theory of Property’, in Anthony Parel and Thomas Flanagan (eds), Theories of Property Aristotle to the Present (Calgary: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1979), pp. 89–114; C. B. Macpherson, The Political Theory of Possessive Individualism: Hobbes to Locke (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1962). 38 Bernard Mandeville, Fable of the Bees: or, Private Vices, Publick Benefits (1714). 39 The instability of parity is especially emphasized by power transition theory. See Ronald Tammen et al., Power Transitions: Strategies for the 21st century (New York: Chatham House, 2000). 40 Robert Gilpin, War and Change in World Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981). 41 Including the Ptolemies. Although they were Greeks who came to power through Alexander, they assiduously adopted the trappings of dynastic Egypt. 42 Alexander Woodside, Lost Modernities (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2006), p. 25. 43 A transposition of the first line of Luo Guanzhong, Three Kingdoms, 4 vols, translated by Moss Roberts, (Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1995), Vol. 1, p. 1. 44 Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky, ‘Prospect theory: an analysis of decision under risk’, Econometrica, XLVII (1979): 263–91. 45 No British were killed; 628 of the estimated 2,000 Tibetans present were killed; other than matchlocks and hand weapons, three Russian-made rifles were recovered (Patrick French, Younghusband: The last great imperial adventurer (New York: Harper, 1994), p. 224). 46 Sarah Womack, ‘Colonialism and the collaborationist agenda: Pham Quynh, print culture, and the politics of persuasion in colonial Vietnam’ (PhD dissertation; Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 2003). 47 Allen Lynch, The Cold War is Over – Again? (Boulder CO: Westview, 1992). 48 Woodside, Lost Modernities, op. cit., pp. 10–14. 49 Jeff Legro, Rethinking the World: Great power strategies and international order (Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press, 2005). 50 Yu Keping, ‘Americanization, Westernization, Sinification: modernization or globalization in China?’ in Yu Keping, Globalization and Changes in China’s Governance (Leiden: Brill, 2008), pp. 77–92. 51 Qin Yaqing, ‘Struggle for identity: a political psychology of China’s rise’, in Womack (ed.), China’s Rise, forthcoming, op. cit. 52 Zhao Quansheng, ‘Chinese foreign policy in the post-cold war era’, in Guoli Liu (ed.), Chinese Foreign Policy in Transition (New York: Aldine, 2004), p. 296.

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53 Brantly Womack, ‘China between region and world’, China Journal, 61 (January 2009): 1–20. 54 Chung Jae Ho, ‘From a special relationship to a normal partnership’, Pacific Affairs, 76(3) (Winter 2003–4): 549–68. 55 The estimated 2008 US GDP in purchasing power parity (PPP) terms is 20.56 percent of global GDP, and China’s estimated July 2009 population is 19.71 percent of global population (Central Intelligence Agency, World Factbook. Available online at: https:// www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/ (accessed 16 May 2009)). 56 Dana Milbank, ‘China and its president greeted by a host of indignities’, Washington Post (21 April 2006).

Part III

Chinese overseas and China’s international relations

8

Conceptualizing Chinese migration and Chinese overseas The contribution of Wang Gungwu1 Huang Jianli

Straddling the scholarly domains of China and Chinese communities abroad Wang Gungwu was born in the Dutch East Indies (present-day Indonesia), grew up in Malaya and went to university in China, Singapore and the United Kingdom. The long years of anchorage in Malaya-Singapore and his cosmopolitan border crossings influenced his search of academic expertise. Today, Wang is recognized as a world authority on the domains of both China studies and Chinese migration and its settlements abroad. Although his academic journey and achievements can be regarded as fairly evenly balanced in the two realms, there were certain periods during which he concentrated on one at the expense of the other and he also tended, in his own reminiscences, to place China studies on a higher pedestal. Hence, while he was saluted as ‘the great doyen of overseas Chinese historical scholarship’ (Ang 2001: 81–2), he declared that his ‘first love’ and ‘starting point’ was the history of China per se (Wang 2004b: 160–2; Benton and Liu 2004: 17). He confessed: I did not set out to study the Chinese overseas. My interest was always in Chinese history. This is partly because I started life as a Chinese sojourner, a huaqiao, someone temporarily resident abroad. If circumstances permitted it, such a person would look foremost to China. I was no exception. (Wang 2004b: 160–2) His pursuit of Chinese history began with informal lessons under the close guidance of his mother and his father – who was a leading Chinese educator (Benton and Liu 2004: 1, 13; Wang 2003l: 151, fn 3). Wang’s graduation theses for his Bachelor of Arts (Honours) (1953) and his Master of Arts (1955) from the University of Malaya (at Singapore) were respectively on the anti-Qing activities of Chinese reformists and revolutionaries and on the ancient Nanhai trade between China and its southern oceans from the Qin-Han era to the Tang dynasty. It is significant that the two topics dealt with personalities and their activities which were operating both inside and outside China, thus the Malayan/Southeast Asian

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dimension was sitting neatly next to that of China. It was only at the PhD level that Wang made the decision to do his overseas graduate training solely on China: ‘I turned totally towards Sinology and the history of China. This gave prominence to one of my desires, to be the Chinese scholar that my parents would be proud of ’ (Wang 2004a: 148–9). His doctoral dissertation (1957) at the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, focussed on the fifty years of turmoil following the fall of the Tang dynasty. This thesis won him professional credentials as a Chinese historian and was subsequently published as The Structure of Power in North China during the Five Dynasties (Wang 1963). However, after Wang’s return to Singapore-Malaya in the late 1950s to be ‘a local university man’, his self-declared ‘confused desires’ were once again stirred by the socio-political environment in the region (Wang 2004a: 147–8). Before long, he succumbed to the pull of the politics of new nationhood in Malaya and joined his university colleagues in encouraging research on Malayan history. Based upon the foundation laid in his earlier work on the ancient Nanhai trade, he followed up on the story and presented it anew in a series of radio talks in 1958 which was published in the following year as A Short History of the Nanyang Chinese (Wang 2004a: 148–9; 2004b: 160–2; 1959). To Wang, this piece of work represents ‘one of my earliest efforts to understand the Chinese of Southeast Asia’, and was in heavy demand and ‘out of print for a very long time’. It went on to appear in translated versions in Chinese (1969, 1988) and in Japanese (1972). He republished it in English in 1991 in its original form because it had become ‘something of a historical document representing the point of view of Southeast Asian Chinese over a generation ago, in the 1950s …. I have let it stand as a record of an important transitional period in Southeast Asian history’ (Wang 1992: vii). In retrospect, this short but incisive account of Chinese abroad can be regarded as the defining moment of a ‘take-off’ when Wang crafted a new sub-field of research and teaching within the broader framework of China studies, one which was centred on Chinese migration and settlements abroad. When Wang left the University of Malaya for a new appointment in the Australian National University in 1968, his interest in his ‘first love, the history of China’ was briefly reinvigorated by the open accessibility of Chinese source materials and the liberal intellectual climate of China studies in Canberra. More importantly, President Nixon’s announcement of his China visit in June 1971 and China’s re-admission to the United Nations in October eventually led to Malaysia establishing diplomatic ties with the People’s Republic of China on 31 May 1974, the Philippines on 9 June 1975, and Thailand on 1 July 1975. Such dramatic developments in turn aroused a new scholarly interest in China (Wang 1981a: 249; 1991h: 286–87). Caught up in this rising tide of interest, Wang immediately published a series of articles focussing on China per se: ‘The Inside and Outside of Chinese History’ (1972); ‘The Re-emergence of China’ (1973); ‘Chinese Society and Chinese Foreign Policy’ (1973); ‘Imperial and Modern Bureaucracy’ (1973); ‘New Verdict on Qin Shihuang’ (1974) (see collection in Wang 2003k). He went on to publish a 190-page book on China and the World since 1949 (Wang 1977).

Conceptualizing Chinese migration 141 Simultaneously the trauma in international relations revived Wang’s early concerns about China’s ties with the Chinese abroad. Hence, in his early years at Canberra he continued to research and publish works relating to Malaysia and other parts of Southeast Asia (Wang 1991c: 130–46; 2003j: 111–48). Wang had apparently reached a stage in his academic journey where ‘one’s point of departure cannot be reduced either to a pure China or to a pure Southeast Asia’. As he pointed out, ‘I have feelings for both, but neither gets the upper hand’ (Benton and Liu 2004: 17). It seems that, by the mid-1970s, he had settled into a strategy of straddling the two domains of China and Southeast Asian Chinese, and was trying to create a synergy out of this combination by focussing on ‘the interplay between China’s view of those communities and the view of themselves by the Chinese outside’. He professed that ‘this interplay has guided my main writings till this day’ (Wang 2004b: 163). The subsequent ten years of Vice-Chancellorship at the University of Hong Kong (1987–96) situated at the border of China, and his return to Singapore (1996 to present) located at the heart of Southeast Asia only served to reinforce the duality and interplay. To tease out the dynamics of this interplay, Wang spent an enormous amount of time and energy searching for the most appropriate terms and imposing certain standards of scholarly precision on their usage. His long and passionate engagement with terminology may not be as dramatic as that of a Shakespearean play, but is nonetheless colourful and worthy of charting for an understanding of scholarship in academia as well as for a rare insight into the persona of an eminent scholar.

What’s in a name: ‘Nanyang Chinese,’ ‘Overseas Chinese,’ ‘Huaqiao’ Juliet, in William Shakespeare’s play Romeo and Juliet, utters the famous words: ‘What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.’ By his own reckoning, Wang’s first love was not history, but English literature. He turned to history almost by chance, with C. N. Parkinson of the History Department at the University of Malaya (and of the Parkinson Law fame) coming across as an exciting model of what a good scholar should be (Benton and Liu 2004: 2, 15). It is hardly surprising, therefore, that Wang peppered some of his essays with references to great literary writers such as T. S. Eliot and E. M. Foster (Wang 2004a: 140, 150; 2003i: dedication page). However, it is certain that this very line from Shakespeare, elegantly espousing the view that a name is merely an arbitrary convention, is not something which Wang would subscribe to. On the one hand, this has to do with Wang’s Chinese training and background. Drawing upon Confucian classics, he holds the view that ‘in the Chinese tradition, there has always been much respect for the idea of zhengming, or rectification of names. This is one of the important areas where we should practice zhengming.’ On the other hand, it stems from his heightened political sensitivity that the usage of wrong terminology could be ‘dangerous to the people and countries concerned’, especially in the context of Chinese migrants in Southeast Asia in the 1950s to 1970s (Wang 2003f: 153–4). He notes that extreme views with overtones of

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chauvinistic pride and regionalist/nationalist alarm casting Chinese abroad in a negative light have been around for the last half century and that the situation today is even more acute. Hence, it seems to him that urgent scholarly efforts must be made to clarify the meanings of terms being used in such studies. Similarly, in one of his encyclopaedic entries, he points out that ‘the poverty of language to convey the richness and complexity of the reality is here to stay’ and that ‘only scholars and those concerned with the niceties of legal and political usage can avoid the misunderstandings’ (Wang 1998b: 105). Wang’s earliest engagement with terminology can be traced to his landmark work on A Short History of the Nanyang Chinese. Here, he tackled the term ‘Nanyang’ which in the English language world had been commonly used as a rough equivalent of the post-World War II coinage of ‘Southeast Asia’. He stressed that its usage should come with the awareness that it originally implied territories which were reached by Chinese traders through the South China Sea and included only the key coastal strips of mainland Southeast Asia and most of the islands of the Philippines, British Borneo and Indonesia. Therefore, those Chinese who at various stages of history entered Vietnam, Laos, Burma and Siam by land were merely a plank of the southwest overland expansion of the Chinese imperial polity and should technically not be considered as ‘going to the Nanyang’ and be counted as part of Nanyang Chinese (Wang 1959; 1992: 11; a variation of the concept in Wang 2003h: 298–9). A much more extensive discussion was mounted by Wang on the nomenclature of ‘Overseas Chinese’ and its conflation with the closely associated, and commonly translated, counterpart, ‘huaqiao’.2 From the mid-1970s onward, Wang examined the term from several angles. It was a tedious exercise, slicing through and untangling a thicket of ideas in the process. One could say that this is Wang’s most important contribution to scholarship in general; in particular, it puts his personal stamp on the study of Chinese migration and overseas settlements. In 1976, Wang put forward his iconic viewpoint on the two terms: It became more imperative to question the use of the term ‘Overseas Chinese.’ It had been used in its broadest sense to cover all [the] people of Chinese descent resident abroad and it roughly translated the Chinese term ‘Huaqiao’ (Chinese sojourners). For Southeast Asia, the more specialized ‘Nanyang Huaqiao’ or Nanyang Chinese was widely used until the 1960s. This is a term which has implied a single community with a considerable solidarity. (Wang 1991h: 288–9) In a 1983 report on his field trip to China, he noted: The subject of Overseas Chinese is clearly still bedevilled by many factors …. One common problem … is the confusion over the use of the term Huaqiao and the understandable reluctance on the part of many Chinese concerned to face up to the need to define the term accurately. Popular usage has blurred the term so much that there is a case for accepting, as modern linguists are wont to do, the current wide variations in its meaning. But that is precisely

Conceptualizing Chinese migration 143 where the problem lies …. [T]his fudging of the term may not be so minor and merely academic. The confusion and sentimentality about the term is so great that, if they persist, they will prevent the Chinese from ever becoming clear about its meaning. This in turn will produce misunderstanding and suspicion, if not bewilderment … (Wang 1991g: 242–3) In the following year, Wang repeated his warning: There has been a lot of exaggeration and propaganda about the Huaqiao phenomenon, both from the Chinese and from the local governments, and it is not always easy to know whom to believe, especially when many writers and journalists wrote emotionally about the subject at the time. What we now need is careful, independent research by scholars who really want to get at the truth. (Wang 1991a: 18) During the mid-1990s, he maintained this view: ‘We must be very careful about its exact meaning and the proper context when it can be correctly used. In particular, we should try to make sure that the political content of the term is not misused, abused and misunderstood’ (Wang 2003g: 241). To Wang, the current common usage of the Chinese word yimin for migration is not a helpful entry point to untangle the terminological mess. This is because, in the historical context, it usually referred to a state-sponsored act of moving people either to strengthen defences on the border or to respond to natural calamities, and ‘yimin had always taken place within China’ (Wang 2003b: 38). Instead he chose to detach huaqiao from the term ‘Overseas Chinese’ and designate it as a sub-category under the latter with special meanings, particularly its linkage with the concept of ‘sojourning’. Wang’s recommended new approach to understanding Chinese migration is to begin with the crucial viewpoint that: qiao (‘sojourner’) or qiaoju (‘sojourning’) phenomenon was a product of Confucian rhetoric, of the exhortations to be filial and loyal to heads of family and the clan-based village so prevalent in southern China. This was a powerful value system that enjoined everyone never to move away from his ancestral home …. Migration was simply not an option; only sojourning on official duty or as a trader was permissible …. Leaving home was feared, and seeking settlement elsewhere was an unwelcome prospect. (Wang 2003a: 8) The word qiao means ‘a journey, a temporary stay’ and is especially used with ju to mean ‘temporary residence’. Therefore, qiaoju has the embedded notions of ‘enforced migration’, ‘temporariness’, ‘a degree of official approval’, ‘duty to return’ and ‘nostalgia for home’. To him, the term huaqiao which is normally translated as ‘Overseas Chinese’ should thus, strictly speaking, refer to ‘Chinese

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sojourners’ (Wang 1981b: 119–20). He suggested that sojourning should be a powerful conceptual tool for migration studies and that one ought to take the view that ‘sojourning was a prelude to eventual migration’ and that it ‘might be called experimental migration over long periods of time or migration with extended options’ (Wang 2003c: 55, 68). In the context of Chinese migration history, Wang painstakingly traced the genealogy of the term huaqiao and pointed out that it ‘has been so widely and loosely used that very few people today are aware that it has such a short history and that it was developed under very special historical conditions’. In fact, it emerged only in the late 1890s, came into widespread use in the years before and after the 1911 Chinese revolution, acquired a notion of colonization in the 1920s and 1930s, and soon afterwards came to replace all other terms and was then used carelessly in a retrospective manner to cover even the Ming and Qing periods (Wang 1981b: 118, 121–5; another genealogical tracing of the term in Wang 1991b: 26–31). Its emergence was fore-grounded by the Qing government’s 1893 lifting of an overseas travel ban which had been ineffectual and only intermittently enforced since the beginning of the Ming dynasty. It was not long after this lifting of the ban that ‘came for the first time the official politicization of the concept of sojourner, with the elegant name of huaqiao, thus confirming that the political leaders in China expected the Chinese abroad to play a role in China’s future development’ (Wang 2003c: 59). In other words, within a very short time, the term which ‘had begun as official recognition and approval of Chinese residing abroad had been transformed into a militant commitment to remaining Chinese or to restoring one’s “Chineseness”’ (Wang 1981b: 124). In tracing the beginning and end point of the applicability of the term, he argued: The period when it was politically significant to call all Chinese Huaqiao ended in the middle of the 1950s [with the 1955 Bandung Conference as marker]. That period may well be called the five decades of the Huaqiao. It should be stressed that the Huaqiao decades should not be extended backwards in time. To use the term Huaqiao for earlier periods would be ahistorical …. To be casual, even cavalier, in applying Huaqiao to every Chinese throughout history who ever went abroad for several years or more would make a mockery of the efforts so far to understand some key changes in modern Chinese history and put them in correct historical perspective. (Wang 1991g: 246) Wang was particularly concerned that ‘throughout the 1960s and 1970s, China-born historians still used Huaqiao freely for all periods’ and they suggested wrongly that ‘huaqiao living abroad have had a history of two thousand years’. To him, there must be ‘recognition, support, or protection’ offered by the Chinese authorities before the term could be applied. Otherwise, it would: seem to be a distortion of history to imply China’s appreciation of these Chinese and their communities abroad long before it happened. The fact that

Conceptualizing Chinese migration 145 Huaqiao would be a convenient single word to describe an unusual phenomenon should not, I think, lead us to give a false and anachronistic impression of China’s concern for Huaqiao before it became true. (Wang 1991b: 35–6) Wang also tried to bring his analysis of the terms to a higher conceptual level by developing a typology of three categories of overseas Chinese and four patterns of Chinese migration (of which huaqiao represented only one stage), as well as attributing to them multiple identities in the contemporary era. It began with his 1972 essay arguing that there were three major groups of Chinese ‘at all times among the Overseas Chinese’, as distinguished by their political interests and activities: Group A which is ‘predominantly concerned with Chinese national politics and its international ramifications’; Group B which is ‘principally concerned with community politics wherever it may be’; and Group C which is ‘drawn into the politics of non-Chinese hierarchies, whether indigenous or colonial or nationalist’ (Wang 1991c: 130–2). At this stage, he was exploring only along the line of political orientation. In 1984, he adopted a new classification by identifying four patterns in the Chinese migratory waves. The first was the ‘huashang/trader’ pattern which he considered to be of the greatest importance, ‘the most resilient pattern’, and the one which comprised merchants and artisans (inclusive of miners and other skilled workers). The second was the ‘huagong/coolie’ pattern, characterized by the flood of peasants, landless labourers and urban poor who left China between the 1850s and the 1920s. The third was the ‘huaqiao/sojourner’ pattern, the major feature of which was that it was ‘primarily determined by nationalism’ and ‘enhanced by a close association with revolution’ as espoused by Sun Yat-sen, the Guomindang and the Chinese Communist Party. Last but not least was the ‘huayi/descent or re-migrant’ pattern which was confined to the post-1950s movement of people of Chinese descent from one foreign country to another foreign country (Wang 1991a: 4–10, 21). This typology of migratory patterns was later used by Wang in analysing the Singapore Chinese migrant community but with only three patterns, the fourth one, huayi, being dropped, in consideration of its problematic nature (Wang 1989; 1991d). In the following year, Wang extended his probing into the realm of identities which ‘are difficult to define, and despite many efforts to refine them, are often dependent on nothing more than self-identification’. He argued that ‘historical identity’ and ‘Chinese nationalist identity’ were dominant in the period before 1950 and that this gave way to ‘national (local) identity, communal identity, and cultural identity in the 1950s and 1960s’ as well as ‘ethnic identity and class identity in the 1970s’. He argued that ‘modern Southeast Asian Chinese, like most other peoples today, do not have a single identity but tend to assume multiple identities’. The way to ‘conceptualize the process of acquiring and maintaining multiple identities’ was to see how the Chinese respond to and identify with a set of norms in the four areas: physical, political, economic and cultural. He believed that ‘through the idea of norms and the concepts of normative identity, we can depict the pressures that

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determine multiple identities’ and hope to be taken ‘a step closer to understanding the nature of Chinese identities in Southeast Asia’ (Wang 1991e: 198–9, 210, 216). Not all of his ideas proved appealing. For instance, with regard to the 1984 four-pattern paradigm, Leo Suryadinata expressed discomfort and suggested that it ‘often stresses continuity rather than change’, the huashang category being ‘too liberal and inclusive, and … the boundaries between trade and non-trade become blurred ….’ Also, ‘the first three patterns … tended to overlap and hence became less useful as an analytical tool’ (Suryadinata 2007: 65–8). Adam McKeown called for ‘a reformulation of the division of Chinese migration into the trader, coolie, sojourner, and descent patterns by Wang Gungwu’ as it was ‘very unclear if Wang’s idea of “patterns” is meant to depict social structures or the orientation of individual migrants’ (McKeown 1999: 312–13). For all their shortcomings, Wang’s typologies represented an important step in his attempt to define, classify and conceptualize with a view to attaining greater intellectual sophistication. Wang’s final lap in dissecting the two terms of Overseas Chinese and huaqiao may be seen in his effort to look into their usage in the contemporary era, viz. after the post-war decolonization and emergence of nation-states in Southeast Asia, and in relation to the post-Bandung and post-1980 policies of the PRC which upheld citizenship laws on the basis of jus soli. Here, he noted that, in the past, ‘Overseas Chinese’ was the English term used loosely to translate the popular Chinese word huaqiao, but ‘in recent years, various governments (including the People’s Republic of China) have narrowed down the meaning of Huaqiao to refer to Chinese nationals who are living in a foreign country. For those of Chinese descent who are of foreign nationality, there are now other terms: more generally, waiji huaren.’ The term ‘Overseas Chinese’ has now tended to be ‘translated back into Chinese literally as haiwai huaren. This is a way of avoiding the political and legal connotations in the term Huaqiao, and the English term is used here in the ethnic and neutral sense of “anyone identifiably Chinese who is outside China”’ (Wang 1991g: 253–4; 1991f: 236, fn. 3). Indeed, the scholarly task to categorize and label has been further complicated by the presence of a wide spectrum of alternative terms other than Overseas Chinese and huaqiao. Wang had to ponder over them, too.

Contemplating a range of alternative nomenclature Wang was not alone in the terminological search but he was certainly at the forefront and played a major role in framing ideas and ploughing through a range of alternative terms. As early as 1972 when Wang was formulating his typology of the three categories of post-war political Chinese, he already demonstrated an awareness of alternative terms. His Group C Political Chinese are those ‘drawn into the politics of non-Chinese hierarchies, whether indigenous or colonial or nationalist’ and who ‘are normally prepared to call themselves Huaren instead of Huaqiao, but see themselves as Malaysian Chinese (Ma-Hua), Thai Chinese (Tai-Hua), Indonesian Chinese (Yin-Hua) and so on’ (Wang 1991c: 142).3 Wang later noted that other local Southeast Asian scholars were also working on the lexicon: ‘They have tried to use alternative terms like Huaren, Huatsu [huazu],

Conceptualizing Chinese migration 147 Huayi, and for Singapore and Malaysia, Hsing-Hua [Xinhua] and Ma-Hua (with other prefixes varying with each country), but are not yet agreed which is the most suitable alternative’ (Wang 1991b: 34). ‘There have been many alternatives suggested’ but Wang was not comfortable with a number of them: Huatsu … is still new and not familiar in China and Taiwan, although tsu [zu] has long been used for the ethnic minorities in China as well as for Han Chinese. More specific terms by country (as in Yin-Hua, Ma-Hua, and Fei-Hua for Indonesia, Malaysia, and the Philippines) would not help if one wished to speak generally of the Chinese abroad; also they would be anachronistic for periods when there were no countries called by such names. (Wang 1991b: 35) On another occasion, he offered the view: ‘If huaqiao are sojourning Chinese, huaren would be ethnic Chinese, and huayi those “descendants of Chinese” who consider themselves politically integrated with their adopted countries if not culturally assimilated as well …. I shall use shorthand references … as follows: sojourners for huaqiao, ethnic Chinese for huaren, and local nationals for huayi.’ Thus his shorthand reference and criteria for huayi appear to be notably unusual in that they go beyond the mere descent line and even impose the requirement of political integration and cultural assimilation (Wang 2004c: 198). This is probably why the Chinese Heritage Centre of Singapore – of which Wang was Deputy Chairman – chose Huayi Guan for its Chinese name when it was officially opened in 1995 by George Yeo, Minister for Information and the Arts, to study and showcase Chinese communities across the world. Indeed, huayi was one term with which Wang had a great deal of difficulty. As discussed earlier, he had even used it for his fourth pattern of Chinese migration (in addition to huashang, huagong and huaqiao) and translated it as ‘Chinese descent or re-migrant’. He tried arguing that ‘[b]y this Huayi pattern, I am not referring to the earlier and basic kinds of migration that ended with many Chinese becoming foreign nationals … What I am referring to is the more recent development when Huayi in one foreign country migrated or re-migrated to another foreign country’ (Wang 1991a: 8–10). However, the differences in definition between Chinese descent and re-migration proved too daunting. There was also simply too much confusion in distinguishing the Huayi who stayed in their adopted foreign country and the Huayi who re-migrated to another foreign country. In the end, Wang’s ‘huayi pattern of migration’ was not widely accepted and he had to settle for a more conventional interpretation for that term: [S]ince 1945, the idea of the Chinese all being sojourners has been challenged, especially in Southeast Asia. Many more have preferred to see themselves as having settled abroad as foreign nationals; if Chinese at all, they see themselves as descendants of Chinese (huayi). (Wang 2003e: 119)

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On foreign nationals of Chinese origins, i.e. those Chinese sojourners who had settled down and sought local nationality, the PRC government and scholars offered the term waiji huaren which focuses on nationality and this was acceptable to Wang (Wang 1981b: 119; 2003g: 243). But Wang objected when they put forward the hybrid notion of a huaqiao-huaren continuum. With apparent reference to the context of Southeast Asia, he urged that ‘it is necessary to contest both the sloppy and lazy way of grouping all those of Chinese descent as “Overseas Chinese,” and the deliberately ambiguous use of the mixed term, huaqiao-huaren’. To him, ‘[the] least helpful of all among [the terms for] such new citizens of foreign countries is the extended use of the combined huaqiao-huaren form which is now favoured by the scholars in the People’s Republic of China. It may serve some purpose in China but, from the point of view of the receiving countries, neither huaqiao nor huaren would adequately convey the idea of migrants who have been accepted as nationals of their new countries’ (Wang 2003f: 156–9). On another occasion, Wang tagged the continuum as a ‘very clumsy idea’ (Wang 2004d: 227). However, it was neither the sloppiness nor the clumsiness in scholarship and government policy documents that caused the greatest concern to Wang. What drew his strongest disapproval was the implied political and economic threat posed by Chinese communities as embedded in the usage of the new terms, ‘Greater China’ and ‘Chinese Diaspora’.

Reflecting on ‘Greater China,’ ‘Chinese Diaspora,’ and ‘Chinese Overseas’ After about a decade of rapid economic advancement since Deng Xiaoping’s market reform and open-door policy, a new term, ‘Greater China’, surfaced and it came along with a great deal of ambiguity in its geographical coverage and politico-economic implications. In December 1993 a special issue of China Quarterly appeared specifically to discuss this issue (Shambaugh 1995). It was on this occasion that Wang expressed his wariness in no uncertain terms. He was concerned that there had been ‘much speculation about the re-emergence of China as a powerful actor in world politics. The idea of Greater China is one of the products of that speculation’. Wang noted ‘the lack of precision in the term’ and the uncertainty as to whether it was meant to cover Hong Kong-Macau, Taiwan and all of the People’s Republic of China or only parts of it. But he was adamant that the term should not include those Chinese living outside the Chinese region and was most concerned about the impact it would have on the Chinese abroad (Wang 2003d: 87). Wang later referred to the term as ‘expansionist and imperialist-sounding’, and said in elaboration, ‘the main reason for the rise of the term “Greater China” and all its many variants, [is] to convey the threat of a regional China, Inc …. Placed together with the use of the term “Overseas Chinese” to include all Chinese in the world outside the People’s Republic, there is the alarming sense of outreach and extension of an unstoppable force.’ He thus warned ‘against the careless and cavalier use of the term’ (Wang 2003f: 153, 158, 164 fn 22). He also linked it explicitly to the revived fear of the yellow peril:

Conceptualizing Chinese migration 149 Opening up China again after 30 years of isolation led to an economic surge that surprised the world …. The ramifications are so great and incalculable for the region’s Chinese that scholarship has yet to catch up with the changes. Instead, they have spawned many, sensational writings, ranging from chauvinistic calls for a Chinese economic commonwealth to fearful projections of a new wave of the ‘yellow peril’. (Wang 2004b: 166) Other scholars, such as Leo Suryadinata and Tan Chee Beng, had voiced similar warnings of a broad inclusion of Overseas Chinese and the yellow-peril imagery (Suryadinata 1997: 2–3, 27). In an interview, Wang had reiterated his firm opposition in no uncertain manner: I have strong views about using the term Greater China. I think the term should never be applied to the Chinese overseas. Greater China is in fact a myth, in my view. It’s a convenient kind of shorthand used among businessmen for the last decade or so to talk about the economic activities of Hong Kong, Taiwan, and southern China, and eventually may be extended to include the rest of mainland China …. But the moment you apply the term to overseas Chinese, it’s totally misleading, and it’s dangerous …. It begins to have a political significance that is quite misleading and, I would say, wrong. (Wang 1996: 49) ‘Chinese diaspora’ is another broad term to which Wang raised his objections, but at times rather defensively because he had not been always consistent on this issue. Indeed, a two-volume collection of papers (presented at a 1992 conference in San Francisco) which was co-edited by him and first published in 1998 was entitled The Chinese Diaspora (Wang and Wang 2003). Wang Gungwu defended the use of ‘diaspora’ in the title as follows: ‘I had to do some heart-searching about that. I have long advocated that the Chinese overseas be studied in the context of their respective national environments, and taken out of a dominant China reference point.’ The two volumes to him had at least dutifully ‘stressed settlement, as in the phrase luodi shenggen, meaning growing roots where you land; and also differentiation among the communities in six continents’ (Wang 2004b: 157). Another instance of inconsistency is his usage of the term in his introduction written for The Encyclopedia of the Chinese Overseas edited by Lynn Pan (Wang 1998a: 10–13). Despite those lapses, Wang is on record as having spoken out strongly against the term. He first raised his views in 1994 about its being: a term which may also be extremely misleading …. I do not agree to the word being used for the Chinese because it has implications which may have applied to some aspects of the sojourners in the past but do not apply to ethnic Chinese today. In many ways, diaspora is a word that has the kind of political content comparable to the term huaqiao, which also has many political overtones. (Wang 2003g: 241)

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Five years later, when invited to deliver the inaugural lecture for the launch of the Centre for the Study of Chinese Southern Diaspora at the Australian National University, Wang brushed aside concerns about etiquette and delivered an extensive critique of the term which appeared as part of the name chosen for the new institute he was launching: I still have some disquiet about the use of the term diaspora, not because, in English, it has until recently applied only to the Jews … nor because the word refers to exile (in Hebrew) or dispersion (in Greek), which are rather specific manifestations of the phenomenon of sojourning and migration. Of course it is misleading and politically sensitive for the Chinese to be compared to the Jews in the Muslim world of Southeast Asia, but if the reality makes the comparison appropriate, so be it. My reservations come from the problems the Chinese encountered with the concept of sojourner (huaqiao) and the political use both China and hostile governments have made of that term. From China’s point of view, huaqiao was a powerful name for a single body of overseas Chinese …. After some 30 years of debate, the term huaqiao now no longer includes those Chinese with foreign passports …. [W]ill the word diaspora be used to revive the idea of a single body of Chinese, reminiscent of the old term, the huaqiao? … [W]ill it acquire the emotive power that would actually change our views about the nature of the various Chinese communities overseas? (Wang 2004b: 158) Wang had a sense of the popular, widespread usage of the term but insisted on linking it to all the previous apprehensions tied to huaqiao: It should not surprise us that many social scientists are now ready to use a term like diaspora to highlight the new dimensions of the Chinese phenomenon. What is intriguing is whether this will encourage Chinese governments to affirm the idea of a single Chinese diaspora again, along the lines of the earlier concept of huaqiao-sojourner for all Chinese overseas? Will the use of diaspora lead even those who write outside China, notably those who write in Chinese, also to revive the more familiar term, huaqiao, the term that Southeast Asian governments and the Chinese there had spent so much time and trouble trying to discard for the past 40 years? (Wang 2004b: 166–8) Wang reaffirmed: The more I think about it, the unhappier I am that the term has come to be applied to the Chinese. I have used the term with great reluctance and regret, and I still believe that it carries the wrong connotations and that, unless it is used carefully to avoid projecting the image of a single Chinese diaspora, it will eventually bring tragedy to the Chinese overseas. (Wang 2004b: 166–8)

Conceptualizing Chinese migration 151 In a 2000/2001 interview, Wang stated in clearer terms his opposition from more specific angles. In his view, ‘the word diaspora, as I understand it, implies nowadays, both business acumen and wealth among a dispersed population …. For the last two hundred years, the Chinese who left China by the millions were [mostly not] traders or businessmen. They were poor …. I cannot associate such a migration with the word diaspora, which has the opposite meaning.’ The term also has the connotation of being a large cohesive social group and Wang felt that as Chinese ‘adapt to new circumstance and thus become very different from other groups of Chinese living elsewhere. I don’t see much cohesion.’ Again the political connotations were not far from his mind. ‘One has to look at the context in which the term diaspora is used to see it is not innocent …. In the media or in the context of public affairs, it becomes politicized and it is then used by politicians who have an agenda ….’ To him: It is simply not true but unscrupulous people can use such a description to build up the image of a new yellow peril. Some people are going even further, saying that China is behind it, sending out people and contacting people all around, acting like an enormous octopus, spreading its tentacles and building up its network. Such nonsense is bound to be believed when one is using outof-context words like diaspora. With a lot of imagination, one could even end up saying: ‘The Chinese are coming, the Chinese are coming’! (Malvezin 2004: 49, 51–2) Wang again exhorted the academic community to avoid this scenario: The scholars must be careful and thorough. When the word diaspora is used out of context, they must denounce it and point out that it is not used legitimately but for a political purpose …. scholars must definitely take a stand and expose whoever has a political purpose. After all, is there any justification to use the word to imply that there is some kind of international conspiracy or network of Chinese all over the place acting as one force? … No, it’s sheer nonsense. (Malvezin 2004: 52) After rejecting ‘Greater China’ and ‘Chinese Diaspora’, Wang then confronted the remaining dilemma of looking for that most appropriate, single embracing term to depict the Chinese communities abroad. Here, he took the stand that ‘Unfortunately, there is now no universally accepted term that includes all Chinese living abroad, both Chinese nationals and the ethnic Chinese.’ He declared categorically that he had ‘chosen to use “Chinese overseas” to refer to everyone of Chinese descent living outside’, even as he acknowledged its lack of precision (Wang 2003d: 88–9). He merely stated his preference and never quite explained why he would rather not settle for the popular alternative of ‘ethnic Chinese’, as advocated by other scholars in the field such as Leo Suryadinata and Tan Chee Beng (Suryadinata 1997: vii–ix, 1–4, 25–9; more recent and sharper exposition in Suryadinata 2007: 1–3, 29–33).

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In a 1996 interview with Free China Review, conducted in conjunction with the appearance of a belated review of his 1991 book, China and the Chinese Overseas, he reminded his readers that ‘In fact, my book is called the Chinese Overseas, quite deliberately using “overseas” as a geographical term, as in “outside of”’ (Wang 1996: 49). In a later speech, he reiterated: ‘My own books have preferred “Chinese overseas” … and so has ISSCO, the International Society for the Study of the Chinese Overseas which was founded after the San Francisco conference in 1992, and also the new The Encyclopedia of the Chinese Overseas edited by Lynn Pan’ (Wang 2004b: 169–70).4 Although not spelt out specifically, the two latter projects were closely related to Wang who was one of the key drivers of that conference and subsequently founder member and first president of the ISSCO, and the deputy chairman of the Chinese Heritage Centre which had overseen the encyclopaedic project. Therefore, in looking for the best possible, embracing, generic term to cover all Chinese who are abroad, Wang’s clearly stated preference is for ‘Chinese overseas’. In his mindscape, this term covers both the Chinese of China nationality who are residing overseas, and the foreign nationals of Chinese descent who are also commonly referred to as ethnic Chinese. This has remained as Wang’s recommended default position for the academic world.

Coming to terms with scholarship and politics Wang Gungwu’s cautious examination of a range of specific terms to define, categorize and analyse various aspects of Chinese migration and settlement outside China constituted the foundational premise of a sub-field of study pioneered by him. His scholarly approach in taking on the task with a wealth of knowledge traversing the length and breadth of Chinese history from ancient to contemporary times and with a multi-layered precision is obvious for all to see. What deserves our attention ultimately is his self-declared positioning as a scholar of Chinese ethnicity born and bred in Southeast Asia, who is ideologically committed to the cause of campaigning against any insidious depiction of Chinese abroad as a unified force threatening humanity in general and the localized Southeast Asian nation-states in particular. The thin red line between scholarship and politics in Wang’s writings is not always explicitly drawn. Rather, it is often blurred. This has led Adam McKeown to call the ‘many writings by Wang Gungwu’ as an example of ‘politically conscious scholarship’ (McKeown 2001: 342). Gregor Benton and Liu Hong as editors of a volume on Wang’s interviews and writings surmised that ‘his scholarship is characterized by a high-minded sense of social responsibility’ (Benton and Liu 2004: 4). Philip Kuhn who contributed a prologue to the festschrift volume in celebration of Wang’s seventieth birthday approached the issue with sensitivity. He recognized that ‘Gungwu’s concern to allay fears about China and the Chinese overseas is of long standing and forms a consistent part of his historical calling’. He suggested that one group of people who would have ‘excellent reasons to be grateful to Gungwu’ was ‘the peoples of the region for his resolute liberalism

Conceptualizing Chinese migration 153 amid what must have been heavy discouragement.’ Calling him ‘a public-spirited intellectual’, Kuhn commented subtly on Wang’s crossing of the thin red line: Dispassionate scholarship and passionate engagement often seem an ill matched pair, so most professional scholars try to keep the two in separate halves of their minds. The dangers of allowing political commitment to tilt the playing field in historical research are obvious. Yet how rigidly can the separation be maintained in real life? When injustices and even disasters grow from myths, and when these can be corrected by studying the evidence, we are justly summoned to battle. In Gungwu’s case, the dangerous myths to be corrected involved the socio-political identities of the Chinese overseas and the nature of China’s relations with her maritime neighbours. (Kuhn 2003: 15, 25, 27) Coming to terms with Wang’s scholarship on definitional distinctions and related issues has proven to be a difficult task for the pluralistic, and at times quarrelsome, scholarly community. Disagreements among scholars have resulted in a lack of standard terminology and the confusion in turn has at times led to intellectual paralysis and surrender. For instance, the editors of New Studies on Chinese Overseas and China have openly admitted to giving up all efforts at reconciliation and settled for total interchangeability in terminology: ‘The definitions of “overseas Chinese,” “Chinese overseas,” and “Chinese diaspora” have been frequently debated in the past decade. Scholars with different research agendas use these terms differently in their research context …. In this volume, these three terms are interchangeable …. The reason for this is because the editors respect the complexity of the meaning of the terms adopted by the authors in their papers’ (Huang, Zhuang and Tanaka 2000: 3). It is equally notable that, despite Wang’s clearly stated objection to the term ‘huaqiao-huaren’ and its embedded ambiguity, the use of this term in scholarly publications in mainland China has exploded phenomenally (Wu and Wu 2008; Saw and Wong 2007). One might also wonder whether Wang Gungwu has come to terms with his own engagement with the protracted terminological exercise in ‘What’s in a Name’. Shortly before the turn of the millennium, Wang offered the following thoughts: We need more words, each with the necessary adjectives to qualify and identify who exactly we are describing. We need them all to capture the richness and variety of the hundreds of Chinese communities that can now be found …. Have I and others been inconsistent? Will we confuse our readers? I expect there will be confusion if we do not specify more exactly why use a certain term and what is meant by it. But, after 40 years living with the problem, I no longer believe that there must be a single term for such a complex phenomenon. As a historian, I recognize that conditions change, and more names have to be found to mark the more striking changes. (Wang 2004b: 169–70)

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As such, his line of thinking betrays no regrets and suggests that it has been a necessary and meaningful exercise, and that the process is likely to be a never-ending one, as with all great historical enterprises.

Notes 1 This paper was first presented at the international conference ‘In Honour of Wang Gungwu’s Scholarship: Bridging China Studies and International Relations Theory’, organized by the East Asia Institute, National University of Singapore, 25–27 June 2009. The paper was published in Journal of Chinese Overseas, 6(1) (May 2010): 1–21. I am grateful to the publisher for granting permission to reprint the paper. I am also thankful to my graduate students Jack Chia Meng Tat and Wei Bingbing for their research assistance. 2 There is inconsistency in the romanization of terms in this field of study. For instance, there are variations in huaqiao (such as Hua-ch’iao) and differences of opinion over the use of italicization and capitalization. Following the convention for scholarly citations, all such variations in quoted passages have been left unchanged. 3 An indication of debate in terminology at academic conferences and a useful list of major conferences from 1980 on Chinese communities outside of China are provided in Tan (1992: 3–4, 7). 4 One shortcoming of this useful encyclopaedia is that it is inconsistent and uses the terms ‘Overseas Chinese’ and ‘Chinese Overseas’ interchangeably and confusingly. See, for instance, Pan 1998: 15–17, 103–10.

References Ang, Ien, On Not Speaking Chinese: Living between Asia and the West. (London: Routledge, 2001). Benton, Gregor and Hong Liu (eds), Diasporic Chinese Ventures: The life and work of Wang Gungwu (London and New York: RoutledgeCurzon, 2004). Huang Cen, Zhuang Guotu and Tanaka Kyoko (eds), New Studies on Chinese Overseas and China. (Leiden: International Institute for Asian Studies, 2000). Kuhn, Philip A., ‘Wang Gungwu: The historian in his time’, in So, Billy K. L., John Fitzgerald, Huang Jianli and James K. Chin (eds) Power and Identity in the Chinese World Order: Festschrift in honour of Professor Wang Gungwu (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2003), pp. 11–31. Liu, Hong, Zhanhou xinjiapo huaren shehui de shanbian: bentu qinghuai·quyu wangluo· quanqiu shiye [The Transformation of Chinese Society in Postwar Singapore: Local Sentiment, Regional Network, and Global Perspective]. (Xiamen: Xiamen Daxue Chubanshe, 2003). Malvezin, Laurent, ‘The problems with (Chinese) diaspora: An interview with Wang Gungwu’, in Benton, Gregor and Hong Liu (eds), Diasporic Chinese Ventures: The life and work of Wang Gungwu (London and New York: RoutledgeCurzon, 2004), pp. 49-60. [First published in 2000/2001.] McKeown, Adam, ‘Ethnographies of Chinese transnationalism’, Diaspora, 10(3) (2001): 341–60. ——, ‘Conceptualizing Chinese diasporas, 1842 to 1949’, The Journal of Asian Studies, 58(2) (1999): 306–37. Pan, Lynn (ed.), The Encyclopedia of the Chinese Overseas. (Singapore: Archipelago Press and Landmark Books, 1998).

Conceptualizing Chinese migration 155 Saw, Swee-Hock and John Wong (eds), Southeast Asian Studies in China. (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2007). Shambaugh, David (ed.), Greater China: The next superpower? (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995). [Reprint of the special issue of China Quarterly (1993).] Suryadinata, Leo. Understanding the Ethnic Chinese in Southeast Asia. (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2007). ——, ‘Ethnic Chinese in Southeast Asia: Overseas Chinese, Chinese Overseas or Southeast Asians?’ (With comments by Tan Chee Beng). In Suryadinata, Leo (ed.) Ethnic Chinese as Southeast Asians. (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 1997), pp. 1–32. Tan, Chee Beng, ‘International Conference on Changing Ethnic Identities and Relations in Southeast Asia: The Case of the Chinese Minority (Manila, 8–10 November 1991).’ Archipel, 44 (1992): 3–13. Wang, Gungwu, ‘Mixing memory and desire: tracking the migrant cycles’, in Benton, Gregor and Hong Liu (eds), Diasporic Chinese Ventures: The life and work of Wang Gungwu (London and New York: RoutledgeCurzon, 2004a), pp. 140–54. [Speech delivered in 2003.] ——, ‘A single Chinese diaspora?’ in Benton, Gregor and Hong Liu (eds), Diasporic Chinese Ventures: The life and work of Wang Gungwu (London and New York: RoutledgeCurzon, 2004b), pp. 157–77. [Speech delivered in February 1999, first published twice in 1999, and again in 2000.] ——, ‘The Chinese Revolution and the Overseas Chinese’, in Benton, Gregor and Hong Liu (eds), Diasporic Chinese Ventures: The life and work of Wang Gungwu (London and New York: RoutledgeCurzon, 2004c), pp. 196–209. [Speech delivered in March 2000, first published in 2000.] ——, ‘New Migrants: How New? Why New?’ in Benton, Gregor and Hong Liu (eds), Diasporic Chinese Ventures: The life and work of Wang Gungwu (London and New York: RoutledgeCurzon, 2004d), pp. 227–38. [Speech delivered in 2001.] ——, ‘Migration and its enemies’, in Wang, Gungwu, Don’t Leave Home: Migration and the Chinese. (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003a), pp. 1–26. [Paper first published in 1993.] ——, ‘Patterns in migration history revisited’, in Wang, Gungwu, Don’t Leave Home: Migration and the Chinese. (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003b), pp. 27–53. [First published in 1997.] ——, ‘Sojourning: the Chinese experience’, in Wang, Gungwu, Don’t Leave Home: Migration and the Chinese. (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003c), pp. 54–72. [Paper first published in 1994, republished in 1996] ——, ‘Greater China and the Chinese Overseas’, in Wang, Gungwu, Don’t Leave Home: Migration and the Chinese. (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003d), pp. 87–118. [First published in 1993 and reprinted in 1995.] ——, ‘Adapting to non-Chinese society’, in Wang, Gungwu, Don’t Leave Home: Migration and the Chinese. (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003e), pp. 119–42. [Paper first published in 1991.] ——, ‘Upgrading the migrant: Neither huaqiao nor huaren.’ in Wang, Gungwu, Don’t Leave Home: Migration and the Chinese. (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003f), pp. 143–64. [Paper first presented at a conference in 1994, and published in 1996 and 1998.] ——, ‘Southeast Asian Chinese and the development of China’, in Wang, Gungwu, Don’t Leave Home: Migration and the Chinese. (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003g), pp. 239–61. [First published in 1995.]

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——, ‘The early search for a base in Southeast Asia’, in Wang, Gungwu, Don’t Leave Home: Migration and the Chinese. (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003h), pp. 296–309. [Paper first published in 1958.] ——, Only Connect!: Sino-Malay encounters. (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 2003i). ——, ‘Chinese Politics in Malaya’, in Only Connect!: Sino-Malay encounters. (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 2003j), pp. 111–48. [Paper first published in 1970.] ——, To Act is to Know: Chinese dilemmas. (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 2003k). ——, Anglo-Chinese Encounters since 1800: War, trade, science, and governance. (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003l). [Speech delivered in 2000.] ——, ‘Introduction’, in Pan, Lynn (ed.) The Encyclopedia of the Chinese Overseas, (Singapore: Archipelago Press and Landmark Books, 1998a), pp. 10–13. ——, ‘Nationalism among the Overseas Chinese’, in Pan, Lynn (ed.) The Encyclopedia of the Chinese Overseas. (Singapore: Archipelago Press and Landmark Books, 1998b), pp. 103–5. ——, ‘Accent on serious research’ (interview conducted by Richard R. Vuylsteke in conjunction with a book review of Wang Gungwu, China and the Chinese Overseas). In Free China Review, 46(6) (1996): 46–9. ——, Community and Nation: China, Southeast Asia and Australia. (St Leonard NSW: Allen & Unwin for Asian Studies Association of Australia, 1992). ——, ‘Patterns of Chinese migration in historical perspective’, in Wang, Gungwu, China and the Chinese Overseas. (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 1991a), pp. 3–21. [Speech delivered in 1984, first published in 1989.] ——, ‘Southeast Asian huaqiao in Chinese history-writing’, in Wang, Gungwu, China and the Chinese Overseas. (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 1991b), pp. 22–40. [Paper first published in 1981.] ——, ‘Political Chinese: Their contribution to modern Southeast Asian history’, in Wang, Gungwu, China and the Chinese Overseas. (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 1991c), pp. 130–46. [Paper first published in 1972.] ——, ‘The Chinese as immigrants and settlers: Singapore’, in Wang, Gungwu, China and the Chinese Overseas. (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 1991d), pp. 166–78. [Paper first published in 1989.] ——, ‘The study of Chinese identities in Southeast Asia’, in Wang, Gungwu, China and the Chinese Overseas. (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 1991e), pp. 198–221. [Paper presented in 1985, first published in 1988.] ——, ‘External China as a new policy area’, in Wang, Gungwu, China and the Chinese Overseas. (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 1991f), pp. 222–39. [Paper presented as a lecture in 1984, first published in 1985.] ——, ‘South China perspectives on Overseas Chinese’, in Wang, Gungwu, China and the Chinese Overseas. (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 1991g), pp. 240–57. [A fieldtrip report of 1983, first published in 1985.] ——, ‘The Chinese: What kind of minority?’ in Wang, Gungwu, China and the Chinese Overseas. (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 1991h), pp. 285–302. [Paper first published in 1976.] ——, ‘The Chinese as immigrants and settlers: Singapore’, in Kernial Singh Sandhu and Paul Wheatley (eds), Management of Success: The moulding of modern Singapore. (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 1989), pp. 552–62. ——, ‘The question of the “Overseas Chinese”’, in Wang, Gungwu, Community and Nation: Essays on Southeast Asia and the Chinese. [Selected by Anthony Reid.] (Singapore: Heinemann Educational Books (Asia), 1981a), pp. 249–60. [Paper first published in 1976.]

Conceptualizing Chinese migration 157 ——, ‘A note on the origins of Hua-ch’iao’, in Wang, Gungwu, Community and Nation: Essays on Southeast Asia and the Chinese. [Selected by Anthony Reid.] (Singapore: Heinemann Educational Books (Asia), 1981b), pp. 118–27. [Seminar paper of 1976, first published in 1977.] ——, (ed.), China and the World since 1949: The impact of independence, modernity and revolution. (London: Macmillan, 1977). ——, The Structure of Power in North China during the Five Dynasties. (Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya Press, 1963). ——, A Short History of the Nanyang Chinese. (Singapore: Donald Moore/Eastern Universities Press, 1959). Wang, Ling-chi and Wang, Gungwu (eds), The Chinese Diaspora: Selected essays, Volumes I and II. (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003). [Collections of essays presented at the conference on ‘Luodi Shenggen: The Legal, Political, and Economic Status of Chinese in the Diaspora’, convened by University of California, Berkeley in 1992. First published by Times Academic Press in 1998.] Wu, Xiaoan and Wu, Jiewei (eds), Zhongguo huaqiao huaren yanjiu: youshi yu tiaozhan [Studies on Huaqiao and Huaren in China: Advantages and Challenges]. (Hong Kong: Wenhui Chubanshe, 2008).

9

China, Cuba, and the Chinese in Cuba Emigration, international relations, and how they interact Gregor Benton

Introduction The Chinese community in Cuba, formerly known as the colonia, was once the second-largest Chinese settlement outside Asia. Most contributors to this volume define international relations as political relations between nation-states, and my own chapter also looks principally at the effect of Chinese immigration on Sino-Cuban state relations. In addition it looks at political relations between Chinese and other ethnic groups in Cuba below state level, which can also be defined as international. It tells the story of Chinese migration to Cuba: the recruitment of 125,000 Chinese to work on the plantations, starting in 1847, and the profound effect the Chinese presence had on diplomatic relations between China and Cuba over the next few decades. It is intended as a case study in the interaction between migration and international relations, an important thread in the work of Wang Gungwu. It starts by looking at the special context in which Cuban national identity formed and the options this allowed Chinese settlers. It focuses on the immigrants’ link with Cuba’s liberation wars; China’s 1874 Cuba Commission; developments in Cuba’s and China’s early Republican years; anti-Japanese agitation in China and Cuba; and the Castro era. It argues that political actions in China and the adoptive homeland shaped the colonia more profoundly than was the case in other similar communities, while the colonia in turn influenced Sino-Cuban relations and China’s broader foreign policy. A measure of the strength of the three-way tie between China, Cuba, and the colonia is its long list of firsts. Cuba was the West’s first country of mass Chinese immigration and one of the Qing’s first big foreign-policy concerns, as well as the site of the first victory for its pro-emigrant diplomacy. A Chinese, Chen Lanbin, was probably the first diplomat in Cuba to support independence; and Cuba received one of the first Chinese consuls appointed to protect emigrants. China was among the first countries to recognize Cuba, in 1902; and Cuba among the first to recognize Nanjing and lift the bar on Chinese immigration. In 1925, Cubans set up the first alliance outside the metropolis between Chinese emigrants and local communists, and Havana was the PRC’s first diplomatic partner in Latin America. In all these firsts, the Chinese presence on the island played a role, direct or indirect.

China, Cuba, and the Chinese in Cuba 159 Studies on the relationship between China and Chinese abroad have come a long way since the early ‘sojourner’ fixation. Although the idea of a mutual interest survived and the sojourner discourse revived in the 1990s, studies on the interplay of ‘China’s view of those communities and the view of themselves by the Chinese outside’1 no longer accept the sinocentric view without reservation. Instead, they emphasize Chinese emigrants’ relations with their non-Chinese neighbours and the identifications that ensue, which can sometimes stretch (as Wang Gungwu points out) even to the embracing of a ‘common human past’.2 In analysing the ethnic-Chinese transition from full engagement with a Chinese past to identification with new national pasts ‘constructed from local indigenous histories’, Wang distinguishes between colonized and non-colonized territories; and, within the former, between those that let ethnic Chinese participate fully in political affairs and those that encourage them to stick to economics. Where ethnic Chinese did participate in politics, as in Malaysia, they shared their ‘adopted’ country’s history; where not, as in Indonesia, they became ‘a people without a Chinese past, and with but an imperfect and incomplete Indonesian past’.3 These distinctions help in understanding the Chinese experience in Cuba, where Chinese encountered different colonialisms and took different identities at different times, oscillating between exclusion (plus self-exclusion) and deep local immersion. So profound was Chinese embeddedness in Cuban society that it led at times to flowerings of internationalism, understood as the political bonding not of states but of nationally diverse social groups. In a comment on a study Gotelind Müller and I produced on Chinese and Esperanto, Wang noted that China’s intellectuals were drawn to the idea of a universal language because they believed all under heaven was potentially one.4 Chinese peasants and workers in Cuba were also receptive to an ideology of oneness, rooted not in the borderless ideals of Confucianism and Buddhism but in China’s millenarian and egalitarian counterculture, including Taiping Christianity, with its belief in universal brotherhood and sisterhood. This chimed with the nature of Cuba’s multi-ethnic, multinational immigrant society and its irrepressible tradition of internationalist solidarity, embodied in the Cuban rebels’ Pan-Americanism and their pan-ethnic wars against racial and colonial oppression, a struggle with which Chinese of all classes could identify. Internationalism barely figures in migration studies, but it is inseparable from early globalization. Internationalist creeds have often inspired global migrants, whose differences of nationality do not negate the shared experience of exploitation and exclusion. Migrant Chinese, especially seafarers, played a crucial role in spreading radical ideas across the world. Both Sun Yat-sen and the communists’ European organizer Liao Chengzhi recognized the galvanic power of seafaring in spreading Chinese nationalism and linking Chinese to the international labour movement. Such developments are downplayed or ignored by recently fashionable studies that see transnationalism as a new child of the wired age. Chinese seafarers who solidarized with foreign labour did not need to dissociate themselves from China’s national revolution. Chinese ideas of nationhood were framed from the start in a context that included not just the West but countries like Cuba, Poland, Turkey, Hawaii, and the Philippines. China’s fate was

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always a world issue for Chinese nationalists, just as it was for their non-Chinese allies. In a recent book,5 I explored this thesis by looking at Chinese migrants in several contexts, including Britain, France, Russia, Germany, Spain, and Australia, but I was particularly interested in Cuba. Most early overseas Chinese communities were multi-class, with a preponderance of entrepreneurs, but in Cuba nearly all were workers. Chinese migrants are typically stereotyped as clannish and inassimilable. To show that they are potentially open to the same interactions as other migrants would deal a blow to the essentialism that blights overseas-Chinese studies. In terms of both geographic origin and work, the Chinese in Cuba were more homogeneous than Chinese migrants elsewhere. This created a strong bond of solidarity. On the estates, they suffered the same ill treatment as other groups. Trouble flared when they were put under black foremen, but they shared other labourers’ hostility to Spain and backed independence in all three of Cuba’s nineteenth-century independence wars. This Chinese identification with Cuban liberation would have been less likely but for the special nature of Cuba’s liberation movement, which fought under the flag of inter-racial solidarity and internationalism. The poet José Martí, the Cuban national hero killed in battle against the Spanish, championed Pan-Americanism and supported oppressed peoples and races everywhere, including during his exile in New York, where he defended Chinese against racist attacks and praised their culture. His opposition to the anti-Chinese pogroms in California manifested a sense of shared humanity that contrasted strongly, for example, with the sinophobic Marx, who despised the Chinese in San Francisco and couldn’t imagine them as part of the world of labour solidarity. The incidence of Cuban Chinese internationalism is explored at length in a recently published study by two Cuban historians.6

The start of Chinese settlement in Cuba Chinese first arrived in Cuba in 1847, to work on the plantations alongside slaves. Slavery was not abolished in Cuba until 1886, decades after its abolishment in the rest of the Caribbean. Elsewhere, Chinese supplanted the freed slaves; in Cuba, they supplemented them. In 1860, their number almost matched that in the United States. By the 1870s, there were three Chinese for every two slaves on most plantations. By 1873, 124,800 Chinese had reached the island. Because of the longevity of Cuban slavery, life on the estates was harsher than in other colonies, also for Chinese. Many reacted by running away to join the independence struggle. Thousands of Chinese, including former Taipings, participated in the liberation wars. Chinese plantation workers formed entire battalions or worked for the rebels as farmers, craftsmen, cooks, or healers, using wild plants in the guerrilla hospitals. As a reward, the rebel parliament promised them liberty and citizenship. In 1895, Cubans launched a final War of Independence under Martí. Chinese who joined included José Bu Tack (Hu De), José Tolón (Lai Hua), Alfredo Lima (Lin Tian), and Juan Chao Sen (Zhou Yunting).7 Tolón and Bu Tack were among

China, Cuba, and the Chinese in Cuba 161 the handful of foreigners entitled to become President under the Cuban Constitution of 1901, which opened the post to anyone who had fought for ten years for the rebels. Other fighters included Saturnino Achón (Liang Xinbai) and Ramón Estrada, the only early Chinese rebel born in Cuba. Their role in the struggle was recorded on a column in Havana with the words ‘there was not one Chinese traitor or deserter’. Thousands of Chinese fought in Cuba’s liberation wars, starting with the Ten Years’ War of 1868–78. Their first allegiance was to their place of origin in China, but this link weakened over time and few returned.8 The Qing’s support for its subjects overseas consolidated a sense of Chinese nationality. However, the immigrants remained labourers longer than in other places (where more made the switch to independent enterprise sooner), so they tended to focus on their life in Cuba, including its revolutions.

Cuba and the Qing Rebecca Karl has shown how colonies struggling for liberation figured in Chinese discourse about nationhood around 1900. The Philippines dominated the debate, but Cuba was also important as a country striving for independence and a place where the Qing first engaged with its emigrants. The link between Chinese emigration and diplomacy is well known, but the Cuban case is less so. Before China’s embassy to Cuba in 1874, Qing visits abroad were controlled by non-Chinese, or staged to deliver apologies and scarcely benefited China. Binchun’s mission to Europe in 1866 was essentially a junket to gain intelligence. The Burlingame mission in 1868 marked the start of a new sympathy in China for its emigrants, but the mission was dominated by an American. The 1869 Alcock Convention was, unusually, negotiated between equals, but Britain rejected the agreement. Guo Songtao’s mission to Britain in 1875 started as an apology for a killing. Guo stayed to head the legation in London, where he met with racist abuse. His pro-Western stance led to calls at home for his impeachment. He treated his lower-class compatriots in Britain with contempt.9 Not until the Cuba visit did Qing diplomacy become more self-reliant, assertive, and successful. The initiative for the Cuba venture came from foreign diplomats in Beijing opposed to Spain’s importing of Chinese labourers to Cuba (a trade that caused outrage in southern China), but it quickly blossomed into a relatively independent enterprise. The Sino-Spanish Treaty of Tianjin (1864), which authorized emigration to Spain and its possessions, and the Convention of 1866 had barely reformed the trade (centred on Macao), although the rise to power in Portugal of a new liberal minister led to improvements, including the placing of Chinese emigrants under the protection of Portuguese consuls.10 Unhappy at Spanish pressure to increase emigration to Cuba, the Qing court agreed in 1873 to arbitration by the ministers of Russia, Britain, France, Germany, and the United States, who proposed a Chinese mission to investigate the labourers’ conditions.11 This led to the Cuba Commission, consisting of a Frenchman and an American working under Chen Lanbin. The Cuba Commission visited twelve foreign consuls in Cuba and interviewed more than a thousand Chinese labourers.12 Its Report forced Spain to end the ‘coolie

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traffic’ and allow free migration to Cuba. The Commission marked a turning point in Chinese foreign relations and the Qing view of emigrants, from indifference or contempt to sympathy,13 and raised China’s standing in Cuba above that in the US. (In Havana, Chen Lanbin was treated with respect; in the US, he suffered indignities and the treatment of Chinese was seen as an ‘international scandal’.14) The agreement was consolidated by the Beijing Treaty of 1879, which led in 1880 to the establishment of Chinese consulates in Cuba, setting a precedent for other countries with Chinese communities.15 Having unwittingly helped midwife an independent Chinese foreign policy, the colonia was in turn strongly shaped by China, whose consuls imposed new institutions and provided immigrants with certificates of nationality.16 Until Spain’s withdrawal in 1898, China’s relations were with Cuba’s colonial masters, but the Cuban rebels sought to defend Chinese interests in their negotiations with Spain and in their constitutional and administrative arrangements. In 1870, at the Guáimaro Assembly, the rebel House of Representatives freed Chinese from their indentures and granted them citizenship.17 The Pact of Zanjón, negotiated with Spain in 1878, ruled that slaves and Chinese in the rising should be freed. The insurgents justified representing Chinese interests by their own lack of ties to China: ‘Since the Cuban Republic has no diplomatic relations with the Chinese Empire and the declaration of rights for the settlers requires them to contribute to Cuba’s independence, the Chamber resolves that they be subject to recruitment.’ This implied that in principle they accepted China’s prior authority over the settlers. In 1901, after Spain’s departure, the new Constitution decreed that any foreigner who had fought for at least ten years for Cuban independence could be elected president, a definition that included at least two Chinese.18 The Qing court took no official stand on the issue of Cuban independence and Chen Lanbin said nothing about Chinese participation in the Cuban war, either because he was not aware of it or for diplomatic reasons.19 Even so, he was said by more than one observer to have declared that ‘the Cubans want to be independent and will make war until victory’.20

China and the Cuban Republic In 1902, when Cuba became independent, China quickly recognized the new republic. President Tomás Estrada Palma wrote in May proposing relations: the Emperor accepted on 13 September, and Chinese representation was elevated to Consul General. The Chinese consular presence helped pave the way for this recognition, as did China’s and the Chinese settlers’ sympathy for Cuba. Members of the scattered Chinese community and the consuls joined in celebrating Cuban independence, and the diplomat Wu Tingfang praised the two countries’ long-standing friendship and the tradition of Chinese immigration.21 To honour the special relationship and the colonia, a Chinese cruiser visited Cuba in March 1911, heightening Cuban awareness of the Chinese presence.22 In her work on the link between Chinese and other nationalist movements, Rebecca Karl argued that Liang Qichao and others extended the idea of cultural-racial

China, Cuba, and the Chinese in Cuba 163 sameness (tongzhong), which reform-minded Qing loyalists like Zhang Zhidong applied to China’s bond with Japan, to a broader range of countries (like Poland, South Africa, and Cuba) threatened with political annihilation by imperialism. In the Philippines, this tie was partly ethnic, for China and the Philippines were linked by ‘a more literal ethnic-racial sameness – Chinese on the Philippines linked with Chinese in China’.23 The speed with which China recognized Cuba in 1902 suggests that the court too felt an affinity with ‘threatened’ countries, similarly enlivened in the Cuban case by an ethnic tie. Zhang saw in Cuba ‘a positive example of a people’s desire for independence’ and exhorted Chinese to ‘know the shame of not being Japan, Turkey, Siam, and Cuba’ and ‘the fear that we will become India, Annam, Burmah, Korea, Egypt, and Poland’.24 His identification with Cuba brings to mind Chen Lanbin’s earlier support for Cuban independence. After Spain’s defeat, the US occupied Cuba for three years, committing China’s consuls to a legal limbo. Unsure about their own and the Chinese community’s future, the consuls repeatedly demanded to know if the treaties with Spain remained in force.25 Would Washington extend the anti-Chinese Exclusion Law to its Pacific territories and to Cuba? Wu Tingfang, in Washington, tried in vain to stop this happening,26 at a time when Beijing was under multiple foreign pressures and saw US expansion in the Pacific as preparatory to a move on China.27 Chinese anger at US bullying was widespread, even in court circles, where Liang Cheng’s idea of a boycott of US goods received covert support.28

Cuba and the Chinese consuls Ever since 1880, the Cuban authorities had delegated control over Chinese immigration to consuls, who monopolized Chinese ‘immigration business’.29 By the turn of the century, the consuls controlled not only the gate but much of what went on within it. This devolution of control chimed with China’s own worldwide drive, under both Qing and Guomindang, to control its overseas communities by means of guilds or huiguan (Cuba’s guild was known the Casino Chung Wah, Zhonghua Zonghuiguan) and Chambers of Commerce.30 The growth of bilateral trade helped focus the consuls’ interest (although in terms of the two countries’ international trading relations it was negligible).31 The resulting arrangement reshaped the community’s formal structures along lines other than those of clan and provenance. The consuls’ role in this dovetailed with the aims of the new Cuban Republic: together, consuls and Cuban officials worked to ‘modernize’ Cuba’s Chinese institutions.32 However, the community was not a single entity but a complex mix of groups and interests. Radical organizations, first republican and then communist, challenged the consuls’ control of the Casino, whose consular funding was seen as an obstacle to its democratization. The republican Zhigongtang made headway, and in 1909 Chinese in Havana sent a representative to the First Congress of Young China in Texas and formed a branch in 1911.33 The consul’s control of immigration remained in force after 1911. A law passed in 1917 permitted the wartime importation of workers, but the old system was soon revived.34 In practice, however, the controls failed. Chinese admitted as students

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or tourists worked as labourers.35 Most immigrants arrived illegally, until depression and world war stopped the flow.36 Chinese and other traffickers working for the sugar producers circumvented the consular monopoly. The consul denounced the illegal immigration, which eroded his power and income, but to little or no effect.37

Chinese and the ‘raceless nation’ All Cuba’s rebellions and revolutions in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries were carried out by multiracial armies, including Chinese. The rebels championed the idea of a ‘raceless nation’, democratic and inclusive, and validated the Chinese role in Cuban national identity. Despite the ‘raceless’ rhetoric, however, Chinese featured only marginally in later debates about Cuban nationhood. With the idea of racial democracy under attack, some Cuban politicians adopted a strategy of ‘whitening’ under the new republic. By manipulating immigration, they hoped to ‘de-Africanize’ Cuba and make it more like the US. The US occupiers, who (like many Cuban whites) saw blacks and Chinese as a threat to the political order, imported anti-Chinese laws and practices from California.38 Under US influence, Chinese were reclassed as a third ‘yellow’ category in official taxonomies.39 The main instrument for this racialization was Military Order No. 155, promulgated by the occupiers in 1902,40 which restricted Chinese entry into Cuba to diplomats, merchants, students, and tourists.41 However, despite continuing racial divisions, the idea of racial democracy survived after 1902 and ‘whitening’ was abandoned. Reformists argued that cubanidad (Cubanness) should be rethought, as a fusion of races.42 Chinese were at first incorporated into the new paradigm, in recognition of their contribution to Cuban liberation. Gonzalo de Quesada y Aróstegui, an architect of independence, lionized their role in the wars,43 and the Chinese themselves reminded Cubans of the Chinese rebel tradition when asserting their civic rights.44 However, this inclusion of the Chinese in the Cuban nation was undermined by a view of them as outsiders, and they were eventually relegated to a minor role in national identity or left out altogether. One reason for their invisibility was the persistence of anti-Chinese feeling, reinforced by actions of the US occupiers. Another was the diminishing number of Chinese and their increasing ‘foreignness’, so that even impartial commentators failed to mention them. Cuban scholars date the perception of the Chinese as ‘foreign’ to the arrival between 1860 and 1875 of several thousand Chinese remigrants from the United States. Like other events in the history of the colonia, the influx was in large part the product of state actions by China, Spain, and the US (and, at times, of Chinese state inaction). The ‘Californians’, as they became known, migrated to escape new anti-Chinese laws, made possible in part by the Qing’s early indifference and later impotence. They chose Cuba as their destination because of the Tianjin Treaty of 1864, which went some way towards regularizing migration between China and Spanish territories and protecting migrants: they therefore arrived as ‘free Chinese’ and benefited from the new agreement.45

China, Cuba, and the Chinese in Cuba 165 The Californians laid the foundations for Havana’s Chinatown and came to dominate the community.46 The historian Juan Pérez de la Riva described them as ‘a hybrid mixture of americanism and orientalism, heavily impregnated with the capitalist spirit’, and blamed them for breaking up the communal unity of the pioneering generation of Chinese labourers and ‘destroying, by whatever means in their reach, the revolutionary tradition of the early days’.47 However, this idea of a pristine inter-racial solidarity corrupted by capitalism owes more to ideology than to facts. The Cuba Commission’s Report spelt out in detail the appalling treatment of Chinese by planters, authorities, poor whites, and even black slaves. The inhumanity was mitigated by fraternizing in the rebellions, but the goodwill rarely survived.

The new ‘Overseas Chinese’ identity and the war against Japan The emergence of Chinatowns as distinct entities with separate institutions strengthened the community’s transnational identity. Those who made the transition to trade could stay in touch with China more easily than the plantation workers and tended anyway to be more implicated in Chinese affairs.48 (Even the workers had not stopped seeing themselves as Chinese, an allegiance that Chen Lanbin’s visit reinforced.49) These ties fostered a new ‘overseas Chinese’ identity alongside the migrants’ Cuban status, especially after the rise of nationalism in China and the arrival, between 1903 and the 1930s, of 30,000 new Chinese, including some who sympathized with the Guomindang or the Chinese communists.50 Yet the Chinese could still in certain circumstances draw on political capital amassed in the liberation wars. The sympathy extended to Cuba’s relations with the Chinese state. Like the Qing in 1902, which had quickly recognized Cuba because of the Chinese presence and the tradition of relations, Cuba promptly recognized the new government in Nanjing in 1928. The envoy, José Luis Gómez Garriga, was instructed by Havana to install his embassy either in Beijing or in Nanjing, as China wished, at a time when other legations were refusing to go south. Garriga moved to Shanghai in March 1930, while others stayed in Beijing.51 In a speech, he said that Cuba ‘was the first to recognize China’s present government’. The Japanese press noted Cuba’s readiness to ‘take the lead’ in recognizing Chiang. The President of the Guomindang in Cuba praised the decision. In early 1930, the Chinese Minister in Cuba pointed out that China ‘had been one of the first nations to recognize the Republic of Cuba and Cuba the first to formally recognize the National Government in Nanking’ and lauded the Chinese role in Cuba’s independence struggle.52 In any case, the Chinatowners’ homeland orientation did not rule out an interest in Cuban politics. In one sense, it even facilitated a link, for Cubans influenced by the Partido Comunista Cubano (Cuban Communist Party (CCP)) supported China’s unification. The PCC fought for racial as well as social equality. At one point, it became a hub of Chinese activity, because of its interest in the plantations, where Chinese worked, and its tie with those schooled in revolution in China. In

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1925, the PCC launched a China campaign (inspired by the Comintern) that helped focus Cuban Chinese on China’s crisis of sovereignty, in an internationalist rather than a narrowly nationalist framework. Julio Mella, the PCC’s leader, set up a branch of the Comintern’s Anti-Imperialist League (AIL), whose main purpose was to support the Chinese Revolution. The Cuban Guomindang and the Casino Chung Wah made financial contributions to the AIL,53 an extraordinary act of internationalist solidarity, probably in response to an AIL resolution, on 14 July 1925, to include in the Directorate ‘one member to be appointed by the Kuo Min Tang [Guomindang]’.54 This was an early – perhaps the first – instance outside the metropolis of collaboration between indigenous communists and overseas-Chinese revolutionaries.55 By the late 1920s, Chinese formed an ‘important nucleus’ in the PCC.56 Their ability to straddle and reconcile the two political traditions, Cuban and Chinese, was made possible by their inclusion (and self-inclusion), by radicals, in Cuban national identity. The Cuban AIL was one of the most successful branches of this worldwide body, because of its social breadth and deep roots among minorities and exiles.57 In the 1920s, Moscow’s Comintern made supporting the Chinese Revolution a priority throughout the world. It also ordered member parties to concentrate on recruiting migrants and minorities. This ‘ethnic turn’ suited the PCC: it was founded by Jews, and blacks, mulattos, and Chinese offered a path into the plantations. The Comintern’s China campaign was another happy coincidence, given the size of Cuba’s Chinese community. The PCC became a home for Chinese revolutionaries, because of its interest in the plantations, where Chinese worked, and because new immigrants had been schooled in China in leftwing politics. Cuba’s leftist Guomindang branch joined with Cuban students’ and workers’ groups in the LAI to support the Guangzhou-Hong Kong workers’ strike, for which it collected twenty thousand dollars. Not long afterwards, it raised several thousand more dollars to support the Northern Expedition.58 The PCC received little income from its impoverished members and had only one full-time agent, so its contacts with Moscow were hit-and-miss. The Cuban Chinese, on the other hand, were well connected through their links with Guangzhou, so they could keep the PCC up to date with Comintern ideas. After Chiang Kai-shek’s coup in 1927, his supporters in Cuba expelled the leftists, who founded a new organization, the Alianza Revolucionaria Protectora de los Obreros y Campesinos (Meizhou huaqiao yonghu gongnong geming datongmeng, Revolutionary alliance of overseas Chinese in America protecting the workers and peasants), a labour organisation described as inspired by the left wing of the Northern Expedition and which became the PCC’s Chinese section. Its leaders included José Wong (Huang Taobai, a member of the CCP who fled to Cuba from Guangzhou in 1927 at the height of the Guomindang repression), Luis Li (Li Juzhi), Julio Su-leng (Su Zilun), Juan Mok (Huang Youping), Mario Eng San (Wu Hunxing), Ángel Wong (Huang Chengzhi), Pedro Lei (Li Yuxing), Luis Lei (Li Shetong), and other Chinese leftists. Labour internationalism is, needless to say, conceptually distinct from political internationalism. It is not rooted in a universalistic, emancipatory view of history and ‘does not arise automatically from

China, Cuba, and the Chinese in Cuba 167 workers’ interests but needs to be achieved time and again’.59 The early Chinese rebels in Cuba were in this tradition of labour internationalism. The Alianza, on the other hand, pioneered political internationalism in Latin America. When Cuban trade unions staged a general strike in 1930, it set up branches throughout the island. Chinese communists in Europe supported the Alianza financially and sent it copies of their seafarers’ journal Chiguang (Red ray) and other publications and kept up a correspondence with it.60 However, Cuba’s Machado dictatorship dealt the Alianza a severe blow in 1929, when it deported four Chinese communists, and in 1930, when it murdered José Wong.61 In the 1920s and the 1930s, Cuba’s press started a campaign representing Chinese as lawless and alien, which led for a while to their further political marginalization.62 In 1933, the Grau San Martín government deported tens of thousands of black Antilleans and passed a law limiting ‘foreign’ workers to half the workforce.63 This law drove Chinese and other migrants into petty entrepreneurship, where they could claim to be ‘partners’ rather than employees. The Chinese Minister, Lin Ping, protested against the anti-Chinese violence.64 The PCC opposed the law and tried to rally Chinese workers in a cross-racial front.65 Duvon Corbitt noted the deep-rooted anti-Chinese prejudice. In 1944, he wrote that ‘Cubans generally look on the Chinese as social and even intellectual inferiors. This feeling is sometimes found among the Negroes.’ Later, he added: ‘[T]he Cubans held only two things against their Chinese neighbors: first, during the depression of the Thirties they, along with other foreigners, were regarded as competitors of Cuban laborers; and second, they are Chinese.’66 The government’s anti-immigrant measures and the Chinese switch to enterprise reinforced the community’s ethnic cohesion and its homeland engagement. In 1936, activists issued an anti-Japanese declaration in the name of the Cuban AIL and brought over activists from China to denounce Japan.67 This movement won the support of Cubans who had earlier backed the Republic in the Spanish Civil War.68 The PCC’s policy followed that of the Comintern, which had reverted in 1936 to a China focus, but it had special resonance in Cuba, where the PCC was a party of immigrants and Chinese had not only fought for liberation but were part of the plantation labour force, which the PCC sought to influence. Despite the nativist and sinophobic excesses whipped up by demagogues, even some establishment figures sided with China against Japan. This was due in part to lobbying by descendants of Chinese in national and local government69 but also to a sinophilic current in Cuban politics, celebrated in a monument to the Chinese role in the independence struggle unveiled in Havana in 1946 by the Chinese Minister Li Dijun and President Grau San Martín. The idea for the monument dated back to 1931, during the government of General Gerardo Machado, a veteran of the liberation war who had fought alongside Chinese. Machado had planned to raise the column on the twentieth anniversary of China’s republican revolution, to fulfil a wish of Gonzalo de Quesada y Aróstegui (1868–1915), the sinophile nationalist leader. The ceremony was postponed when Japan invaded China in 1931 and was finally held in 1946. It led to marches and rallies in Chinatown and a second visit by the Chinese navy, which was greeted (like that in 1911) by

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street celebrations.70 Since then, local Chinese and representatives of the Cuban and Chinese governments have regularly gathered at the monument to honour the Chinese rebels.71 The fate of the monument dramatizes the connection between the Chinese role in Cuba’s wars and the Cuban role in China’s Japanese war. Starting in 1936, Chinese trade unionists in Cuba denounced Japan in their bilingual monthly Fraternidad and stressed Cuba and China’s shared histories, playing on the Chinese contribution to Cuban independence to win the sympathy of Cuban veterans. After the spread of the world war to Europe and the Americas, China’s reputation soared, including in Cuba. In September 1938, Cuba’s representative in Shanghai was one of the few diplomats to voice solidarity with the Chinese army expelled from the city by the Japanese.72 In 1942, Cuba took the lead in negotiating a treaty with China that allowed citizens of either country to enter and leave the other on the same footing as the most favoured nation, a year before the US Congress did the same.73 These measures inspired Li Dijun to thank Cuba while unveiling the monument for ‘the unanimous sympathy our nation received from its people in the most difficult hours of our war for national survival against totalitarianism’. He called Cuba ‘our spiritual ally in the war, before becoming so as a result of international circumstances’, and praised the ‘tradition of friendship that linked the peoples of Cuba and China, even before the former achieved its independence and the latter the destruction of the Manchu dynasty’.74 However, Cuba’s post-war Chinese community was past its prime. The inflow from China had all but ceased and most Cuba-born Chinese had joined the ‘creole stew’: the mixture of Europeans, blacks, Chinese, and others that constituted lo cubano, ‘Cubanness’.75 Their integration, reflected in their strong presence in the PCC’s mobilizations in the 1950s and the Fidelista movement,76 deepened as the immigrant community aged and fell apart.

The Chinese under Castro Race at first barely featured in the movement that came to power under Castro, but it returned to prominence as a result of what Alejandro de la Fuente calls the ‘internationalization’ of blackness. In its confrontation with Washington, Havana appealed to black Americans for support and made race – and, later, Africa – a cornerstone of its foreign policy. In the new popular culture, lo negro (blackness) played a star role.77 Lo chino (Chineseness), on the other hand, returned to invisibility. Why did the Chinese stay hidden despite their contribution to Cuba’s liberation? And why, more recently, has the Chinese line in the Cuban family tree been restored to visibility? There is, as yet, no substantial study of the effect of the Revolution of 1959 on Cuba’s Chinese population. Many Chinese welcomed the new regime, but others emigrated. The community was in demographic decline anyway because of the drop in immigration after 1949. Even so, several thousand Chinese remained, and many tens of thousands of Cubans could claim at least one Chinese parent.78 Even today, Cubans describe their blood as Spanish, African, and Chinese, in that order.79

China, Cuba, and the Chinese in Cuba 169 In the first few years after 1959, a reinstatement of the Chinese to their place in Cuban life seemed inevitable. Beijing recognized the new Cuba in January 1959.80 Radical Chinese fomented a class struggle in Chinatown that removed the old guard and replaced it with revolutionaries. The government in Havana ordered the overthrow of the leadership of the Casino Chung Wah, which it accused of supporting Chiang Kai-shek and planning attacks on the revolution. The Casino’s new leaders supported the ‘Great Revolutionary Offensive’ in 1968, when even small businesses were expropriated, including Chinese firms.81 They had identified with the communists in China for years and in 1949 raised the PRC flag in Chinatown and called on the government to recognize Beijing.82 The Chinese minority was, at the time, unique in the communist world, in that it bridged revolutions on two continents. Its existence augured well for relations between the regimes, adding a blood tie to a class tie. In late 1959, a delegation of Chinese trade unionists met ‘overseas Chinese’ in Havana. During the revolution, Chinese in Havana flew the flags of both Cuba and China over the headquarters of their New Democratic Alliance.83 In 1960, Beijing opened an embassy in Cuba, its first in Latin America. China valued the tie, for it looked set to open the door to a region where further revolutions seemed inevitable.84 Very soon, however, Havana’s link with Beijing, once so promising, became the Chinese minority’s undoing. In collectivist states, domestic and foreign policy usually correlate more or less exactly. As long as China and Cuba stayed on good terms, Chinese Cubans could expect to benefit. Once they fell out, the advantage became a disadvantage. The cause of the rift was the Sino-Soviet split. At first, it had little effect on Havana’s relations with Beijing. Castro sought to stay neutral and some Cuban communists and Fidelistas even supported the Beijing line.85 In time, however, Cuba was forced to side with Moscow, to avoid buckling under US pressure. Ostensibly, Beijing was Castro’s more natural ally. The Chinese had greeted his revolution with enthusiasm and he initially looked to them for support when the Soviets withdrew their missiles in 1962. However, China was unable to match Soviet aid and Sino-Cuban relations deteriorated. In the late 1960s, Beijing recalled its Ambassador. After a short rapprochement in the mid-1970s when China stopped criticizing Cuba’s Moscow tie and Castro stayed away from a conference called to denounce Beijing, relations again worsened when Cuba sent troops to Angola to help the Moscow-backed government defeat factions supported by Beijing and Washington. In 1979, Castro denounced China’s invasion of Vietnam, while Beijing saw Havana as a threat to stability and a Moscow tool.86 However, the effects of the split on the Chinese in Cuba were less damaging than in the Soviet Union or China in similar circumstances. Under Stalin, ‘diasporic’ minorities (including Chinese) were labelled ‘enemy nations’ and purged.87 Chinese in China with ‘foreign ties’ suffered persecution and death. In Cuba, on the other hand, many Chinese won high office.88 At worst, Chinese culture and the Chinese role in Cuban history were censored.

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The Chinese revival in the late 1980s In the late 1980s, China’s trade with Cuba improved and Castro was reinstated as a comrade.89 After the Soviet Union’s collapse, the tie deepened.90 In Cuba, the idea of ‘learning from China’ re-emerged:91 85 per cent of Cuba’s civilian and military leaders have gone to China to study the ‘Chinese model’.92 Qian Qichen visited Cuba in 1989 and Jiang Zemin in 1993, and China became Cuba’s main ally and aid-giver and its second-largest trading partner.93 In July 2006, Liu Yunshan, a member of the Secretariat of the Chinese Communist Party, and his counterpart Estebán Lazo Hernández of the PCC vowed to ‘enhance exchanges in the political, ideological and publicity fields’.94 These developments led to a loosening of controls on the exploration of Chinese Cuban themes and public expressions of Chineseness. After 1959, Cubans had been educated to see themselves as Cubans and to downplay ‘race’. In recent years, however, they have been officially encouraged to explore their ethnic origins and cultures.95 As part of the rethinking, the Chinese have regained their place in cubanidad, signalled by the PRC-funded archway near Chinatown and the new interest in Chinese food, medicine, language, and martial arts. Chinese migration has also become a focus of academic study.96 As part of the revival, a new organization, El Grupo Promotor del Barrio Chino de la Habana (The Havana Chinatown Promotion Group), was set up in 1995 to revitalize Chinatown. A paper by a group leader pointed out that the area had decayed in the 1960s and reached its nadir in the 1980s, when few Chinese remained and most descendants had become estranged. Structural changes had destroyed Chinese business and speeded the exodus of Chinese, while the abolition of racial discrimination and economic exploitation removed factors that had created Chinatown in the first place. Many Chinese had embraced the new society. However, negative ‘cultural’ attitudes towards the Chinese ‘left over from the old society’ survived. Together with political problems in the 1960s, they led to tensions in the Chinese community, which responded by withdrawing into itself. By 1990, the original immigrant Chinese were far fewer and older – their average age was 70. Chinese institutions were closing, and Chinatown was inhabited more and more by non-Chinese. The ‘interracial’ descendants had little sense of cultural belonging. Generational factors, differences in educational levels, and differences in the degree of integration had increased the distance between Chinese and their Chinese-Cuban offspring. During this period, however, in the context of the ‘rectification of errors and negative tendencies’ announced at the PCC’s Third Congress in February 1986, the government took steps to protect ethnic identity and culture. Chinese leaders started to accept Chinese mestizos as members of the community. The Casino Chung Wah, the senior Chinese association, opened its membership to descendants, including mestizos, and even to non-Chinese. A programme of urban renewal started up in Havana’s old Chinese commercial centre, and plans to rehabilitate the Chinatown economy took off.97

China, Cuba, and the Chinese in Cuba 171 The ups and downs of Cuba’s tie with China are closely reflected in Cuban publishing since 1959. Only a handful of books on the community came out before 2000. Their dates corresponded with the short thaws that punctuated the general hostility in relations. For example, Jiménez Pastrana’s Los chinos en las luchas por la liberación de Cuba (The Chinese in the struggles for Cuba’s liberation) appeared in 1963, before relations broke down, and again in 1983, at the start of the Sino-Cuban trade revival. Apart from that, very little appeared. Starting in the 1990s, however, several new books have been published, of which the best is Juan Pérez de la Riva’s Los culíes chinos en Cuba (The Chinese coolies in Cuba). Hailed as a ‘monumental compendium that went through a long period of gestation and research and a fundamental work for all times and part of the universal literary heritage’, Pérez’s book was suppressed for 23 years. In English, Our History is Still Being Written: The Story of Three Chinese-Cuban Generals in the Cuban Revolution, edited by Mary-Alice Waters (New York, 2005), a book of interviews with three Chinese-Cuban generals, would not have happened but for the revival. Other Cuban authors have published anthropological and historical studies. The restoration of friendly ties between Beijing and Havana also led to a revalidation in China of the Cuban Revolution and Che Guevara’s role, and to domestic applications of the Cuba theme. The Chinese communists sang Guevara’s praises in the early 1960s and published his works, but then they cooled towards him. His name did not reappear in China until 2000, when a group of New Left artists staged an experimental drama that evoked his example to criticize the retreat from socialism and demand social justice and a revival of the revolutionary spirit. Chinese officials have also promoted Guevara as a model for a generation of Chinese youth vulnerable to corruption by ‘bourgeois materialism’.98

Conclusion This chapter has explored the link between the changing construction of the Chinese role in Cuban national identity and China’s and Cuba’s changing policies and inter-relations. The Chinese contribution to Cuba’s wars and revolutions was hailed by men like Gonzalo de Quesada at the turn of the twentieth century and by leaders of the PCC in the 1920s and the 1930s – Quesada did so as an act of homage to his Chinese comrades-in-arms, the communists to promote solidarity and internationalism. At times, however, a Chinese connection could be damaging, even under Castro. States and aspiring states have played a major role in shaping the experience of Chinese in Cuba, more so than in other countries. The initial recruitment was by planters and slavers associated with the colonial power. Those recruited remained unfree much longer than elsewhere. Some joined the Cuban nationalists, who recognized their prior nationality but admitted them to nascent Cuban nationhood. After international intervention, the labourers came under the protection of the Qing state. Remigrants from California profited from the Sino-Spanish treaties. Bilateral agreements led to a further reshaping of Cuba’s Chinese population by consuls, to whom the Spanish devolved relevant powers. In 1902 the Republic

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recognized the Chinese as Cubans, but residual racism allied with US state sinophobia pushed them towards a Chinese allegiance. Radical movements, Cuban and Chinese, subverted parts of the community and won them to alternative notions of statehood and national identity, starting with the rebels in 1868 and moving on through the anti-Qing republicans to the Guomindang and the Chinese communists, in alliance with the PCC, which took an internationalist approach. In the 1930s, Cuban Chinese backed China against Japan. Hundreds, many of mixed descent, joined the PCC or the Fidelistas in the 1950s, inspired in part by Cuban concerns and in part by Mao’s example. When Castro took power and fell out with Mao, the Chinese Cubans’ association with Beijing led to their marginalization – until the restoration of a strong Beijing tie in the 1990s, but by then it was too late for most Chinese immigrants and even for many ethnic-Chinese Cubans. Does the official revisiting of Cuba’s Chinese past have much point, given its instrumentality and dwindling relevance? Regretfully, it came too late for all but a few ‘pure’ Chinese. However, a more elastic idea of cubanidad is important not just for the dying generation of chinos auténticos but also for those many Cubans with Chinese ancestry. Rearticulating lo chino in lo cubano could also help Cuba as a nation. The more open and diverse the narratives that underlie its cultural identity, the better will it cope with a world in which cultural interaction is increasingly habitual. So the return to visibility of the Chinese does not just right historical wrongs but has contemporary resonance and relevance, at a time when Cuba is redefining its place in the world.

Notes 1 Wang Gungwu, ‘A single Chinese diaspora?’ in Gregor Benton and Hong Liu (eds), Diasporic Chinese Ventures: The life and work of Wang Gungwu (London: Routledge, 2004), pp. 157–77, at p. 163. 2 Wang Gungwu, ‘Ethnic Chinese: The past in their future’, in ibid., pp. 178–95, at p. 188. 3 Ibid., pp. 184 and 187. 4 Wang Gungwu, ‘Preface’, in Gregor Benton, Chinese Migrants and Internationalism: Forgotten histories, 1917–1945 (London: Routledge, 2009), pp. xi–xii, at p. xii. 5 Benton, Chinese Migrants and Internationalism, op. cit. 6 Mauro García Triana and Pedro Eng Herrera, The Chinese in Cuba, 1847-Now, ed. and tr. by Gregor Benton (Lanham MD: Lexington Books, 2009). 7 Pedro J. Eng Herrera, ‘Breve reseña sobre la lucha revolucionaria de la comunidad china en Cuba, 1920–1960’ (Brief sketch of the revolutionary struggle of the Chinese community in Cuba, 1920–1960), unpublished manuscript; Mauro García Triana, Los chinos de Cuba y los nexos entre las dos naciones (Cuba’s Chinese and the links between the two nations), Boletín ‘Problemas Filosóficos’, Serie Avances de Investigación no. 2, July 2003, Havana: Sociedad Cubana de Estudios e Investigaciones Filosóficas, pp. 102–12. 8 Kathleen Maria López, Migrants between empires and nations: the Chinese in Cuba, 1874–1959 (PhD thesis, University of Michigan, 2005), p. 63. 9 Michael R. Godley, ‘The Late Ch’ing Courtship of the Chinese in Southeast Asia’, The Journal of Asian Studies, 34(2) (1975): 361–85, at 362–3; Immanuel C. Y. Hsü, ‘Late Ch’ing Foreign Relations, 1866–1905’, in John K. Fairbank and Kwang-ching Liu (eds), The Cambridge History of China, vol. 11, Late Ch’ing, 1800–1911, Pt 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980), pp. 70–141, at pp. 73–7; Yen Ching-Hwang,

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‘Ch’ing changing images of the overseas Chinese (1644–1912)’, Modern Asian Studies, 15(2) (1981): 261–85, at 278. On Guo Songtao, see Gregor Benton and E. T. Gomez, Chinese in Britain, 1800–200: Economy, transnationalism, identity (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2008), pp. 307–8. Juan Pérez de la Riva, Los culíes chinos en Cuba (The Chinese coolies in Cuba) (Havana: Ciencias Sociales, 2000), p.171. Duvon Clough Corbitt, Study of the Chinese in Cuba, 1847–1947 (Wilmore KY: Asbury College, 1971), p. 22; Triana and Herrera, The Chinese in Cuba, op. cit., pp. 141–4. Mercedes Crespo Villate, Mis imágenes (My images) (Havana: Ediciones Verde Olivo, 2000), p. 50. Duvon Clough Corbitt, ‘Chinese immigrants in Cuba’, Far Eastern Survey, 13(14) (July 1944): 130–2; Triana, Los chinos de Cuba, op. cit., pp. 128–9; López, Migrants, op cit., pp. 65–8; Yen Ching-hwang, ‘Ch’ing changing images’, op cit., pp. 279–80; Yen Ching-hwang, Coolies and Mandarins: China’s protection of Overseas Chinese during the late Ch’ing period (1851–1911) (Singapore: Singapore University Press, 1985), p. 138. Ibid., pp. 150 and 209. López, Migrants, op cit., p. 67. The first consulate was in Singapore, in 1877, but it would have been in Havana or Lima but for various special circumstances (Yen Ching-hwang, Coolies and Mandarins, op cit., pp. 140–9). Antonio Chuffat Latour, Apunte histórico de los chinos en Cuba (Historical note on the Chinese in Cuba) (Havana: Molinos y Cia., 1927), pp. 89–90. El Cubano Libre, Guáimaro, 12 March 1870; García and Eng, The Chinese in Cuba, op cit., p. 12. Ibid., pp. 12 and 15. García, Los chinos de Cuba, op cit., p. 126; Pérez de la Riva, Los culíes chinos en Cuba, op cit., p. 304. Chuffat Latour, Apunte histórico, op cit., pp. 57–8. Mercedes Crespo Villate, Legación cubana en China, 1904–1959 (Cuban legation in China, 1904–1959) (Havana: Editorial SI-MAR S.A., 2004), p. 9; García, Los chinos de Cuba, op cit., pp. 187–9 and 190–1. R. A. Catalá, ‘Los chinos de Cuba’ (The Chinese of Cuba), El Fígaro, 27(41) (October 1911); Miriam Herrera Jerez and Mario Castillo Santana, De la memoria a la vida pública: Identidades, espacios y jerarquías de los chinos en La Habana republicana (1902–1968) (From memory to public life: Identities, spaces, and hierarchies of the Chinese in republican Havana [1902–1968]) (Havana: Centro de Investigación y Desarrollo de la Cultura Cubana Juan Marinello, 2003), pp. 60–2. Rebecca Karl, ‘Creating Asia: China in the world at the beginning of the twentieth century’, American Historical Review, 103(4) (October 1998): 1096–118, at 1102–5. Rebecca E. Karl, Staging the World: Chinese nationalism at the turn of the twentieth century (Durham: Duke University Press, 2002), p. 244, fn. 16; Chang Chih-tung (Zhang Zhidong), China’s Only Hope: An Appeal. By Her Greatest Viceroy, Chang Chih-Tung, with the Sanction of the Present Emperor, Kwang Sii, translated by Samuel I. Woodbridge (New York: Fleming H. Revell Company, 1900), pp. 19–21. García, Los chinos de Cuba, op cit., p. 183. Yen Ching-hwang, Coolies and Mandarins, op cit., p. 300. Karl, Staging the World, op cit., p. 63. Yen Ching-hwang, Coolies and Mandarins, op cit., p. 317; Betty Lee Sung, The Story of the Chinese in America (New York: Collier, 1967), p. 67. Graciela Chailloux Laffita (ed.), De dónde son los cubanos (Where are the Cubans from) (Havana: Editorial de Ciencias Sociales, 2005), pp. 125–6. López, Migrants, op cit., pp. 202–7. García, Los chinos de Cuba, op cit., pp. 195–9. Chailloux Laffita, De dónde son los cubanos, op cit., p. 131.

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33 El Día (13 November 1911); Herrera and Castillo, De la memoria, op cit., pp. 65 and 70–1. 34 Corbitt, ‘Chinese immigrants in Cuba’, op cit.: 131; Herrera and Castillo, De la memoria, op cit., pp. 19–23. 35 Crespo Villate, Mis imágenes, op cit., p. 59. 36 Corbitt, Study of the Chinese in Cuba, op cit., pp. 104–5. 37 Herrera and Castillo, De la memoria, op cit., pp. 19, 29–30, and 63. In 1915, 59 per cent of the Casino’s income in American money and 95 per cent in ‘Spanish gold’ were from passports and certificates. 38 Ada Ferrer, Insurgent Cuba: Race, nation, and revolution, 1868–1898 (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 1999), p. 3. 39 López, Migrants, op cit., p. 275. 40 Crespo Villate, Mis imágenes, op cit., pp. 58–9; Juan Jiménez Pastrana, Los chinos en la historia de Cuba, 1847–1930 (The Chinese in the history of Cuba, 1847–1930) (Havana: Editorial de Ciencias Sociales, 1983), pp. 108–9, has the text. 41 Corbitt, ‘Chinese immigrants in Cuba’, op cit.: 131; Corbitt, Study of the Chinese in Cuba, op cit., p. 95. 42 Alejandro de la Fuente, A Nation for All: Race, inequality, and politics in twentieth-century Cuba (Chapel Hill NC: The University of North Carolina Press, 2001), pp. 177–8 and 182. 43 See his Mi primera ofrenda (My first offering), in García and Eng, The Chinese in Cuba, op cit., pp. 185–94. 44 López, Migrants, op cit., pp. 160 and 252. 45 García, Los chinos de Cuba, op cit., pp. 76–7 and 129. The issue of Chinese rights in Cuba steadily gained in importance after 1864 and featured on the agenda of the Junta de Información, a reformist commission of Creole reformers and Peninsulars that met in Madrid in 1866 and 1867 to advise the Government on reforms in Cuba (García, Los chinos de Cuba, op cit., pp. 77–83). 46 On these developments, see Chuffat Latour, Apunte histórico, op cit., p. 70; Juan Luis Martín, De dónde vinieron los chinos a Cuba (Where did the Chinese come from to Cuba) (Havana: Atalaya S. A., 1939), p. 32; José Baltar Rodríguez, Los chinos de Cuba: Apuntes etnográficos (The Chinese of Cuba: Ethnographic notes) (Havana: Fundación Fernando, 1997), p. 38; Herrera and Castillo, De la memoria, op cit., pp. 18–19; Federico Chang, ‘La inmigración china en Cuba: Asociaciones y tradiciones’ (Chinese immigration in Cuba: Associations and traditions), in Chailloux Laffita, De dónde son los cubanos, op cit., p. 124. 47 Pérez de la Riva, Los culíes chinos en Cuba, op cit., pp. 244–52. 48 Kathleen López, ‘“One brings another”: the formation of early-twentieth-century Chinese migrant communities in Cuba’, in Andrew R. Wilson (ed.), The Chinese in the Caribbean (Princeton NJ: Markus Wiener, 2003), pp. 93–127, at p. 122, fn. 119. 49 For Chen Lanbin’s report, see The Cuba Commission Report: A Hidden History of the Chinese in Cuba, The Original English-Language Text of 1876, introduced by Denise Helly (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993); García and Eng, The Chinese in Cuba, op cit., pp. 141–84. 50 Juan Jiménez Pastrana, Los chinos en las luchas por la liberación de Cuba, 1847–1930 (The Chinese in the struggles for Cuba’s liberation, 1847–1930) (Havana: Instituto de Historia, Comisión Nacional de la Academía de Ciencias de la República de Cuba, 1963), p. 116. On the transition by some workers to entrepreneurship and the new transnational identity, see López, Migrants, op cit., pp. 113 and 242–7. 51 Crespo Villate, Legación cubana, op cit., pp. 56 and 58–60. 52 García, Los chinos de Cuba, op cit., pp. 258–9 and 266–7. 53 Ibid., pp. 233–4. 54 Archivo Nacional de Cuba, Havana, Secretaría de la Presidencia, 90/29. Subsecretaría de gobernación al jefe de la Policía Secreta Nacional, 2 January 1926. (Source supplied by Barry Carr.)

China, Cuba, and the Chinese in Cuba 175 55 García, Los chinos de Cuba, op cit., pp. 234. 56 Barry Carr, ‘From Caribbean backwater to revolutionary opportunity: Cuba’s evolving relationship with the Comintern, 1925–34’, in Tim Rees and Andrew Thorpe (eds), International Communism and the Communist International (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998), pp. 234–53, at pp. 236–7. 57 Erasmo Dumpierre, La Liga Antiimperialista de Cuba y sus vínculos con el movimiento antiimperialista internacional (Cuba’s Anti-Imperialist League and its links to the international anti-imperialist movement) (Havana: Instituto de Historia del Movimiento Comunista y de la Revolución Socialista de Cuba, anexo al Comité Central del Partido Comunista Cubano, n.d.), p. 7. 58 Xu Xiaosheng, Huaqiao yu diyici guogong hezuo (Overseas Chinese and the First United Front) (Guangzhou: Jinan daxue chubanshe, 1993), pp. 117, 136, and 181–3. 59 Marcel van der Linden, Transnational Labour History: Explorations (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003), p. 157. 60 ‘Letter to the Editors from a Cuban Comrade’, Chiguang, 55 (1930): 11–13, excerpted in Marilyn A. Levine and Chen San-ching (eds), The Guomindang in Europe: A Sourcebook of Documents, (Berkeley CA, University of California, 2000), pp. 258–9. 61 Benton, Chinese Migrants and Internationalism, op cit., p. 44. 62 López, Migrants, op cit., pp. 252. 63 Margalit Bejarano, ‘La inmigración a Cuba y la política migratoria de los EE.UU. (1902–1933)’ (Immigration to Cuba and the migration policies of the US [1902–1933]), Estudios Interdisciplinarios de América Latina y el Caribe, 4(2) (1993). 64 García, Los chinos de Cuba, op cit., pp. 270–3. 65 Corbitt, Study of the Chinese in Cuba, op cit., p. 114; Herrera and Castillo, De la memoria, op cit., pp. 110–15. 66 Corbitt, ‘Chinese Immigrants in Cuba’, op cit., p. 131; Corbitt, Study of the Chinese in Cuba, op cit., p. 114. 67 Zeng Ruiyan, Huaqiao yu kang Ri zhanzheng (Overseas Chinese and the resistance to Japan) (Chengdu: Sichuan daxue chuban she, 1988): pp. 42 and 56–7. 68 Herrera and Castillo, De la memoria, op cit., p. 119. 69 Corbitt, ‘Chinese Immigrants in Cuba’, op cit., p. 131. 70 Diario de Cuba (Santiago de Cuba), 3–9 April 1946; El Crisol, 12–15 April 1946; García, Los chinos de Cuba, op cit., pp. 283 and 319–25. 71 García and Eng, The Chinese in Cuba, op cit., p. 26. 72 López, Migrants, op cit., pp. 262–5; Corbitt, ‘Chinese Immigrants in Cuba’, op cit., p. 132; García, Los chinos de Cuba, op cit., p. 281. 73 Corbitt, ‘Chinese Immigrants in Cuba’, op cit., p. 132; García, Los chinos de Cuba, op cit., pp. 288–91. 74 García, Los chinos de Cuba, op cit., pp. 319–25. 75 ‘Creole stew’ (ajiaco criollo) is a coinage of Fernando Ortiz y Fernández, ‘Cuba, Martí and the Race Problem’, Phylon, 3(3) (1942): 253–76, at 250. 76 García and Eng, The Chinese in Cuba, op cit., pp. 26–45; Chailloux Laffita, De dónde son los cubanos, op cit., p. 140. 77 De la Fuente, A Nation for All, op cit., pp. 261–303. 78 According to Taiwan sources, of the 30,000 Chinese and ethnic Chinese living in Cuba in 1949, fewer than 10,000 remained in 1979 (Huaqiao jingji nianjian bianji weiyuanhui (eds), Huaqiao jingji nianjian [Overseas Chinese economic yearbook] (Taibei: Qiaowu weiyuanhui, 1979), p. 325). Mainland studies roughly concur. Reports cite 11,000 Chinese and ethnic Chinese in 1962; 8,000 in 1972, and 3,701 in 1987, with around 50,000 Cubans of Chinese descent in 1997 (Liu Quan, Guangdong Huaqiao Huaren shi [A history of Cantonese overseas and ethnic Chinese] (Guangzhou: Guangdong renmin chuban she, 2002), pp. 87–8). Citing the Census, José Baltar sets Cuba’s Chinese population at 11,834 in 1953 and 5,892 in 1970, although his definition of Chinese is unclear (Baltar Rodríguez, Los chinos de Cuba, op. cit., p. 90). Kathleen López, citing

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Gregor Benton Alfonso Chao, President of the Chung Hwa Casino, says there were 430 Chinese in 1998, with an average age of around 80, and about 3,200 ‘descendants’ (López, ‘“One Brings Another”’, op. cit., p. 222, fn. 119). Frank F. Scherer makes this point in ‘Chinese Shadows: Fernando Ortiz and José Martí on Cubanity and Chineseness’, unpublished paper. Crespo Villate, Legación cubana, op. cit., p. 113. Chailloux Laffita, De dónde son los cubanos, op. cit., p. 142; Herrera and Castillo, op. cit., De la memoria, pp. 158–68. Daniel Tretiak, ‘The Chinese in Latin America’, The China Quarterly, 7 (July 1961): 148–53, at 152; Carteles, May 1, 8, 15, and 29, 1949; García, Los chinos de Cuba, op. cit., p. 347; Crespo Villate, Legación cubana, op. cit., pp. 109, 114 and 165. Tretiak, ‘The Chinese in Latin America’, op. cit., pp. 151–2. For an idea of the Chinese tone, see Support the Cuban and Other Latin American People’s Just Struggle Against US Imperialism (Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1961). Hugh Thomas, Cuba, or the Pursuit of Freedom (London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1971), p. 1315. Robert L. Worden, ‘China’s balancing act: Cancun, the Third World, Latin America’, Asian Survey, 23(5) (May 1983): 619–36, at 631. Benton, Chinese Migrants and Internationalism, op. cit., p. 27. García and Eng, The Chinese in Cuba, op. cit., has examples. He Li, Sino-Latin American Economics Relations (New York: Praeger, 1991), pp. 20–6 and 49–67; Yinghong Cheng, ‘Fidel Castro and “China’s Lesson for Cuba”: a Chinese perspective’, The China Quarterly, 189 (March 2007): 24–42, at 26. ‘Chinese Presence, Interests in Cuba Growing’, The Miami Herald (24 June 2007). William Ratliff, China’s ‘Lessons’ for Cuba’s Transition? (Institute for Cuban and Cuban-American Studies, University of Miami, 2004), pp. 11–12. Cuban intelligence officer Domingo Amuchástegui, quoted in Newsweek International (12 February 2007). Cheng, ‘Fidel Castro and “China’s Lesson for Cuba”, op. cit.: 27–39. Available online at: http://www.gov.cn (accessed 10 July 2006). Andrew Wilson, ‘Introduction’, in Wilson, The Chinese in the Caribbean, op. cit., pp. vii–xxiii, at p. xx. López, Migrants, op. cit., pp. 282–3 and 290, discusses these developments. Yrmina G. Eng Menéndez, ‘Etnicidad y autorecuperación: La comunidad china en Cuba y el Barrio Chino de La Habana’ (Ethnicity and self-recovery: The Chinese community in Cuba and Havana’s Chinatown), unpublished paper (December 2004). Yinghong Cheng, ‘Che Guevara: dramatizing China’s divided intelligentsia at the turn of the century’, Modern Chinese Literature and Culture, 15(2), pp. 1–43. The Guevara play is also discussed in Liu Kang, ‘The internet in China: emergent cultural formations and contradictions’, in David Leiwei Li (ed.), Globalization and the Humanities (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2004), pp. 187–212, at p. 210.

10 Chinese overseas and a rising China The limits of a diplomatic “diaspora option” Liu Hong

Introduction The past decade has seen a growing body of literature pertaining to the rise of China and its elevated status in the new international order. In the meantime, impatient with the lack of constructive dialogues between China specialists and IR theorists, scholars have called for the “integration of Chinese foreign policy analysis with wider debates in the international relations field” which could benefit both.1 For the establishment of a Chinese school of IR, empirical contemplation and theoretical formulation need to be applied to the country’s specific political, socio-cultural and demographic environments. The existence of a large diaspora population, numbering approximately 45 million, who have maintained substantial and unbroken linkages with the homeland for many centuries2 is one of the factors unique to China. What, then, is the role of Chinese international migration,3 which has figured prominently in the country’s past and present developments, in the ongoing discourse on China rising and its international relations? Does the Chinese diaspora play an active part – as some other diasporas such as the Jewish, Indians, and Armenians have – in the hostlands’ and homeland’s foreign policy processes? If not, why not? By drawing upon Wang Gungwu’s inspiring scholarship on the Chinese overseas in the historical and global context4 and examining the changing place of the diaspora in China’s international relations in the Cold War era as well as its strategies in utilizing the transnational human capital of the new migrants (xin yimin) at the time of China rising over the past two decades, this chapter contends that the conventional diaspora option – that is, that diaspora can provide feedback in the form of knowledge and technology and/or that it can participate in socio-political processes at home that can in turn benefit developing countries – has rarely been extended to the diplomatic arena in China. As a largely passive factor in China’s international relations, the diaspora has not taken a proactive part in the homeland’s foreign policy making processes. In an attempt to explain the historical, institutional and social factors behind this conspicuous absence, I argue that apart from the fragmentation of the diasporic communities per se, the Chinese state’s centrality in defining national and security interests and its resilient capacities in domesticating (potential) diplomatic problems relating to the Chinese overseas

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has prevented the diaspora from playing any proactive role in the homeland’s foreign policy processes. Despite the growing trend in theoretical linkages between diaspora and IR theories in general as well as the massive scale of Chinese international migration, paradoxically, the diaspora has not yet made any inroads into IR theories in the context of Chinese studies. This chapter is organized into three parts. The first part overviews the relationship between international migration and IR and zooms in on the mechanisms – especially identity-based interests – through which the two processes (may) intertwine. The second part examines the diaspora’s role in China’s foreign relations during the height of the Cold War era in the 1950s and 1960s, a period that may be conceptualized as a prelude to China’s subsequent emergence as a regional power. I also demonstrate how the interests of the nation-state were institutionalized in the mid-1950s to be placed above those of the diaspora (including Chinese citizens abroad). The third part of this chapter examines changes in the Chinese diasporic communities over the last decade and the implications of such changes for Chinese international relations.

Part One: International migration and IR in the Chinese context Conjuncture between international migration and IR International migration is conceptualized in this chapter as a social process which links places of origin and destination and brings about social and economic change in both; while diaspora means an “ethnic community separated by state borders” which is formed as a direct result of international migration.5 Existing studies on international migration devote their attention primarily to issues such as causes for migration (places of origin; economic, social and cultural backgrounds); adaptation patterns (cultural differences, and subsequent social and cultural change in receiving countries); internal composition of migrants (in terms of generation, skill level, legality, and gender); socio-economic and cultural impact on sending and receiving societies, and the changing role of networks in the making of global diasporic communities. Regarding the politics of international migration, government policy which regulates migration in both sending and receiving areas has been considered to be important in shaping migration flows. Little attention has been directed to the relationship between international migration/diaspora and international relations – the latter has been largely under the hegemonic guard of political science. As Yosef Lapid commented in the 1990s, “IR’s fascination with sovereign statehood has greatly decreased its ability to confront issues of ethnic nationhood and political otherhood.”6 There are a few exceptions whereby scholars call our attention to the significance of international migration for an understanding of IR. Myron Weiner, for example, points out that “international migrants are becoming important political actors influencing both the political processes of the country in which they reside and the relationship between their country of residence and their country of origin.” He

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puts forth three propositions: 1) the relations between states are often influenced by the actions or inactions of states vis-à-vis international migration; 2) states affect international migration by creating the rules regarding exit and entry; and 3) international migrants have often become a political force in the country in which they reside.7 He suggests in a subsequent study that there is a “need for a security/stability framework for the study of international migration that focuses on state policies toward emigration and immigration as shaped by concerns over internal stability and international security.”8 To date, the most substantial and theoretically sophisticated study on diaspora and IR appears to be the work by Yossi Shain and Aharon Barth.9 Conceptualizing diasporas as “independent actors that actively influence homeland (ancesteral and kin-state) foreign policies,” they examine the motive, opportunity, and means of the diaspora–IR interactions. According to Shain and Barth, diasporas have a diverse range of interests which might prompt them to take part in the homeland’s foreign policies: 1) diasporas might view the homeland’s foreign policy as having an impact on the interests of “the people” – the entire kin community within and outside the homeland; 2) diasporas may have “a strong stake” in the ways in which the homeland’s foreign policy affects the homeland’s future; 3) diasporas might view the homeland’s foreign policy as affecting the interests of a specific community; and 4) diasporas might view the homeland’s foreign policy as “affecting the narrow bureaucratic interests of their organizations.” The authors argue that the diasporas seek to “advance their identity-based interests, both directly through lobbying and indirectly by providing information to the institutional actors.” Based upon case studies on Jewish–Israel interactions and diasporic Armenians, they identify four main elements that have an influence on the diaspora’s role in IR: permeability of the homeland; perception of the diaspora by the homeland – and vice versa; the balance of power between the two; and the cohesion of diaspora voices regarding homeland foreign policy. These four elements in turn create three role-types of diaspora in the international arena: 1) diasporas as passive actors who are “interjected into international relations not by their own doing,” with the active actors being the homelands or other states; 2) diasporas as active actors, influencing the foreign policies of their hostlands (such as occurs in the United States, where the power of diverse ethnic lobbies has led to a fragmentation of American foreign policy); and 3) diasporas as active actors, influencing the foreign policies of their homelands. Shain and Barth conclude that: Diasporas exert influence on homelands when the latter are “weak” – in the permeable sense of the word, tilting the “balance of power” in favor of the former. If the homeland is “weak,” and is receptive to diasporic input, then the ability of a diaspora to influence the homeland’s foreign policy is enhanced. The “weaker” the homeland is, both in terms of need for diasporic assets and permeability to societal pressures, and the more cohesive the diaspora is, in terms of its organized voice and determination to influence policy, the greater influence the community will exert on the homeland.10

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IR’s growing attention to the diaspora is partly linked to recent development of IR theories and frameworks. By locating a common agency of identity, Chris Ogden connects diaspora with the constructivism strand in the IR theory. As constructivism “assumes, a priori, that identities are potentially part of the constitutive practices of the state, and so, productive of its actions at home and abroad,” he argues, identity appears to be a natural starting point in IR for an analysis of diasporas who are fundamentally shaped by the questions of identities and identity (trans)formations, and “the different modes of long-distance existential nationalism provide a diaspora with a bridge between homeland and host-land, transmitting values and normative understandings.”11 The above studies on the connections between international migration/diaspora and IR through the agencies of identity and identity-based interests have been largely based upon experiences of the Jewish, Armenian and Indian diasporas. The Chinese experience has not been substantially incorporated in the ongoing discussions, thus prompting the question of applicability of the aforementioned theoretical formulations into an understanding of the Chinese diaspora whose history, size, and nature of linkages with the homeland are quite different from those of other ethnic communities. Disjuncture between IR and the Chinese diaspora On the other end of the spectrum, studies on Chinese IR and the Chinese diaspora, respectively, have rarely taken interactions between the diaspora and China’s foreign relationship into serious consideration. “What is the effect of the Chinese diaspora on Chinese foreign policy?” asked Thomas Christensen, Alastair Johnston, and Robert Ross in a recent review of Chinese foreign policy studies. Their answer is: Diasporic studies and foreign policy is not yet a field … It is still not clear what, if any, political and economic preferences the diaspora will bring directly or indirectly to the foreign policy process …. [W]e have no way of conceptualizing, let alone measuring, this notion of permeability in the Chinese policy process, in part because homeland attitudes toward the diaspora can be so complex and contradictory.12 Arguing that the Chinese approaches to world politics are “distinctively actorcentred (state-centred in most cases) and relation-oriented,” Wang Jisi points out that there are “distinctive Chinese approaches to observing international politics in general” and that IR theory is not only an explanatory tool, but, more importantly, “a guide for international action and foreign policy.”13 In a similar vein, Ren Xiao suggests that as a result of dissatisfaction with the status quo and an aspiration to become “a producer of knowledge,” IR in China now has more self-consciousness than ever and a growing sense of autonomy.14 Original questions in the context of China and its place in the new world order need to be asked for the establishment of a Chinese School of IR, concur both Wang

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and Ren, and they are of the opinion that Chinese culture is an important element in the evolving discourses on the necessity and characteristics of new thinking. Nevertheless, despite the fact that international migration has been a long-standing feature of China’s historical and cultural developments and that there are sizeable Chinese diasporic communities abroad, the calls for a Chinese School of IR appear to be largely centred on inter-state relations and within the nation-state framework, giving scant attention to the (ir)relevance of international migration and diaspora in the new IR theoretical formulations. With respect to the (international) politics of Chinese diaspora, Stéphane Dufoix has faulted most studies of the Chinese diaspora for only considering geographic distribution, economic organization, and individual or collective relationships to the country of origin as reasons for leaving, but not the political aspect of certain activities, organizations, and publications …. [T]he usage “diaspora” tends to downplay politics while promoting uniformity.15 Recent reviews of diasporic Chinese studies have also shown the lack of significant work concerning directly with Chinese diaspora and IR.16 There are, to be sure, some important exceptions to this sweeping generalization. In his penetrating studies on Chinese international migration both in the historical and in the contemporary periods, Wang Gungwu has explored complex relations between diverse patterns of migration and the Chinese state in shifting global environments. For instance, after a judicious examination of the changing political attitudes of different types of Chinese overseas toward the Chinese state, he concludes that while there are those who are narrowly concerned with China’s resurgence and those who are narrowly concerned with the survival of ethnic Chinese communities overseas, the rise of China has had a profound impact on all Chinese lives and the regions they inhabit. Wang’s nuanced analysis on nationalism adds substantially to our knowledge of the ethnic Chinese’s self-perceptions and their changing linkages with China. His precautionary note on the use (and misuse) of concepts such as “Greater China” and “diaspora” is deeply rooted in his perceptive understanding about China’s troubling relations with its Southeast Asian neighbors during the Cold War era and the likelihood of the resurgence of anti-Chinese sentiments against the backdrop of a rising China. Wang painstakingly reminds us that these concepts must be employed cautiously and that history provides an indispensable lens through which the Chinese diaspora and the links between such communities and international relationships could be fruitfully comprehended.17 In respect of specific studies about Chinese overseas and China’s diplomacy, Stephen Fitzgerald provides a balanced and comprehensive account of China’s changing policy toward the Overseas Chinese after 1949 and pays some attention to its interactions with the country’s foreign policy.18 More recently, Peter Koehn and Xiao-huan Yin have explored social and economic linkages between Chinese Americans and the homeland, with a special emphasis on their impact upon US–China relations, broadly defined to include social, cultural and educational

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relations. A number of chapters deal with Chinese American activism and its impact on the changing orientations and participations in shaping American policy toward China. In other words, this study has been mainly concerned with the hostland’s instead of the homeland’s international relations. Lucie Cheng analyzes the role played by Chinese Americans in forming linkages between the United States and the Asia Pacific region and how they themselves have been affected by such linkages.19 This lack of systematic attention from the IR perspective on the role of the Chinese diaspora in the homeland’s foreign policies is in stark contrast to the voluminous studies detailing the significant interactions between the Chinese diaspora and the homeland in social, economic and cultural realms. It is well known that people of the diaspora played an instrumental role in China’s modernization in the first half of the twentieth century and in its economic development during the reform era over the last three decades. From 1979 to 1997, more than two-thirds of all foreign capital flowing into China came from ethnic Chinese, and it has been argued that the extensive Chinese ethnic minorities in Southeast Asia are not only “responsible for significant investment in China, [but are] also helping create a regional economy where Chinese growth and East Asian growth are thoroughly intertwined”.20 Over the last decade, 60 percent of foreign direct investment (FDI) has been brought in by the ethnic/diaspora Chinese, whose companies in the mainland account for some 70 percent of the country’s foreign enterprises. More recently, various groups of new migrants ranging from labor migrants to skilled migrants have contributed to the socio-economic development of China.21 To a certain degree, the participation by people of the diaspora in China’s socio-economic process can be conceptualized within the framework of the “diaspora option.” First developed in the context of debates of “brain drain” vs. “brain gain,” this concept sees the phenomenon of brain drain less as a loss to the home country, and more as a form of “brain circulation,” where talent goes abroad but information circulates back to the individual’s country of origin. The diaspora option can be extended more broadly to include the idea that nationals abroad feed back knowledge and/or technology and participate in socio-political processes that can benefit developing countries, an option that does not require them to relocate permanently and physically back to the home countries.22 As studies have demonstrated, some other diasporas such as the Jewish, Indian and Armenian diasporas, have taken the “diaspora option” not just in the socio-economic sphere but also in the diplomatic arena in that they have played an active role in influencing the homeland’s international policies.23 It is clear from the preceding discussions that despite the growing theoretical convergence between international migration and IR in general, there exists a gap between IR and the studies of Chinese diasporas, with the latter not being systematically incorporated into China’s diplomacy as a proactive factor. Why is there no substantial diplomatic ‘diaspora option’ in the Chinese context? What does this tell us about the nature and characteristics of Chinese diplomacy and international migration? How should the emerging Chinese school of IR incorporate international migration into its theoretical and methodological formulations? The following pages attempt to offer some preliminary answers to these questions.

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Part Two: An historical perspective on diaspora and Chinese IR To understand reasons behind the diaspora’s relatively passive role in China’s foreign policy process, it is necessary to look into institutional, historical and political factors. This part of the chapter examines the historicity of the diaspora in IR during the prologue to China’s contemporary rise (1949–65) which established a pattern that subjected the interests of the diasporic community to the gigantic power of the nation-state. Still looming large at the turn of the twenty-first century, this historical legacy constitutes a fundamental policy consideration in determining the Chinese diaspora’s role (or the lack of it) in foreign policy processes. Overseas Chinese as liability The height of the global Cold War confrontation in the 1950s and 1960s was also a time when China began emerging as a regional power and served as a viable model for some new nations in Southeast Asia. As I have documented elsewhere,24 the Chinese model of socio-economic development prior to the Cultural Revolution was attractive to countries like Indonesia and could be conceptualized as the early practice of its deployment of soft power. On the diplomatic front, China’s advocacy of the Five Principles of Peaceful Co-existence might win friends in Asia and Africa.25 However, their implementation required skillful diplomatic maneuvers of the Overseas Chinese issue before and during the 1955 Bandung Conference. The Chinese in Indonesia (and Southeast Asia in general) thus became a testing ground in assessing the linkages between the diaspora and diplomacy for the newly established republic. As the largest nation in Southeast Asia with a substantial ethnic Chinese population, Indonesia was at the center of the controversies around the Chinese, which were further complicated by their heterogeneity in origins and political orientations. The inflow of Chinese immigrants to the Indonesian archipelago after the mid-nineteenth century led to the formation of two heterogeneous communities: the totoks (literally, “of pure blood”) being those who had recently immigrated, spoke Chinese and were culturally oriented towards China, and the much older peranakan communities being characterized by the use of vernacular language for everyday purposes and by a distinctive set of cultural traits which were neither wholly Chinese nor wholly Indonesians.26 It was estimated that in the mid-1950s there were around 2.45 million ethnic Chinese in the country (accounting for less than 3 percent of the nation’s population); among them approximately 1.4 million were totoks.27 According to William Skinner’s survey of Chinese youth in urban Java, conducted in the late 1950s, more than 80 percent of the totok Chinese were either “strongly or moderately China-oriented.” By contrast, over four-fifths of peranakan Chinese were weak or nil in their China-orientation.28

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Indigenous Indonesians’ feelings of distrust and animosity toward the Chinese prevailed in much of the post-World War II decades. Historically, the Chinese were seen by many locals as a tool of Dutch colonialism. According to Mohammad Hatta, Vice President between 1950 and 1956, the Chinese represented “a continuation of foreign capitalism in Indonesian society,” who “were always on the top, enjoying superior economic status.”29 The Chinese were accused of controlling and manipulating the local economy. As a prominent member of the Indonesian Nationalist Party declared in Parliament in 1956, “My party does not want the economy of this country to be controlled by an exclusive group which only looks after its own interests in an egoistic and materialistic manner.”30 Politically, local Chinese were depicted as opportunists lacking loyalty to their adopted nation. Some foreign policy elite alleged that the Chinese had reversible portraits hung on their walls, with Mao Tse-tung on one side and Chiang Kai-shek on the other.31 Military leaders believed that the Chinese could become the intermediaries through which China and the Indonesian Communist Party influenced domestic politics. A high-ranking army officer told foreign correspondents in 1957: “If we are going to fight anyone, it will not be the Americans. It will be the Chinese.”32 It is clear that the ethnic Chinese constituted a liability in the relationship between China and Indonesia (as well as other Southeast Asian countries where similar feelings of distrust toward the local Chinese were widespread). An uncompromising supremacy of the state over diaspora The Indonesian official and public perceptions of the local Chinese posed significant challenges to China’s Overseas Chinese and foreign policies. In the first five years of the People’s Republic, Beijing followed Imperial China’s and the KMT government’s position in claiming all Chinese, regardless of where they resided, as citizens of China. This “colonial legacy”, according to Stephen Fitzgerald, “rested on a combination of Overseas Chinese willingness to regard themselves as belonging to China, and Chinese government claims over them and attempts to control them.”33 But China did not have the diplomatic, military and moral capacities to implement this claim. In 1950, a Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) document stated that it would fight against those governments who persecuted the overseas Chinese. However, Beijing’s limited means in protecting its citizens abroad led to the relinquishing of this policy in 1953 when the MFA publicly announced that “Overseas Chinese have to mainly rely on their solidarity in order to protect their own lawful rights abroad.” By 1954, the CCP had discovered that “to claim the Overseas Chinese as nationals of the People’s Republic of China involved an obligation which it was unable, and not necessarily willing, to fulfill.”34 In the meantime, the PRC leaders became aware of the conflicts between the efforts to promote China’s foreign policy interests and to protect the welfare of ethnic Chinese (including Chinese nationals) abroad. As Zhou Enlai said in 1957, “The new China has not just stood up, but also become increasingly stronger as a major power in Asia. People [in other Asian countries] are afraid of dual nationality, and we have come to realize this after visiting countries like India and Burma.”35

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To win Indonesians’ hearts and minds and dilute their suspicions of the ethnic Chinese, Beijing had to act swiftly and firmly establish the state’s supremacy in defining the national interests, leading to “essentially China-centred” overseas and foreign policies, with the latter taking the unchallenged priority. It has remained the “guiding principle” in Overseas Chinese policy ever since. As Fitzgerald points out, while this did not necessarily mean that Overseas Chinese policy always had to serve foreign policy, it could also pursue its own objectives so long as these did not conflict with or obstruct the pursuit of foreign policy objectives.36 The fundamental shift in the PRC’s policy toward Overseas Chinese was manifested in the Sino-Indonesian Treaty on Dual Nationality signed during the Bandung Conference in April 1955. The Treaty made it clear that dual nationals should have the right to choose freely between two nationalities, thus signaling the end of the PRC’s claim to all overseas Chinese nationals (if the latter opted for local citizenship). In the second half of the 1950s, further policies to remove the Overseas Chinese problem from the PRC’s relations with Southeast Asia were implemented; these included the strong official advocacy that Overseas Chinese should choose local nationality and that Chinese nationals should not interfere in local politics. Even as late as 1978, when Deng Xiaoping met with a delegation from Burma, he still stressed that encouraging the ethnic Chinese to choose local nationality of their own free will was “an important dimension of Overseas Chinese policy (qiaowu zhengce) and would be beneficial to the relationship between China and their residing nations.”37 The Dual Nationality Treaty, nevertheless, was by no means a panacea for diplomatic frictions between China and Southeast Asia. Sino-Indonesian confrontation in 1959–60 concerning the Overseas Chinese issue cast a dark shadow over the bilateral relationship that had developed amiably in the previous five years. In May 1959, Minister of Trade Djuanda announced the Presidential Decree, or PP10, stipulating that from January 1960 alien retail traders would be banned in the countryside, which would affect at least 300,000 Chinese. This decree was accompanied by a series of regulations issued by local military commanders in Java, forcing the Chinese to move into cities and towns.38 Beijing protested against the policy, and amidst diplomatic rows between the two governments, China repatriated 119,000 Chinese to the homeland. However, Beijing dealt with the confrontation by downplaying its importance while highlighting the common causes binding the two countries together. Vice Premier Chen Yi told Indonesian journalists on 4 August 1960: “We are willing to maintain friendship with Indonesia, overseas Chinese problem is just a minor issue and we hope it will not become bigger … Our common cause of anti-Imperialism and anti-Colonialism is a main concern for us.”39 The two countries resumed close ties immediately after Beijing made some major concessions on the issue of overseas Chinese citizenship in 1961. “The Overseas Chinese problem is a small matter in the relationship between our two countries,” Chen Yi told President Sukarno who was visiting in Beijing on 31 March 1961, “and it has been resolved now.” Sukarno responded that he was in full agreement with this view.40 The diplomatic solution to the Overseas Chinese issue paved the way to the forging of a symbolic alliance in “the struggle against imperialism and

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neo-colonialism,” known as the “Jakarta-Peking Axis” during the closing years of the Sukarno regime (1963–5). In short, the experiences of the Overseas Chinese issue in Sino-Indonesian relations during the 1950s and 1960s represented Shain and Barth’s “passive” role-type of diasporas in international politics, namely, that they are “interjected into international relations not by their own doing,” with the active actors being the homeland or other states. After the mid-1950s, the uncompromising supremacy of the state over diaspora has been instituted, which was a reflection of – and reinforced by – the dominance of national/political identities over ethnic and cultural identities (the latter might have more intimately linked China with the Chinese diaspora). It prevented the Chinese overseas from playing any proactive role as an organized voice in deliberating and affecting the homeland’s foreign policies and their processes. This passive role-type model has left a profound legacy in shaping the relationships between the Chinese diaspora and China’s foreign policy in the subsequent decades. The divergence of political identity between the Chinese abroad and their compatriots in the mainland – with the former being categorized in the mainland as capitalists or entrepreneurs instead of working class and increasingly oriented towards the residing nations in their political loyalty41 – further set the them apart and prevented the convergence of the diaspora’s and the nation’s interests. In the course of the 1998 Indonesian anti-Chinese riots, the Chinese government was widely criticized both within and outside the country for its silence over the violence and its lack of action in stemming it. One of the key reasons behind this troubling restraint lies in the deep historical memories which helped cement the state supremacy over the fate of the diaspora. It has been suggested that the foremost considerations determining China’s stance on the anti-Chinese riots in 1998 was to “minimize potential damages to its state-to-state ties with Indonesia, allowing as little room as possible for Taiwan to exploit in the long-lasting China– Taiwan diplomatic rivalry.”42

Part Three: New challenges at the turn of the twenty-first century With the launching of reform and opening-up in the late 1970s, the equation between the diaspora and China’s foreign and domestic politics has been shifting. There are two major changes with respect to the diasporic Chinese communities. The first is the firm establishment of the Chinese’s political allegiances in Southeast Asia and elsewhere toward their residing nation-states. Coupled with their economic capital and management know-how, this identity change has transformed the Chinese diaspora from a liability into an asset in China’s relationship with other countries, especially those in Southeast Asia. The second change is the rapid emergence of new Chinese migrants, who have gradually played a more active role in the nation’s socio-economic development and China’s globalization process, which in turn poses new challenges to China’s existing institutional arrangements on the diaspora that were formed at the height of the Cold War era.

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The Chinese diaspora as an asset One of the most important changes in the diasporic Chinese communities is the rapid emergence of xin yimin (new migrants) – those who left China after the early 1980s and (semi-)permanently lived outside the Mainland. It is estimated that their number has surpassed 6 million.43 I have categorized them into four major types: students-turned-migrants (those studying abroad, but staying (semi-)permanently outside China after their graduation); emigrating professionals (those emigrating to the West because of their educational credentials and professional experiences); chain migrants (those joining their families and relatives who are foreign citizens or permanent residents), and illegal/undocumented immigrants (those going overseas without proper documentation or over-staying their temporary visas). The emergence of what I called “Transnational Chinese”44 – those new migrants with portable skills who have exhibited a high degree of global mobility – presents both opportunities and new policy challenges to the Chinese state. Unlike the ethnic Chinese during the Cold War era, new migrants have been generally viewed as an asset for two reasons. In the first place, as new migrants were born and educated in China with substantial family ties in the homeland, the Chinese government and public in general are able to identify politically and culturally with those compatriots, and vice versa. In part as a result of this favorable perception, the focus of the Office of Overseas Chinese of the State Council (Guoqiaoban) has been increasingly geared toward serving and working with new migrants instead of with the older generation.45 Secondly, it has been reported that some 600,000 (new) migrants are professionals who received advanced education in the West and possess working experienced in developed countries. They thus constitute a tremendous talent pool for China’s endeavor to build an innovative nation. Li Yuanchao, Minister of the powerful Ministry of CCP Organization wrote in early 2009 that it was the central government’s strategic decision to attract those China-born high-level professionals to serve the country.46 The past two decades have witnessed a shift of the PRC government’s policies in encouraging and attracting “overseas Chinese talents” (mainly students-turned-immigrants and professionals) to help China in various manners. The official slogan of “returning to serve the country” (huiguo fuwu) was formally replaced by “serving the country” (weiguo fuwu) in 1993, thus making the physical return to China not a prerequisite of new migrants’ participation in China’s socio-economic process and its integration into globalization. By separating national identity from the fixed territory and by accentuating Chineseness as the common cultural identity bonding the mainland and new migrants, this new policy significantly expanded the horizons of the new Chinese immigrants and enhanced their emerging nationalism, which is amply demonstrated through new migrants’ enthusiastic support for China’s hosting of the 2008 Olympics and against the independence of Taiwan and Tibet.47 The key agenda of these new policies has been to accommodate the burgeoning trend of transnationalism by encouraging returnees’ contributions to China while offering them the flexibility of global mobility. In so doing, the conventional notion of the nation-state with fixed political and geographical boundaries is gradually

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being replaced by more flexible transnationalism and formulations that allow for a high degree of international mobility. The highly skilled new migrants have taken advantage of these new policy initiatives by undertaking multiple careers transcending the political boundaries of China and/or their residing nations, which represent a prototype of the diaspora option or “brain circulation.” The efforts by the PRC government in attracting the return of highly skilled migrants and promoting its cultural/political agendas abroad have brought the nation-state, both as a sovereign entity and a cultural symbol, to the Chinese transnational communities. These efforts also reduce the distance, in terms of political, geographical, and cultural connotations, of China and its (former) citizens overseas. However, the strategic collaboration between the state and new migrants is not without problems: their different modes and logics of operation (transnational mobility vs. nation-state supremacy) would inevitably lead to the articulations and public expressions of divergent interests. The debate about dual nationality is a case in point, which sheds some interesting light on the patterns of interactions between the Chinese diaspora and IR. Campaign to amend dual nationality policy There are some structural and legal constraints in the attempt to fully implement the above policies at both the central and local levels. The Nationality Law of the PRC (1980) reaffirms the principle of ius sanguinis and non-recognition of dual nationality; it further stipulates the automatic loss of PRC citizenship for those who have acquired a foreign citizenship of their own free will. Unlike the earlier generation of returnees (guiqiao in the 1950s and 60s), whose coming back (mainly from Southeast Asia) mostly took the form of permanent settlement, the return trend of new migrants has been characterized by a high degree of international mobility that is typical of the brain-circulation pattern. In a survey conducted in early 2005 of more than 300 new migrants in Canada about their future plans, 41 percent chose the option “staying in Canada for a long period of time,” 14 percent chose “go back to China,” and 45 percent chose “uncertain.”48 When asked about their plans after graduation in 2007, 37 percent of Chinese students in the UK intended to go back to China, 29 percent wanted to stay in Britain while 34 percent were unsure.49 According to a survey conducted in late 2006 among 3,000 returnees who work in Beijing, 692 (23.1 percent) of them have foreign citizenship and 445 (14.8 percent) have obtained foreign permanent residency status, which represent a total of 37.9 percent. The pattern of “amphibious venture” has become increasing popular among skilled new migrants, which allows them to shuttle between China and their residing nations, bringing back scientific and management know-how to the homeland without physically settling down in China.50 As a result of the increasingly common practice of transnational mobility by the (temporary) returnees – many of whom have acquired foreign citizenships – frustrations and discontent have also emerged, which in turn have led to some concerted efforts to call for the recognition of dual nationality. One of the first calls

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to revise the nationality law was made by some delegates from the cultural circle and returned Overseas Chinese during the National People’s Consultative Congress in 1999.51 While this proposal was not favorably received by the Ministry of Public Security, greater momentum was gained in subsequent years, particularly from those new migrants residing in industrialized countries where dual nationality is commonly allowed, if not encouraged. Their views were conveyed to high-ranking officials in China and to those who visited these countries – and through them and various medias based in and outside China – to national level legislative and consultative bodies such as the National People’s Congress and People’s Consultative Congress as well as policy-making/implementing bodies such as the Office of Overseas Chinese Affairs (Guoqiaoban). In October 2003, the North Chinese Community of Canada (NCCC)52 conducted a web-based survey among new migrants in Canada. Of the 1,888 respondents, 92.6 percent believed that it was necessary for dual nationality of the former PRC nationals who live in a country that also allows dual citizenship to be recognized. Those who selected the responses “don’t care” and “China should not recognize dual nationality” accounted for only 3.6 percent and 3.8 percent respectively. The NCCC presented this finding to Chen Yujie, the then Guoqiaoban Director-General, who reportedly said that her office would pay “utmost attention to this extremely sensitive issue.” In the following year (2004), “the Dual Nationality Issue” emerged as one of the major policy-related subjects listed by the Guoqiaoban, inviting bidding for academic and policy-oriented investigations. Four Chinese organizations in New Zealand presented Luo Haocai (Vice Chairman of the National People’s Consultative Congress) in 2004, appealing to amend the dual nationality clauses.53 In China, some political figures and returnees such as Han Fangming and Wang Huiyao also appealed for the revision of the relevant clauses of the 1980 Nationality Law and that more room should be given for highly skilled new migrants “to service the country.”54 The rationales behind the calls to amend the 1980 Nationality Law to allow for reciprocal recognition of dual nationality ranged from cultural necessity to economic benefits. Interestingly, while many of these arguments are made from the perspective of facilitating transnational mobility and the diaspora’s interests, they were mainly presented from a nationalist/patriotic point of view, arguing that recognition of dual nationality would be in the mutual interests of the Chinese state/ people and the Chinese overseas. Changed historical contexts. All the proposals and appeals recognized that the 1980 Nationality Law – and the 1955 Agreement between China and Indonesia which abolished de facto dual nationality – was a historical by-product of China’s difficult relationships with Southeast Asian countries. While this stance on dual nationality was necessary in the Cold War era, it was imperative to revisit the matter at a time when migration had become an international phenomenon and China needed to integrate new migrants into its grand projects of development. Culture and emotion. The proposals argued that new migrants were born in China and had strong emotional and cultural links with the homeland. As one put it, “new migrants are emotionally attached to the country where they were born and

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grew up. They often speak of, sub-consciously, ‘going home.’ This genuine link with China should be a foundation of (re)granting them citizenship.”55 Economic advantages. It was suggested that dual nationality would help attract and retain people with global talents who possess technological know-how, capital, and sophisticated experiences. Their free movement would greatly facilitate business and other activities, which in turn would be beneficial for China. Political and legal implications. It was suggested that permitting dual nationality would enable new migrants to continue to maintain their political loyalty to China and participate in the political processes of China through various avenues, such as different levels of the People’s Congress. Apart from facilitating the cause of fandu cutong [anti-Taiwanese independence and promoting unification], an amended dual nationality law would also make it easier for the authority to manage those former Chinese citizens who have acquired foreign nationalities. Global trend. It was argued that most countries, especially industrialized nations in the West, have had the practice of explicitly or implicitly allowing for dual nationality. Recognizing dual nationality therefore was taken as representing a much-cherished integration with the global trend. These appeals for the amendment of nationality law were widely reported in the mass media in the beginning years of the twenty-first century and at one point it was reported that the government was seriously considering modifying the stringent nationality law. However, there was significant resistance both from the policy makers and from some academics, especially those who are keenly aware of China’s troubling past with Southeast Asia.56 The Ministry of Public Security emphasized two points in its response to the calls by Han Fangming and others to change the existing nationality policy. First, the existing nationality law fits well into China’s “core national interests” while it also facilitates ethnic Chinese integration into their adopted countries. Second, the government has already formulated and implemented a number of new policies and regulations in encouraging new migrants’ efforts to serve the country while allowing for their free movement.57 In December 2004, officials from the Guoqiaoban stated that the circumstances for amending the Nationality Law “have not yet matured,” marking an official closure of the debates and campaign on dual nationality. The defeat of the dual-nationality proposal highlighted institutional tensions between the nation-state and transnational migrants. It also dampened the hope of some diaspora Chinese of taking part in the political (including foreign policy) processes of China. There is apparently a perceptional gap between the two: while new migrants present their interests as representing the Chinese people and the state, the government places the core national interests well above the interests of a relatively small number of migrants. In the meantime, the central government’s strong capacity (or what Shain and Barth term “weak permeability”) has made the efforts to change the national legislature more difficult, if not impossible. The Chinese state may perceive that there are similarities in cultural and ethnic identities between the mainlanders and new migrants (much more so than the previous generation), but the divergent political identities between them appear to be difficult to overcome. Here Wang Gungwu’s insightful observation on the

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multiplicity and complexity of Chinese identities58 remains timely and should be well heeded. However, shared cultural and ethnic identities and the fact that new migrants constitute an important source of global talents prompted the government to formulate a series of special policy incentives in order to address simultaneously the needs of core national interests and those of highly skilled new migrants. While a Green Card system was officially introduced in August 2004, the policy focus has shifted from encouraging returnees in general to the preferential treatment for those of high caliber, especially those new migrants and returnees who have international experiences and global perspectives. The new policy announced by the Ministry of Personnel in December 2006 aimed at creating “a green pathway” for returnees of high caliber and specified that, in addition to increasing the total quantity of returnees’ efforts to serve the country, three specific categories of returnees/new migrants were to be encouraged: those who could help promote China’s technological advancement and social development in its efforts to catch up with international standards; those who could help strengthen China’s connections and exchanges with the world; and those with top-notch talents, international experience and global vision. More recently, the Ministry of CCP Organization launched a new policy initiative called the “one-thousand-talents scheme,” offering top salaries (one million yuan) and other attractive funding and facilities in order to attract back top scientists and those with other global talents of Chinese origin to work in China. The scheme is hailed by Li Yuanchao, Minister of the CCP Organization as a prime measure to realizing the government’s strategy to place “talent [as] the first critical criteria of scientific development.”59 The dual nationality question leads to three brief observations pertaining to the evolution of transnational Chinese and the homeland’s changing policies toward them. In the first place, there has been an escalating trend among highly skilled new migrants of returning. The fact that many migrants feel it is necessary to retain or regain Chinese nationality is a reflection of the increasing scale of interaction between them and the homeland, which constitutes a key background for burgeoning Chinese transnationalism. Second, in an attempt to confront the embedded structural contradictions between transnationalism and national interests, highly skilled new migrants have perceived that common interests could be served by invoking the existing restrictive Nationality Law, and their arguments have been accepted by some sectors of policy/opinion makers, highlighting an interesting convergence of transnational logic and nationalist projects. Finally, the dual nationality campaign’s “defeat” is testimony to the resilient supremacy – which has been established since the mid-1950s – of the core national interests over the interests of ethnic Chinese abroad. In the meantime, an increasingly wide range of measures has been devised by the government to accommodate new migrants’ free movement and to entice them to serve the country. This is an indication that transnational Chinese elements have gradually found a legitimate voice in the policy-deliberating process. In comparison with their predecessors in the 1950s, new Chinese migrants are not entirely a passive force in China’s domestic and foreign politics; they are semi-active in their strong support of China’s international

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agendas abroad and its integration into the global society.60 The formulation of various incentives gearing toward high-level new migrants also highlights the state’s resilient capacity in domesticating potential diplomatic problems and transferring them into internal policy issues. Concluding remarks: diaspora at a time of China rising “China is getting ready for a fourth rise in its two millennia of history,” Wang Gungwu aptly observed. “But managing it may bring bigger challenges to its leaders than the past three delivered.”61 Apart from redefining “universalist values for China” and accepting “whatever is necessary to sustain civilized living and integrat[ing] modern ideas with the best of its own heritage,” Chinese leaders need to ensure “the security and stability of a unified state and a harmonious society … in the uncertain environment of potentially turbulent globalization where multiple interests and influences vie for preeminence.” How to adroitly manage relationship between diaspora and foreign policies, it seems to me, is one of such challenges facing the Chinese leadership. I have mentioned earlier that diasporic Chinese have played an important part in China’s economic rise over the past three decades. With China becoming the major power in Asia and its unalterable rise to prominence on the global stage, the diaspora’s role becomes more complex and tantalizing. For one thing, in tandem with China’s increasing political and economic clout in Asia and the growing influence of new migrant communities, there has been a marked trend of “resinization” in Southeast Asian countries, whereby things Chinese have been publicly celebrated and sometimes imitated by local-born Chinese, which is in stark contrast to the experiences in previous decades when Chineseness had often to be concealed or practiced in the private domain. For example, two-thirds of Thai parliament members in 2006 were of Chinese origin, as were the last three prime ministers, and many Thai politicians touted their Chinese background with a view to opening doors to China and to win popularity at home. “I look around the Parliament, and I see everyone I know taking trips to China … Every time we sit down with the Chinese [officials], all the Thai are always tracing their ancestry,” said Kraisak Choonhavaan, the Thai senator.62 Comments such as “Diaspora Chinese have become vital to Beijing’s global charm offensive” and have become “China’s tool of business”63 have gained increasing currency in policy, public and academic circles. This may revive the agonizing memories of the Cold War era when the fate of the local Chinese was intertwined with a perceived threat from China, thus backfiring against both the Chinese overseas and China itself. Meanwhile, in the West where the public perceptions of the local Chinese – who as a norm account for only a tiny percentage of the whole population and are economically and politically weak in comparison with their counterparts in Southeast Asia – have normally no direct and significant bearing on the local perceptions toward China or vice versa, the rise of China has led to growing public disquiet about the loyalty of the Chinese diaspora. According to a survey conducted by the Committee of 100 in early 2009, among the American general

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population, 45 percent believe Asian Americans are more loyal to their countries of ancestry than to the United States, up from 37 percent in the 2001 survey. While approximately three out of four Chinese Americans say Chinese Americans would support the US in military or economic conflicts with China, only approximately 56 percent of the general population believe Chinese Americans would support the US in such conflicts.64 Three concluding remarks can be drawn from our discussions on the changing relationship between the Chinese diaspora and a rising China and its relevance to the development of IR with Chinese characteristics. In the first place, with the establishment of the state’s uncompromising supremacy over the diaspora in the mid-1950s, the Overseas Chinese constituted a passive force in China’s IR after the mid-1950s and a problem in its troubling relationship with its Southeast Asian neighbors. The divergent political allegiances and cultural identities – imagined or real – at the time of the Cold War confrontation, further drove Beijing and the diaspora apart and led to increasing alienation of the latter from the homeland prior to the late 1970s. It was not until the beginning of the 1980s that some fundamental changes in China and the overseas Chinese communities gradually modified the equations. While the older generation of diasporic Chinese possessed the economic capital China needed in the first two decades of the reform era, new migrants have shared cultural identities with the mainlanders and possess cultural capital including management know-how and international experiences that China is increasingly in need of. The people of the diaspora have played a more proactive part in the social and political processes of China’s transformations over the past three decades. The increased intensity and frequency of interactions between new migrants and the homeland was a main reason behind the campaign to amend the nationality law and allow for dual nationality. Although the campaign ended with, unsurprisingly, the state’s triumph over the diaspora, the latter has not lost the whole battle. As a result of a series of policy initiatives to entice them back, there is the potential that they might be more intimately embedded into the existing political structure while also practicing some degree of transnational mobility. In the meantime, the Chinese government has stepped up its efforts over the past few years to offer consulate protection for its citizens overseas and has intervened more forcefully in recent incidents such as the 2006 anti-Chinese riots in the Solomon Islands. In other words, the diaspora has become more prominent in China’s diplomatic agendas, and there are signs that the diplomatic diaspora option may be on the horizon in the near future, with more returnees being integrated into the existing power structure – even though it is unlikely that the ethnic Chinese would play an active role such as that of the Jews in Israel’s diplomacy both in the homeland and the hostlands (for example, the USA). Although Chinese society, including the diaspora, may be increasingly fragmented as a result of the deepening of socio-economic change and the nation’s integration into globalization, the state remains outright powerful and not permeable, especially in the foreign-policy arena. Second, the formulation of Chinese IR theories needs to take international migration and diaspora into serious consideration. The general theoretical discussions

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such as those by Shain and Barth serve as a good starting point to incorporate the Chinese diaspora in IR. For example, identity-based interests can be taken as a major mechanism linking the diaspora and IR, and the focus on identity coincides with IR’s constructivism strand in general and East Asian international relations in particular (as David Kang has argued, “It is interests and identity, not power, that are the key variables in determining threat and stability in international relations”65). It is necessary to investigate systematically how the Chinese public perceives the feasibility of the diaspora’s participation in the homeland policy process and whether their identity-based interests are widely shared by the general public and by policy makers. Some existing models on diaspora–IR interactions developed elsewhere are useful points of reference for the establishment of Chinese IR but the cultural, historical, institutional and socio-political specifics of China and its diaspora needs vigorous theoretical reformulation. For example, beyond the three role-types identified by Shain and Barth, it is possible to discern from the Chinese experiences that these role-types are not static and are contingent upon history and culture; and there are some transitional role-types in between passivity and activity of the diaspora in international politics. On the balance of power between a diaspora and the homeland, Shain and Barth have observed: If the homeland is “weak,” and is receptive to diasporic input, then the ability of a diaspora to influence the homeland’s foreign policy is enhanced. The “weaker” the homeland is, both in terms of need for diasporic assets and permeability to societal pressures … the greater influence the community will exert on the homeland.66 This may not be the case for China – while the country has been in need of the diaspora’s economic, cultural and social capital over the past three decades, the latter’s political influences on the homeland remain weak. Finally, at the time of China rising and its sustained drive toward an elevated international status, its relations with its diaspora have to be managed carefully and judiciously. The Chinese overseas have always had a close and diverse range of linkages with the homeland dating back to more than one and a half century ago. The past interactions were fundamentally shaped by a single most prominent characteristic, namely, that China was either very weak and on the brink of disintegration (late Qing and the 1930s) or its rise was prematurely terminated by domestic and international factors (1949–65). China is now set to become the second-largest economy in the world and the only political and military power that can rival the United States. Under this new circumstance, it is essential that the increasingly active role of the diaspora in the homeland’s socio-economic (and political) processes be viewed and managed with a long-term perspective so that the interests of all the parties are enhanced. It is a challenge facing not just the Chinese state and the diaspora, but also China scholars of international migration and IR who are embarking on an exciting yet precarious trajectory of witnessing, documenting, conceptualizing and perhaps even helping shape the causes in an uncharted territory. As an amateur explorer, I, for one, am indebted

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to the intellectual maps Professor Wang Gungwu has painstakingly crafted throughout his engaging academic journey over the last six decades and am immensely grateful for his unfailing generosity in readily sharing his wisdom with others. Acknowledgement This is a revised version of the paper first presented at ‘Bridging China Studies and International Relations Theory: An International Conference in Honour of Wang Gungwu’s Scholarship,’ June 25–27, 2009, National University of Singapore. Part of research for this essay was funded by a research grant from the British Academy on the changing policies of China and the UK toward transnational communities (SG-49274), which is gratefully acknowledged.

Notes 1 Thomas Christensen, Alastair Iain Johnston, and Robert S. Ross, ‘Conclusions and future directions,’ in Alastair Iain Johnston and Robert S. Ross (eds), New Directions in the Study of China’s Foreign Policy (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2006), pp. 379–420, at p. 391. For some relevant discussions on a Chinese school of IR, see also Wang Jisi, ‘International relations theory and the study of Chinese foreign policy: a Chinese perspective,’ in Thomas W. Robinson and David Shambaugh (eds), Chinese Foreign Policy: Theory and Practice (Oxford: Clarendon, 2006), pp. 481–505; and Ren Xiao, ‘Toward a Chinese School of International Relations?’ in Wang Gungwu and Zheng Yongnian (eds), China and the New International Order (London: Routledge, 2008), pp. 293–309. 2 This figure is from Xu Yousheng, Deputy Director-General of the State Council Office of Overseas Affairs, who spoke in Shenzhen on 21 April 2009. Renmin Ribao [People’s Daily] (overseas edition) 28 April 2009. 3 Chinese international migration is defined as ‘the departure from Chinese soil for the purpose of living and working abroad with the likelihood of settlement’. See Wang Gungwu, ‘Patterns of Chinese migration in historical perspective’, in Wang Gungwu, China and the Chinese Overseas (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 1991), pp. 3–21. 4 For discussions on Wang’s contributions to China Studies and Diasporic Chinese Studies, see Billy K. L. So, John Fitzgerald, Huang Jianli and James K Chin (eds), Power and Identity in the Chinese World Order: Festschrift in honour of Professor Wang Gungwu (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2003); and Gregor Benton and Hong Liu (eds), Diasporic Chinese Ventures: The Life and Work of Wang Gungwu (London: Routledge, 2004). 5 Douglas Massey et al., ‘Theories of international migration: a review and appraisal’, Population and Development Review, 19(3) (1993): 431–66; Stéphane Dufoix, Diasporas (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2008), p. 30. 6 Cited in Yossi Shain and Aharon Barth, ‘Diasporas and International Relations theory’, International Organization, 57 (Summer 2003): 449–79. 7 Myron Weiner, ‘On international migration and International Relations’, Population and Development Review, 11(3) (1985): 441–55, at 450. 8 Myron Weiner, ‘Security, stability, and international migration’, International Security, 17(3) (1992/1993): 91–126, at p. 94. 9 Shain and Barth, ‘Diasporas and International Relations theory’, op. cit. 10 Ibid.

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11 Chris Ogden, ‘Diaspora meets IR’s constructivism: an appraisal,’ Politics, 28(1) (2008): 1–10. 12 Christensen, Johnston, and Ross, ‘Conclusions and future directions’, op. cit., p. 410. 13 Wang Jisi, ‘International Relations Theory and the study of Chinese foreign policy’, op. cit. 14 Ren Xiao, ‘Toward a Chinese School of International Relations?’ op. cit. 15 Dufoix, Diasporas, op. cit., p. 60. 16 See, for example, Hong Liu, ‘Introduction: toward a multi-dimensional exploration of the Chinese overseas’, in Hong Liu (ed.), The Chinese Overseas, Vol. 1: Conceptualizing and Historicizing Chinese International Migration (London: Routledge, 2006), pp. 1–30; Tan Chee-Beng and Ann S. Chiu, ‘Teaching and documentation of Chinese overseas studies’, in Tan Chee-Beng, Colin Storey, Julia Zimmerman (eds), Chinese Overseas: Migration, research and documentation (Hong Kong: Chinese University Press, 2007), pp. 201–53. 17 Wang Gungwu, ‘Political Chinese: An aspect of their contribution to modern Southeast Asian history’, in Bernard Grossman (ed.), Southeast Asia in the Modern World (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1972), pp. 115–28; Wang Gungwu, ‘Greater China and the Chinese overseas’, The China Quarterly, 136 (1993): 926–48; Wang Gungwu, Don’t Leave Home: Migration and the Chinese (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 2001). See also Hong Liu and Gregor Benton, ‘Introduction’, in Benton and Liu (eds), Diasporic Chinese Ventures, pp. 1–9. 18 Stephen Fitzgerald, China and the Overseas Chinese: A study of Peking’s changing policy, 1949–1970 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972). 19 Peter H. Koehn, and Xiao-huang Yin (eds), The Expanding Roles of Chinese Americans in U.S.-China Relations: Transnational networks and trans-Pacific interactions (Armonk NY: M.E. Sharpe, 2002); Lucie Cheng, ‘Chinese Americans in the formation of the Pacific regional economy’, in Evelyn Hu-DeHart (ed.), Across the Pacific: Asian Americans and globalization (New York: Asia Society; Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1999), pp. 61–78. See also Cheng Li (ed.), Bridging Minds across the Pacific: U.S.-China educational exchanges, 1978–2003 (Lanham MD: Lexington Books, 2005). 20 David C. Kang, China Rising: Peace, power and order in East Asia (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007), pp. 6, 135. 21 Tan Tianxing, ‘Xin Xingshixia Qiaowu Gongzuo Zhanlueyiyi de Zairenshi’ [Re-considering the Strategic Significance of Overseas Chinese Affairs under the New Environments], Zhongguo Dangzheng Gangbu Luntan [Chinese Cadres Tribune], 1 (2009), pp. 58–9. 22 Jean-Baptiste Meyer, ‘Network approach versus brain drain: Lessons from the diaspora,’ International Migration, 39(5) (2001): 91–110; Sami Mahroum, Cynthia Eldridge and Abdullah S. Daar, ‘Transnational Diaspora Options: How developing countries could benefit from their emigrant populations’, International Journal on Multicultural Societies, 8(1) (2006): 25–42. The concept of ‘brain circulation’ has been systematically developed by Annalee Saxenian; see her The New Argonauts: Regional advantage in a global economy (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2006). 23 See for example, Shain and Barth, ‘Diasporas and International Relations theory’, op. cit.; Manik Varun Suri, Democracy, Diplomacy, and Diaspora: Indian Americans and Indo-US relations (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 2005); Robert Owen Freedman (ed.), Contemporary Israel: Domestic politics, foreign policy, and security challenges (Boulder CO: Westview, 2008). 24 Hong Liu, ‘Beyond Orientalism and the East-West Divide: China and Southeast Asia in the double mirror’, Stockholm Journal of East Asian Studies, 13 (2003): 45–65; Hong Liu, ‘The historicity of China’s soft power: The PRC and the cultural politics of Indonesia’, in Yangwen Zheng, Hong Liu, and Michael Szonyi (eds), Battles for the Minds and Hearts: The Cold War in Asia and beyond (Boston MA: Brill USA, 2010), pp. 147–82.

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25 The five principles are: 1) mutual respect for sovereignty and territorial integrity; 2) non-aggression; 3) non-interference in other countries’ internal affairs; 4) equal and mutual benefit, and 5) peaceful coexistence. For the background to China’s changing policies toward Southeast Asia in the mid-1950s, see Chen Jian, ‘China and the Bandung Conference: Changing perceptions and representations’, in See Seng Tan and Amitav Acharya (eds), Bandung Revisited: The legacy of the 1955 Asian-African Conference for International Order (Singapore: National University of Singapore Press, 2008), pp. 132–59. 26 J. A. C. Mackie and Charles A. Coppel, ‘A preliminary survey’, in J. A. C. Mackie (ed.), The Chinese in Indonesia: Five essays (Honolulu: The University Press of Hawaii, 1976), p. 5. 27 William Skinner, ‘The Chinese minority’, in Ruth McVey (ed.), Indonesia (New Haven CT: HARF Press, 1963), pp. 97–117. According to an internal report prepared by the Chinese embassy in Jakarta, there were 2.51 million Chinese living in the country in the early 1950s. (File no. 117–00265–01 (March 18–31, 1953), Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, PRC.) However, another report prepared by the Chinese embassy in 1957 revealed that the number of ethnic Chinese living in Indonesia was 2.15 million. (File no. 105–00704–03 (August 11–12, 1960), Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, PRC.) 28 William Skinner, ‘Communism and Chinese culture in Indonesia: The political dynamics of overseas Chinese youth’ (unpublished manuscript, deposited at the Kroch Library, Cornell University, 1962), pp. 19–20. 29 Mohammed Hatta, ‘Message to the Chinese Group Conference’, in Hatta, Portrait of a Patriot: Selected writings (The Hague: Mouton, 1972), p. 472. 30 Cited in Hong Liu, China and the Shaping of Indonesia, 1949–1965 (Singapore and Kyoto: National University of Singapore Press and Kyoto University Press, 2010). 31 Cited in Franklin Weinstein, Indonesian Foreign Policy and the Dilemma of Dependence: From Sukarno to Soeharto (Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press, 1976), p. 121. 32 Cited in Liu, China and the Shaping of Indonesia, op. cit. 33 Fitzgerald, China and the Overseas Chinese, op. cit., p. 75. 34 Zhuang Guotu, Huaqiao Huaren yu Zhongguo de Guanxi [Overseas Chinese and Their Relationships with China] (Guangzhou: Guangdong Gaodeng Jiaoyu Chubanshe Zhuang 2001), pp. 251–3; Fitzgerald, China and the Overseas Chinese, op cit., p. 83. 35 Cited in Xia Liping, ‘Zhou Enlai de “Danyi Guoji” Shixiang Yanjiu’ [A Study of Zhou Enlai’s Thought on Single Nationality], Waijiao Pinglun [Foreign Affairs Review], 102 (2008): 11–17. 36 Fitzgerald, China and the Overseas Chinese, op cit., pp. 74, 89–91. 37 Guowuyuan Qiaowu Bangongsi (Office of the Overseas Chinese Affairs, State Council) and Zhonggong Zhongyan Wenxian Yanjiusi (Central Party Research Office of Documentation) (eds), Deng Xiaoping Lun Qiaowu [Deng Xiaoping on Overseas Chinese Affairs] (Beijing: Zhongyan Wenxian Chubanshe, 2000), p. 38. 38 Fitzgerald, China and the Overseas Chinese, op. cit., pp. 145–7; Benny G. Setiono, Tionghoa dalam Pusaran Politik [The Chinese in the Political Vortex] (Jakarta: Elkasa, 2003), pp. 792–3. 39 ‘Yindunixiya Shibao Jizhe he Renmin Ribao Jizhe Fanhua Jianbao’ [Briefing on the China Visit by Journalists from the Indonesian Times and Harian Rakjat] (1–23 August 1960), file no. 105–00985–03, Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, China. [Emphasis is added.] 40 ‘Chen Yi Fuzongli tong Yindunixiya Zhongtong Su Jianuo Huitan Jiyao’ [Minutes of Meeting between Vice Premier Chen Yi and President Sukarno of Indonesia] (31 March 1961), file no. 111–00339–13, Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, China. [Emphasis is added.] 41 Zhou Enlai was concerned that the divided political identities of many overseas Chinese might pose a problem not just for the residing nations but for China if they chose to

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Liu Hong return to the homeland. He said at a meeting of the Standing Committee of the People’s Congress in 1957, “Overseas Chinese, who have controlled the local economy and have a tendency of excluding others, are conservative and they have controlled the commerce [in many Southeast Asian countries] … Those 12 million overseas Chinese left China more than 40 or 50 years ago and now live in the capitalist societies …. They are having socialist [China] citizenships but undertaking capitalist businesses.” Cited in Xia, ‘Zhou Enlai de ‘Danyi Guoji’ Shixiang Yanjiu’, op. cit. Zha Daojiong, ‘China and the May 1998 riots of Indonesia: exploring the issues,’ The Pacific Review, 13(4) (2000): 557–75. Zhongguo Xinwenshe [China News Service], 2008nian Shijie Huashang Fazhan Baogao [2008 World Chinese Entrepreneurs Development Report] (Beijing: Zhongguo Xinwenshe, 2009). Hong Liu, ‘New migrants and the revival of overseas Chinese nationalism’, Journal of Contemporary China, 14(43) (2005): 291–316; Liu Hong, ‘Zuowei Xinzhengce Lingyu de Kuaguo Huaren: Ershi Shijimo Ershiyi Shijichu de Zhongguo yu Xinjiapo’ [‘Transnational Chinese as a New Policy Arena: China and Singapore at the Turn of the 21st Century’] Zhongguo Yanjiu [China Studies], 5/6 (2008): 252–74. Wang Gungwu, ‘New migrants: How new? Why new?’ in Benton and Liu (eds), Diasporic Chinese Ventures, op. cit., pp. 227–38. Personal interviews by the author in Beijing with officials of the Office of Overseas Chinese Affairs of the State Council, 2007–2009. Renmin Ribao [People’s Daily], (17 February 2009). Mette Thunø, ‘Reaching out and incorporating Chinese overseas: the trans-territorial scope of the PRC by the end of the 20th century,’ The China Quarterly, 168 (2001): 910–29; Liu, ‘New migrants and the revival of overseas Chinese nationalism’, op cit. Available online at: http://www.putonghua.ca/old_web/2005news/news051120.htm (accessed 21 April 2009). Xin Ou Qiaobao [New European Overseas Chinese] (16 April 2007). Renmin Ribao [People’s Daily] (11 December 2006); Hong Liu, ‘Immigrant transnational entrepreneurship and linkages with the state/network: Sino-Singaporean experience in a comparative perspective’, in Raymond Wong (ed.), A Chinese Entrepreneurship in a Global Age (London: Routledge, 2008), pp. 117–48; Wang Cangbai, Wong Siu-lun and Sun Wenbin, ‘Haigui: A new area in China’s policy towards Chinese diaspora?’ Journal of Chinese Overseas, 2(2) (2006), pp. 294–309. Zhou Nanjing (ed.), Jingwai Huaren Guojiwenti Taolunji [Discussions and Debates on the Question of Nationality of the Ethnic Chinese Abroad] (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Social Sciences Press, 2005). Established in 2001, the North Chinese Community of Canada is ‘a Mandarin Chinese community, all of the members, mostly new immigrants in the recent years, are from Mainland of China’ (available online at: http://www.putonghua.ca/about.php). Zhou (ed.), Jingwai Huaren Guojiwenti Taolunji, op. cit. Han Fangming is Vice Chairman of the Foreign Affairs Committee of the National People’s Consultative Congress; Wang Huiyao is the Vice President of the Association of Western Returnees and one of the most vocal proponents of the amendment of dual nationality. Their proposals on the dual nationality issue are included in Zhou (ed.), Jingwai Huaren Guojiwenti Taolunji, op. cit., pp. 246–50; Wang Huiyao, Dangdai Zhongguo Haigui [Contemporary Chinese Returnees] (Beijing: Zhongguo Fazhan Chubanshe, 2007). Personal interviews were conducted by the author with Han and Wang, Beijing, Singapore and Manchester, 2005–2009. For public discussions on dual nationality, see http://cache.tianya.cn/publicforum.content/outseachina/1/19070. shtml, entitled ‘Xinshidai de Huaqiao Xujiu: Xiwang Women Yongyou Shuanchong Guoji’ [‘The Needs of Overseas Chinese in the New Era: We Hope to Possess Dual Nationality’]. Cited in Zhou (ed.), Jingwai Huaren Guojiwenti Taolunji, op. cit., p. 205.

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56 Ibid. 57 The Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) also appeared to disapprove of the proposed change. According to Wang Huiyao who took part in the discussions with officials, the representative from the MFA recalled the Bandung Conference he personally took part in and reiterated the importance of maintaining the historical principle of rejecting dual nationality. (Personal interview by the author in Beijing, April 2009.) 58 Wang Gungwu, ‘The study of Chinese identities in Southeast Asia’, in Jennifer W. Cushman and Wang Gungwu (eds), Changing Identities of the Southeast Asian Chinese since World War II (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1985), pp. 1–21. 59 People’s Daily (17 February 2009); Jane Qiu, ‘China targets top talent from overseas,’ Nature (29 January 2009). 60 David Zweig, Chen Changgui and Stanley Rosen, ‘Globalization and transnational human capital: overseas and returnee scholars to China,’ The China Quarterly, 179 (2004): 735–57. 61 Wang Gungwu, ‘China rises again,’ Yale Global Online (25 March 2009). 62 Kang, China Rising, op. cit., p. 136; Joshua Kurlantzick, Charm Offensive: How China’s soft power is transforming the world (New Haven CT: Yale University Press, 2007), pp. 103, 127. 63 Kurlantzick, Charm Offensive, op. cit., pp. 76–77, 84. 64 Committee of 100, Still The ‘Other?’ Public Attitudes toward Chinese and Asian Americans (New York: Committee of 100, 2009). 65 Kang, China Rising, op. cit., p. 9. 66 Shain and Barth, ‘Diasporas and International Relations theory’, op. cit.

Part IV

China in contemporary world politics

11 Understanding the intangible in international relations The cultural dimension of China’s integration with the international community Wang Hongying One of the striking features of Wang Gungwu’s scholarship is his global perspective. As an accomplished historian of China and of Southeast Asia, an astute observer of contemporary Chinese and Southeast Asian politics, and a leading expert on the Chinese overseas, he has always sought to understand his subjects of study in a global context. Although he does not consciously seek to address the particular theoretical interests and concerns of international relations scholars, his work has much to say about the central questions of international relations (IR) theory today. Traditionally, international relations theory was dominated by positivism and marginalized cultural factors broadly defined. But this has changed in recent decades. As part of the “constructivist turn in IR theory,” cultural factors, which can be broadly defined as various forms of inter-subjectivities – such as identity, norms, ideas, and soft power – have also become hot subjects for IR scholars.1 From Wang’s point of view, these new trends in international relations theory must be long overdue. In his scholarship on China, Southeast Asia and the Chinese overseas, we find extensive discussions of the importance of cultural factors in the traditional world order of East Asia and in contemporary international and transnational relations. To him, culture has always been the foundation of the behaviors of states and other types of polities. He argues that the reason that culture has been marginalized for so long is that Western culture – especially the Westphalian state-system culture – has so successfully penetrated other parts of the world in the last two centuries that people have come to assume Western civilization to be Civilization per se. It is only with the recent rise of Japan, China, Southeast Asia, and more recently India, that the claim to universalism of Western norms has been cast in doubt and their particular Western cultural foundation has become salient. In Wang’s words, the recent interest among IR scholars in culture reflects “the growing awareness that the kind of social-scientific, culture-free analyses favored in the past is now inadequate to explain contemporary developments.”2 The cultural factors in international relations are not easy to study with positivist methods, but they are too important to be left out. Wang’s work shows that there are alternative ways to study such factors, and that in so doing we can enrich our understanding of the complexity of the world. In this chapter, I focus on the cultural dimension of China’s integration with the international community and hope to demonstrate through this case the importance of cultural factors in IR.

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Introduction For the first three decades of the People’s Republic, China was alienated from the Western countries and the mainstream international system they dominated. China had limited economic, political and cultural relations with the outside world, mostly with countries of the socialist bloc and the Third World.3 In the last thirty years, this situation has changed dramatically. Since the beginning of the reform era in the late 1970s, China has rapidly expanded its ties with Western countries. This began in the economic realm. Soon after China opened its door, its trade and foreign direct investment (FDI) policies became far more liberal than Japanese and Korean policies when the latter two countries were at a comparable stage of development.4 Since then, China has become one of the biggest trading powers in the world and a top destination of FDI. The Chinese economy today is deeply intertwined with the global economy. In addition to reconnecting with the international economic system, China’s open policy also led it to rejoin the world more broadly. China has greatly expanded its membership in all kinds of international (i.e. inter-governmental) and transnational (i.e. non-governmental) organizations. In 1977 the People’s Republic had membership in 21 international organizations. By 1996 this number had risen to 51. During the same period of time, Chinese organizations expanded their membership in transnational organizations from 71 to 1,079.5 This trend has continued since. According to a recent report issued by the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, by 2003 China had become a member of 298 international organizations and Chinese organizations had become members of 2,659 transnational organizations.6 Thirty years after China opened its door to the outside world, has China become an integral part of the world? The answer to this question depends on how one defines integration. If one defines integration as interdependence and policy coordination, China’s has gone a long way toward integration with the rest of the world.7 The growing connections between China and other countries, such as trade and investment flows, have made China profoundly interdependent with the rest of the world. As Chinese leaders like to say, “China cannot do without the world, and the world cannot do without China”(zhongguo libukai shijie, shijie ye libukai zhongguo). Meanwhile, China’s memberships in international organizations and its involvement in various international agreements have led to cooperation with other countries on a wide range of issues. China has actively participated in international policy coordination regarding the North Korean nuclear crises, the global financial crisis and economic recession, and the H1N1 pandemic, just to cite a few headliners from the first half of 2009. But if one defines integration more broadly, not only as having a material dimension that involves interdependence and coordination, but also as having a cultural dimension that involves mutual acceptance and identification, it is not so clear just how far China has become part of the world. Indeed, commentators often regard China and Russia as “two great powers whose membership in the community of nations remains tenuous”.8 In this chapter, I examine China’s cultural integration with the international community. Before addressing this question, it is important to briefly examine the

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concept of “international community.” To begin with, “international community” is a popular phrase in the public discourse about international relations. A recent study of this concept shows its frequent appearances in news reports, academic works, as well as statements by world leaders and other policy makers.9 However, “international community” is also an amorphous concept that defies clear definition. A few years ago, the influential Foreign Policy magazine gathered a group of notable thinkers, activists, journalists and policy makers of various ideological persuasions to discuss the meaning of “international community.” The preface of the forum states, “this feel-good phrase evokes a benevolent, omniscient entity that makes decisions and takes action for the benefit of all countries and peoples. But invoking the international community is a lot easier than defining it.”10 What is the “international community”? Does it exist? Who are its members? Who make decisions for the international community? These are important questions often left unanswered by those invoking the term. First, in theory a community “signifies a form of human relations in which fundamental goals and values are affirmed by those involved as their guiding light; communities are about unity in the pursuit of a joint purpose: a universitas”.11 According to this definition, it is clear that an international community does not exist, at least not on a worldwide level.12 Most participants in the Foreign Policy forum mentioned above see international community not as a reality but as a moral concept to “remind nation-states of the common humanity of their citizens and of the essential decencies that must guide relations between nations.”13 One participant warns this concept is “a dangerous reference point for the naïve.”14 Second, when the phrase of “international community” is invoked, what it refers to seems highly situational. The “international community” that responds to natural disasters tends to be broader than the “international community” that condemns unfair elections. The “international community” that opposes nuclear proliferation may not be the same as the “international community” that seeks to protect women’s rights. And the “international community” that came together during the Beijing Olympic Games in 2008 was very different from the “international community” that criticized China’s policy toward Tibet earlier that year. Third, who makes decisions for the “international community” seems to be heavily influenced by the international power structure. One of the participants of the Foreign Policy Forum puts it straightforwardly, “the true international community – the one whose health and togetherness will determine the course of world events – is the group of states that created the rules and institutions in the first place. It is, essentially, the United States and Europe.”15 Another participant agrees, “the term is regularly used in a technical sense to describe the United States joined by some allies and clients.”16 Despite its limitations, the concept of “international community” has been used often in international relations. It is meant to give legitimacy to actors and institutions, and very often it is used as an idealistic cover of power relations and self-interests. For instance, the United States government often claims to act on behalf of the “international community” when it seeks to impose its will on other actors and to expand American influence in the world. The ongoing war in Iraq

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is a salient example. Likewise, the Chinese government often invokes the “international community” in its effort to keep Taiwan in a politically isolated and subordinate position. Various international organizations, transnational organizations, and individual countries also claim to speak on behalf of the “international community” to justify their causes. In this chapter, I do not use “international community” to reify the term. To me, “international community” does not refer to an objective and fixed entity, nor does it imply legitimacy. I use it simply as shorthand to describe the most influential international organizations, transnational non-governmental organizations (NGOs), and countries in the world, which share common norms and goals in particular issue areas. To understand China’s cultural integration with the international community, I shall explore the following questions: Have the dominant members of the international community – powerful countries, international organizations, influential transnational NGOs – come to see China as a full member of the community? Have the Chinese come to see their country as such? Moreover, what explains the current state of affairs?

A cultural evaluation of China’s relationship with the international community A cultural evaluation of China’s relationship with the international community involves gauging the degree of mutual acceptance and identification between China on the one hand and other major countries, international organizations, and transnational NGOs on the other. I begin with an examination of the perception of China by other major members of the international community. Given the limited scope of this chapter, I shall refrain from seeking a comprehensive survey of international public opinions about China over the last three decades, although this would be a feasible and useful undertaking at a later time. Instead, I shall highlight the opinions held in several major countries about China in recent years, leaving aside the views of Chinese policies and conduct expressed by various international organizations and transnational NGOs. In the United States, both the public and the foreign-policy makers held very negative views of China during the years up to the early 1970s, “refusing to award China any sense of legitimacy or authority.”17 After President Nixon’s visit to China, American perception of China improved dramatically. Before Gorbachev’s new thinking relaxed the hostility between the United States and the Soviet Union in the mid-1980s, Americans regarded China as a potential strategic ally. And, fascinated by the economic and political reforms initiated by Deng Xiaoping, Americans began to view China as the first communist country to abandon socialism in favor of capitalism and democracy. But the Tiananmen Incident of 1989 abruptly changed American perception of China again. China was now a threat to everything that the United States stood for – democracy, capitalism, and freedom.18 Since then American attitudes toward China have been marked by profound ambivalence. On the one hand, the public in the United States is repulsed by China’s

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political system and its policy regarding Taiwan and Tibet. On the other hand, Americans are profoundly impressed by China’s economic growth and attracted by the Chinese market.19 European perceptions of China also evolved over time. During the 1950s and the 1960s, western Europeans shared some of the negative views of China held by their American counterparts, though their hostility did not go as far as that of the Americans. Indeed, several European countries were among the first to recognize the newly established People’s Republic. In the mid-1970s, western European countries improved their relations with China. Both the elite and the public in those countries came to see China as a potential economic and strategic partner.20 As in the United States, the tragedy of 1989 turned public opinion around in Europe. That event as well as the issue of Tibet has haunted European perceptions of China to this day. For several years after 1990, the European Union sponsored resolutions criticizing China in the UN Human Rights Commission in Geneva. In the mid- to the late 1990s, Europeans adopted a pragmatic view of China as a major economic opportunity and had to reconcile their human rights concerns with their economic interests.21 Japan’s view of China is somewhat distinct from that of the Americans and the Europeans because of the geographic proximity and historical relations between the two countries. Long before the two countries established formal diplomatic relations in the mid-1970s, Japan developed various informal ties with China. Many in Japanese society held positive and sympathetic views toward China, which were profoundly shaped by the ancient history of Chinese cultural influence over Japan and the more recent history of the Japanese invasion of China during World War II. And Japanese business communities aspired to exploit economic opportunities in China. As soon as Japan was able to normalize its official relationship with China, these sentiments translated into massive Japanese development aid to China.22 The crackdown on students and other demonstrators by the Chinese government in 1989 did not generate the same level of disgust in Japan as it did elsewhere in the world. The Japanese government only froze its aid programs to China for a very short time under international pressure.23 By the mid-1990s, however, the special status China enjoyed in the Japanese psyche had eroded. China’s economic growth and military modernization have made it a threat in Japanese perception. Meanwhile, new generations of Japanese are much less affected by a sense to guilt toward China.24 Among the major developing countries in the world, India has been especially attentive to China in part because of the geographic proximity between the two countries. In the 1950s, under Nehru’s influence, people in India developed a romantic view of “a thousand million strong cooperative of the Chinese and the Indian people,” although this view was tempered by fears of the long-term threat from a powerful and centralized Chinese state.25 Later, the 1962 border war deeply humiliated India and reinforced the negative image of China. To this day, India’s China watchers are divided between two extremes. One extreme sees China as aggressive and expansive and the other extreme sees China as a benign neighbor, a fellow ancient civilization, and anti-colonial, anti-West partner.26 Meanwhile, to ordinary Indians, China remains a mysterious, unfathomable, inscrutable nation that

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generates both romance and suspicions at the same time.27 As one observer comments, between India and China, there is a “lack of mutual awareness, understanding, and trust.”28 If the perceptions of China by these countries are indicative of more general trends, it is fair to say that the “international community” as a whole views China with a great deal of ambivalence. The positive perceptions are often based on instrumental calculations (e.g. of China’s strategic and economic value), rather than on identity solidarity, except to some degree in the case of India. Overall, the international community has not come to see China as “one of us”. A survey by the Chicago Council on Global Affairs in 2007 illustrates this point well. Conducted in 18 countries, which had 56 percent of the world’s population, the survey found that 38 percent of the people surveyed believed that China could be trusted to act responsibly in world affairs while 52 percent thought China could not be trusted. The latter group included 76 percent of the French, 65 percent of Argentines, 61 percent of South Koreans, 58 percent of Americans and 56 percent of Russians.29 Next we examine how China views its own relationship with and place in the international community. During the 1950s, the Chinese saw the world as divided between the socialist and the capitalist camps and defined itself firmly as a member of the socialist camp led by the Soviet Union. From the 1960s to the late 1970s, the Chinese worldview was guided by Mao Zedong’s theory of the three worlds – the First World of the two superpowers, the Second World of other developed countries, and the Third World of developing countries. Chinese leaders regarded China as part of the Third World. From the late 1940s to the late 1970s China stayed outside the mainstream international system dominated by Western powers, which was a system that almost completely denied the People’s Republic its legitimacy and was in turn viewed as illegitimate by the Chinese. With the onset of economic reforms, the Chinese view of the world began to change. With regard to the existing international order, China abandoned its radical system-transforming approach in favor of a system-reforming and then a system-maintaining approach.30 As noted earlier in the chapter, China became a member of many international organizations and a party to many international treaties. Some observers attribute China’s accommodating attitude toward the international order to its socialization by the prevailing international norms.31 Others see China’s active participation in international regimes as its strategy to reduce the security dilemma created by China’s rising power32 and to avoid becoming a target of balancing by other countries in the world.33 But most importantly, it has resulted from a consensus among Chinese policy circles that in the age of globalization, China has no choice but to integrate itself with the rest of the world in order to modernize itself, and that China’s participation in the global economic system has been largely beneficial to China’s national interest. Whatever the underlying reasons may be, it is clear that China has traveled a long way toward accepting the international system as it is. However, that is only part of the picture. China’s view of the international community is as ambivalent as the latter’s view of China. Despite the changes mentioned above, Chinese do not see their country as a full member of the international

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community. Chinese do not hold very positive views of major powers in the international community. According to a 2008 survey, public opinion toward Japan was especially negative, with 69 percent of the respondents holding an unfavorable view of Japan and 38 percent considering Japan an enemy. Opinions of the United States also tended to be negative, with 34 percent describing the United States as an enemy. Chinese views about India were mixed, with 25 percent of respondents seeing India as a partner, and 24 percent describing it as an enemy.34 Another recent survey of Beijing residents shows that almost one-third of the people surveyed believe that the international community has not accorded China the international status it deserves, and almost three-quarters believe existing international norms more or less reflect Western interests and values.35 Many scholars have observed the rise of nationalism in Chinese society in recent decades, especially the xenophobic strand.36 The so-called “angry youth (fen qing)” in Chinese society often blame the world for conspiring against China’s ascendance to national greatness. Publications such as China Can Say No in the 1990s and Unhappy China in 2009 are extreme expressions of this sentiment. But the fact such works have been allowed to be published in China’s tightly controlled media environment and that they have had enormous commercial success indicates that the antagonistic views toward the international community embodied in them are – at least to some degree – shared by both the Chinese government and ordinary people in China. The above analysis shows that despite growing material linkages between China and the international community, both sides have fallen far short of accepting each other and identifying with each other. Three decades after China and the international community began to approach each other, both sides continue to view China as somewhat of an outsider to the international community.

Understanding the limitations of cultural integration The limited nature of China’s cultural integration with the international community is an important factor in today’s international relations. As China becomes stronger, policy makers everywhere wonder what the rise of China means to the rest of the world. Liberals believe that the growing interdependence between China and other countries will lead to common interests and mutual accommodation.37 While interdependence is no doubt a powerful incentive for cooperation, it may not be sufficient to guarantee enduring peaceful coexistence. History is filled with examples of conflicts among interdependent actors because countries do not always make their foreign policies according to calculations of material costs and benefits.38 As Thucydides argued more than two thousand years ago, states pursue honor as well as wealth and power.39 And as recent studies of identity politics – both domestic and international – have made clear, people base their political action on who they are as much as on what they want.40 How China’s rise will affect international peace and stability will in part depend on how much China and the international community accept and identify with one another. In this section I attempt to analyze the reasons of the limitations of China’s cultural integration

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with the international community. Understanding why China and the international community have not embraced each other culturally will help us better evaluate the future of their relationship. First, what are some of the main reasons that the international community sees China as an outsider? The most obvious answer is ideology. The Cold War was a period of intense ideological competition between capitalism and communism, manifested in the rivalry between the Western bloc led by the United States and the Eastern bloc led by the Soviet Union. With the end of the Cold War in the late 1980s and early 1990s and the collapse of the Eastern bloc, including the Soviet Union itself, Western societies were euphoric about their apparent victory in the competition. Policy makers and analysts rushed to declare the triumph of market economy and democratic politics.41 China turned out to be a major exception to the rule. With communism failing almost everywhere else – with the dubious exceptions of North Korea, Cuba and Vietnam – the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) nonetheless managed to stay in power. Moreover, in the last thirty years, the communist regime in China seems to have become stronger than ever. Economically, it has presided over the fastest growth of a national economy the world has ever seen. It has done so not by following the neoliberal orthodoxy represented by the so-called Washington Consensus. Instead, it has achieved the economic miracle by mixing incremental market reforms with continued state domination of the economy, developing a Chinese model, which one Western observer has labeled as the “Beijing Consensus.”42 Politically, the CCP has given little away of its monopoly of power. Thus, in the post-Cold War era, China has stood out as an ideological outlier in the world, challenging the universal validity of economic liberalism and political democracy. From the point of view of the international community, communism in China sets it apart from the normal countries. Even in trade and investment negotiations, Western countries often treat China as a separate species because of the prominent role of the state in the economy. Normal market rules applicable to other countries do not apply to China. For instance, since the early 1990s, China has been a top target of antidumping investigations.43 An important ground for these cases is China’s legal status under international trade law. According to the World Trade Organization (WTO), China will maintain its non-market status until 2016. Under these circumstances, China cannot provide its own data on costs effectively to defend itself because they are assumed to be distorted by subsidized loans, rigged markets, and the controlled renmimbi (RMB). Instead, China’s accusers can use data from other developing nations regarded as market economies to determine whether local manufacturers pay fair market prices for raw materials, labor, and facilities.44 Similarly, Chinese companies have often encountered strong opposition when they seek to invest abroad. In 2005 China National Offshore Oil Corporation (CNOOC) made a strong bid for California based UNOCAL. It was met with unprecedented political opposition in Washington. US Congress threatened to block the deal because of its potential threat to American national security. In the end, CNOOC withdrew its offer and UNOCAL took the much lower bid of another

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American company, Chevron. The fear of communism swept away the principle of market competition. As the Economist magazine commented, “The anti-China hysteria in Washington, DC, the cowardly silence of the pro-China business lobby and the blatant disregard for fair play and open markets is deeply disturbing.”45 Similarly, in 2009 Aluminum Corp. China (Chinalco) sought to double its equity interest in the Australian mining company, Rio Tinto. Despite the commercial attractiveness of Chinalco’s offer, stiff political opposition in Australia thwarted the deal. One of the problems in this case, as in other lesser-known cases, is that the West does not believe that Chinese motives are essentially commercial.46 In 2007 the Chinese government created a new sovereign wealth fund – the China Investment Corporation (CIC) – to invest about $200 billion of its foreign exchange reserves at home and abroad. It has often been the subject of suspicion in Western countries. The head of CIC complained in an interview, “Immediately after we announced our existence,” the US government and some European governments came out and called it “dangerous.”47 Because of European concerns over the fund’s transparency and intentions, the fund did not make any investment in Europe in 2008.48 More generally, the public in Western countries, having been socialized into anti-communism for so long, have a hard time moving beyond the fear and suspicion of a communist society despite the many “un-communist” realities of China.49 Any reports of political oppression in China quickly get filtered through this ideological lens and reinforce the negative public opinion about China. Chinese observers have often lamented the obvious tendency of Western media to side with any enemy of the communist government and “demonize” China.50 When riots broke out in Tibet in 2008, Western media reporting of the events was, as usual, quite negative toward the Chinese government. Chinese both inside and outside China protested against such reports for deliberately distorting facts and damaging China’s international image. Western coverage of the upheavals in Xinjiang in 2009 was also overwhelmingly sympathetic toward the Uighur minority group and critical of the Chinese government. It also led to expressions of indignation from Chinese citizens. Although the elite, especially the business elite, may subordinate their ideological distaste to their recognition of China’s strategic and economic importance, the communist and authoritarian nature of China’s regime seems to be a major obstacle for ordinary people in Western societies to embrace China more fully.51 Another explanation of the cultural distance between China and the international community may be found in the difference in values. About two decades ago, some political leaders, such as Singapore’s Lee Kuan Yew and Malaysia’s Mahtthir, and public intellectuals came up with the notion of “Asian values.” They argue that Asian countries (by which they refer primarily to East Asians) are culturally different from the West. Asians do not regard individual freedom to be important in the way it is regarded in the West. This line of argument has been hotly debated by scholars, pundits, human rights groups, and others.52 Leaving aside the obvious flaws of this concept, it is nonetheless undeniable that across time and space different societies have different value systems. Just as the values held by Europeans

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today are not the same as the values held by their ancestors during medieval times, the values of Western societies today are not the same as the values of China today. One of the most important values held by Westerners in general and Americans in particular is individualism. For them, individual freedom and individual rights are nearly sacred. In contrast, in Chinese society individuals’ interests have long been subordinated to the interests of the community. People tend to place a relatively low value on individual liberty if it comes at the expense of community well-being. For instance, according to the 2007 Pew Global Attitudes Project, China was among the least individualistic country, whereas the United States and Canada were among the most individualistic countries. As an illustration of Chinese attitude toward individuals’ rights, the same survey found overwhelming acceptance of the “one-child policy” by the Chinese public, with more than three-quarters of the people approving the policy.53 It suggests that Western criticism of China’s population policy on the ground that it violates basic individual rights does not resonate with the majority of Chinese people. Another recent survey about Internet use in China reveals that over 80 percent of Chinese people think the Internet should be managed or controlled, and among them 85 percent think the government should be responsible for managing and controlling the Internet.54 This is quite contrary to Western assumption that China’s Internet users must be unhappy about their government’s intrusive role in cyberspace. Such examples point to the real and significant divergence in values between China and mainstream international community. The disagreement between the international community and China often finds its expressions in the former’s criticisms of Chinese government policies. But as the cases of the one-child policy and Internet control demonstrate, Chinese policies are often supported by values held by the Chinese public. In such cases, the rejection of China’s policy is really a manifestation of disagreement with Chinese values. Value systems are broader than ideologies, and a shift in values tends to take place more gradually than a shift in ideologies. Compared with the ideological differences between China and the West, the gap in their value systems may prove to be a more tenacious obstacle for China’s cultural integration with the international community. Even if the communist political system were to come to an end, the value difference may continue to keep a certain distance between China and the international community. In his controversial treatise on the “clash of civilizations,” Samuel Huntington argues that the differences among civilizations (primarily defined in religious terms) will persist and give rise to uncompromising conflicts.55 Various aspects of Huntington’s thesis have been criticized by many, and rightly so. However, he is right in arguing that the divergence in values could and does give rise to conflicts and that such conflicts may be even harder to manage than conflicts over interests. Beyond ideology and value, another factor may turn out to be even more fundamental and thus harder to overcome in China’s fuller integration with the international community – i.e. the racial factor. Race is a socially constructed category rather than a fixed biological category. But, once constructed, it becomes quite real in separating groups of people in the world. For a variety of reasons,

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scholars of international relations have not paid systematic attention to race.56 Indeed, in conventional IR, there is a “well-trained silence” around issues of race.57 However, to any careful observer, it should be obvious that race and racism occupy a central role in world politics. They have profoundly shaped colonialism, immigration policies, genocide, membership of international organizations, and other types of international relations.58 The Chinese have long been a target of racial discrimination by the West. Take the United States as an example. The poor treatment of the Chinese coolies and the exclusionary immigration law directed against Chinese in the nineteenth century were blatant acts of racism. Some point out that the banning of the People’s Republic from the United Nations in the mid-twentieth century was also motivated by more than anti-communism. It in part resulted from American policy makers’ preoccupation with the threat of the “yellow peril.”59 And today the rise of China as a non-white country may well be causing a great deal of discomfort among Americans and other predominantly white countries that make up the mainstream of the international community. This would not be surprising. After all, when Japan was at the height of its economic ascendance in the 1980s, it generated a great deal of resentment in the United States. Even though Japan’s investment in the United States trailed that from the UK and Canada, politicians and the general public showed much more anxiety over Japanese purchase of American properties. It led observers to conclude that racism was at play.60 The same phenomenon is likely to be unfolding today with regard to China. As one scholar puts it, “China, a non-white state, is on its way to becoming the number one world power … The international system remains still a white dominant racially stratified system … Will the white dominant powers peacefully accept a diminution of their position in the international system?”61 If ideology, value, and race have been the main roadblocks preventing the international community from accepting China as a full member, what explains why the Chinese see their country as an outsider to the international community? The answer to this question lies in Chinese perceptions of how the international community has treated China, and the Chinese view of their own place in the world. It is important to note that China’s perceptions have been profoundly shaped by its earlier encounter with the international community. The arrival of the Western powers in the nineteenth century destroyed the Sino-centric world order in East Asia. Using their superior economic and military power, Western countries (plus Japan) brought the ancient and proud Middle Kingdom to its knees. China was forced to open its market, concede territories, make reparations, and give up many rights other sovereign nations took for granted. In the ensuing century, the Chinese people were subjected to one national humiliation after another in the hands of the so-called international community dominated by the West. The result has been a deep-rooted victim complex, which has been reinforced by patriotic education by the Chinese government.62 Looking at the world through such a lens, Chinese people often find the world treating China unfairly. Over the years, especially since 1989, China has routinely been subject to criticisms from foreign governments, international organizations

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and transnational NGOs for its human rights violations, its defense spending, its environmental pollution, and its policies toward Taiwan and Tibet, among other things. To many Chinese, these criticisms are uncalled for, ill-intentioned, and even hypocritical. It is not only the Chinese government that rejects such criticisms – the Chinese public has often expressed anger as well. For example, in the months leading up to the Beijing Olympics in 2008, Western media reported negatively on China’s human rights and Tibet policies. And the Olympic Torch relay was interrupted by protesters in a number of major cities in Western countries, including London, Paris, and San Francisco. While the Chinese government took an unusually benign stand, ordinary Chinese both in China and overseas reacted with passionate indignation, boycotting foreign goods, demanding apologies from Western news organizations, and demonstrating in front of foreign government offices. They saw the negative reporting of and the protests against Chinese policies as a Western conspiracy against China’s rise. An anonymous poem entitled “What do you want from us?” posted on a Chinese blog at the time best captures their emotions. “When we toil for your goods, you blame us for the pollution. When we loan you our hard-earned cash, you blame us for your debt. When we multiply, you blame us for consuming the planet. When we restrict our numbers, you blame us for violating human rights.”63 Given China’s earlier interactions with the international community, it is not difficult to appreciate contemporary Chinese sensitivity. When this sensitivity meets Western criticisms of China for not complying with Western norms and values, the result is an intensified feeling of alienation on the part of the Chinese. Although China has developed more and more material linkages with the rest of the world in the last three decades, culturally the Chinese still view themselves as outside the international community. Besides China’s perception of how the international community has treated it, another factor underlying its limited cultural integration has to do with how China views its place in the world. More than most other peoples in the world, the Chinese have always seen their country as a great power – a civilizational power. As such, China is not prepared to follow rules and norms made by others beyond a certain limit. This may be a crucial difference between contemporary China and nineteenth-century Japan. During the Meiji era, Japanese reformers enthusiastically imported all kinds of Western institutions, including a constitutional political system. In addition to the pragmatic values of these institutions, e.g. in mobilizing public support for the reforms, a main purpose of their importation was for Japan to gain recognition and acceptance by Western powers. However, the Japanese were bitterly disappointed later, when the League of Nations rejected the racial equality clause.64 Chinese reformers today have a different mentality. On the one hand, they value international recognition and respect, especially recognition from major international organizations and respect from powerful Western nations. Indeed, in recent years the Chinese government has at times gone out of its way to win approval from the international community, even paying a price in China’s economic and strategic interests for its good international image.65 On the other hand, they are not willing to give in on fundamental principles in order to gain international acceptance.

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In fact, the resurgence of China’s economic power in recent decades has greatly enhanced Chinese confidence in its traditional culture and contemporary economic and political system. Culturally, Confucianism, which was attacked and thoroughly discredited by the Chinese reformers and revolutionaries in the early and mid-twentieth century, has become a national asset again. It is credited with China’s economic miracle as well as the miracle of other East Asian economies. It is seen as morally superior to the materialistic and individualistic culture of the West.66 From Jiang Zemin’s principle of “rule by virtue (yide zhiguo)” to Hu Jintao’s “harmonious society (hexie shehui)”, Chinese leaders have actively adopted Confucian rhetoric to govern Chinese society. Meanwhile, Chinese intellectuals have tried to revive all kinds of traditional Chinese learning to preserve and restore “the essence of China”. The so-called New Left in China, an intellectual strand that has gained influence in recent years, blames all the problems in contemporary China on Western influence and the departure of Confucian principles.67 As one scholar points out, since the 1990s, nationalism in China has taken a turn in the direction of cultural chauvinism.68 In terms of economic and political systems, the Chinese government has not been shy about China’s differences from liberal democratic countries. Phrases such as “socialism with Chinese characteristics” and the “four cardinal principles” routinely fill the official rhetoric both at home and abroad. The Chinese government takes pride in China’s development model, which favors state intervention in the economy and gradual liberalization, contrary to the neoliberal principles embodied in the so-called “Washington Consensus”. Indeed, Chinese policy makers and analysts see China’s defiance of the neoliberal orthodoxy as a possible example for other developing countries to follow and as a potential source of China’s soft power in its foreign relations.69 China’s leaders make no apologies for their strict political control over the population. Even as they tolerate and at times encourage greater transparency of the political system and public participation in the political process, they have shown no intention of letting anything undermine the monopoly of power of the communist party. In this context, Chinese intellectuals as well as ordinary people are less and less enthusiastic about the idea of cultural integration with a West-dominated international community. Instead, some scholars argue that the twenty-first century will be the century of Asia. Chinese civilization will rescue humanity from various crises and disasters. Asian civilization will overtake Western civilization.70 In recent years, the Chinese government has often touted its vision of a “harmonious world (hexie shijie)”, which emphasizes greater inter-state democracy, more equitable distribution of wealth among nations, tolerance of political and cultural diversity, and the peaceful resolution of international disputes. It implicitly puts forth an alternative to the exiting Westphalian world order. Some in the Chinese intellectual and policy circles have explicitly presented the traditional Chinese ideal of tianxia as a universally valid model of world politics.71 Indeed, according to one scholar, there seems to be a common feeling among the Chinese that it is (again) China’s turn to civilize the world.72 China’s behavior in the recent global financial and economic crisis is telling.

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Beginning in the United States in 2007, many financial institutions in Western countries have collapsed under the weight of subprime loans and other financial fiascos. Western economies have fallen into the worst recession since the Great Depression. In contrast, the Chinese financial system and economy have remained relatively robust and stable. Emboldened by new confidence, Chinese officials and public intellectuals argue that the international financial system and its underlying principles are deeply flawed and that the West should learn from China’s experience. The Chinese government has participated in various international forums devoted to confronting the crisis. In sharp contrast to its past behavior, the Chinese government has taken an active and vocal position on many important issues. It has put forth specific proposals for reforming the international financial system, such as greater inclusiveness of developing countries in reshaping the global financial architecture, changes in international financial regulations, and a gradual shift away from a dollar-dominated international currency system.73 This may be indicative of a more assertive China that seeks to reform the international community rather than becoming absorbed by it on its terms.

Conclusion China’s relationship with the international community is somewhat schizophrenic. On the one hand, it is characterized by a growing economic interdependence and policy coordination. On the other hand, it is marked by deeply felt suspicion and alienation on both sides. Much of the literature on China’s international relations has dealt with the first dimension and neglected the second. However, the cultural dimension of China’s relations with the international community is an important area to explore. The English philosopher and historian R. G. Collingwood makes the distinction between the “outside” and the “inside” of history.74 The “outside” is what can be observed externally, such as a country’s size, resources, gross national product, and military capabilities. The “inside” is the mentality of a group of people, how they perceive the world, what motivates them, and what meanings they derive from their actions. Without too much of a stretch, we can distinguish between the material dimension and the cultural dimension of international relations. Traditional IR studies have often focused on the material dimension, which includes war and peace, trade and investment, cooperation and alliances. These are unquestionably important components of IR. But by ignoring the cultural dimension, this traditional approach can only offer a “thin” understanding of the relations among different peoples in the world. Moreover, to the extent that cultural factors, such as ideologies, values, and racial identities, influence political action, any IR theory that excludes them is likely to fail to delineate the future parameters of international relations. With regard to China studies, the material linkages China has developed with the rest of the world are only part of its foreign relations. The consequences of such linkages will be influenced by the cultural relations between China and the international community. If the material linkages are accompanied by significant cultural integration, they are likely to develop in a robust way even in tough times,

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and they will be likely to contribute to international peace and stability. If the material linkages are built on top of an undercurrent of mutual suspicion, they are likely to remain purely instrumental for the parties involved. Once the situation changes, they can collapse rapidly, leading to isolation, hostility, or war. In other words, interdependence and policy coordination alone will not necessarily bring about lasting peace and cooperation. As Professor Wang Gungwu says, “History does show that, in the long run, alliances and friendships between polities do presume degrees of cultural harmony, and they are more precarious when there is cultural dissonance.”75 This insight, which is shared by more and more IR scholars, is crucial to understanding the future of China and the world.

Acknowledgements An earlier version of this paper was presented at the International Conference in Honor of Wang Gungwu’s Scholarship: Bridging China Studies and International Relations Theory, Singapore, June 2009. I thank the participants, especially Professors Robert Cox, Kjeld Erik Brødsgaard, and Shi Yinghong, for their comments.

Notes 1 See, for example, Jeffrey Checkel, ‘The constructivist turn in international relations theory’, World Politics, 50(2) (1998): 324–48; Martha Finnemore and Kathryn Sikkink, ‘Taking stock: the constructivist research program in international relations and comparative politics’, Annual Review of Political Science, 4 (2001): 391–416; Emanuel Adler, ‘Constructivism and International Relations’, in Walter Carlnaes, Thomas Risse, and Beth Simmons, (eds), Handbook of International Relations (London: Sage, 2002), and Joseph Nye, Soft Power: The Means to Success in World Politics (New York: BBS Publisher, 2004). 2 Wang Gungwu, ‘Allies and friends: Culture in Asia-Pacific state relations’, Asian Journal of Political Science, 5(2) (1997): 23–36. 3 This is discussed in Yong jin Zhang, China in International Society since 1949: Alienation and Beyond (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1998). I refer to the West-dominated international system as “mainstream” in the sense that most international interactions and most international organizations were to be found in that system. China’s non-membership in the United Nations until the early 1970s and its low profile in the UN until the 1980s was a symbolic manifestation of its estrangement from the mainstream international system. 4 Nicholas Lardy, China in the World Economy (Washington DC: Institute of International Economics, 1994). 5 Samuel Kim, ‘China and the United Nations’, in Elizabeth Economy and Michel Oksenberg (eds), China Joins the World (New York: Council on Foreign Relations, 1999), p. 47. 6 Li Shenming and Wang Yizhou, Quanqiu Zhengzhi yu Anquan Baogao [2007 Global Political and Security Report] (Beijing: Shehui Kexue yu Wenxian Chubanshe, 2007). 7 Many scholars understand “integration” in this sense. For instance, Jeffrey Legro states that in general terms, states deal with international order in three ideal ways: integration, revision, and separation. He argues China’s current relationship with the international system is integrationist in that China is joining and working within the rules of the system. See Jeffrey Legro, ‘What China will want: The future intentions of a rising power’, Perspectives on Politics, 5(3) (September 2007): 515–34.

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8 Michael J. Mazzer, ‘The clash of civilizations?’ The Washington Quarterly, 19(2) (Spring 1996): 177–97. 9 David C. Ellis, ‘On the possibility of “international community”’, International Studies Review, 11(2009): 1–26. 10 Foreign Policy, 101 (September/October 2002). 11 Robert Jackson, The Global Covenant: Human Conduct in a World of States (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), p. 336. 12 Some see such communities in NATO and possibly the European Union. See, for example, Jackson, The Global Covenant, op. cit., and Barry Buzan and Ana Gonzales-Palaez, ‘“International Community” after Iraq’, International Affairs, 81 (2005): 31–52. 13 Argun Appadurai, ‘Broken promises’, Foreign Policy, 101 (September/October 2002): 43. 14 Ruth Wedgwood, ‘Gallant delusions’, Foreign Policy, 101 (September/October 2002): 44. 15 Andrew Gowers, ‘The power of two’, Foreign Policy, 101 (September/October 2002): 32–3. 16 Noam Chomsky, ‘The crimes of intcom’, Foreign Policy, 101 (September/October 2002): 34. 17 Michael G. Kulma, ‘The evolution of U.S. images of China: A political psychology perspective of Sino-American relations’, World Affairs, 162(2) (1999): 76–88. 18 Ibid. 19 Charles Tien and James A. Nathan, ‘The polls-trends: American ambivalence toward China’, Public Opinion Quarterly, 65(1) (2001): 124–38. 20 David Shambaugh, ‘China and Europe’, Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 519 (1992): 101–14. 21 Kay Möller, ‘Diplomatic relations and mutual strategic perceptions: China and the European Union’, The China Quarterly, (169) (2002): 11–32. 22 Quansheng Zhao, ‘Japan’s aid diplomacy with China’, in Bruce M. Koppel and Robert M. Orr, Jr. (eds), Japan’s Foreign Aid: Power and Policy in a New Era (Boulder CO: Westview, 1993). 23 Saori N. Katada, ‘Why did Japan suspend foreign aid to China? Japan’s foreign aid decision-making and sources of aid sanction’, Social Science Japan Journal, 4(1) (2001): 39–58. 24 Banning Garrett and Bonnie Glaser, ‘Chinese apprehensions about revitalization of the US-Japan alliance’, Asian Survey, 37(4) (1997): 383–402. 25 Gyaneshwar Chaturvedi, India China Relations: 1947 to Present Day (Agra: M. G. Publishers, 1991). 26 C. V. Ranganathan and Vinod C. Khanna, India and China: The Way Ahead After “Mao’s India War” (New Dehli: Har Anand, 2000). 27 Amitabh Mattoo, ‘Imagining China’, in Kanti Bajpai and Amitabh Mattoo (eds), The Peacock and the Dragon: India-China Relations in the 21st Century (New Dehli: Har Arnand, 2000), pp. 13–25. 28 Swaran Singh, ‘India-China relations: perception, problems, potential’, South Asian Survey, 15(1) (2008): 83–98. 29 The survey results can be found online at http://www.thechicagocouncil.org/past_pos. php (accessed May 2009). 30 Kim, ‘China and the United Nations’, op. cit., p. 45. 31 Alastair Iain Johnston, Social State (Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 2006). 32 Zhu Dawei, ‘“Heping jueqi” zhanlue yu zhongguo de guoji zhidu canyu’ [‘The strategy of “peaceful rise” and China’s participation in international regimes’], Jishou Daxue Xuebao (May 2008): 88–92. 33 Wang Xuedong, Waijiao Zhanlue zhong de Shengyu Yinsu Yanjiu [A Study of the Reputation Factor in Diplomatic Strategy] (Tianjin: Tianjin Renmin Chubanshe, 2007). 34 The results of this survey can be found online at: http://pewreasearch.org/pubs/906/ china-economy (accessed May 2009).

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35 This was a survey conducted by the Research Center on Contemporary China at Peking University in Beijing in 2007. Survey results are available from the author. 36 See, for example, Yongnian Zheng, Discovering Chinese Nationalism in China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999); Suisheng Zhao, A Nation State by Construction: Dynamics of Modern Chinese Nationalism (Stanford CA: Stanford University Press, 2004); Peter Gries, China’s New Nationalism: Pride, Politics, and Diplomacy (Berkeley CA: University of California Press, 2004), and Guoguang Wu, ‘From post-imperial to late communist nationalism: Historical change in Chinese nationalism from May Fourth to the 1990s’, Third World Quarterly, 29(3) (2008): 467–82. 37 See, for example, Richard Rosecrance, ‘Power and international relations: the rise of China and its effects’, International Studies Perspectives, 7 (2006): 31–5. General arguments about interdependence and international peace can be found in Robert Keohane and Joseph Nye, Power and Interdependence: World Politics in Transition (Boston MA: Little, Brown, 1977). 38 Even within the realm of rational calculations, Dale Copeland argues that whether economic interdependence leads to peace depends on countries’ trade expectations. If the expectations are positive, the dependent states are more inclined toward peace. If the expectations are negative, they may well be driven toward war. See Copeland, ‘Economic interdependence and the future of US-China relations’, in G. John Ikenberry and Michael Mastanduno (eds), International Relations Theory and the Asia-Pacific (New York: Columbia University Press, 2003). 39 Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War (New York: Penguin, 1972). 40 See, for example, Richard Mansbach and Edward Rhodes, ‘The nation state and identity politics: State institutionalization and “markers” of national identity’, Geopolitics, 12(3) (2007): 426–58; and Stephen Valocchi, ‘The importance of being “we”: Collective identity and the mobilizing work of progressive activists in Harford, Connecticut’, Mobilization: An International Journal, 14(1) (2009): 65–84. 41 The best expression of that sentiment can be found in Francis Fukuyama, The End of History and the Last Man (New York: Free Press, 1992). 42 Joshua Cooper Ramo, The Beijing Consensus (London: Foreign Policy Center, 2004). 43 Bin Jiang and Alexander Ellinger, ‘Challenges to China: The world’s largest antidumping target’, Business Horizons, 46(3) (2003): 25. 44 Pete Engardio and Dexter Roberts, ‘Wielding a heavy weapon against China’, Business Week, issue 3888 (2004): 56. 45 Economist (5 August 2005). 46 Financial Times (10 June 2009). 47 Reported in Wall Street Journal (4 April 2008). 48 Financial Times (23 April 2009). 49 Some have jokingly suggested that if only the Chinese Communist Party changed its name, it would go a long way toward solving China’s international image problem. 50 Dai Xiaohua, ‘Why and how the US media work to demonize China’, Beijing Review, 40(31) (1997): 8–11. 51 Tien and Nathan, ‘The polls-trends’, op. cit. 52 For thoughtful reflections on ‘Asian values’, see Amartya Sen, ‘Human rights and Asian values’, The New Republic, 217(2–3) (1997): 33–41, and Daniel A. Bell, Human Rights and Asian Values (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999). 53 Available online at: http://pewglobal.orgreports/pdf/261.pdf (accessed May 2009). 54 Available online at: http://pewresearch.org/pubs/776/china-internet (accessed May 2009). 55 Samuel Huntington, Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1996). 56 Geeta Chowdhry and Shirin M. Rai, ‘The geographies of exclusion and the politics of inclusion: Race-based exclusions in the teaching of international relations’, International Studies Perspectives, 10 (2009): 84–91.

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57 R. B. Persaud, ‘Situating race in international relations’, in G. Chowdhry and S. Nair (eds), Power, Postcolonialism and International Relations (London: Routledge, 2002). 58 Tilden Melle, ‘Race in international relations’, International Studies Perspectives, 10 (2009): 77–83. 59 Ibid. 60 David Boaz, ‘Yellow Peril reinfects America’, Wall Street Journal (7 April 1989). 61 Melle, ‘Race in international relations’, op. cit. 62 Zheng Wang, ‘National humiliation, history education, and the politics of historical memory: patriotic education campaign in China’, International Studies Quarterly, 52(4) (2008): 783–806. 63 Quoted from http://www.andrewleunginternationalconsultants.com/chinawatch/ 2008/05/how-the-olympic.html (accessed May 2009). 64 See Andrew Gordon, A Modern History of Japan (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). 65 Hongying Wang, ‘National image building and Chinese foreign policy’, China: An International Journal, 1(1) (2003): 46–72. 66 Weiming Tu (ed.), Confucian Traditions in East Asia Modernity: Moral Education and Economic Culture in Japan and the Four mini-dragons (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1996), and Weibin Zhang, Confucianism and Modernization: Industrialization and Democratization of the Confucian Regions (New York: St. Martin Press, 1999). 67 See, for example, Yan Chen, ‘China: beyond Westernization?’ in Futuribles (232) (2007): 41–54. 68 Wu, ‘From post-imperial to late communist nationalism’, op. cit. 69 Hongying Wang and Yeh-Chung Lu, ‘The conception of soft power and its policy implications: A comparative study of China and Taiwan’, Journal of Contemporary China, 17(56) (2008): 425–47. 70 See, for example, Li Rong ‘“Yazhou Wenming” zai Fuxing’, Wenhuibao (5 February 1995). 71 Zhao Tianyang, Tianxia Tixi: Shijie Zhidu Zhexue Daolun [Tianxia System: An Introduction to a Philosophy about World Order] (Nanjing: Jiangsu Jiaoyu Chubanshe, 2005). 72 William Callahan, ‘Tianxia, empire and the world: Soft power and China’s foreign policy discourse in the 21st century’, British Inter-University China Center, BICC working paper series, no. 1 (2007). Others question how common this feeling is. For instance, Wang Jisi – dean of the School of International Relations at Peking University – emphasizes that Chinese scholars are deeply divided on such basic questions as whether Confucianism is or should be the mainstream of Chinese culture, and what constitutes the core and characteristics of Confucianism – let alone whether Chinese culture is on the rise or declining and whether it should diverge from or converge toward Western culture. See Wang Jisi, Guoji Zhengzhi de Lixing Sikao [Rational Reflections on International Politics] (Beijing: Peking University Press, 2006), p. 62. 73 Hongying Wang and James N. Rosenau, ‘China and global governance’, Asian Perspective, 33(3) (Fall 2009): 5–39. 74 R. G. Collingwood, The Idea of History (Oxford: Clarendon, 1946). Also see Robert Cox’s chapter in this volume. 75 Wang, ‘Allies and friends’, op cit.

12 Has the rise of China made Latin America more unsafe? Tony Spanakos and Yu Xiao

Wang Gungwu: scholarly threat or responsible stakeholder? Historians like Wang Gungwu do much more than record the past. From the late 1950s until the present day, Wang has been performing historical inquiries; reassessing and re-valuing Chinese history, the agency of the Chinese outside China, and what revolution, empire, and tianxia meant and mean in China.1 In his career, he has always opted for pursuing an inside/outside approach to his subjects, and he has had a similar effect on the field. That is, he has both used scholarly inquiry as an astute insider, and critiqued scholarship for its misapplication of terms (empire, nationalism, overseas Chinese) and theories (China threat theory, Marxism) as they applied to Chinese history and the Chinese within Asia. As a result of his efforts, scholarship aiming to understand China has broadened and deepened its methodological and epistemological visions. This process has been essential for contributing to a better awareness of the entities identified as China and Chineseness (a very typical Wang Gungwu expression) both for China-watchers outside and Chinese policy makers and academics within China’s territorial borders. The success of Wang’s various efforts is evident. There have been several attempts to synthesize and systematize his contributions (So et al. (2003); Benton and Liu (2004)), but the most telling is Cambridge University’s selection of Wang as recipient of an honorary doctorate of letters alongside philanthropists Bill and Melinda Gates and Nobel Prize-winning economist Amartya Sen.2 Not only has Wang influenced the fields of scholarly study of China, he has affected the way in which China is understood in real and practical politics. Understanding of “China” has become critical in the modern world because of the rapid growth of the Chinese economy and the impact this has had on how the Chinese state and other actors see the international system. An entire literature emerged in the 1990s, and continues today, centered around whether China constitutes a threat to the international system. Wang’s response has been measured, historically oriented, and aimed towards a politics of harmony (Wang 2008). He argues that even if the tianxia system is interpreted using adequate terms (not with Western ideas of “colonial” and “tributary” – see Zheng Yongnian’s contribution to this volume), the Chinese experience was not one of territorial expansion. Rather, successive Chinese empires sought to expand trade relations, barring the exception of Admiral Zheng He’s three decades of expeditions in the early fifteenth century

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(Wang 1998). Moreover, Wang has argued that not even the Chinese want a return to feudal relations and a traditional form of tianxia (Wang 1999: 33–4). Nevertheless, there is still concern among many about whether the rise of China will unsettle the international system and generate a competition for power and influence between China and the US. After all, the competition between the Soviet Union and the US facilitated a period of political instability, revolutions, anti-colonial struggles, and post-colonial massacres of political opponents and members of minority groups. China played a role in that system, albeit with different intentions, through Mao’s theory of “three worlds.” Despite Chinese leaders’ regular declarations of seeking a harmonious world, skeptics remain. This chapter takes up the challenge issued by Wang and Zheng who argue that “anxiety about a rising China that has been reflected in voices outside China: from ‘China threat’ in the 1990s to the more recent ‘China uncertainty’”, should be met by understanding what voices inside China think (Wang and Zheng 2008: 3). It does this by examining whether the rise of China has contributed to greater political instability and violence in Latin America, the “backyard” of the world’s leading power and China’s potential “competitor.” Ironically, it was to the Americas that Admiral Zheng He sent some of his expeditions during that unique moment of Chinese imperial foreign relations. Has China’s rediscovery of the Americas almost six centuries later destabilized the region’s peace and governments? This chapter finds that the growth of Chinese influence in the region, so far, has had no such effect.

Two hypotheses Will the rise of China be something that could destabilize regional geopolitics and foster interstate war as some ‘China threat’ theorists argue (Navarro 2008) or will it be peaceful as the Chinese government insists (see Glaser and Medeiros (2007))? This is not simply a question of the behavior of the Chinese government but also of the behavior of the United States. In other words, threat, cooperation, and peace imply that parties outside China and the rise of China cannot be understood simply in terms of what China does or says, but also in terms of how different states respond to this, provoke Chinese actions and reactions, and so on.3 Among the many methods for testing hypotheses, Gerring (2007: 115) lists crucial case studies as particularly valuable. In such studies, the effect of the potential independent variable is tested on the dependent variable under circumstances where there is either most likely or least likely to be a reaction. If a causal relationship can be shown under least-likely conditions, then it is likely that that relationship is strong. If causality cannot be shown under even the most-likely conditions, then the relationship may not exist at all. This chapter uses regional security in Latin America as a least-likely case for interstate war and a most-likely case for political instability (see next section). Indeed, if the rise of China could be linked in a causal manner to a decline in political instability, this would strengthen the truth claims of hypotheses that argue that the rise of China has stabilized politics in its trading partners. If the rise of China could be linked to an increase in bellicosity in

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Latin America, a region with little recent history of interstate wars, then this would strengthen claims that China’s rise threatens geopolitical stability more broadly. There are two basic hypotheses that can be posed about the effect the rise of China has on Latin America. The first hypothesis is that the rise of China will make Latin America more unsafe. In terms of this view, US hegemony over the area discouraged warfare within the region. For this reason, the US had incentives to prevent the entry of possible competing states (the Soviet Union during the Cold War) and to negotiate between potentially warring parties within the region (such as Peru and Ecuador at various times). The rapid and intense way in which China has entered Latin America has occurred at a time of perceived decline of US influence in the region and the world, when the global perception of US “imperium” is that it is decaying and morally reprobate, and when there has been a regional rise of politicians and social movements whose success is tied to their critiques of the US and the international system it supports (Katzensetin (2005); Castañeda and Navia (2007); Spanakos (2008a)), and could very well cause concern in the US about its relative decline not in distant regions but within its own “sphere of influence.” This could spark US efforts to solidify support among countries in the region, particularly recipients of military aid, like Colombia and Mexico. It could also encourage pro-sovereignty and anti-US rhetoric and non-compliance on issues such as drug trafficking, terrorism, and immigration with countries which are seizing the moment to assert their sovereignty, such as Venezuela, Bolivia, Ecuador, and Nicaragua. The creation of more and less pro-US blocs within Latin America may already exist de facto. Finally, the US might go further, seeing the need to unseat democratically elected presidents who are combative and who attempt to use their relations with China, Russia, Iran, and other countries as a means of reducing US influence. The second hypothesis argues that the rise of China will have no effect on peace and stability in the region. There were few interstate wars in Latin America in the twentieth century, outside states played little role in them (Miller 2007), and China is neither a former colonizer nor does it have any territorial claims over the region. China has no reason to invade any country in the region to collect debts. If anything, China’s government has made debt forgiveness part of its foreign policy in the developing world. Additionally, Miller (2007: 334) argues that not only have great powers had little effect on South American bellicosity, but that even the recent improvement of peace in the post-Cold War era is due to internal affairs, notably democratization and the expansion of trade within the region. Moreover, Chinese foreign policy is highly respectful of sovereignty and the country pursues a policy of non-interference in the domestic politics of its partners. If China does not overtly engage in power struggles in North Korea and Burma, countries on its borders whose relations with it have led to global criticism of Beijing, it is unlikely to take sides in intra-elite squabbles in Latin America. This does not mean that Chinese investment and trade decisions will always support US foreign policy in the region or that the Chinese government will discourage trade partners from anti-US rhetoric – only that it is unlikely to provoke interstate violence and regime change.

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Literature review South America is the region in the world with the fewest interstate conflicts (Centeno 2002; Waever and Buzan 2003). At the same time, while interstate war was rare in twentieth-century Latin America, intrastate war and militarized disputes between states are not uncommon. As such, Latin America proves fertile ground for testing the limitations and nuances of various theories of war and peace, including democratic peace theories (Mares 2001), the possibility of hegemonic peace (Gilpin 1981), as well as regional security theories (Miller 2007). There are two persuasive accounts for the lack of interstate war within Latin America: the relative low capabilities of the states (Centeno 2002) and the stability offered by US hegemony (Gilpin 1981). Western European history shows how interstate wars require the administrative, taxing, and mobilizational capabilities of a modern state (Tilly 1997). Latin American wars in the nineteenth and twentieth century, however, were “limited,” “not requir[ing] the political or military mobilization of the society except (and not always) in the euphoric initial moments” (Centeno 2002: 21). Instead, Latin American states found their most pressing enemies within their boundaries. As a result, the process of nation-state building was delayed. According to this account, Latin American states have neither the motive to go to war with one another (their enemy is internal), nor the capacity to do so (they do not have a stable enough tax base). A second argument can be drawn from positive accounts of unipolarity and hegemony (Kindleberger 1973). The US is and has been the only superpower in the region and the US has used this position to crowd out possible competition from other great powers (Domínguez 2000: 3). By successfully dominating security in its own region, the US was able to engage strategically in other regions, preventing the rise of any other power that would dominate its own region (Mearsheimer 2001). Since the Cold War, analysis of US hegemony and unipolarity has discussed peace among the possible “public goods” that the US provides the world (Gilpin 1981). That is, in an absence of competition between great powers or rising and falling powers, smaller and middle powers are less likely to go to war or, if they do go to war, these wars are unlikely to become regional or system-level wars. Latin American states, following this logic, have been discouraged from war as they were under the security umbrella of the United States.4 Miller (2007) argues that the roots of regional war and peace are linked to both domestic/regional issues and the interaction of global powers in the region. In short, he argues that when there is coherence between the nations and the states in the region and few weak states, interstate war will be rare. Western Europe in the post-World War II era supports this claim, while Sub-Saharan Africa supports the inverse (2007: 54–61). Miller also adds “liberalness” as a third domestic factor, in that trade and democracy should increase the possibilities for peace. Global factors can encourage tension between states depending on whether the powers in the region compete or cooperate with one another, or whether there is one power that exercises hegemony or withdraws. Miller cites European disengagement as a source for exacerbating the wars following the breakdown of Yugoslavia, and

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superpower competition as encouraging hot wars in East Asia, South Asia, and Africa during the Cold War. On the other hand, US hegemony facilitated a warm peace in Europe during the Cold War and a cold peace in the post-1991 Middle East (Miller 2007: 62–5). Miller gives little attention to the rise of China and the potential challenges that it poses on a systemic level, though his account of South American security is interesting in that it includes a possible contradiction. He, like many regional specialists (Santibañes (2009); Barshefsky et al. (2008)), argues that the 1990s witnessed a disengagement of the US from South America and Latin America more broadly. Moreover, as many analysts have noted, over the last few years China (Li (2007); Santibañes (2009); Ellis (2009)), Russia (Paz (2009)), Iran (Dodson and Dooraj (2008)), and the EU (Youngs (2002)) have actively entered the hemisphere. Often they have been invited as part of an explicit policy to reduce US influence and to challenge US foreign policy (Spanakos 2008a; Santibañes 2009: 27). Thus, if the US has disengaged and if other powers, particularly rising ones, have entered, Latin America has been “put into play.” According to Miller’s argument this should debilitate the quality of the peace maintained in the region. It does not change the motivation of domestic and regional actors, the primary source of violence, but it could increase incentives for actor bellicosity (Miller 2007: 14). The first hypothesis referred to in the previous section is consistent with this argument. Sinologist Avery Goldstein argues that the consensus of different approaches in international relations gives “good reason” to expect that the rise of China will challenge the US and the international system (Goldstein 2003: 59). The saber-rattling of Venezuela’s self-proclaimed “Maoist” president who “has repeatedly claimed to place its oil ‘at the disposal of the great Chinese fatherland’” (Ding 2008: 120) has caused alarm in certain circles. Ding writes that: Washington has reason to be wary about [an alliance of Venezuela, Cuba, Libya and China] … given the recent return of the leftist governments in many Latin American countries … Ideological sympathies were reported to play an important role in forging Brazil’s pro-China policy. (Ding 2008: 120) Similarly, Santibañes warns that: [t]he presence of China in the Western Hemisphere might, indeed, be seeding the field for a series of political alliances that, once unleashed, would endanger American security. As a result of the reduction in Washington’s involvement in the region, disputes among Latin American states have grown dramatically. (Santibañes 2009: 18). Jiang quotes Republican Congressman Dan Burton telling the Western Hemisphere Subcommittee of the House International Relations Committee on 6 April 2005,

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Yet, Miller argues that the rise of China within the Americas has not led to more conflict. If anything, recent years have seen an improvement of the peace in South America. He attributes this to democratization, the growth of regional trade, and economic liberalization (Miller 2007: 334). The argument here, consistent with the second hypothesis presented in the above section, is that the absence of interstate war in Latin America is due primarily to domestic/regional issues. Miller’s assumption here is that Latin American countries do not have serious incongruence between states and nations (that is, there are no significant groups seeking their own state and no significant border disputes) and that state-capacity is at a middle level, neither leading to the war-proneness of weak states (Sub-Saharan Africa) or more advanced states (pre-World War II Western Europe, see Miller (2007: 333)). The increased Chinese presence in the region does not at all affect either of these components. While China is no defender of democracy, neither is it an apostle of authoritarianism, and so it is unlikely to intervene against the process of democratization in South America that Miller identifies as important. Thus, the second hypothesis is that the rise of China should have no noticeable effect on interstate war and stability in the Americas.

Beijing or Washington coma? In Ma Jian’s brilliant Beijing Coma, Dai Wei, a former student activist who was shot in the head as soldiers enforced martial law in Tiananmen Square in 1989, spends ten years in a coma remembering the events that led him up to the tragic 4 June event, while simultaneously partially and passively experiencing the remarkable changes in China that happened since. The events of 11 September 2001 transformed the US’s then relatively isolationist president – who had the intention of improving relations with Latin America and had just met with Mexican then-president Fox at the time – into an interventionist. “A week after the attacks, Bush is reported to have told a close adviser: ‘We have an opportunity to restructure the world toward freedom, and we have to get it right’” (Jervis 2009: 206). But in waking US interventionism, did the US enter into a coma and passively watch its leadership in the hemisphere diminish? While the general narrative of the post-September 11 world is that the US became increasingly concentrated and entangled in the Middle East and Central Asia, ignoring other areas of the world, US attention towards Latin America did not dramatically change.5 In fact, US trade with Latin America continued to grow and did so at rates belied by the attention given to the rise of China.

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From 1996 to 2006, total U.S. merchandise trade with Latin America grew by 139 percent, compared to 96 percent for Asia and 95 percent for the European Union (EU). In 2006, the United States exported $223 billion worth of goods to Latin American consumers (compared with $55 billion to China). Latin America is the United States’ most important external source of oil, accounting for nearly 30 percent of imports (compared with 20 percent from the Middle East), as well as its main source of illegal narcotics. And as a result of both conditions in Latin America and demand for workers in the United States, migration from the region has accelerated. (Barshefsky et al. 2008: 6) Latin America is clearly important to the US. What has changed is that US foreign policy has been largely directed by military-driven security demands, which has encouraged both the allocation of resources away from areas that are less immediately relevant, and the reallocation of resources distributed within Latin America to military and “anti-terrorist”-related activities (Tokatlian 2008). Latin Americans have felt left out of the US agenda, a sentiment that began during the Asian Crisis as Latin American and US positions on expanding a Free Trade Area of the Americas began to diverge. The US insistence on liberalization and the “bitter medicine” it sanctioned during the Argentine collapse (Blustein 2006), as well as the slow growth in the region during the late 1990s and early 2000s encouraged a backlash against economic liberalism, the US, and, to a lesser extent, liberal democracy (Spanakos 2008a). The commodity boom over the last few years, partially spurred by the growth in China, strengthened the hand of politicians pursuing more state-centered economics, foreign policies “independent” of the US, and, in some cases, “popular democracy.” While critics of liberalism from the Asian Crisis until the collapse of Argentina (2001) cited Malaysia’s “anti-IMF package” and its capital controls as an alternative to the Washington Consensus (Ferrari and Paula 2003), increasingly China’s growth (however it is explained) has become a model of choice for many (Ferrari and Spanakos 2009). China’s growth is not simply a model but it is a reality that interacts with Latin American citizens on daily basis in a more profound way than ever. High-level visits between Latin American and Chinese political leaders have been increasingly frequent. In 2007, Jiang writes “In the past decade … 74 Latin American heads of state, members of the legislature and government leaders have visited China; and Chinese leaders have visited 19 Latin American countries” (Jiang 2007: 43). Since then, Wen has returned to Latin America and Hu has received more high-level officials including Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez and Brazilian President Lula da Silva. In addition to high-level contacts, trade between the two regions has grown considerably. Tables 12.1 and 12.2 below show the growth of Chinese trade and foreign direct investment in Latin America between 2000 and the first quarter of 2009. Bilateral trade between China and Latin America grew from $12.6 billion in 2000 to over $120 billion in 2008 (Jiang 2009a). While Chinese FDI in Latin America and the Caribbean is dominated by investment in the

325.596

438.371

593.369

761.999

969.073

1,218.015

1,428.546

2002

2003

2004

2005

2006

2007

2008

245.540

266.098

2001

2009.1–3

249.203

2000

Year

Chinese exports to the world (in US$ billions)

10.475

71.477

51.543

36.029

23.683

18.242

11.879

9.488

8.236

7.185

Chinese exports to Latin America (in US$ billions)

4.3%

5.0%

4.2%

3.7%

3.1%

3.1%

2.7%

2.9%

3.1%

2.9%

Percentage of total exports

Table 12.1 China’s exports to Latin America from 2001 to 2009 (Q1)

–6.1%

18.2%

13.8%

19.6%

1.1%

13.5%

–7.0%

–5.8%

7.3%

—

Percentage growth from previous year of Chinese exports to the world

–24.6%

38.7%

43.1%

52.1%

29.8%

53.6%

25.2%

15.2%

14.6%

—

Percentage growth from previous year of Chinese exports to Latin America and Caribbean

295.170

412.836

561.423

660.118

791.614

955.819

1,133.086

2002

2003

2004

2005

2006

2007

2008

9.363

71.909

51.068

34.189

26.775

21.785

14.927

8.336

6.702

5.410

Chinese imports from Latin America (in US$ billions)

5.1%

6.3%

5.3%

4.3%

4.1%

3.9%

3.6%

2.8%

2.8%

2.4%

Latin American imports as a percentage of total imports

–7.3%

18.8%

23.7%

6.5%

4.5%

7.3%

28.0%

2.6%

14.5%

—

Percentage growth from previous year of Chinese exports to the world

–35.8%

40.8%

49.4%

27.7%

22.9%

45.9%

79.1%

24.4%

23.9%

—

Percentage growth from previous year of Chinese imports from Latin America and Caribbean

Note: “–” means not available.

Source: Ministry of Commerce of People’s Republic of China. Available online at: http://zhs.mofcom.gov.cn/aarticle/cbw/200905/20090506218805.html (accessed 28 August 2009).

183.199

243.553

2001

2009.1–3

225.094

2000

Year

Chinese imports from the world (in US$ billions)

Table 12.2 China’s imports from Latin America from 2001 to 2009 (Q1)

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Virgin Islands and the Cayman Islands, there has been an increase in its Latin American investment in recent years. Recent events suggest that this trend is likely to continue. In May 2009, while visiting China, Brazilian president Lula da Silva announced that trade between Brazil and China would take place in reals and renminbi, rather than in dollars. China had just recently become Brazil’s primary export market. Certainly, some Latin American economies enjoy much greater trade complementarity with China than others, but the fact that Latin America’s most important state has China as a primary trade partner, has coordinated with China on satellite technology, has taken hefty loans from the Chinese government for its petroleum company, and may conduct trade in national currencies, may foreshadow China’s trajectory in the region in years to come. Will the deepening of the relationship between Latin America and China destabilize the region as it reduces the influence of the US? Will it mean greater prosperity and stability, or will it simply be the continuation of trade relations based on exploiting natural resource? Do the relative losses in prestige and influence of the US and gains of Chain facilitate interstate war and political instability? Will they encourage peace and stability, or will they have no recognizable effect?

A more harmonious America? This section analyzes data in terms of war, militarized disputes, and political instability as part of the chapter’s general attempt to analyze whether the rise of China has made Latin America more or less dangerous. The data for war is drawn from the Correlates of War Project (COW); the data for militarized disputes from the Uppsala Data Conflict Program (UDCP), and those for political instability are from González’s working paper on ‘Political Crises and Democracy in Latin America Since the End of the Cold War’ (González 2008). Importantly, interstate war is defined by the Correlates of War project as existing when at least 1,000 battlefield deaths have occurred. Its dataset runs from 1816 until 1997. No conflict between the states in the Americas since 1997 would register as a “war” by the COW definition. The UDCP dataset on militarized interstate conflicts include events where military force was used but casualties were fewer than 1,000. The dataset includes US aggression towards Puerto Rico, though the latter is not a state. This event is included here. Finally, political stability is rendered by using González’s discussion of “acute political crises” as a proxy. Such crises “are those in which: presidential and/or legislative authority is severely questioned, threatening to unseat incumbents; [and] the procedures channeling these threats are (at a minimum) of dubious character, beyond or at the borderline of existing law” (González 2008: 8). The idea is to indicate the instability of the political institutional framework. The second criterion explains why his dataset does not include the impeachment of Collor in Brazil in 1992, Pérez in Venezuela in 1993, Samper in Colombia in 1996, Chávez’s threat to dissolve Congress in Venezuela in 1999, or the impeachment attempts in Paraguay in 2002 of President González Macchi and in Ecuador in

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2004 of President Gutiérrez. González’s account of the 2002 coup in Venezuela records that President Chávez “did not fall.” While true, this belies the severity of the crisis caused by the coup which did remove him from office for roughly a day and a half. The authors have added an entry to González’s table (see Table 12.5) to include the crisis that removed Honduran President Manuel Zelaya from office on 28 June 2009.6 Miller (2007) is correct in de-emphasizing the role of global powers in the case of South American security but it is not clear that democratization and liberalization of trade have solidified peace. Moreover, Latin American hawks – while escalating recent disputes – have maintained a regional approach to security, isolating the US and not inviting other great-power intervention. While aggregate political instability has remained unchanged or has worsened, it is largely concentrated in a few countries. Again, these dynamics are primarily domestic and regional and China has not entered into or chosen sides in any of the internal battles among elites in countries such as Bolivia, Ecuador, Nicaragua, and Venezuela. Its policy of trade without interferences may embolden populists but it is probably still too early to give such agency to Chinese foreign policy in this area. Interstate Wars in Latin America The data below (Table 12.3) show that interstate war in Latin America has been an aberration in post-World War II Latin America and that both events occurred prior to the end of the Cold War (the Peru-Ecuador border “war” in 1995 did not produce enough casualties to be considered). Broadening the definition of war to include militarized interstate disputes, there were seven such events in post-World War II Latin America, but only one since 1990. Finally, using the broadest category for militarized disputes which includes the use of force against internal insurgents and combatants (but does not include violence related to the drug trade, organized crime and gangs, or other forms of violence) there were 145 such incidents since 1946, with 46 occurring since 1990 and 12 since 2000, when Sino-Latin American trade began to boom.

Table 12.3 Wars and militarized interstate disputes (I) Wars

Militarized interstate disputes Militarized disputes total

1946–2008

2

7

145

1946–1989

2

6

119

1990–2008

0

1

46

2000–2008

0

0

12

Sources: The Correlates of War Data (Version 3–0) and the UCDP/PRIO Armed Conflict Dataset (Version 4–2009).7

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Militarized disputes in Latin America The data (Table 12.4) show a very clear trend towards a decline in number of violent incidents over time, especially following 1990 and 2000. The end of the Cold War did, then, coincide with a decrease in militarized disputes. If the Cold War represented a period of US hegemony in the Americas and the post-Cold War era one of disengagement, then, according to Miller (2007) the former should have been less violent than the latter.8 Miller is correct in asserting that the primary level of analysis for disputes is at the domestic/regional level, but he overstates the importance of democratization and economic liberalization. Mares challenges this point, arguing against the “policymakers and analysts [who] believe that redemocratization, economic restructuring, and the end of the Cold War represent a watershed in the security environment of Latin America and will be sufficient to produce peace” (Mares 2001: 204). He uses militarized dispute data and finds that Latin America is not the island of tranquility that it is assumed to be; that militarized bargaining is and has been central to Latin American regional politics, and that militarized disputes are largely the result of the decisions that Latin American leaders make based on the costs that they believe their constituents will bear. While Mares’ expectation of the incidence of militarized disputes has been incorrect – since its publication the number of militarized disputes decreased considerably – his explanation of elite decision making is more accurate than Miller’s. Miller attributed the decline in bellicosity to democratization and economic regionalism, but this is unconvincing. First, while the entire region, excepting Cuba, maintains democratic governments, the quality of these democracies has varied considerably over the past few years. Rating the quality of democracy is a tricky task (Munck 2009; Spanakos 2008b) but if Freedom House data are used there does not appear to be any clear correlation between democratization and involvement in militarized disputes. This relationship changed only after 2000 but it does not do so in any clear fashion. The change may be because Freedom House downgraded Colombia, which may be an outlier anyway. Moreover, the least liberal country in the hemisphere, Cuba, has not been involved in any militarized dispute within the region since the 1960s. While there has definitely been a lot of rhetoric about regional solidarity in the Americas, particularly led by Hugo Chávez and his ALBA project, the last few years have witnessed the “burial” of the Free Trade Area of the Americas and the last summit of the Americas was largely centered around the issue of Cuba and Obama, not around extending economic liberalism and encouraging free trade within the region. Regional trade in Latin America has increased but it remains quite low at 21.5 percent, less than half that of regional trade in East Asia (Kawai and Zhai 2009). This is high by Latin American standards, but the connection to violence may not be that clear. After all, as tensions mounted again between Venezuela and Colombia in July of 2009, Chávez ordered his minister of trade to replace Colombian imports with alternatives from other countries. It is not clear that further democratization and regionalization of trade necessarily has led to more pacific foreign policies. If Hugo Chávez has de-democratized Venezuela

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then de-democratization corresponds to bellicosity, but this does not explain Cuba’s lack of violence towards its neighbors. If growth of trade is considered to decrease bellicosity, this does not explain Colombia’s internal war. In other words, the decrease in interstate wars does not seem to have a clear connection either to democratization or to economic liberalization. The rise in tensions between Colombia and Venezuela is instructive. The two countries have engaged in perennial saber-rattling and ostensibly almost came to blows as part of Chávez’s overblown reaction to Colombian bombing of a FARC camp within Ecuadorian territory in March 2008. The issue was resolved within one week at the Summit of Americas in Santo Domingo. In July of 2009, Chávez responded to Colombian “proof” that the Venezuelan government had been arming the FARC and to US-Colombian plans to establish four bases within Colombia, leading to Chávez once again recalling his ambassador to Bogotá and reinforcing military personnel and equipment along the Colombian-Venezuelan border. It was in this context that he instructed his minister of commerce to reduce imports from Colombia. While this was typical Chávez, what was new is that he “informed [Russia] of Venezuela’s new defense requirements.”9 During the March 2008 crisis, Chávez did not invoke China, Russia, Iran, or any of the other governments with whom he claims to be creating a multipolar world. Later that year, Chávez invited the Russian navy to participate in joint military exercises in the Caribbean, a clear provocation to the US. Despite the importance of Venezuela as a trade partner, Chávez’s self-proclaimed “Maoism,” and his shared goal of a multipolar world and defense of sovereignty, the Chinese government involved itself in neither of the Venezuelan-generated crises. In fact, early on China made it clear that it is unwilling to “play the part of the USSR” for Venezuela. China’s approach has been consistent with the core values of Chinese foreign policy: 1) it does not openly challenge US hegemony, particularly in its “sphere of influence”; 2) it encourages multipolar solutions and a movement towards a more multipolar world; and 3) it recognizes the sovereignty of states to pursue the decisions they feel are necessary for their own development. The fact that Chávez has increasingly invoked Russia, a far weaker “great power,” in security-related issues is evidence of the cold shoulder he has received from China.

Table 12.4 Wars and militarized interstate disputes (II) Wars per year

Militarized interstate disputes per year

Militarized disputes total per year

1946–2008

0.031

0.111

2.303

1946–1989

0.045

0.136

2.479

1990–2008

0

0.053

2.421

2000–2008

0

0

1.33

Sources: The Correlates of War Data (Version 3–0) (Sarkees (2000)) and the UCDP/PRIO Armed Conflict Dataset (Version 4–2009).

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China’s lack of interest in challenging the US within the Americas does not mean that China uncritically accepts US foreign or even domestic policies. In 2009, Wen Jiabao reacted to criticisms from US Treasury Secretary Geithner by harshly critiquing US fiscal policy. In fact, Chinese and US diplomats have a long history of relatively meaningless but sometimes inflammatory statements about the other’s monetary and fiscal policies. What is new, is China’s suggestion – and the immediate support from Russia, Venezuela, and others – for a move away from the US dollar as a reserve currency and China’s decision to begin conducting commercial transactions with certain trade partners in renminbi. That one of those partners is Brazil, a country that has emerged as a pivotal regional power in Latin America, is critical. Additionally, two major global suppliers of petroleum and gas concurring is important as it could effect the future use of US dollars in oil trading. In fact, Chinese economic diplomacy, while bearing the constant words of “friendship” and a “smile diplomacy” (Brady 2003: Chapter 9) has recently offered serious challenges to the US. As Lam writes, while Obama and the US was preoccupied with the financial crisis, Chinese president Hu Jintao and other top officials traveled the world, announcing new partnerships and investment opportunities throughout the developing world (Lam 2009). Most importantly, in the months leading up to the Summit of the Americas of 15–17 April 2009, China engaged in a “charm offensive” (Kurlantzick 2007) in Latin America. In February, Chinese Vice President Xi Jinping and Vice Premier Hui Liangyu were in Venezuela, Brazil, and Mexico and in Argentina and Ecuador, respectively. In March, the Chinese government offered a 138-million-dollar line of credit to Jamaica. In April, while reporting on the Summit of the Americas, where the change of tone from President Bush to Obama was welcomed by regional leaders, the New York Times reported: In recent weeks, China has been negotiating deals to double a development fund in Venezuela to $12 billion, lend Ecuador at least $1 billion to build a hydroelectric plant, provide Argentina with access to more than $10 billion in Chinese currency and lend Brazil’s national oil company $10 billion. (Romero and Barrionuevo, 16 April 2009) All of these activities are part of a long-term program to increase trade and investment relations within the Americas and do not threaten the geopolitical equilibrium in Latin America per se. The point is the timing. Whereas China timed its “white paper on Latin America” for after the US presidential campaign, so as not to ruffle feathers (Paz 2009), China deliberately chose to make public its dealings with Latin American countries prior to the Summit of the Americas and shortly thereafter. The point is that China is willing to assert itself in the area of trade and investment. It has, however, shown no interest in involving itself in more traditional security concerns. Thus, Latin American leaders have no recourse to using China to balance against the US in terms of security threats or in forging alliances to counter US-oriented alliances.

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The relative decline of the US and the relative rise of China, as well as other countries both outside (Iran, Russia, India, the EU) and inside (Brazil, Venezuela, Mexico, Colombia) Latin America have not contributed to an increase in incidents of war or militarized disputes. Granted, the rise of the latter group and the decline of the former have not in any meaningful way changed military capabilities. That is, the rise of China and others has been largely limited to economic and, to a lesser extent, soft power. It remains unlikely that this trend will be changed by the interaction of global forces within the region. This is because US hegemony has played a small role in interstate peace and there has not been any challenge to that hegemony in terms of hard-core capabilities. Thus, the second hypothesis, that the rise of China would make little difference in terms of interstate conflict in Latin America seems vindicated. Again, China’s presence as a major trader and investor within the region is still quite young, and so this might change, but, for the foreseeable future and given Chinese long-term interests and views of the world (Wang and Zheng 2008), the first hypothesis can be rejected.

Political stability in Latin America Superpower competition and the disengagement of a hegemon can facilitate not only militarized disputes, but also political instability and regime change. This was especially so in the Americas where the US government has supported authoritarian governments and coups, while also promoting democracy and electoral transparency. The end of the Cold War and the democratization in Latin America have coincided with a decrease in US involvement in regime change in the region. González, in his study of political stability in post-Cold War era Latin America, (González (2008)) analyzes “acute political crises” in Latin America in two distinct periods, 1992–9 (the early post-Cold War era) and from 2000 onwards (see Table 12.5). González notes that while “[a]ll but one (Ecuador 1997) of these crises were essentially intra-elite conflicts … the ones in the latter period were nontraditional, driven primarily by mass participation” (González 2008: 12, 15). Moreover, crises became increasingly focused on the presidency and increasingly successful in removing him10 (González 2008: 14). What is also clear from the table is that most of the crises occurred in only a few countries within the region. While Miller (2007) suggests that the key variables to consider are state-to-nation congruence, state capacity, and liberalness, the countries above do not display any clear trends in those regards. Countries with large indigenous populations, where there may therefore be claims to a state-nation incongruence, are overrepresented, but Venezuela and Argentina do not have this problem at all, and none of the leadership of any indigenous groups in any of these countries have made claims to independent statehood. The presence of Argentina, Peru, and Venezuela also trouble the assumption of state capacity. Finally, the liberalness of the countries in question is not especially telling. What González identifies as the most critical issues in examining the countries which had acute political crisis (see above) and those that did not (Chile, Uruguay,

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Table 12.5 Acute political crises in Latin America, 1992–2009 Country

Crisis

Focused on

Result

Venezuela

February 1992

President

Did not fall

Peru

April 1992

Legislature

Dissolved

Venezuela

November 1992

President

Did not fall

Nicaragua

December 1992

Legislature

No change

Guatemala

May 1993

Legislature

No change

Paraguay

April 1996

President

Did not fall

Ecuador

February 1997

President

Fell

Paraguay

March 1999

President

Fell

Ecuador

January 2000

President

Fell

Paraguay

May 2000

President

Did not fall

Peru

November 2000

President

Fell

Argentina

December 2001

President

Fell

Venezuela

April 2002

President

Bolivia

October 2003

President

Did not fall (but out of office briefly) Fell

Ecuador

April 2005

President

Fell

Nicaragua

June 2005

President

Did not fall

Bolivia

June 2005

President

Fell

Ecuador

March 2007

Legislature

Honduras

June 2009

President

57 lawmakers (out of 100) lost their seats President removed from office, international negotiation ongoing

Source: Adapted from González (2008: 10, 13).11

Costa Rica, El Salvador, Colombia, Mexico, Brazil, and Panama), is that the former experienced far lower GDP growth between 1975 and 2003 with most having their GDP peak in the late 1970s or late 1980s (with the sole exception of Argentina) (González 2008: 23). Additionally, the countries which had acute crises were the ones which scored lowest in terms of judicial effectiveness in 2002–3 with the exception of Guatemala (González 2008: 27). In other words, political instability was fostered by a lack of growth and a sense of judicial ineffectiveness. While the US and OECD countries tend to focus their aid towards institutionbuilding, especially “rule-of-law” mechanisms, Chinese foreign policy and aid

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have emphasized the commercial and it rejects the idea of creating incentives for domestic political reform (Lum et al. 2009). This is consistent with Chinese foreign policy and its emphasis on mutual development leading to a harmonious world. This policy may have borne fruit in Latin America. Latin America (with the exception of Mexico) and China have largely complementary economies (Mesquita Moreira 2007) and China’s internal demand has spurred a global commodity boom, again benefitting the region (Gallagher and Porzecanski 2008: 187). There is a problem of third-party competition, but it is largely limited to Mexico, Brazil, and a few other countries. However, not all states in the region have unambiguously benefitted from the rise of China. Mexico competes with China in respect of a number of goods (Gallagher and Porzecanski 2008) and Freund and Ozden (2009) find that Chinese exports have had a negative effect on the growth of some Latin American exports, particularly from Mexico, Brazil and Argentina. Also, the commodity boom and trade with China have had different effects across the region based on how much and what countries exported to China. In 2006, there was considerable variance in Latin America in terms of what portion of exports were destined for China (7.5 percent in Argentina, 6.1 percent in Brazil, 8.8 percent in Chile, 7.7 percent in Costa Rica, 9.5 percent in Peru, 4 percent in Uruguay, but only 0.8 percent in Bolivia, 0.4 percent in El Salvador, 0.7 percent in Mexico, 0.2 percent Nicaragua, and 0.2 percent in Venezuela – see Paus (2009: 438)). Additionally, not only were some countries much more affected than others, but exports were largely concentrated “in a few primary commodities: copper and iron ores (Brazil, Chile, Peru), fishmeal (Chile and Peru), and soy beans (Argentina, Brazil, Uruguay)” (Paus 2009: 438). This has led to a shift from a regional trade surplus with China to a widening trade deficit and net job losses in certain sectors. Paus fears that Sino-Latin American trade patterns could lead to a “middle income trap” where Latin American countries need to move higher on the value-added chain because they cannot compete with the cost of Chinese labor, but are unable to compete with producers of higher technology goods because they suffer from lower productivity (Paus 2009). If this happens, Latin American countries may become increasingly reliant on primary products. Such reliance in the long term could undermine the stabilizing effect of increased growth as it would make Latin American countries more sensitive to changes in global commodity prices. Thus, Chinese demand and trade with Latin America have led to higher demand for commodities which has had a beneficial impact on regional growth, but the impact is unevenly distributed throughout the Americas. Few countries which send a significant amount of their exports to China, and thus would have benefitted most directly from Chinese demand, were among those which suffered acute political crises. Nevertheless, Chinese demand has increased demand for Latin American exports and has contributed to growth in much of the region which should mitigate some of the factors that contribute to political instability. It has also led to sectoral job loss in certain countries and may have a negative long-term economic effect if Latin American countries find themselves in a ”middle income trap.” These potential long-term problems may have negative consequences for long-term political

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stability, but the relationship here is even weaker and less direct than the possible positive one identified above. In other words, the rise of China has either had no effect or a mildly positive one on political stability in Latin America.

Conclusion This chapter has explored two plausible hypotheses about how the rise of China might affect security within the region. The first suggested that the rise of China would facilitate interstate war and political instability, while the second suggested it would have little impact. Latin America is an ideal context in which to study such relations given its historic linkage with the rise to superpower status of the US, its lack of interstate war, high levels of political instability, and the potential geopolitical threat of a rising power entering into a perhaps declining superpower’s “backyard.” The evidence presented here suggests that the rise of China has had no effect whatsoever on interstate wars and militarized disputes within Latin America. It appears that the dynamics driving this variable are largely domestic, though not necessarily those identified by Miller (2007), and that the general trend towards fewer disputes, that began with the end of the Cold War, has continued. If anything, the only consistent source of militarized disputes is Colombia, the primary recipient of US military aid in the Western Hemisphere. The second finding of the paper is that the rise of China has not increased political instability in the region and may have contributed to some stabilizing factors in some countries. Recent instability in the region is concentrated in certain countries that have produced anti-US politicians but US resistance to these figures and the foreign-policy justification of the politicians themselves have nothing to do with Chinese foreign policy. There is concern among some in Washington that China might be “waiting in the wings” to win over political critics of the United States. But China has been consistent in its policy of non-interference in the domestic politics of its trading partners and it has not used its trade, investment, or friendship to favor any political elite or to shore up or weaken the position of another. Trade with China has had a net positive effect on Latin American growth and this in turn has had some effect on political stability, but disaggregating growth by country and sector make any claim about the positive contribution to Latin American political stability tenuous. Thus the rise of China has not made Latin America more unsafe nor has it encouraged any sort of anti-US alliance. If anything, China has refused to “politicize” its relations with US critics and has traded with the region primarily according to its economic needs. Why has China had this effect and will it continue to have this effect in the future? Here it is worth returning Wang Gungwu for what China itself understands as its place within the world. He writes that Chinese goals for global order, based on the lessons from history, are: “1) a balanced and restraining multipolar system; 2) a rule-based global market economy, one that is increasingly interdependent at more and more levels; 3) a world of modern, rational, and ‘secular’ civilizations” (Wang 2008: 28). Beijing’s policy towards Latin America understands the centrality of Latin American commodities to Chinese growth, the

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significant possibilities of Latin America consumer markets, and the importance of Sino-Latin American trade as part of a general ‘South-South’ foreign policy (Jiang 2008). It has pursued these interests in Latin America consistently with the goals understood by Wang and, in so doing, has not made Latin America more dangerous.

Acknowledgments The authors would like to congratulate Wang Gungwu on his extraordinary career in the academy and to thank him, Zheng Yongnian, John Wang, He Li, Shi Zhanzhuan, Terrence Lee, Stathis Kalyvas, Javier Corrales, Jiang Shixue and Eva Paus for their assistance and comments.

Notes 1 See, for example, Wang Gungwu, China and the Chinese Overseas (Singapore: Times Academic, 1992); Wang Gungwu, Ideas Won’t Keep: The Struggle for China’s Future (Singapore: Eastern University Press, 2003); Wang Gungwu, ‘China and the international order: Some historical perspectives’, in Wang Gungwu and Zheng Yongnian (eds) China and the New International Order (London: Routledge, 2008). 2 http://www.admin.cam.ac.uk/news/dp/2009021004 3 Hence the importance of Wang’s research on China as an inside/outside subject. 4 This view tends to both exaggerate US influence and downplay the pluralism within US policy circles. 5 Searching the archives in the New York Times shows that while the number of articles with Latin America in the abstract has declined since 1990, there is very little difference between the number recorded in 2000 and in 2005, and the number is still larger than during the 1980s. 6 Efforts to restore Zelaya to the presidency were ongoing while the final revision of this paper was being made. See Spanakos (forthcoming). 7 The Correlates of War Data (Version 3–0), available online at: http://www.correlates ofwar.org/cow2%20data/WarData/InterState/Inter-State%20War%20Format%20 (V%203-0).htm (accessed 29 August 2009); the UCDP/PRIO Armed Conflict Dataset (Version 4–2009), available online at: http://www.prio.no/CSCW/Datasets/ Armed-Conflict/UCDP-PRIO/Armed-Conflicts-Version-X-2009/ (accessed 29 August 2009). 8 To be fair, Miller’s discussion is only of South America and does not include all of Latin America, whereas the latter is represented in the data presented here. 9 Latin American Weekly Report (30 July 2009): 3; ISSN 0143–5280. 10 The period studied includes a woman president, but the only presidents to be removed were men. 11 Please note that Haiti was not included by González.

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Kindleberger, Charles P., The World in Depression, 1929–1939 (Berkeley CA: University of California Press, 1973). Kurlantzick, Joshua, Charm Offensive: How China’s soft power is transforming the world (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007). Lam, Willy. ‘Beijing Launches Diplomatic Blitz to Steal Obama’s Thunder’, China Brief. 9(4) (20 February 2009). Available online at: http://www.jamestown.org/programs/ chinabrief’singleFIFIIII (accessed 19 May 2009). Li, He, ‘China’s growing interest in Latin America and its implications’, The Journal of Strategic Studies, 30(4–5) (August–October 2007): 833–62. Lum, Thomas, Hannah Fischer, Julissa Gomez-Granger and Anne Leland, ‘China’s foreign aid activities in Africa, Latin America, and Southeast Asia’, Congressional Research Service, 7–5700 (25 February 2009). Available online at: http://www.opencrs.com/ document/R40361/ (accessed 25 May 2009). Mahbubani, Kishore, The New Asian Hemisphere: The irresistible shift of global power to the East (New York: Public Affairs, 2008). Mares, David R., Violent Peace: Militarized interstate bargaining in Latin America. (New York: Columbia University Press, 2001). Mastanduno, Michael, ‘System maker and privilege taker: U.S. power and the international political economy’, World Politics 61(1) (October 2008): 121–54. Mearsheimer, John J., The Tragedy of Great Power Politics (New York: W.W. Norton, 2001). See especially pp. 40–2. Mesquita Moreira, Mauricio, ‘Fear of China: Is there a future for manufacturing in Latin America?’, World Development, 35(3) (2007): 355–76. Miller, Benjamin, States, Nations, and the Great Powers: The sources of regional war and peace (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007). Munck, Gerardo, Measuring Democracy: A bridge between scholarship and politics (Baltimore MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2009). Navarro, Peter, The Coming China Wars: Where they will be fought and how they can be won, rev. ed. (New York: Financial Times Press, 2008). O’Neill, J., ‘Introduction: BRICs and Beyond’, BRICs and Beyond, Goldman and Sachs (23 November 2007), pp. 5–6. Organski, A. F. K. and Jacek Kugler, The War Ledger (Chicago IL: University of Chicago Press, 1981). Paus, Eva, ‘The rise of China: Implications for Latin American development’, Development Policy Review, 27(4) (July 2009): 419–56. Paz, Gonzalo, ‘Rising China’s “Offensive” in Latin America and the U.S. reaction’, Asian Perspective 30(4) (2006): 95–112. ——, ‘China and Venezuela: Potential allies?’, paper presented at 2009 meeting of the International Studies Association (New York), 15 February 2009. Romero, Simon, ‘Chavez employs Colombia feud as flashpoint for feud with US’, New York Times (5 March 2008): A.1. ——, ‘Peace makes Andes winner: the region settles dispute without violence or outside help’, New York Times (9 March 2008): A.25. Romero, Simon and Alexei Barrionuevo, ‘Deals help China expand sway in Latin America’, New York Times (16 April 2009). Santibañes, Francisco, ‘An end to U.S. hegemony? The strategic implications of China’s growing presence in Latin America’, Comparative Strategy, 28(1) (2009): 17–36. Sarkees, Meredith Reid, ‘The correlates of war data on war: An update to 1997’, Conflict Management and Peace Science, 18/1 (2000): 123–44.

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Schatz, Joseph J., ‘Duet with the Dragon: What’s next in U.S.–China relationship?’, CQ Today Online News (20 June 2009). Available online at: http://www.cqpolitics.com/ wmspage.cfm?docID=news000003149630 (accessed 22 June 2009). Shih, Chih-yu, Navigating Sovereignty: World politics lost in China (New York: Palgrave, 2003). So, Billy K. L., John Fitzgerald, Huang Jianli and Jakes K. Chin (eds), Power and Identity in the Chinese World Order: Festschrift in honour of Professor Wang Gungwu (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2003). Spanakos, Anthony Peter, ‘Que regime é este? The Left in Brazil, Chile, and Venezuela’, Revista Análise Econômica-UFRGS, 26(50) (September 2008a). ——, ‘New wine, old bottles, flamboyant sommelier: Chávez, citizenship, and populism’, New Political Science, 30(4) (December 2008b): 521–44. ——, ‘Why Honduras matters to the US, China, and the world’, East Asia Institute Background Brief (forthcoming). Tammen, Ronald L., Jacek Kugler, Douglas Lemke, Allan C. Stam III, Mark Abdollahian, Carole Alsharabati, Brian Efird and A. F. K. Organski, Power Transitions: Strategies for the 21st century (New York: Chatham House, 2000). Tilly, Charles, Coercion, Capital, and European States, AD 990–1992 (Cambridge: Blackwell, 1997). Tokatlian, Juan Gabirel, ‘A new doctrine of insecurity? The U.S. military deployment in South America’, NACLA Report on the Americas (September/October 2008): 6–10. Vasquez, John A., The War Puzzle (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983). Walt, Stephen, ‘Alliances in a unipolar world’, World Politics 61(1) (October 2008): 86–120. Wang, Gungwu, The Chineseness of China: Selected essays (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1991). ——, China and the Chinese Overseas. (Singapore: Times Academic, 1992). ——, ‘Ming foreign relations: Southeast Asia’, in Dennis Twitchett and Federick Mote (eds), The Cambridge History of China, Vol. 8: The Ming Dynasty, 1368–1644, Part 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998). ——, China and Southeast Asia: Myths, threats and culture (Singapore: World Scientific, 1999). ——, Ideas Won’t Keep: The struggle for China’s future (Singapore: Eastern University Press, 2003). ——, ‘China and the international order: Some historical perspectives’, in Wang Gungwu and Zheng Yongnian (eds), China and the New International Order (London: Routledge, 2008). Wang, Gungwu and Zheng Yongnian, ‘Introduction’, in Wang Gungwu and Zheng Yongnian (eds), China and the New International Order (London: Routledge, 2008). Wang Hongjiang, ‘China, Brazil to offer satellite data to Africa’ (20 May 2009). Available online at: http://news.xinhuanet.com/english/2009–0520/content–11407388.htm (accessed 28 August 2009). You, Ji, ‘Friends in need or comrades in arms?: The decline of Sino-Russo weapons trade’, East Asian Institute Background Brief No. 455 (Singapore: East Asian Institute, 2009). Youngs, Richard, ‘Policy issues: The European Union and democracy in Latin America’, Latin American Politics and Society, 44(3) (Fall 2002).

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Zhang, Yongjin, ‘Understanding Chinese views of the emerging global order’, in Wang Gungwu and Zheng Yongnian (eds), China and the New International Order (London: Routledge, 2008). Zhu, Zhiqun, ‘Power transition and U.S.–China relations: Is war inevitable?’, Journal of International and Area Studies, 12(1) (2005): 1–24.

13 Japan’s response to the fall and rise of China The shift of foreign policy mainstream thinking Zhao Quansheng

Introduction There are many ways to study China’s international relations. Guided by IR theory and historical perspectives, Wang Gungwu has adopted at least three approaches: first, China’s own development in terms of its rich history; second, specific key concepts, such as nationalism, nation-state, sovereignty, culture and identity, among others; and third, China’s interactions with the outside world, such as the West and Southeast Asia. This chapter attempts to follow the third approach by examining an aspect of China’s interactions with the outside world, namely Japan’s response to the fall and rise of China, focusing on the shift of mainstream thinking in Japanese foreign policy and the dynamics of Sino-Japanese relations. Historically, China’s relations with Japan are perhaps among its most complicated and controversial relations. One may notice historical facts such as not only did Japan invade China before and during World War II, and China’s learning about the West’s modernization occurred, at least in the beginning stages, largely through Japan. As Wang Gungwu points out, Japan was much nearer and it cost much less for the Chinese to study there. Most of all, the Japanese had already themselves translated all the important military books and technical manuals they needed. It was clear that they had been very successful there, something which the Chinese could do well to emulate.1 Needless to say, modern Japan is still a key player among major powers. Its importance in terms of China’s foreign policy objectives remains high, perhaps behind only the United States, on such as the issues as Taiwan, the North Korean nuclear crises, and China’s integration into the international system. It will therefore be beneficial for our understanding of China’s international relations to investigate how other powers (including Japan) rose and fell,2 and to understand more about Japan’s response to the rise of China. As Japan’s major neighbor in the region, China’s academic circles, political and business sectors have paid close attention to Japanese trends. This is mainly because despite Japan’s devastating defeat as one of the axis powers during World War II, it soon re-emerged to become the world’s second-largest economy. Ezra

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Vogel, an Asian expert, expressed a notion in the late 1970s – “Japan as Number One” – in his bestselling book of the same title.3 In other words, at that time, American experts on international relations were arguing that Japan had already or would soon become the world’s leading power. Fear over Japan’s growing strength even led to “Japan bashing” in the 1980s as many in the US foresaw Japan’s rise as another threat to the USA’s ability to maintain global supremacy. In the time since, research concerning Japan’s domestic foreign affairs has continued to expand in Europe and the United States, with the field of Japanese studies growing from a small interdisciplinary field into an important school of thought attracting a lot of attention. This paper focuses on Japan’s foreign policy in an attempt to sort out the mainstream ways of thought and develop a new concept – the “tilted middle way” – approach and then apply it to the analyses of Sino-Japanese relations.

Conceptual basis Historic changes took place in Japan in September 2009 when the Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ) gained a landslide victory in Japan’s general election, ending the Liberal Democratic Party’s (LDP) ruling position which began in 1955 (with a short break in 1993). With the new Prime Minister Hatoyama Yukio moving into power, many wondered what impact this change would have on Japan’s foreign relations. In order to better understand the direction of development in Japanese foreign policy, it is necessary to examine Japan’s political mainstream way of thinking. Since Japan developed as a democratic and pluralistic society after World War II, expressions of different views and tendencies within the country are natural. However, simply making a list of different views will not allow one to grasp the true meaning behind Japan’s foreign policy. Therefore, it is necessary to emphasise mainstream thinking, which refers to the dominant preferences within Japan’s political, economic, academic and bureaucratic systems. This consensus is reflected in the relative views of the majority, and this relative majority is constantly changing. When analyzing a country’s foreign policy, it is important not to neglect the basic concepts of international relations theory. Realism emphasizes the strength and fundamental interests of a country.4 In terms of this view, leaders pay most attention to how they can maintain the country’s security and prosperity and to political power on the international stage. Based on this school of thought, so-called high politics and low politics are placed in a certain order in a country’s foreign policy. In realism, the formulation of political, diplomatic and military posture is often placed higher than other factors, such as economic and cultural considerations. In this sense, growth and weakening of military and political power among nations, as well as relative changes in the priorities given to national interests, have a significant impact on the country’s foreign-policy making. In other words, realism is based on a consideration of the country’s national strength and fundamental interests. Other factors, such as ideological ones, are placed in a secondary position.

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Liberalism, in particular as a result of the recent rise in the field of study devoted to globalization, tends to focus attention on interdependence between nations. Special emphasis is placed upon the strengthening of cooperation and compromise among major powers as a result of increased economic interdependence of nations through enhanced trade.5 From this point of view, international organizations on the world stage, as well as a series of international institutions aimed at building communities on the regional level, have a profound impact upon inter-state relations and in shaping individual countries’ foreign policies. At the same time, the increasingly popular constructivism theory also provides valuable insight when studying foreign policy issues. As the youngest of the main theories, constructivism views changes in foreign policy by focusing on a country’s policy makers’ perceptions of international situations, regional and world development patterns.6 Policy makers’ knowledge, position and feelings about their own country and the history of the region are seen to play an important role in the formulation of foreign policy. From the overview of these schools of thought, it can be seen that liberalism and constructivism emphasize factors other than the strength and interests of countries. Without a doubt, there are many schools of thought in international relations and foreign policy analysis which offer theories that can be used to analyze the trend of Japan’s foreign policy. Those discussed above are only a few of the major ones. Other derivatives have been developed by a number of schools. Examples are power transition theory, interest group theory, and the domestic-international linkage approach, all of which are provide very useful theoretical frameworks. In addition, many scholars have recently started trying to analyze international relations theory from the perspective of the Asia-Pacific region.7 This paper will to some extent utilize some applications of these theories in order to analyze the mainstream thinking in Japanese foreign policy.

Historical review In the course of its evolution, modern Japanese foreign policy encountered three crossroads at which a significant choice concerning the direction of policy was necessary. The first crossroad occurred in the mid-nineteenth century. When China’s Qing government was invaded by the British-led Western imperialist powers, Japan, as a longtime student of China, paid close attention to what John King Fairbank called “the clash of the Eastern and Western civilizations” and the fall of the Qing Empire. When China was defeated in the Opium War and signed The Treaty of Nanking in 1842, and then suffered humiliation and further loss of sovereign rights from the ensuing invasion of other imperialist countries (such as France, Germany and Russia) with territorial and monetary claims, Japan’s rulers, upper classes and intellectuals watched intently. These events left Japan’s elite with many questions. How could Japan learn from China’s defeat and fall? In which direction should its foreign policy head? Should it continue to adhere to its closed-door and xenophobic policies or thoroughly reform itself and start down a different path? The events surrounding China, and Japan’s ensuing questions,

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formed the background of the 1868 Meiji Restoration in Japan. This reformation led to a major transformation in domestic and foreign affairs. The Meiji Restoration led to Japan’s rapid realization of industrialization; its substantial increase in national strength, and to its rapidly emerging international status. At the end of the nineteenth and in the beginning of the twentieth century, Japan defeated the two great powers in the region. It first overpowered the Qing Empire in the Sino-Japanese War of 1894–5 and it then defeated the Russian Empire in the 1904–5 Russo-Japanese War. These victories caused Japan’s reputation to grow from that of a small isolated island in the East China Sea into the “Empire of Japan.” Japan’s political environment, economy and society also experienced major changes during this period. The nation changed its style, and moved from being a predominantly closed feudal and agrarian-based country into being an industrialization-oriented economic and military power. These sudden changes inflated the ego of Japan’s rulers, and encouraged them to accept a “law of the jungle”-type of logic emphasized by Western colonialists. Thus, beginning in the first half of the twentieth century, Japan began a gradual movement towards militarism. Japan’s militaristic behavior included colonization of the Korean Peninsula, invasion of northeast China and establishment of the Manchukuo. It also took part in the Germany-Italy-Japan axis, leading to the start of World War II. It invaded Southeast Asia and attacked Pearl Harbor. Japan pursued these actions with the goal of extending the territory of the “Empire of Japan” to the largest ever in its history.8 The dazzling victories, however, were soon followed by painful defeat. In China, Korea, and other Asian countries, Japan was struck by the region’s anti-war campaign. The United States counter-attacked the Pacific Islands and bombed the Japanese mainland, destroying Hiroshima and Nagasaki with atomic bombs. The Soviet Red Army marched into northeast China and defeated the Japanese Kwantung Army as well. The combination of these defeats dealt Japan a devastating blow and eventually forced it to surrender and accept US occupation in August 1945. At the end of World War II, a defeated Japan was faced with a second decisive choice in its modern history. In which direction should Japan’s foreign and domestic policy head now? How would Japan be able to redevelop from the ruins of war and return to the international community? How should Japan handle its relations with Asian neighbors, particularly China? These questions pointed to key issues for which Japan needed urgent solutions. Under the leadership of the US occupation authorities, Japan adopted its second constitution in 1947, moving down a road peaceful development.9 As early as the 1950s, Japan began to enter a period of rapid economic development and became the leader of Asia’s economic takeoff. Subsequently, the Japanese economy then overtook those of several European powers and it became the world’s second-largest economy, drawing near that of the United States. Japan’s relations with China during this period were heavily influenced, if not determined, by the United States and subsequent developments of the Cold War. China’s rise began with its rapid economic growth in the early 1980s, leading to new international concern regarding the country’s growth. The disintegration of

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the former Soviet Union at the beginning of the 1990s, as well as the strengthening of globalization and regionalism, left Japan with an additional series of challenges. From this period until the beginning of this century, Japan also experienced a “lost decade,” which was made even worse by the plight caused by the 1997 Asian financial crisis. In addition, a nuclear crisis with North Korea also added to these factors, increasing Japan’s sensitivity towards foreign affairs. This series of developments in major domestic and international political and economic issues encouraged a new wave of nationalistic sentiment within the Japanese government and among its public. Politically conservative trends deepened further.10 Japanese politicians and political leaders also went through an unprecedented social and political change represented by Prime Minister Koizumi Junichiro.11 All of this brought Japan’s foreign policy to a new crossroads,12 and prompted Japan’s decision makers, politicians and intellectuals at the beginning of this century to start a policy debate on how best to attend to the nation’s concerns and interests within the new global environment.13 Based on the above discussion, it can be concluded that Japan’s foreign policy experienced three major crossroads during the 100-plus years of challenges and choices that arose in its most recent history. Each one of these policy choices was not only extremely influential in Japan’s own development, but also had significant impacts in Asia and the world. The policy options also were all closely linked with a mainstream type of thinking heavily influenced by realism and idealism. At the time of the first two crossroads, Japan was under tremendous pressure both at home and abroad, and its decisions led to major turning points in history. For example, during the Meiji Restoration, Japan chose to move away from Asia and draw closer to Europe. That is to say, the Japanese decided to distance themselves from the “backwardness and poverty of East Asia”, by following strategies of datsu-a nyu-o, or “leave Asia, enter Europe” and fukoku kyohei, meaning “rich country, strong military” in order to catch up with European and American powers. Japan shifted once again however, after World War II when, under the occupation of the United States, it moved from a militarist, authoritarian regime to a democratic, peace-oriented government.

A tilted middle way In the early twenty-first century, Japan’s ruling and opposition parties formed a broad consensus, completing the third major policy choice regarding the country’s foreign policy direction. The fundamental difference between this choice and the first two choices was that, rather than breaking completely with old forms of policy, the incorporation of a middle way became viewed as the best option for Japan’s foreign policy. In May 2005, Abe Shinzo conducted a luncheon lecture in Washington DC as a warm-up before he became Prime Minister of Japan the next year. At that time, Japan appeared to be strengthening its relations with the United States, while experiencing worsening relations with China and South Korea. During the luncheon, Abe was asked whether these recent developments meant that Japan’s

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foreign policy was still under the influence of a datsu-a nyu-o, or “leave Asia, enter Europe,” type of policy.14 He answered that Japan’s relations with the United States and its relationships with Asian neighbors such as China and South Korea were complementary to each other rather than mutually exclusive. Abe’s ideas reflected a new trend in the policy of Japan which attempts to avoid both extremes and instead pursues a path closer to the middle. In essence this could be viewed as a “follow the middle way” strategy. One month after Abe took office, the New York Times also commented that he was taking a “middle way” diplomatic approach.15 Japanese Prime Minister Fukuda Yasuo, who succeeded Abe in autumn of 2007, was also a politician who implemented a policy based on the middle way. Of Fukuda’s successors, Aso Taro and Hatoyama Yukio, one is of a more conservative nature than the previous two leaders, and the other is more “liberal.” However, it appears it will be difficult for either Aso or Hatoyama to diverge far from this middle-way approach. In Japan, while there are certainly groups who take extreme stances on foreign policy, they are far from being in the majority. The majority of elite politicians tend to prefer avoiding extremes and instead opt for a middle ground. Even so, different politicians at different times can have different preferences. For this reason, understanding this tendency is the key factor for unraveling the current direction of Japan’s foreign policy. This is what is emphasized in this chapter as the tilted middle way. Below is an issue-by-issue analysis regarding this type of policy framework. Middle Way Number I: Datsu-a nyu-o vs. Aji wa hitotsu During most of Japan’s 2000-year history, its position towards the East Asian region has been clear. However, this came into question in the mid-nineteenth century as Japan’s society faced new challenges. The Japanese intellectual leader Fukuzawa Yukichi, who established Keio University in Japan, suggested a new policy of datsu-a nyu-o.16 Fukuzawa believed that Japan should leave China, which was still considered to be in a backwards state, along with other Asian societies, and follow the example of European powers in order to become a modernized nation. He argued Japan should carry out a series of political and economic reforms and accelerate its modernization. In addition, he called for Japan to form an alliance with the advanced Western countries. Another Japanese thinker, Okakura Tenshin, although strongly influenced by Western culture like Fukuzawa, put forward a set of rather different ideas and slogans. In his book Oriental Awakening, he recommended that Japan adopt the idea Ajia wa hitotsu, meaning “Asia is one.” Although Okakura emphasized Japan’s leadership role, he sharply criticized the invasion of the East by Western powers and stressed the importance of standing up against such intrusion by creating a social solidarity in East Asia.17 The huge differences between Okakura’s idea of “Asia is one” and the concept of an East Asian community in contrast to Fukuzawa’s push for greater Westernization represents the dichotomy of ideas among Japanese intellectuals at the time concerning Japan’s position in the international community.

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As a result of Japan’s rapidly changing domestic and international situation, including the series of humiliating defeats of the Qing Empire, Fukuzawa’s school of thought gradually became the dominant voice in both the academic and the political world. As the notion of needing to separate from Asia and join Europe became stronger, the trend of respecting and loving Chinese culture was replaced by a mentality of disgust towards Japan’s Asian neighbors. In this sense, the Japanese government’s actions began to represent thinking that “since the Western powers were able to invade and colonize developing countries, especially in Asia, why shouldn’t Japan do the same?” This mentality led directly to a series of acts of aggression including the Japanese colonization of the Korean peninsula, its occupation of China and invasion of several Southeast Asian countries. This line of thought went along well with Japan’s expansion policy and did not end until the nation’s defeat in World War II. As mentioned earlier, Japan’s defeat in 1945 led to its second major foreign policy choice in contemporary history. During the seven years of US occupation, Japan was unable to conduct independent policy choices. Instead, it could only accept the leadership of the United States, taking part in the US-led Western camp. The surrounding international environment also confirmed Japan’s position of having a foreign policy closer to that of the West than to that of the East. The San Francisco Peace Treaty in 1952 and the Japan–US Security Treaty which followed, made Japan a firm member of the Western alliance during the Cold War.18 A high degree of Westernization (that is, Americanization) in Japanese society since the end of World War II became a main theme of development. In the years after World War II, the rapid development and economic recovery of Asia brought about the miracles of the “four little dragons,” and also forced Japan to recognize the importance of Asia. This awareness has been strengthened by the rapid economic development of China since the early 1980s, as well as the start of a post-Cold War East Asian Economic Community. One example is that of ASEAN +3, in which China, Japan and South Korea participate together with ASEAN in regional affairs. The incumbent Japanese Prime Minister declared more than once that Japan’s previous policy of datsu-a nyu-o was no longer a policy option Japan should follow, indicating that Japan is not only a member of the advanced Western world, but also a part of the East Asian community. However, in reality, Japanese policy makers – especially when forced to make major policy choices – still tend to lean toward the direction of Europe and the US. For example, during the second half of Prime Minister Koizumi’s term, when he was asked to respond to the deterioration of Japan–China and Japan–South Korea relations, he replied “as long as good relations with the United States are maintained, relations with China and South Korea will naturally improve.” Koizumi’s mentality of heavy in Europe and America, and light in East Asia was revealed clearly here. Of course, there were voices in Japanese society during this time urging for better relations with China, Korea and other Asian countries. Concern was particularly strong in the business community, which was worried about the economy in Asia and Japan’s weakened economic status, and urged Japan’s leaders to “return to Asia.” This is one of the reasons why Abe, after being elected Prime Minister of Japan, made his first

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foreign visit to China and South Korea in early October 2006. Fukuda’s series of policies to strengthen cooperation between Japan and China and Japan and South Korea also provides further evidence of this shift. Japan’s new Prime Minister Hatoyama went even further by advocating that instead of datsu-a nyu-o, Japan should move toward datsu-o nyu-a, meaning moving away from Europe and returning to Asia.19 Right before his official inauguration, Hatoyama published an op-ed in The New York Times entitled “A New Path for Japan” discussing Japan’s national goals and strategy. He stated, “of course, the Japan–U.S. security pact will continue to be the cornerstone of Japanese diplomatic policy.” Then he emphasized, “but at the same time we must not forget our identity as a nation located in Asia.”20 One can tell that the new prime minister might be tilted toward Asia, but cannot move away from Japan’s alliance with the United States. This middle-way approach in which the Japan–US alliance remains the base axis, while emphasis is placed on good relations with Asian countries, is likely to continue as the most dominant theme of Japanese foreign policy for the foreseeable future. Middle Way Number II: Peace vs. Armaments The direction of Japan’s path of national development was the subject of several major policy debates during the Meiji Restoration. The consensus reached by the Japanese leadership and intellectuals was to follow a policy of fukoku kyohei, or “rich country, strong military.” In other words, it was believed that in order to realize its goal of reaching political power equal to that of Western countries, Japan needed to industrialize and become a military power. In this sense, both economic and military development were viewed as equally important. From the latter half of the nineteenth century until World War II, military development was the base of Japan’s diplomatic priorities. However, following its crushing defeat in World War II, and under the leadership of the United States, both the ruling and opposition parties in Japan decided to learn from their mistakes and adopted a new constitution in 1947 based on peace. Article IX of the constitution, known as the “Peace Clause,” formally renounces any military engagement except in self-defense. This clause has laid the foundation for Japan’s peace and development for more than half a century. Immediately after the occupation, the US signed a security treaty with Japan in which it pledged to provide a nuclear umbrella of protection. Thus, in spite of facing security threats from the former Soviet Union during the Cold War, Japan was able to dedicate its energy toward developing its economy rather than its military, with its military budget hovering around only one percent of its GDP. This later became known as a “free-ride” strategy for economic development. This agreement also laid down the guidelines for Japan’s foreign policy, which set economic development as the country’s top priority.21 As Japan’s national strength grew, questions began to be raised as to whether the country should also start enhancing its military status or whether it should focus on becoming a military power.22 The concept of an “ordinary country” suggested by veteran Japanese Politician Ozawa Ichiro is a representation of this trend

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of thought.23 The push for this concept came after the US initiated the first Iraq War. Japan provided enormous economic support for the effort. However, after the war, Japan’s name was left out of a letter of thanks published by the Kuwaiti government in the New York Times. Kuwait only expressed gratitude in the letter towards a dozen countries that actually sent troops to the country. This was considered a failure of Japan’s “chequebook diplomacy.” A new trend of thought appeared which argued for the need to revise Article IX of the constitution. Many scholars and politicians began to intensify their efforts to obtain public support for the manufacturing of national armaments, leading to the transformation of Japan’s Defense Agency into the Ministry of Defense. In addition, the subsequent popularity of the “China threat theory” as well as the North Korean nuclear crisis helped promote further support for the movement towards rearmament. Of course, it should also be noted that the social forces in Japan which adhere to the ideal of peaceful development of society and oppose any build-up of military equipment or strengthening of military power have also had a powerful influence. Japan’s ruling and opposition parties have a large number of politicians and scholars who oppose amending the constitution, particularly Article XI. In their view, Japan’s post-World War II strategy prioritizing economic development and avoiding military power has been successful. Japan’s peace constitution is unique in the world and has made a significant contribution towards the maintenance of world peace; therefore, Japan should not start back down the road towards militarism. In the heated debate about whether Japan should adhere to its strategy of peaceful development or switch towards a “normalization” of its status in the world by rearming, international public opinion has also been divided. Mainstream politicians in the United States hope that Japan can become a responsible “normal” country, and make its contribution towards international security and world affairs.24 In their view, Japan’s post-war development created a solid foundation for a path of peace, making it impossible for Japan to initiate aggression again or pose a security threat to other countries.25 On this issue, China, the two Koreas and a few Southeast Asian countries which were invaded by Japan, hold an opposing stance. They believe Japan should adhere strictly to its constitutional restrictions, especially Article IX. They feel Japan should stick to its road of peaceful development and reflect and examine its past crimes of aggression in order to avoid re-taking the old road to militarism. In this sense, Japan is not only facing its own dilemma, but also dealing with the two different opinions – that of the United States and that of Asia. In such an environment, Japan’s choice of a middle way is unavoidable. However, for each specific policy, such as the issue of amending the constitution, different political leaders have had different policy preferences. Middle Way Number III: Economic power vs. Political power The first guiding principle for Japanese foreign policy after World War II was the so-called “Yoshida Doctrine.” At that time, Prime Minister Yoshida Shigeru put forward economic development as the nation’s top policy priority. As mentioned previously, Japan revised its principle of fukoku kyohei, which had been stressed

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since the Meiji Restoration. Rich Country was now the primary objective, while the issue of strong military emphasized dependence on the United States’ nuclear umbrella. In other words, as long as the Japan–US security treaty guaranteed Japan’s national security, Japan would not need to provide substantial financial resources towards security. Instead, it only needed to maintain a small but strong self-defense force.26 Over the years, Japan has managed to keep its military expenditure at around one percent of its GDP while still being able to satisfy its need for national defense. The nationwide efforts to develop the economy helped Japan quickly surpass Great Britain, France, Germany and other European great powers, and become the second-largest economic entity in the world by the 1970s. Japan’s economic position as a major power has also been strengthened by its active economic involvement overseas. Japan’s substantial investment and acquisition in the United States, coupled with the trade frictions between the two countries, caused the world to recognize Japan’s strength, thereby effectively improving Japan’s status as a great power. In the 1980s, Japan became the largest provider of official development assistance (ODA). Japan held this leading position until its economy took a downturn in the late 1990s and was once again passed by the US. However, even though Japan experienced a “lost decade” of economic downturn, Japan still has the second-largest economy in the world, and is likely to remain one of the top three economic powers for long time to come. Its machinery, automobile manufacturing and electronic high-tech sectors all maintain a leading position in the world.27 While Japan’s economic achievements have been huge, its political influence in the world has not corresponded with its level of monetary growth. Japan has faced the dilemma – similar to the peace vs. rearming dilemma mentioned in the previous section – of how to raise its political status to a level that matches its economic status.28 Many Japanese politicians have been dissatisfied with Japan’s status as a so-called “economic giant” but “political dwarf.” In order to change this, Japan has strengthened its activities in regional affairs, focusing especially on the start-up and development of an East Asian community, and increased regional economic integration by injecting enormous financial resources and energy to spur growth.29 However, Japan’s reluctance to adequately handle the historical problems it still has with other countries has made it difficult for the country to develop a more assertive and influential role in the Asia Pacific region. During the Koizumi administration, Sino-Japanese and Korea–Japan relations worsened because of Koizumi’s successive visits to the Yasukuni Shrine. The decision makers in Tokyo have learned that simply emphasizing economic relations or providing financial assistance is not necessarily going to strengthen the nation’s political position or improve diplomatic relations. One example of such misjudgment involves Japan’s use of official development assistance (ODA) to China, which it started in 1979. Over a twenty-some-year period, China accepted multi-billions of dollars of economic assistance, including long-term, low-interest loans, grant assistance, and technical assistance.30 However, upon entering the twenty-first century, Japan began reducing and freezing aid to

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China for many reasons (such as the opaqueness of the Chinese military), before finally ending its assistance to China altogether in 2008, when China hosted the Olympic Games. So, while Japan’s overall aid to China played a valuable role in China’s modernization and development, inappropriateness of language during the cessation of assistance severely weakened its effect on bilateral political relations.31 These were all lessons worth learning by the Japanese government. Another way for Japan to achieve its goal of building up its political power is through existing international organizations. One of the best examples in this regard is Japan’s use of the United Nations as the base axis of its foreign policy for carrying out a series of activities. Japan has also advocated a restructuring of the United Nations Security Council by petitioning to join the US, Russia, Britain, France and China as a permanent member.32 In 2005, Japan, Germany, Brazil and India formed an alliance and launched a full campaign to become permanent members of the UN Security Council. However, Japan was unsuccessful in gathering support from some major powers as well as from its Asian neighbors.33 In the foreseeable future, however, Japan will not abandon its attempt to obtain a permanent seat in the UN Security Council. It will continue to try to get the support of the big powers as well as that of Asian, African and Latin American countries.34 However, whether Japan will become a permanent member in the near future is still uncertain. In fact, despite the push by domestic mainstream politicians and other elites of the Japanese government to attain political power, there are also voices insisting that Japan should instead focus more maintaining its status as a mid-level power. Some believe that it would be more beneficial for Japan to continue prioritizing the “economy first” policy, which was established after World War II and to focus on economic development and democratic issues with the goal of creating a more peaceful and healthy country, rather than competing for a leading role among political and military powers, This view has become the base on which public support for a middle-way approach to foreign policy has been established. Middle Way Number IV: The leader or the follower vs. The partner In response to a reporter’s question regarding Japan’s future direction in foreign policy, Harvard political scientist Samuel P. Huntington stated, “I think at this stage, Japan will still follow the United States, but eventually shift towards China.” He explained his reasoning by noting that historically, the Japanese have always allied with the world’s number-one power: first with the United Kingdom; then with Germany, and finally with the United States. Therefore, Huntington believes that if China becomes a leading power in East Asia, Japan will work to form a strong alliance with China. Rather than attempt to make assertions as to whether or not Huntington’s prediction is correct, it is more beneficial to instead note the psychological factor present in Japanese foreign policy. That is to say, Japan has long had a mentality of befriending the powerful and despising the weak. In this sense, Japan is accustomed to being either a type of big-power follower, or a leader of the neighboring countries, and is not accustomed to dealing with other countries equally.

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These aspects are quite obvious in terms of Japan’s relations with China. For a couple of thousand years, Japan regarded Chinese culture as its mother culture and always looked up to it for advice on how best to deal with not only domestic issues but also international affairs. However, after China was invaded and divided by Western powers and became weaker (even being regarded as the “sick man of East Asia,”) Japan’s attitude towards China shifted from looking up to looking down on China. It no longer wanted to associate with the Chinese, and instead emphasized a policy of datsu-a nyu-o. Such changes in the relative level of strength between Japan and China have had, and continue to have, a profound impact on Japanese people’s mentality even now.35 Japan is rather proficient in dealing with the two kinds of relationship, namely “weak vs. strong” and “strong vs. weak.” However, with the rise of China in East Asia, a new structure of “strong vs. strong” has emerged, which troubles Japan tremendously. Clearly, Tokyo needs to change its mentality in order to better adjust to the transformation of international relations and to adjust psychologically to prepare for the rise of China and the consequential changes in the international order. There is no lack of a pragmatic tradition in both China and Japan. As Wang Gungwu suggested, “The pragmatic lessons of history run through Chinese and Japanese history: ‘the victor is king, the defeated is but a bandit’.”36 Such a psychological change can lead to unprecedented adaptation and development of more partnership relations in Japanese foreign policy. This idea of a middle way therefore offers a vision for Japan’s strategic partnership with China, in which both countries can concentrate on mutually beneficial relations. Middle Way Number V: Traditional politics vs. Open public policy Any country’s foreign policy is deeply influenced by its domestic politics and the impact of its traditional foreign policy. Japanese Policymaking, a book published in 1993,37 emphasizes the importance of traditional Japanese foreign policy, offering an analysis of Japanese politics through an informal mechanism. Based on this analytical framework, while the effect of formal mechanisms such as government departments, politicians and the ruling parties play an important role in the formation of Japanese foreign policy, policy formation is also greatly influenced by traditional politics. These policy-making mechanisms, including tsukiai (social networks) on the societal level; kuromaku (informal institutions and politicians) on the institutional level; and nemawashi (behind-the-scene consensus building) on the individual level, are collectively referred to as non-formal mechanisms. The frequently heard ryotei seiji (restaurant politics) and “secret envoy diplomacy” in Japanese political life are concrete manifestations of such decision-making styles.38 These informal mechanisms in Japanese foreign policy played an important role during the 1970s in Japan’s diplomacy toward China. The increased development of globalization since then has seen Japan undergo noticeable political changes. Japan’s public and politicians now put more emphasis on such factors as democratic values. The transparency of the decision-making process in respect of Japan’s diplomatic policy has increased substantially and public debate has become

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more prevalent. The power of the public to influence policy making has also obviously increased.39 Both Japan’s ruling and opposition parties have changed their style to a more open and transparent one in order to adapt together with the changes occurring in Japanese society.40 The reforms stemming from major policies Koizumi instituted during his five-year period in office are a good example of such a change. The open debate of public policies, including that of foreign policy, in addition to an increased use of formal mechanisms, is likely to weaken the effects of “secret envoys” and “restaurant politics.” Japan’s foreign policy will also be more influenced by the context of domestic public opinion, with the government using the public opinion card more often. Although such changes in Japanese politics are expected, it is important to note that, as a political entity, the traditional political culture of Japan will not disappear overnight, and its indomitable vitality should not be underestimated.41 Bearing this background in mind, it becomes easier to foresee that – because the formulation and implementation of foreign policy have a certain degree of confidentiality, and because of Japan’s mastery of “secret foreign policy” – a middle way of alternating between traditional informal mechanisms and transparent foreign policy will prevail. The above exposition of different routes or options for Japan’s foreign policy reflect the influence of both post-Cold War changes in the international arena, and of changes in Japan’s domestic politics due to the increasing influence of public opinion. Although this transformation has not been as “revolutionary” as the previous two crossroads, it highlights a fundamental shift that is occurring. In other words, this formation of mainstream thinking in Japan’s foreign policy may be called the “silent revolution.” It should also be noted that the different choices referred to here are not always contradictory. For example, it is possible to become an economic power at the same time as becoming a military and political power. The purpose here is to emphasize the sequence or order of priority given to each of the policy options within Japan’s foreign policy. Understanding this alignment answers the so-called “question of inclination.” This middle-way approach is by no means a compromised position, but a balancing option between two extremes. It should also be emphasized that the old style of going to extremes in Japanese foreign policy has not totally vanished due to the appearance of this middle way. Instead, it may re-emerge from time to time and have an impact on specific policy makers. For these reasons, this new policy direction is better called a “tilted middle way.” The dichotomy between Koizumi’s insistence on visiting Yasukuni Shrine and Fukuda’s willingness to forgo such visits in exchange for better Japan–China relations are specific examples of different inclinations in this middle-way approach. Koizumi’s assertion that the “improving relationship with the US will automatically improve Japan’s relations with China and Korea” is a reflection of the tendency toward datsu-a nyu-o; while Fukuda’s advocacy of “review[ing] the old while innovating the new” when he visited China and expressed his respect of Confucianism reflects an Ajia wa hitotsu tendency. Another important point is that this tilted middle-way approach in Japanese foreign policy has been nurtured over a long period of time. Its formation is a gradual process brought about through

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deliberation and debating. Although it began in the last century with the emergence of the post-Cold War era, it did not form into its present state until this century under the influence of Koizumi, Abe and Fukuda. Therefore, it is very important to understand this tilted middle way when studying Japanese foreign policy.

Japan’s China policy and “games of diplomacy” The tilted middle way direction of Japanese foreign policy can be understood as a collision between realism and idealism, as well as an evolution of Japan’s foreign policy. Recalling Japanese foreign policy since World War II, it is clear that policy towards the US, with the Japan–US security treaty as a cornerstone, remains the top priority while foreign policy toward China can be regarded as coming second. Japan’s foreign policy has experienced significant changes from the Cold War to the creation of friendlier Sino-Japanese diplomatic relations marked by the 1972 rapprochement. Since the mid-1990s, calls have begun to be made for an end to the “1972 system” and start of a “normal relationship”.42 With the collapse of the former Soviet Union, both China and Japan carried out a full range of adjustments towards each other through their foreign policies, which could be called “games of diplomacy.”43 These diplomatic games reveal a greater focus on real interests than on ideological factors. Thus, consideration of national interest takes precedence when adjusting policy in order to deal with domestic and international situations. This was obvious during Koizumi’s administration. From 2001 until 2006 when Koizumi stepped down, Sino-Japanese relations shifted from relative stability to a phase characterized by low-level hostility. Scholars of course have different interpretations regarding the emergence of such a shift. Some scholars believe structural changes in the international environment caused the shift, while others argue that the main reason for such change was a surge in rightist and nationalist sentiment in Japan. Yet another interpretation holds that the rise of China triggered a sense of imbalance on the Japanese side. Each of these perceptions have some logic to their argument; the point is that both China and Japan have made mistakes in their policy towards each other. The following discussion will focus on Japan’s diplomatic policy towards China as well as its gains and losses, with special emphasis placed on analyzing the reasons behind the major setback in Sino-Japanese relations during Koizumi’s administration. The errors the Koizumi administration made arose mainly in the following three aspects. First, a lack of strategic thinking in Japanese foreign policy delayed the country’s ability to reach a consensus regarding a middle-way approach. This has been apparent now with the international power shifts occurring. The United States has carried out profound and long-term studies on power shifts developing with the rise of China. American think-tanks and government policy-making departments continued to carry out policy-oriented debates on how to deal with the rise of China. Changes in US policy towards China are obvious when examining the change in policy towards Taiwan.44 One example is the shift in President George W. Bush’s view of China, from perceiving it as a “rival” when he first took office

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to leaning more toward a “partnership” view. Sino-US relations since this change have developed into a new phase of co-management of international flashpoints and crises.45 In other words, although a co-management type of relationship was not officially declared, Beijing and Washington joined hands in order to better deal with critical issues in the Asia-Pacific region, such as those surrounding the Korean Peninsula and the Taiwan Strait. One direct consequence of this co-management model is that the six-party talks led by China and the US have helped bring the North Korean nuclear crisis under control, and have lowered the status of the Taiwan issue in American foreign-policy making. In contrast, Japan lacks this long-term strategic thinking, and thus often misconducts itself when facing changes and power shifts in the international world. Contrary to US foreign policy, the importance of the Taiwan issue has not declined in Japan’s foreign policy considerations; rather, it has actually gained in importance. Tokyo’s assertion that the Taiwan issue is directly related to the fundamental interests of Japan during the 2002 two-plus-two talks between Tokyo and Washington highlights this trend. This undoubtedly led Beijing to believe that Japan was interfering with the core interests of China, which consequently caused Beijing to become deeply concerned about the future trend in Japan’s foreign-policy development. These issues resulted in signs of cracks appearing in the fundamental foundation of Sino-Japanese relations during Koizumi’s administration. Japan’s inability to incorporate big-picture strategic thinking in its foreign policy has delayed its ability to grasp this tilted middle-way approach. An examination of the different approaches in Japanese and US foreign policy towards China should help highlight this. Liu Weidong summarized the following six differences: (1) at the strategic level, the Japanese tend to confront, while the US attempts to guide; (2) on security issues, Japan not only prevents but also provokes, while the US tends to cooperate with precaution; (3) on economic and trade issues, Japan pays more attention to economic opportunities, but is hindered by a lack of stability in its policy content, in contrast to the US’s policy, which although it is more affected by political factors, has clearer goals and connotations; (4) Taiwan’s strategic value is gaining more importance for Japan, but has gradually declined for the US; (5) regarding the Japan–US alliance, Japan is attempting to contain China, while the US hopes to both contain China through Japan while also keeping Japan under control; (6) on the ideological level, that attitudes of Japan and the US towards China are changing, but not simultaneously.46 To be sure, the Japanese leadership is well aware of this weakness and lack of strategic thinking. One example is that in the new Hatoyama administration, another DPJ leader, Kan Naoto, was appointed as Deputy Prime Minister and as the newly established Minister of National Strategy. Secondly, Koizumi’s administration, as well as some Japanese think-tanks, misjudged China’s reaction toward the Yasukuni Shrine issue and China’s growing role in international affairs precisely because of a lack of big-picture strategic thinking. Japan’s desire to maintain control over its internal affairs, ignore foreign pressures and say “no” to China is understandable. However, Koizumi’s choices regarding the Yasukuni issue actually forced Japan into a weaker position.47 Japan’s stance on this issue was even criticized by its allies. For example, Henry

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Hyde of the United States House of Representatives, a member of the International Relations Committee, formally addressed the Japanese ambassador to the US, strongly criticizing Koizumi’s visits to Yasukuni Shrine.48 This criticism also spilled over into America’s mainstream media.49 In addition, even Japan specialists in the US who have deep relations with the country expressed doubt and criticism of such actions of Japan.50 According to the mainstream diplomatic circles in Washington, the reason was obvious: it is understandable for Tokyo to take a confrontational posture toward Beijing, but not by reversing the verdict of World War II. Therefore, from a diplomatic standpoint, Koizumi’s approach was unwise. Consecutive visits to Yasukuni Shrine worsened bilateral relations with China and allowed Beijing the opportunity to more freely express opposition to Japan’s international objectives. China, together with others, was able to block Japan’s bid to become a permanent member of the UN Security Council by expressing the view that such visits to Yasukuni indicate that Japan is still unwilling to face up to history. Japan’s deviation from a middle-way approach led to this failure. Third, the mutual negative influence between Koizumi’s cabinet and Japan’s domestic conservative tendencies greatly hindered the flexibility of Japan’s policies towards China. In other words, Japan’s rising nationalism forced the leader to insist on a stronger “ignore Beijing” stance, rather than attend to the more important question of whether actions such as the Yasukuni visits were actually right or wrong. And, in turn, Japanese leaders encouraged criticism of China through the media,51 resulting in the spread of “anti-Chinese” sentiment.52 This exacerbated the already strained relations between the two nations.53 Under these circumstances, those with a deep understanding of Sino-Japanese relations were hindered in their ability to intervene and attempt to correct diplomatic relations. Some politicians, academics, and entrepreneurs were even personally attacked when they raised objections to the trend in Japan’s policy towards China. This made Japan’s large number of dissidents, who prefer a more reasonable China policy, remain silent, making it more difficult for Tokyo to adhere to a middle way. This limited Koizumi’s government in its ability to carry out a more pragmatic and flexible approach in its China policy. Compared with Japan overall, China’s foreign-policy achievements in respect of Japan are obvious. However, it has also made some noteworthy mistakes. For example, some within more traditional circles in China have mistaken the emergence of the Japanese rightist political movement as a revival of militarism, with some even arguing that, “sooner or later there would be a war between China and Japan.” In civilian circles polarizing extremes have appeared between conservative “networks of nationalism” and those pushing for a “new thinking of China’s Japan policy.” All of these have interfered in China’s ability to create a more effective policy when dealing with Japan.54 Beijing may wish to pay attention to the following points in order to create better understanding. First, Beijing should continue to think in terms of the global strategic environment when dealing with Japan. In other words, it is better to prioritize its national interest when formulating its policies. For a long time, Chinese leaders never regarded the historical disputes as the number one issue when dealing with Japan. In Mao’s era, Japan was seen as the “intermediate zone” between the First

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World, namely the Soviet Union and the United States, and the Third World which included China. Japan, together with Western Europe, was seen as a member of the “Second World.” Around the time of Nixon’s visit to China in 1972, Tokyo was considered a wooing subject in Beijing-Moscow-Washington triangular relations. After Japanese Prime Minister Tanaka Kakue’s visit to China in 1972 marked a normalization of Sino-Japanese relations, Chinese leaders such as Mao Zedong and Zhou Enlai, who – although critical of Japanese militarism and other historical issues – attempted to prioritize more important global strategic considerations over such disputes. Since introduction of reforms and an opening-up policy by Deng Xiaoping around 1978, China’s diplomatic efforts have been centered on an overall goal of modernization, with its policy towards Japan also taking this into account.55 While Beijing criticized Japan for what it perceived as misconduct in Japan’s dealing with historical issues, including those revolving around Japanese textbooks and Japanese leaders’ visits to Yasukuni Shrine, it was careful that such issues did not interfere with its ability to create better relations, which it viewed as vital toward fulfilling its modernization goals.56 However, during the Koizumi period, Beijing seemed to have placed greater importance on history issues, causing the two countries to drift further apart. This restructuring of priority in its Japan policy ended up damaging China’s ability to deal effectively with core interests such as the Taiwan issue, in which Tokyo is the second-most important external factor only after Washington.57 This chapter argues that such shifts resulted in part from a lack of understanding on the Chinese side of Japan’s moving towards a middle-way approach in its foreign policy. Second, Beijing’s diplomatic strategies during the Koizumi era, including stopping state visits between the two countries for several years, are also worthy of examination. State leaders may wish to have a clear concept regarding the possible influence their prioritization of policies will have upon foreign relations. Internal affairs should be dealt with in accordance with internal policy, and foreign affairs should be dealt with in accordance with foreign policy. Even at times when two countries are at war, the channel of communication between leaders may need to be kept open. For example, during the Cold War, leaders from the US and Soviet Union maintained a channel of communication rather than shutting off all contact due to an inability to solve one problem.58 It is necessary to size up the situation when dealing with complex international issues, in order to take full advantage of all available opportunities as well as contradictions from the other camp. One example of how a government can effectively use its policies to encourage a transition in relations can be seen in a shift in US–Japan relations between the 1980s and 1990s. Through the new Japan–US security guidelines established in the late 1990s, the US was successful in ending an earlier period of “Japan bashing” which characterized a decline in US–Japan relations. The US was able to use the new guidelines to steer relations with Japan into a better direction and to tilt Tokyo’s diplomatic axis in Washington’s favor. Ironically, however, improvement in the US–Japan relationship coincided with deterioration in Sino-Japanese relations. This also shows that differences in a country’s diplomatic strategies play a vital role in the complicated environments of power politics.

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It should also be noted that in order for effective foreign policy to be conducted with a country, not only a fundamental knowledge of the country’s history, but also an accurate understanding of the country’s current situation is paramount. This is particularly important when dealing with Japan. As mentioned earlier, the policies of datsu-a nyu-o and fukoku kyohei introduced into Japan’s foreign policy following the Meiji Restoration led Japan to expand its militaristic goals and brought disaster upon China, the Korean peninsula, and many other Asian nations. In contrast, it should also be reiterated that since the end of World War II, Japan’s insistence upon a national policy which gives top priority to economic development based on its peace constitution has played an extremely influential role in limiting any possibility of Japanese territorial expansion. Understanding Japan’s struggle with its past is also complex. Therefore, it is important for Beijing to further strengthen its research in this regard so that it can correctly interpret the mainstream social and political developments in Japan.59 In particular, it is important for Beijing to develop a clear understanding of the mainstream thinking behind Japanese foreign policy, namely a tilted middle-way direction. By incorporating an understanding of this concept in its diplomatic relationship with Tokyo, Beijing would be in a better position to encourage Japan’s middle-way approach tilting towards a direction favoring China’s interests. At the same time, Beijing may also wish to work to guide domestic nationalist sentiment into a more positive form of development. In order to achieve such goals and to avoid making mistakes, China needs to involve Japan experts who understand Japan’s policy-making mechanisms. In addition, incorporation of Japanese experts in this process will not only be beneficial in being able to rely on their ability to provide understanding of Japan’s positioning on issues, but the government will also be able to take advantage of their ability to create useful networks when diplomatic crises occur. One good example is that of China’s former ambassador to Japan, Yang Zhenya. In recalling his experiences as ambassador, he mentioned that he used his personal friendship with Japanese Prime Minister Takeshita Noboru in order to prevent Lee Teng-hui’s planned visit to Japan.60 Beijing should also pay more attention to the new generation of Japanese politicians. It is important to note their potential to play a major role in influencing the middle way of mainstream thought in Japan.61 What is hopeful is that both Chinese and Japanese governments and public have recently deeply reflected on and reconsidered the importance of Sino-Japanese bilateral relations. Chinese president Hu Jintao and Japanese Prime Minister Abe met in October and November of 2006 with the intent to improve relations between the two countries. These meetings were then followed by numerous high-profile visits, including that of Premier Wen Jiabao to Japan and Prime Minister Fukuda’s visit to China in 2007; President Hu’s visit to Tokyo in 2008, then Prime Minister Aso Taro’s visit to Beijing in 2009. A month after he assumed his leadership position, new Japanese Prime Minister Hatoyama Yukio visited Beijing and had a summit with Chinese leaders in October 2009. Such dialogue has been influential in improving relations. Recent cooperation regarding joined development of oil and gas fields in the East China Sea,62 as well as Sino-Japanese warship visits,63 point to breakthroughs in such progress. At the same time, while summit talks

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have resumed between the two countries, it is important to remember that there are still many sticking points. These include the Diaoyu/Senkaku Islands territorial dispute,64 the East China Sea dispute, the Japanese textbook issue, and Japan’s attitude towards the Taiwan Strait. These problems remain to be addressed by the leaders of both countries.

Future directions of Japanese foreign policy After much deliberation among Japan’s political, economic and bureaucratic mainstream, the country finally reached what could be considered a consensus regarding its approach to foreign policy. This approach can best be described as a tilted middle way. Based on an analysis of this consensus, and paying particular attention to the types of policy enacted by Abe and Fukuda and confirmed by Aso and Hatoyama, a few different preferences in terms of the inclination or tilt within the Japanese middle-way approach to foreign policy become apparent. First, Japan’s foreign policy will continue its post-war tradition of putting US– Japan relations first. It is clear that Japanese leaders not only want to stress this alliance in order to ensure Japan’s security, but also intend to place more emphasis on common values such as democracy, which also coincides with trends developing through globalization. At the same time, Japanese foreign policy will continue to express efforts to achieve the “fully independent sovereign state goals” as its Prime Minister Nakasone Yasuhiro stressed,65 placing more emphasis on national interests and independence.66 The two leading elements – security and common values related to the Japan–US alliance – will become the pillars behind Japan’s tilt, causing it to maintain its present strategic policy, with US–Japan alliance as the cornerstone, for the foreseeable future.67 Second, Japan will carefully handle relations with China. As Wang Gungwu states, China will be always be large and potentially rich and powerful. Therefore, its neighbors will need to construct the necessary checks and balances to ensure mutual respect. They have shown that the best way to do so is by engaging China as much as possible in a wide range of regional activity.68 Although Tokyo is still concerned about the possible existence of threats similar to that of the “China threat theory,” it will focus more on strategic power transition in a macroscopic direction, showing more caution regarding issues such as Taiwan, which are central to China’s interests. This is also related to Japan’s own realistic interest, in that actions that may cause a worsening of relations from “politically cold and economically hot”69 to “politically cold and economically cool,” will harm the country’s fundamental interests.70 In order to avoid having to choose between Beijing and Washington, Tokyo will further strengthen its position calling for the development of a framework incorporating China, the US and Japan together. Third, Japan will be more actively involved in the East Asia community’s economic development. It will also emphasize greater economic cooperation among groups such as the ASEAN-plus-three framework, and work to create a stronger

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strategy for value-driven regional integration by attempting to better integrate Australia, New Zealand and India into regional affairs. Such moves will allow Japan to both share in the regional leadership position with China, and also balance China’s ever-growing influence.71 Fourth, Japanese political circles will continue to promote modifications to the country’s peace constitution in order to further improve Japan’s political and military power status. Japan will also continue its efforts to raise its status within international institutions, including the United Nations Security Council, making efforts towards both the US and China in order to win support. Although Japan’s role in the North Korean nuclear problem is not the most important one, Japan will adopt a more positive attitude and position during the six-party talks in order to solve this problem.72 Japan will continue to be vigilant for a potential united front between China, North Korea, South Korea and Russia on the peninsula issue, as well as working on preventing the deterioration of Japan’s relations with South Korea over territorial disputes.73 Fifth, Japanese foreign policy will incorporate goals to strengthen Japan’s “soft power” to better help it attain its strategic goals. As the world’s second-largest economy, Japan has the strength to carry out a more “soft power”-oriented approach to foreign policy. Such a policy will not only rely on Japan’s economic diplomacy represented primarily through its use of ODA, but also incorporate an expanded use of its cultural diplomacy. One such example of this policy is a program initiated in 2006 to support short visits and home-stays for Chinese secondary-school students to Japan. China–Japan youth exchanges were started as early as during Koizumi’s administration, pointing toward the goal of using people-to-people diplomacy building through cultural exchanges as a tool for creating better foreign relations and improving Japan’s international image abroad. Prime Minister Abe’s wife emphasized this point when visiting a middle school in Beijing.74 Thus, the use of cultural diplomacy in Japan’s “soft-power” approach is likely to play a greater role in the future.75 A tilted middle way in Japanese foreign policy was formed under a framework incorporating ideas of both realism and idealism with various other theories also continuing to add influence. This framework is a product of long debate and deliberation among Japanese society and political circles. The debate began in the end of the twentieth century and the framework started to take shape at the beginning of the twenty-first century under Prime Ministers Koizumi, Abe, and Fukuda. This new framework has had and will have considerable impact on the recent and current Japanese leaders such as Prime Ministers Aso Taro and Hatoyama Yukio. As mentioned earlier, special attention needs to be given to the question of the tilt within the middle-way direction. Although this approach has become the preferred route of Japanese foreign policy, its inclination is heavily influenced by leaders (and their factions), particular policy areas, as well as pressing domestic and international political situations. These essential factors will be the basis of analysis and future research of Japan’s mainstream thinking and its possible changes. In sum, the shift of Japan’s mainstream thinking is closely linked to Japan’s response to the fall and rise of China in modern times. There are four objectives of

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Chinese foreign policy, as suggested by Wang Gungwu: first, the issue of “reunification with Taiwan”; second, US “military withdrawal from Asia”; third, China’s integration into the international system; and fourth, the world’s understanding of the “new Chinese society.”76 As mentioned earlier, Japan has long been a key external player in the historical circles of China’s fall and rise, and therefore will be playing crucial roles in each of these four objectives.

Notes 1 Wang Gungwu, Anglo-Chinese Encounters since 1800 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003), pp. 23–4. 2 Wang Gungwu, ‘The rise of China: History as policy’, in Ron Huisken and Meredith Thatcher (eds) Policy: Framing the debate on the future of Australia (Canberra: ANU E Press, 2008), pp. 61–5. 3 See Ezra Vogel, Japan as Number One (New York and London: Harper & Row, 1979). 4 For an explanation on this school’s main theoretical writings, see Kenneth Waltz, Theory of International Politics (Readings MA: Addison-Wesley, 1979). For a good example concerning its use in foreign policy study, see John Mearsheimer, The Tragedy of Great Power Politics (New York: W.W. Norton, 2001). 5 See Robert Keohane and Joseph Nye, Power and Interdependence (Boston MA: Little, Brown, 1977). 6 Writings on this school of thought include Alexander Wendt, Social Theory of International Politics (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1999). 7 For examples of efforts made in this direction see John G. Ikenberry and Michael Mastanduno (eds), International Relations Theory and the Asia-Pacific (New York: Columbia University Press, 2003); and Stephen Haggard, ‘The balance of power, globalization, and democracy: International Relations theory in Northeast Asia’, Journal of East Asian Studies, 4 (2004): 1–38. 8 For information regarding the Japanese invasion of China, especially the Nanjing Massacre, see Joshua Fogel (ed.), The Nanjing Massacre in History and Historiography (Berkeley CA: University of California Press, 2000), and also Iris Chang, The Rape of Nanking: The forgotten holocaust of World War II (New York: Basic, 1997). 9 John Dower, Embracing Defeat: Japan in the wake of World War II (New York: W.W. Norton, 1999). 10 Eugene A. Matthews, ‘Japan’s new nationalism’, Foreign Affairs, 68 (2003): 158–72. 11 Kent Calder, ‘Halfway to hegemony: Japan’s tortured trajectory’, Harvard International Review, 27(3) (Fall 2005): 46–9. 12 Glenn D. Hook et al., Japan’s International Relations, 2nd ed. (Milton Park, Abingdon: Routledge, 2005). 13 Yutaka Kawashima, Japanese Foreign Policy at the Crossroads: Challenges and options for the twenty-first century (Washington DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2003). 14 This question was asked by the author of this paper. Details related to Abe’s luncheon speech can be found at: Shinzo Abe, ‘Miles to go: My vision for Japan’s future’, available online at http://www.brookings.edu/events/2005/0502japan.aspx. 15 Norimitsu Onishi, ‘In First Month as Japan’s Premier, Abe Veers to Center’, New York Times (27 October 2006). 16 Yukichi Fukuzawa, Western State of Affairs (Tokyo: Keio University Press, 2002), and also Yukichi Fukuzawa, An Outline of Civilization Theory (Tokyo: Fukuzawayukichi Choshazohan, 1875). 17 Tenshin Okakura, Oriental Awakening (Tokyo: Sogensha, 1940). Also see Kakuo Okakura, The Ideals of the East: With special reference to Japan (New York: E.P. Dutton, 1904).

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18 Victor Cha, Alignment Despite Antagonism: The US-Korea-Japan security triangle (Palo Alto CA: Stanford University Press, 1999), and Walter LaFeber, Clash: U.S.Japan Relations throughout history (New York: W.W. Norton, 1997). 19 Ding Guo, ‘Riben biantianhou hequ hecong’ [‘Where is Japan heading after the regime change?’], Youzhou Zhoukan (13 September 2009): 11. 20 Hatoyama Yukio, ‘A new path for Japan’, The New York Times (27 August 2009). Available online at: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/27/ opinion/27iht-edhatoyama. html 21 Eric Heginbotham and Richard Samuels, ‘Mercantile realism and Japanese foreign policy’, International Security, 22(4) (Spring 1998): 171–203. 22 Hu Rongzhong, ‘Riben junshihua daguo de xindongxiang’ (New Trends of Japanese Military Power), Riben xuekan (Japanese Studies), 5 (2004), 24–38. 23 Takashi Inoguchi and Paul Bacon, ‘Japan’s emerging role as a “global ordinary power”’, International Relations of the Asia-Pacific, 6(1) (2006): 1–21. 24 Gilbert Rozman, ‘Japan’s quest for great power identity’, Orbis (Winter 2002): 73–91. 25 Michael Green, ‘Understanding Japan’s relations in Northeast Asia’, testimony for the Hearing on ‘Japan’s tense relations with her neighbors: back to the future’, House Committee on International Relations, 14 September 2006. 26 Nevertheless, Japan’s national defense force is still ranked among the top in the world. 27 See the following: Steven Vogel, Japan Remodeled: How government and industry are reforming Japanese capitalism (Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press, 2006); Richard Colignon and Chikako Usui, Amakudari: The hidden fabric of Japan’s economy (Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press, 2003); Bai Gao, Japan’s Economic Dilemma: The institutional origins of prosperity and stagnation (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001). 28 Wang Hongfang, ‘Koizumi’s track to promote full political power’, International Data and Information, 4 (2004): 24–7. 29 See Peter J. Katzenstein and Takashi Shiraishi (eds), Beyond Japan: The dynamics of East Asian regionalism (Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press): J. J. Suh et al., Rethinking Security in East Asia: Identity, power, and efficiency (Palo Alto CA: Stanford University Press, 2004); Edward Lincoln, East Asian Economic Regionalism (Washington DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2004). 30 See Jin Xide, The Japanese Government’s Development Assistance (Beijing: Social Sciences Academic Press, 2000): Juichi Inada, ‘Japan’s ODA: Its impact on China’s industrialization and Sino-Japanese relations’, in Hans Gunther Hilpert and Rene Haak (eds), Japan and China: Cooperation, competition, and conflict (New York: Palgrave, 2002), pp. 121–396. 31 Takamine Tsukasa, ‘A new dynamism in Sino-Japanese security relations: Japan’s strategic use of foreign aid’, Pacific Review, 18(4): 439–61. 32 Shinichi Kitaoka, ‘The United Nations in postwar Japanese foreign policy’, Gaiko Forum, 5(2) (Summer 2005): 3–10. 33 Reinhard Drifte, Japan’s Quest for a Permanent Security Council Seat (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 1999). 34 See Mao Feng, ‘Japanese financial aid to Africa increases tremendously to balance China’, Youzhou Zhoukan (29 June 2008): 22–3. 35 For an explanation of the ‘game theory’ between Japan and China, see Ma Yahua, ‘Lun zhongri qiutu kunjing de cunzai ji taoyi’ [‘On the prisoner’s dilemma between China and Japan and how to exit’], Riben xuekan [Japanese Studies], 2(2006): 14–28. 36 Wang Gungwu, Diasporic Chinese Ventures: The life and work of Wang Gungwu (London: Routledge Curzon, 2004): 107. 37 See Quansheng Zhao, Japanese Policymaking: The politics behind politics (New York and Hong Kong: Oxford University Press/Praeger, 1993). 38 Michael Blaker, Paul Giarra and Ezra Vogel, Case Studies in Japanese Negotiating Behavior (Washington, DC: USIP Press, 2002).

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39 Ellis Krauss, Broadcasting Politics in Japan: NHK and television news (Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press, 2000). 40 Frank Schwartz and Susan Pharr (eds), The State of Civil Society in Japan (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004). 41 For an excellent interpretation of Japanese political culture see Ruth Benedict, The Chrysanthemum and the Sword: Patterns of Japanese culture (New York: New American Library, 1946). Chinese scholars writing in this area include Li Zhaozhong, Ambiguous Japanese (Beijing: Jincheng Chubanshe, 2005). 42 Ming Wan, Sino-Japanese Relations: Interaction, logic, and transformation (Palo Alto CA: Stanford University Press, 2006); Drifte Reinhard, Japan’s Security Relations with China since 1989: From balancing to bandwagoning? (New York: Routledge, 2003); Takashi Inoguchi (ed.), Japan’s Asia Policy: Revival and response (New York: Palgrave, 2002). 43 For analyses on diplomatic games between Japan and China, See Ma Yahua, ‘Lun zhongri qiutu kunjing de cunzai ji taoyi’ (On the prisoner’s dilemma between China and Japan and how to exit), Riben xuekan (Japanese Studies), 2 (2006), 14–28. 44 Quansheng Zhao, ‘America’s response to the rise of China and Sino-US relations’, Asian Journal of Political Science, 14(1) (December 2005): 1–27. 45 Quansheng Zhao, ‘Moving toward a co-management approach: China’s policy toward North Korea and Taiwan’, Asian Perspective, 30(1) (April 2006): 39–78. 46 Liu Weidong, ‘Jinnian riben he meiguo duihuazhengce de chayi’ (The difference of US and Japan foreign policy towards Taiwan in recent years), Riben xuekan (Japanese Studies), 5 (2006): 40–52. 47 For more on the Yasukuni Shrine issue in detail, see Gao Haikuan, ‘Jingguoshenshe yu heshi jiajizhanfan’ (Yasukuni Shrine and the Enshrined Class-A War Criminals at Yasukuni), Riben xuekan (Japanese Studies), 3 (2006): 20–31. 48 Relating to Hyde’s criticism of Japan, see ‘Yasukuni visit denounced by Chairman of U.S. House Committee on International Relations’ (28 October 2005). Available online at: http://news.wenxuecity.com/BBSView.php?SubID=news&MsgID=96139&c_ lang=big5. 49 For example, the New York Times published an editorial on Taro Aso, who was Japanese Foreign Minister at the time, and sharply criticized the administration’s handling of historical problems. See ‘Japan’s offensive Foreign Minister’, The New York Times (13 February 2006). Available online at http://www.nytimes.com/2006/02/13/ opinion/13mon3.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=Japan%E2%80%99s%20Offensive%20 Foreign%20Minister&st=cse. 50 Brad Glosserman, ‘Koizumi’s dangerous determination to keep a promise’, PacNet Newsletter, 46 (20 October 2005): 1–2; Timothy Ryback, ‘A lesson from Germany: Japan may have to bend its knee’, International Herald Tribune (26 April 2005): 8. 51 Liu Jiangyong, ‘Post-war Japan under International Law’, Global Times (18 May 2005). 52 Jin Ying, ‘Ritaiguanxi de xin zouxiang’ (New direction of Japan–Taiwan relations), Riben xuekan (Japanese Studies), 3 (2006): 32–6. 53 China and Japan each conducted various public opinion surveys on Sino-Japanese relations. Examples of Chinese surveys can be found in ‘Chinese respondents rational toward Sino-Japan relations’, China Today, 54(11) (November 2005): 8. Results from a Japanese survey can be found in ‘Results of poll concerning foreigners’ opinions on Japan’, Gaiko Forum, 196, Toshi Shuppan (2004): 58–64. 54 This point was raised by a veteran Japanese expert in Beijing in an e-mail to the author on 19 July 2008. 55 Regarding Sino-Japanese strategic thinking, see Enmin Li, In Search of Peace and Friendship: The Political process of Sino-Japanese diplomatic negotiations in the 1970s (Tokyo: Ochanomizu, 2005). 56 Quansheng Zhao, ‘China must shake off the past in ties with Japan’, The Straits Times (Singapore) (7 November 2003): 20.

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57 See Wu Wanhong, ‘New direction of Japan-Taiwan relations’, Japan Journal, 2 (2005): 24–31. 58 For relevant debate about Chinese domestic policy towards Japan, see Peter Gries, ‘China’s “New Thinking” on Japan’, The China Quarterly (December 2005): 831–50. 59 American academia views this issue as being of great importance. For more, see Robert Pekkanen, Japan’s Dual Civil Society Members (Palo Alto CA: Stanford University Press, 2006). 60 Yang Zhenya, ‘Wo dui zhongri youhao jiaowang de jidian tihui’ (Some thoughts I had on China–Japan friendly exchanges)’, Riben xuekan (Japanese Studies), 3 (2006): 5–11. 61 See reference in Wu Jinan, Japan’s New Generation of Politicians (Beijing: Shishi Chubanshe, 2002). 62 Mao Feng, ‘Sino-Japanese mutual concession on the joint development of the East China Sea’, Youzhou Zhoukan (6 July 2008): 46–7. 63 Andrei Fesyun, ‘A slight Sino-Japan thaw’, The Washington Times (17 July 2008): B2. 64 Nan Fang Shuo, ‘Two Diaoyutai interactive: Beijing, Tokyo and Taipei’s triangle game’, Youzhou Zhoukan (29 June 2008): 24–5. 65 Nakanishi Hiroshi, ‘Establishing Japan’s 21st century image’, Gaiko Forum, 200, Toshi Shuppan (2005): 10–17. 66 Michael Green, Japan’s Reluctant Realism (New York: Palgrave, 2001). 67 Anthony Faiola, ‘Japanese Premier plans to fortify U.S. ties in meeting with Bush’, Washington Post (15 November 2006): A12. 68 Wang Gungwu, China and Southeast Asia: Myths, threats and culture (Singapore: Singapore University Press, 1999), p. 48. 69 ‘Staying positive’, Beijing Review, 49(319) (January 2006): 19. 70 Ina Hisaki, ‘What was Koizumi’s foreign policy? Foreign policy challenges facing Japan in the post-Cold War era’, Gaiko Forum, Toshi Shuppan (2006): 12–20. 71 Fred Hiatt, ‘A freedom agenda for Japan’, Washington Post (15 November 2006): A21. 72 See Quansheng Zhao, ‘China’s North Korea policy: A secondary role for Japan’, in Linus Hagström and Marie Söderberg (eds), North Korea Policy: Japan and the Great Powers. (London and New York: Routledge, 2006): 95–111. 73 ‘Korea Dokdo dispute intensified’, Qiao Bao (18 March 2005): A15. 74 Mao Feng, ‘Promoting Sino-Japanese friendship need to start from Children’, Youzhou Zhoukan (5 November 2006): 62–3. 75 Seiichi Kondo, ‘A major stride for Japan’s cultural foreign policy’, Japan Echo, 32(6) (December 2005): 36–7. 76 Wang Gungwu, ‘Chinese society and Chinese foreign policy’, in To Act Is To Know: Chinese dilemmas (Singapore: Times Academic Press, 2002): 81–4.

Part V

Historical continuity and transformation of China’s international relations

14 The returned China with Chineseness in history and world politics A deeper understanding with intellectual guidance from Wang Gungwu* Shi Yinhong A thinker’s significance in understanding China: general discussion Wang Gungwu, as so many knowledgeable academics in Chinese Studies and more around the world have known for so many years, is a great writer and very distinguished scholar, producing abundant works and demonstrating first-rate scholarship in such strictly professional fields as the history and sociology of overseas Chinese in Southeast Asia; theorization of the Chinese migration; division and reunification in ancient China; cultural and intellectual interpretation of the history of China through ancient and modern times, and methodology in the research of Asian history. Especially in the first two fields, his scholarship and scholarly contribution can be undoubtedly regarded as the best in the world.1 But for this author, and certainly also for many other scholars who are not particularly specialized in any of the fields listed above, the great importance of Wang lies, first and foremost, in the fact that he is an excellent thinker in the broadest and best sense. What has he thought about most in his long, thoughtful professional life? After his ‘native’ Southeast Asia, it is surely historical China and modern and contemporary China. Moreover, it is indisputably not China’s margins, but her essence – the essential as well as the dynamic ‘Chineseness’2 in historical evolution with its continuity and change and its impacts upon the behaviour of the Chinese as a nation. Furthermore, it is definitely not the Chineseness of a China alone, but of a China in a comparative perspective of civilizations in her ancient times, and a China in modern times, in her explicit and implicit relationship with the globalizing world. In other words, a China in world politics both narrowly and broadly defined. Lastly, included in what he has thought about most is clearly his speculation, prediction, and hope for China’s long-term future. As such a thinker, Wang’s contribution will prove even more valuable if one takes into consideration a highly regrettable situation still prevailing though already being shaken. This is the situation pointed out in the programme statement for the conference, ‘Bridging China Studies and Theories of International Relations: In Honour of Wang Gungwu’s Scholarship’:

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Shi Yinhong Scholars in the West have tried to apply modern Western concepts to Chinese international behavior with only limited success …. [Meanwhile,] IR scholars within China are not ready to provide any alternative approach. Instead, the past decades have witnessed the Americanization of China’s IR studies. Chinese IR scholars have borrowed concepts developed out of western experiences in international relations to develop IR studies in China …. No serious work has been done in conceptualizing/theorizing China’s international behavior from a non-Western perspective.3

This description and criticism is generally accurate if the study of ‘international relations’ in China is strictly and therefore narrowly defined as studies in China on the theory of international relations as referred to in most political science departments in American universities.4 Conscious and refined finding, understanding, and theorizing of Chineseness in China’s international behaviour, together with corresponding efforts to criticize, broaden, and revise international relations theory in general as it exists now are really required, both for the study of international relations itself and much more. This is an aspect in which Wang’s works and insights can help tremendously. This author has been engaged for a long time in international history in China, and in the past decade has specialized in international politics, strategic studies, and foreign policy, advocating in China the ‘classical approach’5 characterized by historical/philosophical (and to an extent, literary) probing and judgement on international relations,6 declaring to students and colleagues that a historical and cultural comparative perspective is generally the best and most indispensable tool for producing major insights and innovative ideas in the field. From such a perspective, Wang’s intellectual guidance can be regarded as residing in the fact that almost all of his ‘general’ works and thinking focus mainly on trying to raise and answer the following essential questions: How to intellectually connect modern China to traditional China, and to the world? What are the areas of continuity and change in modern China in the perspective of pre-modern China? Moreover, and perhaps more essentially, one can find in Wang’s works his decisive perspective or even conviction regarding ‘China’s return’. In fact, China’s re-emergence as a modern nation which began at the turn of the nineteenth and in the twentieth centuries, or the victorious Communist revolution which resulted in the founding of the People’s Republic of China (PRC), are all essentially China’s return to vigour, creative pursuit, and spiritual potency, with whatever major vicissitudes followed thereafter. But of course, the greatest return since the end of the traditional Imperial China is the period following Deng Xiaoping’s reform and opening up of the country. ‘From a longer perspective, Chinese weakness during the past century and a half was an aberration and what is happening is more like a revival or restoration.’7 This theme, in Wang’s own words, sums up what he think about the relationship between ideas and power in China’s future.8 Firmly based on his deep understanding of Chineseness, including China’s history, culture, and (last but not least) enormous magnitude developed and maintained throughout many centuries, this conviction has been proved by China’s recent ‘rise’, a topic

The returned China in history and world politics 273 hotly debated around the world, and it will continue to be corroborated in the long term. This conviction even covers ‘strategic’ matters like China’s ‘recent efforts to develop a blue water navy.’9 Wang’s greatest contribution is in strongly and eloquently raising people’s sense that a broad and deep understanding of China’s past, especially the particularistic Chineseness in history, decisively helps develop one’s understanding of China’s present and possible future, both internally and in world politics. This is particularly relevant and significant in today’s multi-dimensional context, both to China and to the outside world, especially the West. The former is now rediscovering intellectually her traditional Chineseness without abandoning what she has learned from the outside world, a result of cultural self-consciousness and spiritual independence as an ascending modern great power after much transformation in a sort of partial Westernization. The West has been too inclined to take a universalistic approach toward the rest of the world, at least since the nineteenth century, and has now encountered the dramatic rise of China, toward which the universalistic approach proves again and again to be intellectually superficial and politically harmful.10 Lastly, Wang’s greatest contribution mentioned above is also relevant and significant for the improvement of the theories of world history, modernization, social philosophy, and political science on political, cultural and international relations (IR). Simply put, this chapter is an attempt to organize personal experiences of reading and thinking: reading some of Wang’s ‘general’ works on the Chineseness of China in history and in world politics – by a deliberate effort of this author to ‘read out’ from them in particular this fascinating feature of Chineseness for the modern and contemporary China; and thinking from the perspective of both Wang and of this author. This thinking aims to distil some highly relevant judgements and even propositions, direct or extended, about Chineseness in that part of the political behaviour, ideological inclination, and policy approach of modern and contemporary China which has been mostly foreign relations-related. There is limited discussion of the assumption that modern and contemporary China derive existentially from the traditional one, with profound continuity and essential change. In particular, the chapter will discuss the following subjects and issues: a pertinent approach to the history of traditional China and the Chineseness embedded in it; dramatic change and tenacious continuity as a complex theme of modern China; Chineseness and Chinese nationalism with its historical evolution; contemporary Chinese patriotism or nationalism; the political leadership, their foreign policy, and their Chineseness since the beginning of reform and opening up; and finally, primary challenges China will face in the future with her probably magnificent prospect. The discussions of all of these, it should be repeated again, are conducted with the intellectual guidance of Wang as well as with an independent reading and thinking process.

What about IR? A digression in disguise What about IR theory? Carl von Clausewitz says with great emphasis that: Theory should be study, not doctrine … a theory need not be a positive

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Shi Yinhong doctrine … Whenever an activity deals primarily with the same things again and again … these things are susceptible of rational study. It is precisely that inquiry which is the most essential part of any theory, and which may quite appropriately claim that title. It is an analytical investigation leading to a close acquaintance with the subject; applied to experience … it leads to thorough familiarity with it. The closer it comes to that goal, the more it proceeds from the objective form of a science to the subjective form of a skill … It will, in fact, become an active ingredient of talent.11

If we have not found any existing set of IR theory in the sense of ‘positive doctrine’ with an objective form of science, which is intimately relevant to China’s international behaviours, we still have that sort of focused ‘rational study’ which is characterized by ‘close acquaintance’, by an intensive ‘familiarity’ with the related experience, and even by a ‘subjective form of a skill’ that is reflected in the works of some, including the first-rank Wang. In a Clausewitzian sense they ‘may quite appropriately claim’ the title of theory, almost certainly after conscious and appropriate distilling, summarizing, and elaboration. This is what we will attempt to do in the case of Wang. What about the call for developing a Chinese school of IR theoretical studies,12 which is regarded plausibly as having not gone beyond being a call because ‘no serious work has been done in conceptualizing/theorizing China’s international behavior from a non-Western perspective’13? Several fundamentals should be pointed out. First, the issue of a Chinese school of the current narrowly defined IR theory is much less significant than that of international studies with theorized Chinese characteristics or Chineseness.14 Second, there would never be the Chinese school but Chinese schools, with their commonalities as well as their differences and even opposites. Third, a national school regarded as such by many rather than few has in most cases been established by a time-consuming process of scholarly commentary and wide recognition, not by any self-declaration or labelling. It can be emphasized in a broader and common-sense way that, if the concern and real subjects of enquiry of China’s scholars on international studies are really primarily Chinese, their scholarly works will certainly have rich Chineseness. Then, based on sufficiently numerous efforts, the so-called Chinese IR theory would come into being when some future insightful commentators play the role of ‘revealer’, to reveal cogently and ‘re-theorize’ systematically the Chineseness in those works, and even thereby declare with wide acceptance the existence of a Chinese school of theory on international relations.15

A pertinent approach to traditional and modern China The strong sense and sharp revealing of the Chineseness of China in history and world politics, which characterize Wang’s understanding of China’s essence and what he has contributed most as a thinker, depend upon a most fundamental philosophical approach to human collective affairs: moderate particularism against universalism. Looking at it from its religious origins and meaning, universalism is

The returned China in history and world politics 275 a notion or belief that all human beings, whether individually or collectively, are without exception connected to a single, identical, but omnipresent divine being or God, and must be submissive to the divine being, however different their cultures, civilizations and the environments they live in, and however distinct their biological/psychological attributes are from those of others. The principles of true religion are universal in their application and value, and the essential meaning of human life – individually or collectively – lies in implementation of the universal religious principles in every particular situation to achieve reconciliation between humanity and the divine.16 The typical representatives of universalistic religions are Judaism, Christianity and Islam, and those representing modern universalistic philosophy and social theory include natural law ideas in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the Enlightenment and Adam Smith’s liberal economics in the eighteenth century, and scientism in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.17 All of their major propositions and principles are universalistic and regarded by their proponents as applicable to every place and time. Opposite to the universalistic approach is particularism. In intellectual history it became prominent probably far later in its relative self-conscious and systematic form, largely because of the inherently difficult task of emancipation from superstitions concerning a ‘universal supreme being’ and the birth of some embryonic historicist sense. The particularism in the history of Western political ideas seems to come first from Cardinal Richelieu and his advisers in early seventeenth-century France. For this great statesman, the guideline for state affairs should be ‘the best interests of the state’, which are not concerned with the best possible model of the state but only with the concrete individual state as it exists in the concrete present. Richelieu and his advisers emphasized real individuality, fresh experience, and creative human practice. What was most dangerous, he said in his Political Testament, was the idea of those who hoped to rule the kingdom according to universal principles, because ‘the relative situations of time, place, and people are very different’.19 The ‘relative situations of time, place, and people’: this is the true essence of particularism. After about 300 years, after universalism prevailed in the Enlightenment era, particularism was finally raised to the high level of philosophy and the mature historicism by the great German historian Leopold von Ranke. A core of his political ideas and historical understanding is to regard a nation-state chiefly as ‘an individual … essentially independent of others’ with its own unique characteristics developed in history’.20 Edmund Burke, the great British political thinker was equally opposed to universalistic ideology and the way of thinking in the late eighteenth century. In the words of a American columnist today who really understands his spirit, [Burke’s] temperamental conservatism prizes epistemological modesty, the awareness of the limitations on what we do and can know, what we can and cannot plan … believes that society is an organism; that custom, tradition and habit are the prime movers of that organism; and that successful government institutions grow gradually from each nation’s unique network of moral and social restraints.21

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Wang’s primary approach for understanding China is particularistic and historical combined in the best Rankian sense. This is reflected in his elaboration of the ideas in traditional China on rights and duties,22 the twin concepts too much universalized by Western thought for centuries up to now. Taking the ‘historical approach’ which is ‘more modest’ and definitely different from the ‘fundamentalist (human rights)’ and the ‘ideological (class functions)’ positions, Wang points out that from the very early times, besides the idea of hierarchy, traditional and Confucian Chinese political/ethical concepts also contained the ideas of reciprocity and implicit rights.23 Confucius emphasized ‘the juxtaposition of both ruler-subject and father-son … the reciprocity that depended on both performing their duties but that also suggested some implicit rights.’ During the Han dynasty, about four centuries later, Confucianism became state ideology, and hierarchical juxtaposition and reciprocity were almost fully institutionalized, checking to an extent the ruler’s right to absolute power. However, the legacy of the ruler’s right remained strong, and by the time of the Song dynasty it had developed to such a degree that the duties of filial piety and loyalty on the part of sons and subjects respectively ‘had become so absolute that “even if the ruler does not act like a ruler, the subject may not but act like a subject; even if the father does not act like a father, the son may not but act like a son”.’24 The search by Wang for Chineseness in the ideas of rights and duties in China then extends into modern times. At the end of the nineteenth century, two strands of thought about rights were respectively held on the one hand by reformers like Kang Youwei and Liang Qichao as well as by revolutionaries like Sun Yat-sen and Zhang Bingling, and on the other by ‘people more philosophically inclined’ such as Yan Fu and Tan Sitong. Both groups addressed rights mainly in terms of ‘the kind of power and energy China needed’ for her regeneration, though the latter understood something about the importance of individual rights (but ‘still saw them ultimately in terms of their contribution towards strengthening China.’)25 From the May Fourth Movement to the new Nationalist government in Nanjing and the Chinese Communist Party’s final successful political and social revolution, the most essential ideational attribute on rights has been constant. Wang’s historical analysis paints a picture of a very modern Chineseness persisting even till today, influencing among other things China’s current relations with the West: China speaks of rights and liberties very much in terms of what would best serve collective goals: ‘By stressing the collective, it simply meant that the rights of individuals were never autonomous but always subordinated to the rights of the groups they belong to.’26 On the other hand, there is also a profound continuity between traditional and modern China despite the extraordinarily huge and dramatic changes separating them. The May Fourth Movement generation, from which rose both founding leaders of Chinese Nationalists and Communists, did not reject the traditional idea of reciprocity and emphasis on centralized power. Particularly for the later, the respective duties of the leading Party and the People ‘were not simply duties but were reciprocal duties accompanied and balanced by reciprocal rights’.27 Experienced observers would know very well that such Chineseness in

The returned China in history and world politics 277 China’s conceptions on rights and duties is very significant in deciding fundamental behaviours, both domestic and international, of the contemporary Chinese government.28

A complex theme throughout traditional and modern China There has been a persistent complex theme throughout China’s very long history: the theme of continuity and change, the former being always very tenacious and the latter sometimes very drastic. Perhaps China’s uniqueness in comparison with most of the other nations which also have had their own fundamental continuity and change in history is that China’s continuity is much more tenacious and her changes are more often drastic, partly due to her longevity and self-conscious national identity in the world. This is probably the most fascinating and often puzzling aspect of Chineseness. One can easily find that Wang grasps well this theme with all its basic complexity, different from others in and outside China who simplify and tilt too much toward continuity – or, on the contrary, toward change – in their understanding of China’s past and present.29 Many have underestimated or even neglected major change when they look at China’s traditional millennial past before the mid-nineteenth century, while so many have been so occupied or impressed by sea changes in modern or contemporary China that they forget the deep continuity. For the former, Chineseness is fundamentally static, while for the latter it is a marginal residue or even a non-entity. Traditional China was of course traditional, mainly characterized by her political/ethical culture and beliefs formed by mainstream historical Chineseness or the dominant Confucian value system, at least since the second century BC during the early Han dynasty. This system has been so tenacious and resilient that it ‘has [even been] transmitted to some of today’s Chinese leaders’. It is really difficult to regard the following value preference or ideal on world order as only traditional or Confucian but not as contemporarily Chinese. According to Wang’s cogent description, It is not which nation or which economic system should eventually be the one sun, but whether the world will be dominated by the physically strong or by the bearers of a new moral order. This tradition … rooted in the Confucian political philosophy, opposes any kind of arrangement, settlement or predominance based on physical strength and physical strength alone.30 Indeed, from the mid-nineteenth century to the present day the Chinese reformers, revolutionaries, and then again reformers have persistently sought to make China strong, but pursued this goal only in an defensive and other instrumentalist sense. Whether in ancient, modern, or contemporary times, the word ‘strong’ (qiang) has linguistically usually been associated with compulsion, rape, armed robbery, and bullying and depriving the weak, while politically associated with forcible conquest, and ‘the only power [morally] approved [since the Han emperors] … at least in theory, was a universalist … moral power.’31

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However, major change has been permeating and transforming China in important aspects even during the classical Confucian past. One of the most important is China’s primary approach to foreign relations, which has been almost taken for granted by most people as something constant without any fundamental change. This perception was very eloquently challenged by Wang in ‘Historians and early foreign relations’.32 This should be regarded as one of his most brilliant moments in revealing a ‘grand’ historical thread. A major enlightening story was ‘discovered’: how and when the traditional ‘Confucian theory’ on foreign relations originated, then evolved, and finally was established and confirmed, over a period of about a millennium from early Han to Tang and Sung dynasties – a historical process of change (a roughly gradualist one but with several drastic turning points) in a most important element of Chineseness. The starting point of the story is Ssu-ma Ch’ien (circa 145–90 BC), the greatest Chinese historian. His Historical Memoirs (Shih-chi) shows clearly that ‘by the first century, there was still no “Confucian theory” on foreign relations’. His great successor Pan Ku (AD 32–92) was the first to lay down a ‘theory’ about foreign relations, but ‘even he realized that the [Confucian] ideal Inner-Outer, superior or isolationist view had to allow for situations of equality [with Outer Barbarians]’. However, from the beginning of the fourth century, North China had been fought over for a hundred years by various Mongol-Turkic-Tibetan tribes and armies, resulting in China’s solid protracted division between a Turkic empire in the North and the Chinese successive dynasties in the South. Nearly three centuries of frustration and hatred made major Chinese historians then (who were traditionally among the most important shapers of political doctrines and official ideology) strongly inclined to ‘be forceful in relations with foreign states’ with punitive war, an inclination so different from both late ‘Confucian theory’ and earlier pragmatic ‘strategic realism’.33 With the final reunification of China first in AD 581 by the short Sui dynasty and then by the much longer Tang dynasty, ‘the Confucian domination of state policy, foreign policy and historiography was almost inevitable’. Based on their understanding of historical lessons and requirement for sustainable security of a great empire, the second Tang emperor, one of the greatest monarchs in Chinese history, and his advisers, especially Wei Zheng (580–643), put the most important emphasis on the nature of successful government ‘through the concept of virtue (te) and the presence of te persuaded people within and outside the empire to offer submission and accept the leadership of the Son of Heaven’. This was not a new idea to the Confucians, ‘what was new was that … this te … [was] central to China’s foreign relations with the Barbarians’.34 The ‘Confucian theory’ of foreign relations came into being, and Tang’s nearly 300-year longevity itself made post-Tang official historians and other doctrine producers, especially those of the Song dynasty, firmly believe and repeat that te determined China’s foreign relations, and brought glory, power, and domination by virtue of the meaningful known world.35 This fascinating story raises serious questions and doubts concerning the complexity of Chineseness. Wang said that he tried to show ‘how theory and practice can be distinguished in Chinese history’, and emphasized that ‘what is striking is that this “Confucian theory” was developed from pragmatic observations, and had

The returned China in history and world politics 279 little directly to do with the philosophical conception of China as the centre of the world.’ In reality and in essence, what led to this theory was a new confidence in China’s power and in her ability to overcome foreign invasion and domestic catastrophe, ‘which led to the theory that te … determined China’s relations with foreign countries’.36 Wang’s sophistication and insightful realism are clearly demonstrated here. Power – hard, soft and smart – and pragmatic observation of the situation are the key. This should lead us to doubt whether we Chinese are really so Confucian in the best sense and uniquely infused with a ‘harmonious’ cultural/moral spirit as so many traditional and contemporary Chinese writers have led us to believe, and whether (in respect of the aspired-to Chinese school of IR) we really need and are capable of constructing a unique Chinese theory of international relations rather than expand and revise the existing ones. Furthermore, one of the biggest questions here when we look backward and forward in a macroscopic self-searching of Chineseness and the related comparison with world civilizations is this: is China’s ultimate belief so simple and so ‘noble’ as to confuse ourselves in this much less noble world?37 And naturally, this sort of self-doubt leads one to further ask: where are the different Chinese historical experiences beside the mainstream perceived Confucian one? Almost opposite to the simplified view of traditional China, a China perceived as essentially static, modern China has been full of dramatic changes. This China began with the Opium War in 1840, the year chosen by twentieth-century Chinese historiographers as the beginning of the country’s modern history. ‘That decision reflects,’ Wang said, ‘both a new reality and China’s strong desire not to forget the aftermath of regret, resentment and recrimination.’38 What is this ambiguous ‘new reality’? Why is the Opium War really the beginning of the modern history of China, and why will it in all possibility continue to be regarded as such in a future when China in her new confidence and returned greatness would have forgotten that ‘regret, resentment and recrimination’? The old saying ‘history repeats itself’ holds true in modern Chinese historiography. The largely neglected broadest context is its world historical context. In the mid-nineteenth century, because of the various fundamental effects of the coming of the Industrial Revolution and its initial diffusion in Western Europe, ‘the eclipse of the non-European world’,39 an unprecedented event in world history, suddenly occurred. China’s experience of submission, then, is only a part of the whole contemporary picture: others include Algeria since 1830; Egypt and Ottoman Turkey in 1840; India in the 1850s and 1860s; Burma since the late 1820s; Indochina since the end of the 1850s, and Japan since 1853.40 That means that China’s fate and life have become intertwined with the globalizing world, both essentially and perennially. After her dramatic changes and subsequent decline, China came to her first ‘rise’ in modern history during the war against Japanese aggression. Wang’s understanding of this rise (in his moderate words ‘a new burst of fighting energy among the Chinese people’) is profound: a fundamental domestic change in China was brought about by World War II, consisting of ‘the mobilization of the peasantry for both a patriotic war against the Japanese and, in the best traditional style, a rebellion against landlords and corrupt officials plus – using the new rhetoric of revolution

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– their treacherous bourgeois pro-imperialist allies.’41 As mentioned previously, China’s modern rise in his perspective is ‘China’s return,’ or the ‘re-emergence of China’. One of them is that ‘China first emerged spectacularly as a Communist power’ in 1949, and another with the same dramatics can be dated from the PRC’s entry into the United Nations and President Nixon’s visit to Beijing in 1971–2.42 Major changes take place, both for better and for worse, so where is the continuity in modern China? How can one not simplify like those who are so impressed by drastic changes in modern or contemporary China that they treat Chineseness as a marginal residue? A very convincing answer is provided by Wang’s dialectic exposition of Chinese nationalism, a decisive driving force in bringing about China’s spectacular changes in modern times as well as a major agent in preserving traditional Chineseness for the same era. This exposition constitutes one of his most important contributions to the understanding of China.

Chinese nationalism, modern and contemporary Chinese nationalism is a relatively new phenomenon but, as Wang points out, its roots have a deep relationship with Confucianism as a political tradition. This tradition included state sponsorship of Confucian learning and selection of officials, the use of Confucian criteria to determine matters of public morality, and various Confucian duties and political/social relationships which supported powerfully a sustained authoritarian system. From that point of view, Confucianism is strongly linked to the formation of China and can be said to be one of the foundations of Chinese national identity and consciousness, and, therefore, closely related to the roots of [Chinese] nationalism.43 Moreover, in some sense the beginning of Chinese nationalism was directly related to a great psychological shock and intellectual ‘awakening’ under foreign humiliation and national crisis: the development of ‘a sense of Chineseness which they [the ‘new elites’ and ‘most people who went abroad’] had not been conscious of before’. This took shape at the end of the nineteenth century, ‘gathering strong emotions akin to modern national pride.’44 Especially because of its relations with traditional Chinese culture and history as well as its great persistence and spread, Chinese nationalism is in one sense ‘restoration nationalism’, as Wang called it. This nationalism ‘combines elements of both preservation and renewal, but ties in the faith in a glorious past more directly with a vision of a great future.’45 It reflects both of these elements and its features are somewhat more backward- than forward-looking: primary concern about recovery of sovereignty, unification of divided territory, and national self-respect; emphasis on moral order and preservation or rediscovery of traditional values; urges linking the future to a much admired past; and shaper focus on people’s sense of identity and continuity. A letter by Sun Yat-sen written in 1896 was cited as the most prominent summary of the Chinese restoration nationalism.46

The returned China in history and world politics 281 Chinese nationalism is a modern matter, integrated in a complex way with some traditional Chineseness. Modernization has persistently been a fervent desire as well as a magic word in modern China. It has been so closely connected with nationalism that, in the early twentieth century, ‘if anything, young people vied to be the most progressive [or modernize] because that was the most patriotic thing to do.’ Modernization has become ‘the only way to save the country from being declared unfit to survive’,47 not only in the shadow of Social Darwinist ideas – as Wang said of the situation after Yan Fu translated Darwin’s The Origin of Species into Chinese in 1898 – but also in the fact that the doctrine of ‘lagging behind leaves one vulnerable to attacks’ is very applicable to the Chinese experience since the Opium War, an idea probably introduced literally from Stalinist Russia in the early 1930s which was highly admired by the more radical part of the Chinese people.48 However, modernization has been understood very differently in some major aspects by different people in China, therefore producing very different types of Chinese nationalist. Before China’s contemporary era began with Deng Xiaoping’s reforms, modern Chinese history is in a sense a history of the radicalization of Chinese nationalism. The carnage of World War I and the October Revolution in Russia ‘turned many Chinese thinkers away from Western Europe as models of development, including that of liberal and democratic capitalism,’ which parallels their turning away from Confucian legacies (being ‘impatient to get away from their own past’) as the intellectual wave during the May Fourth Movement in 1919 demonstrated.49 As part of the general evolution or ‘escalation’ in the twentieth century of modern nationalism in the underdeveloped world, brilliantly summarized by the great British historian Geoffrey Baraclough as the third stage of non-Western nationalism,50 nationalism in China began to transform itself into something like the nationalistic ‘populism’ or popular nationalism led by radical elite. In Wang’s words, being modern meant not only providing the surest way to national wealth and national power, but also serving ‘most quickly and directly … the needs of “the people”, a new liberating ideal about helping the downtrodden majority’, with the latter exhibiting traditional Chineseness disguised in Western form because of its ‘deep roots in parts of Chinese tradition’.51 Radicalization in the twin senses of opposing both foreign imperialism and China’s decadent past was becoming more and more the mainstream in China’s nationalism, combining more and more successfully with the mobilization of the mass of people by the Chinese Communists. Confucianism was rejected, leaving the intellectual aspect of Chinese nationalism, represented by the National Essence (Guocui) School, totally without any widespread influence, let alone a political one. The politically motivated attempt of combining nationalism and Confucianism in the form of the New Life Movement in the mid-1930s, launched by very conservative and authoritarian Nationalist elders in power and aimed at the Communists’ influence, was ineffective as well as comical. They were later led by Mao Zedong, probably the greatest Chinese modern nationalist and certainly the greatest political genius in modern China, who won the struggle with a successful combination of modern nationalism and social popular revolution. In Mao’s PRC, founded in 1949, revolution was believed to be ‘the answer to national salvation

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and, therefore the truer and greater nationalism’. Thus, in Wang’s observation, ‘it was never necessary to appeal to nationalism during the years of Mao Zedong from 1949 to his death in 1976’.52 Since the beginning of the twentieth century up to then, Chinese radical nationalism had come full circle, with its very great achievements as well as its increasing inadaptability to the dynamic requirements of China and her people in a transforming world. Deng Xiaoping, one of the lifelong Communist revolutionaries but the most adaptive to a changing China in a changing world and the best in strategy and political leadership, launched China’s historic reform with the greatest vigour and stamina, a reform consisting of, among other things, the transformation of Chinese radical nationalism. This transformation brought about what a scholar specializing in the subject calls ‘pragmatic nationalism’53 and together with a substantial revision of the traditional Communist world outlook, the introduction of the ‘new internationalism’, and the much greater sophistication of political realism or realpolitik, it provided the ideological foundation for China’s external strategy and foreign policy in the contemporary era.54 As noted and discussed by so many observers outside China, including Wang, in the context of the fact that ‘revolutionary ideology no longer appeals to most Chinese’ and that there has been new ideological, emotional, and political requirements in fundamentally new circumstances especially after dramatic events in China and the world toward the end of the twentieth century, Chinese nationalism ‘now appears under the name of patriotism and calls for this are loud and clear’.55 This patriotism is very different from that which prevailed in the May Fourth Movement of 1919. For example, the appeal to China’s traditional glorious past has become legitimate. In fact, ‘the great renaissance of the Chinese nation’ has been for more than two decades one of the most frequently declared national slogans by the government and the most popular one, warmly received by the Chinese public without question.56 To some extent and in a very different context, the ‘restoration nationalism’ that once emerged at the turn of the nineteenth and in the twentieth centuries has reappeared. This is a ‘selective restoration’, as Wang pointed out about one decade ago, with the following judgement a little less accurate at the present than at that time: Despite the ravages of capitalist values today, the voices for a restoration nationalism in the fields of ideas and value systems remain feeble … What is more viable is a return to a willingness to follow the ways of the West selectively as a means of modernizing Chinese values and making Chinese civilization great again. In particular, there is an increasingly strong and ‘returned’ sense on the part of both government and populace that Chinese patriotism or nationalism cannot be exclusive of Confucianism.57 The present generation of leaders even very actively mobilizes some selected major elements of Confucianism for their foreign policy programme and China’s external ‘soft-power’ build-up, as demonstrated by State President Hu Jingtao’s much publicized ‘Harmonious World’ conception and

The returned China in history and world politics 283 numerous Confucius Institutes the Chinese government recently established and plans to quickly establish around the world. Popular nationalism is becoming increasingly assertive. Appeal to China’s greatness as a nation and a civilization traditionally and at the present; aspiration based on a hazily perceived world order morally opposite to the present one; much less toleration than in earlier years to the arrogance and injustice toward China on the part of the West; increasing pride in the great achievements of China in economic growth, financial strength, and diplomatic influence in the past two decades; increasing self-confidence in the ‘Chinese way’ and corresponding reduction of the previously very high respect (or even fetish in some cases) paid to that of the West; total rejection of any separatism in China’s frontier and persistent aspiration to cross-Strait reunification: all these feature in current ‘patriotic arousal and excitement’ among most of the Chinese people, and probably will continue in the longer-term future. Wang’s distinction in understanding contemporary Chinese popular nationalism lies in his focus on a major part of its social causes with its distinct Chineseness: popular nationalism in China has been strengthened in a complex way by ‘people for whom economic reforms have not brought security, dignity and self-respect’, a situation resulting mainly from the existing development mode of overwhelming obsession with GDP growth and largely laissez-faire market operation, ‘thus the atmosphere has been created in which greater visions of restoration have now appeared’.58 In its mainstream or government-sponsored form, contemporary Chinese patriotism or nationalism since Deng’s leadership (especially since 1989) is very different from that previously experienced in China’s modern history. It is characterized by a combination of the following features: being forward-looking, composure, patience, and much more respect paid to China’s particularity or Chineseness. The last feature could be regarded as the most important element of China’s political culture in general since 1989, and is therefore a critical condition for China’s vigorous rise and domestic stability. ‘Socialism with Chinese characteristics’, the most succinct self-summarizing of the ideology of the contemporary Chinese Communist Party (CCP), represents in the Party’s parlance a firm belief ‘from past experience that models good for others may not work for China’. Therefore, ‘as Deng advised, … they have to feel for stones when crossing the river’ according to particular conditions in China and around China.59

Contemporary political leadership, foreign policy, and their Chineseness When Wang discussed contemporary China in his works, much of what he wrote was about political leadership in the centre and at the top, which through his description and analysis demonstrates richly the dynamic Chineseness in the reform era. With the replacement of revolution by reform as the primary theme of China, state practice and leadership behaviour have decisively changed. Somewhat like reforms in traditional Chinese history, contemporary reform is inherently differentiated, carefully selective, and therefore sophisticated. There has been

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‘the determination to change the political and ideological framework as little as possible’. At the same time, the package of economic reform ‘is more systematic than anything earlier regimes attempted; there is a decisiveness about ends and means in the efforts to achieve dramatic results that is in fact quite new’, while ‘population reform’ of family planning and a one-child policy is really a massive drastic action, ‘one of the most radical reform policies the Chinese people have ever experienced’ that is doing ‘more to transform the whole fabric of traditional society than any other single reform in Chinese history’.60 Also profoundly embedded in traditional Chinese history and contemporary Chinese reformist practice is the central idea of ‘maintenance’ theoretically suggested by Wang. ‘Maintenance’ as one of the themes in China’s long history means ‘the heavy burden of keeping an enormous country like China together and more or less stable and peaceful’. In traditional China, it emphasizes the way in which the Chinese dynasties had endured the conquests and rebellions inflicted on them since the third century BC, and in contemporary China it emphasizes the stamina, flexibility, and skills of China’s political leaders in keeping the country united and even prosperous despite the massive transformation brought about by the extraordinary reform. It is true that ‘what is impressive is that the generations educated under Mao Zedong’s China, who have suffered so greatly from the Cultural Revolution, have been able to adapt to the new challenges’, and this is totally different from what happened in the Soviet Union.61 It is what Andrew Nathan, one of the best of the China scholars in American academia, insightfully called the ‘Authoritarian resilience’,62 or maintenance depending upon adaptive creation, not rigidity and imitation. One of the most traditional Chinese notions of the world had been something like that of biological cycles governing the universe, together with its political version of the cycles of dynasties, ‘of political success and prosperity inevitably followed by decline and fall’.63 For the contemporary political leadership in China, this must be very relevant, particularly because of their personal experiences of the mistaken governance in China during the two decades before reform as well as of the challenging and difficult transformation brought about by reform. The most recent prominent demonstration in this respect is Hu Jingtao’s speech on the thirtieth anniversary of the beginning of reform and opening up. He emphasized that: The progressiveness of a political party and its ruling status are not things that are obtained once and for all. That it was progressive doesn’t necessarily mean it is progressive and will still be progressive. The power it had doesn’t ensure that it is only right and proper to have the power now, let alone have it forever.64 This sense greatly increases the political leaders’ concern about the benefits they should bring to the Chinese people, and therefore greatly enhances their political wariness, prudence, diligence, and innovativeness in respect of economic policies and more.

The returned China in history and world politics 285 One aspect of Chineseness that is both traditional and contemporary is the paradox surrounding the question of equality. While the Chinese traditionally had always had a hierarchical society and a conception of different privileges, rights and duties for different groups of people in society, there was, as Wang pointed out, an ambiguous element arising from the belief that ‘righteousness is based upon that kind of justice and fairness whereby men are equal at specific times when faced with specific problems’.65 This paradox is still embedded in the core of China’s political culture today though in a different form. Through the modern Chinese revolution which had an ideational element of universally applicable equality, equalitarianism has for more than half a century been one of the most fundamental ‘orthodoxies’ in China’s political ideology and constitutional conceptions. This contributes greatly to making the Chinese today in one sense some of the most instinctive and vocal in resorting to an equalitarian rationale to inspire and support their demand for justice, and therefore potentially easier to incite ‘mass disturbances’ (quntixin shijian) as it is termed in China today. Because of this feature of political culture, the present Chinese top leaders have persistently characterized their policy programme and even personal image as ‘people-oriented’ (yi ren weiben) populism and won great appeal among the populace.66 At the same time, the hierarchical ‘official-oriented’ (guan benwei) system and culture, which is very traditional in China, has been so widely regarded as one of the most important contemporary forms of Chineseness that nearly every adult in China roughly knows its basic meaning and its prevalence. So in a sense the political credibility of Chinese leadership and government today among the people depends on how they deal with this paradox of ‘people-oriented’ ideology vs. ‘official-oriented’ political culture. This paradox between equalitarianism and hierarchical order even has its counterpart or similarity in contemporary Chinese foreign policy, though it is less fundamental and less difficult to deal with. On the one hand, resulting from the PRC’s tradition, principles, and vital interests in foreign relations, China is almost the only great power in today’s world to advocate and practise an international equalitarian philosophy based on conceptions of sovereign equality, non-interference, and what China calls ‘the democratization of international political life’. But on the other hand, compatible with China’s magnitude and status as a great power as well as other parts of her vital interests, is the idea of diplomacy with the great powers (daguo waijiao), a term often used since the late 1990s by numerous Chinese and foreign scholars. Indeed, daguo waijiao itself has almost never been used in China’s official public documents, unlike the often-appearing daguo guanxi (‘relations with the great powers’), because of the considerations paid to traditional doctrine and relations with developing countries. The Chinese government has prudently expressed, with increasing pride, that it has to conduct a ‘daguo waijiao’ strategy with the appropriate management of daguo guanxi as a first priority.67 This paradox of two mutually opposing imperatives has to be grasped in order to understand China’s behaviour in dealing with most ‘hot issues’ on the international stage, e.g., that of North Korea, Iran, Darfur, Myanmar, and others.68

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As every student of Chinese history and culture knows, ‘the emphasis on morality is clearly Chinese in all its aspects’ and ‘it is rooted very deeply in the Chinese tradition’.69 In terms of the leaders’ concern and governmental political programme, contemporary emphasis on morality has its domestic aspect, not only as a seemingly restoring effort after years of ‘cultural destruction’ and the loss of a part of the Chinese ‘very being’, but also as a attempt to resist and reverse those serious corrupting impacts of rampant marketization upon social ethics and general discipline, besides reflecting a potential and ambiguous aspiration to begin to develop the spiritual and moral dimensions for a historic new way of modern life with Chinese characteristics. Hence Jiang Zemin’s exhortation for ruling not only by law, but also by virtue (yide zhiguo), and then Hu Jingtao’s list of ‘eight honours, eight disgraces’ (barong bachi). These, especially the former, sound like a very traditional appeal similar to those heard in Chinese history.70 Effectiveness is quite limited, probably less on the international front. On the international front, Hu Jingtao introduced the concept of ‘Harmonious World’ accompanying China’s prominent rise, highlighted in his speech on 21 April 2006 at Yale University. In it he emphasized four features of traditional ‘Chinese civilization’ and therefore, by explicit implication, China’s moral/political ideal of world order: ‘always’ giving prominence to people and respecting people’s dignity and value; unremitting self-improvement, reform and innovation; social harmony, unity and mutual assistance; and good neighbourliness.71 Future historians might treat this speech and a few similar ones as something like Woodrow Wilson’s ‘The world must be made safe for democracy’ speech or the Atlantic Charter: a historic declaration by a rising world power on what a morally better world order should have.72 However, at present and probably also in the predictable future, one outside or within China will easily doubt or have reservations, not only because of the perennial tension between morality and interest and right and might, but also because ‘things have never worked out that way before’.73 More than those of other great powers in the world since 1945 or 1990, contemporary China’s foreign policy has an overwhelmingly domestic function. In other words, China is uniquely ‘obsessed’ with domestic purposes in conducting foreign relations. It is this Chineseness that has contributed a lot to her ‘strategic concentration’, which is beneficial to her very prominent achievements of economic growth and social stability in recent decades, as well as to her generally conservative foreign policy strategic culture and probably slower future progress in achieving external political influence and power presence.74 In fact, foreign policies in Mao Zedong’s era were also mostly domestic-oriented, geared for revolution within China. This was especially noticeable during the founding years of the PRC and the 1960s.75 But on the other hand, his constant ideological ideal of world revolution and sometimes impulsive drive for promoting it were major diversions. For Deng and his successors, domestic economic growth and social stability through reform and maintenance are, as it were, ideology itself. Although China’s vigorous rise; increasing dependence of domestic growth upon available external markets and resources; opportunities to expand international influence like the present global economic crisis, and natural attraction to greater national honour could in

The returned China in history and world politics 287 combination lead to a fundamental change of posture and derail Beijing from overwhelming domestic priority, the strategic culture of prudence and patience based on many years of experience, together with the nearly perennial domestic delicacy of a huge country, keep China firmly within the limits of ‘measured assertiveness’.76 Even this sort of limited assertion, one can guess based on experienced observance, often has something to do with the domestic need to achieve popular admiration or to prevent popular complaints against ‘softness’ in foreign policy. As already suggested, a newly added aspect of Chineseness is the firm belief of the contemporary Chinese leaders and, through them, of most of the Chinese people, in Chineseness per se and in its overwhelming importance for engaging in maintenance, reform, and development.77 Their success up to now has provided one major source of Chinese patriotism today, or to borrow Wang’s words for the previous revolutionary age, ‘[t]his … was a source of pride. The Chinese were once again able to say that, as with their unique civilization, they had found the key to success largely by their own efforts’.78 The great success (‘authoritarian’ or not) of ‘Socialism with Chinese characteristics’ has restored their self-confidence after the disaster of the Cultural Revolution and in the face of the earlier spectacular success of the contemporary West (which made it wild with joy at the ‘end of history’). This self-confidence now develops to its height in the context of the global financial crisis and economic recession which further detracts from the West’s prestige and greatly increases its dependence upon China. Its effect on China’s foreign policy is noticeable. Though ‘it has worked hard to [continue to] underline its message of peaceful rise’, ‘China is being more assertive in some respects’. And as this author was quoted recently, ‘maybe subconsciously, the Chinese leaders have more confidence. China will not ask for this or that. But it will frequently say “No” over Tibet or over Taiwan’ or a few other issues closest to Beijing’s heart.79 Even more than their political leaders and government, ‘people have adopted the attitudes,’ according to a famous NBC journalist who had travelled around China for three weeks, ‘that made America great – the optimism, dynamism and patriotism, the can-do spirit, the determination to leave the next generation better off than one’s own’. In short, he found ‘a country oozing with confidence’.80 Foreign-policy implications stemming from this may be quite indirect, but will be rich and ultimately powerful in their effect. However, prudence and even the sense of the above-mentioned ‘biological cycles governing the universe’ have been constant elements in determining political leadership behaviour in China today, including its foreign-policy orientation. They will probably continue to be so at least for the next generation, because the contemporary leaders and the people of China keep in their mind constantly one of the greatest aspects of Chineseness: ‘strong China, weak China,’ as Wang elaborated in the early 1980s.81 This has been a perennial basic theme for China’s domestic and foreign policy since reform and opening up; a theme for both the Chinese and for other nations. At present and in the predictable future, this is what Susan Shirk means by ‘fragile superpower’.82 This can and will still be the theme for China’s future, one of the hottest topics in today’s political world. China will face major challenges in the future along with her probably magnificent prospects;

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many of them have been pointed out by Wang in the first two or three years of the twenty-first century. These challenges include the changing shape of modernity as regarded by the universalistic and demanding West (and, it should be added, increasingly by the Chinese); persistent calls for ‘self-determination’ by those who are hostile to China’s present political system and national unification as well as territorial integration; the current leadership’s ability to inspire a Chinese society that has become more pluralist; the requirement for a ‘new body of ethics for modern China’ and the difficulty in developing it; popular and conservative nationalism and its possible echoes in the political high echelon.83 However, the most basic challenge will still be China’s huge size, perhaps the greatest constant for China’s domestic tasks, her position in the world, and her foreign-policy situation.

Notes * ‘Returned China’ is a phrase borrowed from ‘China’s Return’, the title of an article by Wang Gungwu (see note 7 below). ‘Returned China’ means modern and contemporary China. China’s awakening as an emerging modern nation which began at the turn of the nineteenth and during the twentieth centuries and the victorious Communist revolution that resulted in the founding of PRC are all in an essential sense China’s return to her vigour, creative pursuit, and spiritual potency. But of course, the greatest return since the end of traditional Imperial China is what followed Deng Xiaoping’s reforms and opening up of China, which has demonstrated that ‘from a longer perspective, Chinese weakness during the past century and a half was an aberration and what is happening is more like a revival or restoration’ (see note 7 below). 1 Cf. Liu Hong, ‘Wang Gengwu Jiaoshou yu Haiwai Huaren Yanjiu: Fangfalun de Chubu Guanca’ [‘Professor Wang Gungwu and overseas Chinese studies: A primary observation on his methodology’], Huaren Huaqiao Lishi Yanjiu (Overseas Chinese History Studies), 1 (2003). 2 This is Wang’s own term, taken from one of his important books, The Chineseness of China: Selected essays (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1991). 3 Attachment to an emailed letter from Zheng Yongnian, Director of East Asian Institute, National University of Singapore to this author on 7 October 2008. 4 This author has appealed for the broadening the concept of ‘theory’ in international studies and opposes the obsession with ‘IR’. See, for example, Shi Yinhong, ‘Shanshi Nian Lai Zhongguo Guoji Zhengzhi Yanjiu de Ruogan Wenti’ [‘Several issues about the studies on international politics in China in the last three decades’], Dangdai Shijie yu Shehui Zhuyi (Contemporary World and Socialism), 4 (2008). 5 Hedley Bull, ‘International theory: The case for a classical approach’, World Politics, 18(3) (April 1966): 361–77. 6 See Shi Yinhong, ‘Several issues about the studies on international politics in China in the last three decades’, op. cit.; Shi Yinhong, ‘Guanyu Guoji Guanxi de Lishi Lijie’ [‘The historical understanding of international relations’], Shijie Jingji yu Zhengzi (World Economic and Politics), 10 (2005). For a literary approach to international studies, see Shi Yinhong, ‘Preface’, in Yin Tai, Meiguo Jingsheng [‘The Spirit of American’] (Beijing: The Contemporary World Publishing House, 2008). 7 ‘China’s return’, in Wang Gungwu, Ideas Won’t Keep: The struggle for China’s future (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003), p. 1. 8 Ibid., p. vi. 9 Wang Gungwu, Anglo-Chinese encounters since 1800: Trade, war, science and governance (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), p. 41.

The returned China in history and world politics 289 10 For a very succinct general discussion, see Xiang Lanxin, ‘Not in the West’s image’, China Security, 4(2) (Spring 2008): 25–6. 11 Carl von Clausewitz, On War, edited and translated by Michael Howard and Peter Paret (Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1976), p. 141. All italics are original. 12 The most prominent call in this respect is Qin Yaqing, ‘Guoji Guanxi Lilun Zhongguo Xuepai Shengcheng de Keneng he Biran’ [‘The possibility and the certainty of the emergence of a Chinese school of IR theory’], Shijie Jingji yu Zhengzi (World Economic and Politics), 3 (2006). See also an earlier, more thoughtful, and sharper essay by Su Changhe: ‘Weishime Meiyou Zhongguo de Guoji Guanxi Lilun’ [‘Why there is no Chinese IR theory’], Guoji Guanca (International Observation), 4(2005). 13 Programme statement, attached to an emailed letter received on 7 October 2008 from Zheng Yongnian (see note 3 above). 14 See note 4 above. 15 Shi Yinhong and Lu Xing, ‘Xunzhao Lishi yu Zhanlue Lianjie de Shixiangzhe’ [‘A thinker searching for the connections between history and strategy’], Shijie Jingji yu Zhengzhi (The World Economics and Politics), 8 (2005). 16 Waclaw Hryniewicz, ‘Christian universalism: Its ethical and spiritual implications’, Dialogue & Universalism, 13(5) (2003): 33. 17 Cf. Leo Strauss, ‘Natural law’, in David L. Sills (ed.), International Encyclopedia of Social Science, Vol. 11 (New York and London: Macmillan and Free Press, 1968), pp. 80–5; Joseph R. Strayer, Hans W. Gatzke and E. Harris Harbison, The Main Stream of Civilization to 1715 (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1974), pp. 487–9; Peter Paret (ed.), Makers of Modern Strategy: From Machiavelli to the nuclear age (Chinese translation by Shi Yinhong et al., Beijing: World Affairs Press, 2006), Chapter 6, especially p. 178. 19 Friedrich Meinecke, Machiavellism: The doctrine of raison d’état and its place in modern history (Chinese translation by Shi Yinhong, Beijing: The Commercial Press, 2008), Chapter 6, quotation from p. 262. 20 Ibid., Chapter 15 (‘Ranke’), quotation from p. 526. 21 David Brooks, ‘The Republican collapse’, International Herald Tribune (5 October 2007). 22 ‘Rights and duties’, in Wang Gungwu, Ideas Won’t Keep, op. cit., pp. 16–44. 23 Ibid., pp. 16–17. 24 Ibid., pp. 23, 30. 25 Ibid., pp. 32. 26 Ibid., p. 34. 27 Ibid., p. 37. 28 Wang even profoundly though ambiguously said that ‘we might also have to consider if China’s apparent failure to give the two ideas [of rights and duties] equal weight had been a weakness in the development of its state and society.’ Ibid., p. 20. 29 ‘Historians and early foreign relations’, in Wang Gungwu, To Act Is to Know: Chinese dilemmas (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003), p. 126. 30 ‘Strong China, weak China’, Ibid., pp. 119–20. 31 Ibid., pp. 120–21. 32 ‘Historians and early foreign relations’, in Wang Gungwu, To Act Is to Know, op. cit., pp. 126–43. 33 Quotations from ibid., pp. 132, 135, 136 (except ‘strategic realism’). 34 Quotations from ibid., pp. 138, 139. 35 The logical extreme is that ‘foreign relations were nothing to be afraid of. They were an integral part of China’s place in the world and should be treated as a natural extension of China’s te.’ (Ibid., pp. 140–41.) 36 Ibid., p. 143. ‘The theory soon became myth … it was not until the Western Powers entered China and Soviet Communism transformed its ideology that the myth has really been undermined.’

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37 In self-searching, we should reconsider with some reservation what has been quoted approvingly above: ‘It is not which nation or which economic system should eventually be the one sun, but whether the world will be dominated by the physically strong or by the bearers of a new moral order.’ See note 30 above. 38 Wang Gungwu, Anglo-Chinese Encounters since 1800: War, trade, science and governance (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), p. 13. 39 Paul Kennedy, The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers: Economic change and military conflict from 1500 to 2000 (New York: Random House, 1987), p. 147. 40 Cf. Hedley Bull and Adam Watson (eds), The Expansion of International Society (Oxford: Clarendon, 1984); Shi Yinhong, Xiandangdai Guoji Guanxi Shi: Cong 16 Shiji dao 20 Shiji Mo [‘A history of modern international relations: from the 16th century to the end of the 20th’] (Beijing: Renmin University Press, 2006), pp. 125–40. 41 Wang, Anglo-Chinese Encounters since 1800, op. cit., p. 32. 42 ‘The re-emergence of China’, in Wang, To Act Is to Know, op. cit., p. 71. 43 Wang Gungwu, Nationalism and Confucianism (Singapore: UniPress, 1996), pp. 5–6. 44 Wang Gungwu, Joining the Modern World: Inside and outside China (Singapore: Singapore University Press and World Scientific Publishing, 2000), p. 4. 45 ‘The revival of Chinese nationalism’, in Wang Gungwu, Bind Us in Time: Nation and civilization in Asia (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003), p. 114. 46 This letter said: ‘To drive out the bandit remnants and reconstruct China in order to restore the order of the Ancients and follow the ways of the West, and thus cause myriads of people to be revived and all things to flourish, this is a task that fulfils Heaven’s way and meets the wishes of Man.’ (Ibid., p. 115.) 47 Wang, Joining the Modern World, op. cit., p. 4. 48 The doctrine literally comes from Stalin himself, in February 1931. See his speech ‘Lun Jingji Gongzuo Renyuan de Renwu’ [‘On the task of the economic working staffs’], in Shidaling Wenxuan (The Selected Works of Stalin), Vol. 2 (Beijing: People’s Publishing House, 1979). 49 Wang, Joining the Modern World, op. cit., p. 5. 50 Geoffrey Baraclough, An Introduction to Contemporary History (New York: Basic, 1964), Chapter 6. 51 Wang, Joining the Modern World, op. cit., p. 5. 52 Wang, Nationalism and Confucianism, op. cit., p. 17. 53 Suisheng Zhao, ‘Chinese nationalism and its foreign policy ramifications’, in Christopher Marsh and June Teufel Dreyer (eds), U.S.-China Relations in the 21st Century (Lanham MD: Lexington Books, 2003). 54 Shi Yinhong, ‘The impact of China’s transition on foreign policy’, in Christopher A. McNally (ed.), China’s Emergent Political Economy: Capitalism in the dragon’s lair (London and New York: Routledge, 2008). 55 Wang, Nationalism and Confucianism, op. cit., p. 18. 56 It was questioned and discussed by this author in a few Chinese and English articles. The latter is Shi Yinhong, ‘Truth and reconciliation in East Asia’, in 2007 Civilization and Peace (Seoul: The Academy of Korean Studies, 2008). 57 Wang, ‘The revival of Chinese nationalism’, op. cit., p. 127. 58 Ibid., p. 119. ‘patriotic arousal and excitement’ is quoted from p. 118. 59 Wang, Joining the modern world, op. cit., pp. 9–10. This is a sea change from the attitude of most of the past generations in China’s hard historic process of modernization, who, according to Professor Wang’s insightful survey, ‘have learnt how dynamic the concept of modernity is … When the norms are changed, usually because of the influence of the richest and strongest power or group of powers, China’s large and cumbersome structure has found it difficult to adapt and cope with each major shift.’ 60 ‘Reforming the revolution’, in Wang Gungwu, To Act Is to Know, op. cit., pp. 13–15. 61 Wang, ‘China’s return’, op. cit., pp. 4–5. 62 Andrew J. Nathan, ‘Authoritarian resilience: Institutionalization and the transition to

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63 64 65 66

67 68

69 70 71 72

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China’s fourth generation’, in Marsh and Teufel Dreyer (eds), U.S.-China Relations in the 21st Century, op. cit. There is at the same time another fundamental meaning of ‘maintenance’ for contemporary Chinese leaders, much more traditional in its best sense: to keep China’s frontier areas including Tibet, Xinjiang, and Taiwan within China. And no one in the world can doubt either their determination about this, or the Chinese popular support for it. ‘Chinese society and Chinese foreign policy’, in Wang, To Act is to Know, op. cit., p. 89. ‘Highlights of President Hu’s speech at reform eulogy meeting’, available online at: http://english.peopledaily.com.cn/90001/90776/90785/6557160.html. ‘Chinese society and Chinese foreign policy’, in Wang, To Act Is to Know, op. cit., p. 90. The most authorized official elaboration of Hu Jingtao’s ‘Scientific outlook for development’ even declares yi ren weiben as its kernel. See ‘Shiqi Da Zhengzhi Baogao Jiedu’ [‘Interpreting the Political Report of the 17th Party Congress’]), New China News Agency (12 November 2008). Available online at: http://news.xinhuanet.com/ newscenter/2007–11/12/content_7054717.htm. For China’s contemporary daguo waijiao, see Zhang Dengji, Bu Queding Shijie zhong de Daguo Dingwei he Daguo Waijiao [‘Constructing China: Great Power identity and diplomacy in an uncertain world’] (Taipei: Yangzi, 2003). The following picture is typical: ‘As long as the United States, Britain and France do not push for immediate action and leave open the door to compromise, China is likely to go along with a resolution warning Tehran, said Shi Yinhong … “China is doing its best to meet the U.S. halfway while protecting its own interests … China may try to soften the wording or – when it comes to sanctions – limit them. But China also knows a vote against a resolution would do terrible damage to relations with the U.S.”’ Chris Buckley, ‘China unbending on Iran’, Reuters (27 April 2006). ‘Chinese society and Chinese foreign policy’, in Wang, To Act Is to Know, op. cit., p. 90. Wang, ‘China’s return’, op. cit., pp. 7–8. President Hu Jingtao’s Speech at Yale University. English translation of the whole text available online at: http://corner.youth.cn/digest/yanjiang/200606/t20060605_329 619.htm. Some in the West have already sensed this possibility, insightful but worrying. One of these is Howard French, a New York Times journalist and columnist. See his excellent and thoughtful article ‘What if Beijing is right?’, International Herald Tribune (2 November 2007). Ibid. It seems that Professor Wang Gungwu had left this very important feature regrettably untouched in his rare direct discussion of the contemporary Chinese foreign policy. One major case mentioned for illustration is the anti-U.S. and anti-imperialist foreign policy and mass political education toward the end of the 1940s and until the Korean War. See Shi Yinhong, Duikang he Congtu de Youlai: Meiguo dui Xinzhongguo de Zhengce he Zhongmei Guanxi, 1949–1950 [‘The origins of confrontation and conflict: American policy toward Communist China and China–U.S. relations, 1949–1950’] (Nanjing: Nanjing University Press, 1995), pp. 56–9. ‘Like an ocean liner commanded by a secretive committee of captains, China’s top-down Communist Party government shifts direction slowly and usually without fanfare. Its response to this [present global economic] crisis will be no more nimble, said Shi Yinhong … ‘China has a conservative strategic culture and won’t challenge the United States or seek a basic realignment of international forces,’ said Shi. ‘China’s foreign policy changes will be through gentler adjustment and measured assertiveness.’’ Chris Buckley, ‘China weighs assertion and caution in U.S. shadow’, Reuters (20 January 2009).

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77 In this critical aspect, Mao Zedong in a large part prepared them, by his insistence on deciding the strategy of Chinese revolution according to particular Chinese conditions and by his resistance against the dictation of the Comintern and its submissive Chinese agents to impose revolutionary ‘universalism’ upon the Chinese Communist Party. In a sense, this preparation is so profound and effective that Deng Xiaoping and his major supports within the Party began their breakthrough of reform by denying Mao’s revolutionary ‘universalism’ with a way of thinking and even arguments similar to those that Mao used and taught decades ago. 78 ‘The interest of revolutionary China’, in Wang Gungwu, To Act Is to Know, op. cit., p. 96. 79 David Pilling, ‘Foreign policy: Assertiveness alongside a message of peace’, Financial Times (21 November 2008). 80 Martin Fletcher, ‘The Chinese dream has replaced America’s’, The Times (23 August 2008). 81 Wang, ‘Strong China, weak China’, op. cit., pp. 108–25. 82 Susan L. Shirk, China: Fragile superpower (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). 83 See the following works of Professor Wang Gungwu: Joining the Modern World, op. cit., pp. 10–12; ‘China’s return’, op. cit., pp. 8, 13; ‘The revival of Chinese nationalism’, op. cit., pp. 122–4.

15 Organizing China’s inter-state relations From “tianxia” (all-under-heaven) to the modern international order Zheng Yongnian In this chapter, I attempt to look at the Chinese way of organizing its international order. In doing so, I rely heavily on the writings of Wang Gungwu. As a historian, he has written on a wide range of topics such as empire, nation-states, nationalism, state ideology, the Chinese view of the world order, and religions in world politics. As far as I understand, he is among a few pioneering scholars who have examined China’s international relations from the larger idea of civilization. He knows what a scientific explanation means. While most scholars are ready to apply concepts and theories which were developed out of Western experiences, more often than not, such an application leads to a distortion of the “Chinese way” of international behavior, instead of providing a scientific explanation. Wang has been very critical of applying a concept or a theory based on Western experience to non-Western contexts – including China. I believe that there is a distinction between a scientific approach and a concept/theory generated by that approach. Unlike many scholars in the West, Wang has not published a book specifically on scientific methods of research; the scientific-ness of his research is embedded in his way of thinking, and in all his writings. While Wang focuses on the scientific approach itself, many scholars tend to apply the concept/theory that the approach has produced. In other words, Wang has developed a very sophisticated way of using scientific approaches to explain China and other Asian societies. Therefore, in explaining and predicting China’s international behavior, one has to place China in its own historical, cultural, political and geographical context. Like Western IR concepts and theories which are deeply embedded in the historical experiences of the West, Chinese IR concepts and theories must be drawn from China’s own political and historical culture.1 The goal of this chapter is limited. It aims to examine how China’s traditional “tianxia” (“world order”) has been transformed into a modern international order. While the tianxia and the modern international order are two distinguishable orders, there are also similarities between the two orders in terms of their organizing principles. I want to show how some elements of the organizing principles of the tianxia have been reproduced while others have been totally transformed. China’s modern international order is thus a fusion of its traditional tianxia elements and Western elements of the international order. While this is a modern international order which conforms to established rules and norms, it is distinguishably Chinese.

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The chapter is divided into several sections. Drawing on Wang Gungwu’s writings, the first section discusses the language that this chapter employs. Which language to use is important since it determines the way in which China is interpreted. The second section elaborates the concept of power. Whether looking at the traditional tianxia or the modern international order, the key is power. Any order is a reflection of power relations among actors in a given space and time. Without power, there would be no order. The third section deconstructs the tianxia by employing a different definition of power. The fourth section examines how this tianxia order has been transformed into China’s modern international order. Finally, the chapter will spell out the implications of this transformation for China’s international behavior.

Languages: traditional Chinese and modern Western The first issue around the transformation of the tianxia to the modern international order is the languages one will use. Tianxia can be interpreted in a Chinese way; it can also be interpreted in a Western way. Different ways of interpretation will lead to different conclusions about China’s international behavior. As Wang observed, today, a recurring theme in many speculations about China as a dominant power is whether China will restore its traditional tributary system in the region, albeit in modern guise. This suggests that there is an underlying fear of China that stems from a reading of Chinese history. It leads us to ask, what is the evidence for an expansionist China during the three millennia of formation, establishment and consolidation of the Empire? What is the function of the tributary system that has led it to be seen as the basis of a “Chinese world order”?2 Needless to say, before one searches for and interprets the evidence, one has to decide what language to use. In its thousands of years of history, China practiced its external relations based on the tianxia concept. What justified this external order was Confucianism which regarded China’s external relations as an extension of its domestic order. As John Fairbank pointed out, “The Chinese tended to think of their foreign relations as giving expression externally to the same principles of social and political order that were manifested internally within the Chinese state and society.”3 After the fall of the Qing dynasty, Chinese elites began to search for a new domestic order. China, however, did not have its own discourse on the order it had searched for, and its discourse on that order relied to a great extent on imported languages. After the end of the nineteenth century, scholarly discussions on the traditional order were not regarded as a pure academic issue, but instead as something to do with current political practice. In the past century, “revolution” and “reform” were the themes of history, and the traditional order was the target. Scholarly discussions about the traditional order were inevitably viewed as indicating whether an individual scholar was progressive or conservative, “revolutionary” or “anti-revolutionary.”

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As a matter of fact, when China came into contact with the West, the traditional order declined, and so did the traditional discourse. To engage reforms and revolutions, reformers and revolutionaries often revolutionalized their political discourses by replacing the traditional discourse with the Western discourses of the revolution, often through Japanese translations. Different reform and revolutionary discourses had a significant impact on scholarly research. Like their revolutionary counterparts, scholars such as Xiao Gongquan and Zhang Junli borrowed Western political concepts (without any hesitation) to describe China’s traditional order. Of course, there were scholars like Qian Mu who were against any uncritical use of Western concepts and discourses. This group, however, was marginalized, and was often subjected to political criticism. Before the modern age, China was not able to develop social sciences, unlike its counterparts in the West. The spread of Western social science disciplines overlapped with the spread of Western political values and ideas in China. During this process, social science research in China was greatly politicized, meaning that political goals were embedded in social science research. Chinese scholars were ready to import social science concepts and theories developed in the West to explain the social phenomena in their own society. More importantly, most scholars firmly believed that the Western system was superior to that of China. Consequently, they never questioned whether they were scientifically wrong to apply these concepts and theories to explain their own society and polity. The development of Chinese discourse on its external relations experienced a similar situation. Wang Gungwu pointed out how Chinese intellectual elites had tried to employ a Western language to interpret China’s traditional tianxia. Since the beginning of the twentieth century, modern historians in China have been greatly influenced by their studies of modern Western history. There has been a sharp divergence in historical interpretation since the new historiography of Liang Qichao (1873–1929). Liang had read European history in Japanese translation. He was influenced by the same books that had inspired the Japanese to break from their traditions and embark on modern empire-building along Western lines. Liang had also traveled among the overseas Chinese in British territories and admired the empire that the British had established around the world. After Liang, a new breed of historians has tired to reinterpret “empire” to draw comparisons with European empires in Asia. For these historians, the Chinese empire was no longer seen in traditional or “historic” terms, but equated with Western empires. In their eagerness to equate Chinese history with European history, they tried to match what had happened in China with historical developments in the rest of the World. One of the consequences of this reinterpretation was to case the tributary system in an unhistorical frame, one that tended to match tributary states with European colonies even though the Chinese had not conquered or governed any of the states outside imperial borders. Perhaps without intending to, they began to depict past Chinese empires as comparable, if not superior, to modern Western ones.4

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Any interpretation of Chinese history by Western discourses would have a consequence. Wang noted that, consciously or not, it was the modern nationalist historians who tended to distort the function of the tributary system and the relationships it spawned. Such a tradition continued after 1949 when the People’s Republic was established. Marxism-Leninism, despite being sinicized by Mao Zedong, was regarded as universally true and employed to explain Chinese history. According to Wang, “in particular, the dominance of Soviet historiography during the 1940s and 1950s led historians to try to fit all of Chinese history into a grand Marxist framework, with the communist revolution portrayed as the inevitable end product of earlier stages of development, from primitive communism to slave society to feudal society, and then to capitalist-imperialist invasions from which the Communist Party had saved China.”5 On the domestic front, Mao made greater efforts than any of his contemporaries to sinicize Western discourses to fit them into Chinese practice. Nonetheless, on the international front, he was less successful. The theory of “three worlds,” which was developed by Mao himself, was used to interpret world affairs. To a great degree, this theory was an extension of the “class” theory in domestic affairs to the international realm. While the Maoist class theory served to identify the communists’ friends and enemies in domestic affairs, the theory of three worlds was to perform the same functions in international affairs. It seems that this tradition has taken root in China. Since the reform and opening up, Chinese scholars are increasingly dissatisfied with the Marxist-Leninist way of explaining international affairs. While the official discourse of Marxism is still there, Chinese IR scholars are ready to try other discourses to reinterpret China’s international behavior and the world. The past three decades have witnessed the massive inflow of IR books and articles into China from the West. Most IR scholars in China tend to have employed Western discourses such as realism, liberalism and constructivism uncritically. As mentioned earlier, while some scholars have realized it is difficult to use Western concepts and theories to explain China’s international behavior, they are not ready to develop their own concepts and theories. Before IR scholars in China develop their own language, they will not be able to interpret their own country’s behavior. To develop such a language does not mean to go back to Chinese tradition. China did not have a tradition of social sciences. Modern social sciences were developed in the West before spreading to the rest of the world. To develop their own language, it will be necessary for IR scholars in China to employ scientific methodologies of the West to observe their own society and international behavior. The accumulation of such observations will enable IR scholars in China to conceptualize and theorize their country’s international behavior, just as their Western counterparts have done. Only a language which is developed in this way will be communicable. Only by developing such a language will China IR studies become an integral part of IR studies in the world. In this sense, this chapter attempts to conceptualize and theorize China’s international behavior based on Wang Gungwu’s historical and empirical interpretations (observations) of China.

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Power and hegemony One of the most heatedly debated issues in IR studies is whether China will become a world or regional hegemony. In the English language, “hegemony” often refers to leadership or predominant influence exercised by one state over others. For example, in the ancient Greek, hegemony meant the leadership of one state (the hegemon) over other states in the system. Hegemony is often used interchangeably with domination, which refers “to rule or control, often arbitrary.” Therefore, Robert Gilpin defined hegemony as existing when “a single powerful state controls or dominates the lesser states in the system.”6 Therefore hegemony is a power relationship between at least two actors. So is the traditional tianxia. To understand whether China will go back to the tianxia concept or become a modern hegemony, or how the tianxia will be transformed into a modern hegemony, one will first have to define “power”. In other words, power is the starting point of different forms of relationship between China and other states. While the literature on power is marked by a deep disagreement over the basic definition of power, power is usually understood as relational. Generally speaking, power has been defined either as getting someone else to do what you want them to do (power-over) or as a capacity/ability to act (power-to). Max Weber’s classical definition of power as “the probability that one actor within a social relationship will be in a position to carry out his own will despite resistance” has been widely used as the starting point in any discussions of power in different subjects of social sciences.7 Based on this, Robert Dahl offered what he called an “intuitive idea of power” according to which “A has power over B to the extent that he can get B to do something that B would not otherwise do.”8 Despite disagreements among scholars, they are ready to accept Dahl’s basic definition. As Steven Lukes notes, all variations of definitions of power have “the same underlying conception of power, according to which A exercises power over B when A affects B in a manner contrary to B’s interests.”9 From a very different theoretical background, Michel Foucault’s highly influential analysis presupposes that power is a kind of power-over, as he puts it, “if we speak of the structures or the mechanisms of power, it is only insofar as we suppose that certain persons exercise power over others.”10 It is worth noting that in Foucault’s power-over situation, the important element is the mechanism of power. Scholars in the tradition of Western IR studies often consider power as a resource of action and focus on how power is distributed among different states. Such a definition enables one to see the limitations of power with forceful actors and their capacity to coerce others into behaving in a certain way. In the same system, all states have their own power resource in their relations with one another. Whether state A has power over state B depends less on whether state A has more resource than state B but more on the existence of mechanisms and technologies which enable state A to exercise power over state B. Other scholars emphasize power as a capacity/ability and define it as a capacity to do something (power-to). Thomas Hobbes’s classical definition of power as a person’s “present means … to obtain some future apparent Good” is a classic example of this understanding of power.11 Hannah Arendt defines power as “the

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human ability not just to act but to act in concert.”12 According to Hanna Pitkin, “Power is a something – anything – which makes or renders somebody able to do, capable of doing something. Power is capacity, potential, ability, or wherewithal.”13 Similarly, Lukes defines power as a dispositional concept, meaning that power “is a potentiality, not an actuality – indeed a potentiality that may never be actualized.”14 In their analyses, some scholars focus on power-to, while others focus on power-over. Moreover, some scholars do not see any major difference between the two concepts of power, while others believe that these two concepts of power refer to fundamentally different meanings of the word “power.” What is important is that all scholars recognize that power is relational, be it power-to or power-over; namely, power takes place and is exercised among different actors. Both definitions of power necessarily imply that the game of power is a zero-sum one. IR scholars in the West, be they liberals or realists, are greatly influenced by these definitions of power when they do research on power relations between and among states. But in reality, while a power relationship connotes competition between any two actors (e.g., who gets what?), it does not necessarily indicates a zero-sum game. A power relation could be a non-zero-sum game and even a win-win game. Power relations mean interactions between the two actors. In their interaction, they exercise power over each other, and transform each other. Therefore, we need a new interpretation of power which will enable us to see the interactive dynamics between and among states. The sociologies of Michel Foucault and Pierre Bourdieu are useful in helping us to understand power interactions between and among states, even though neither Foucault nor Bourdieu spelled out the implications of their sociologies for IR studies. Foucault’s understanding of power differs fundamentally from that of most liberal theorists.15 According to Foucault, power is not a resource or a force that is exercised by one agent over another; nor is it a determinate characteristic of a particular social or economic structure. Power is a state of social relations in which force is exercised by and through the agents, one upon another. Power is therefore ubiquitous and omnipresent as there cannot be social relations without the exercise of some kind of force between the agents. Meanwhile, power is not an individual, intentional act. As M. Philp interprets, “individuals are the effect of power, they are its subjects and its vehicles, not its point of origin.”16 Power is rather the form and the way by which social agents, or more precisely societies, are formed, socialized, inspired, motivated, integrated and – individually and socially – “incorporated”. Power is not a “thing” but a quality of social relations. Power is the ensemble of practices by which some social agents will act upon others and transform, influence and shape their ideas, their bodies, their spaces and, even, their time. Power has thus different appearances according to the different ways it shapes social relations. Foucault calls these different appearances “technologies of power” or “mechanisms of power” without necessarily indicating an intentional actor by these metaphors but rather a certain pattern of regular cause-to-effect chains in the way power becomes apparent. To a degree, Foucault’s power notion is not “structural” as it implies some regular and recurring pattern of a law-like kind. It refers to a general distribution of power

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among social relations. Foucault put more emphasis on the nature of power than on agents which exercise the power. Among agents in social relations, Foucault placed much emphasis on state power. He pointed to the transformation of state power by referring to the exercise of both “formal” and “informal” power and control on the part of the state. For example, according to Foucault, the early modern state imposed control formally to encourage certain behaviors and threatened draconian punishments for their violation; in contrast, the modern state enlists its subjects as participants in their own governance. In the process, it shifts the locus of control internally. As a matter of fact, the state instructs, commands and punishes on the one hand, and educates, informs, persuades, and discourages on the other hand. Compared with Foucault’s, Bourdieu’s concept of power focuses more on the dynamics of power relations among actors. Bourdieu developed a vision of society in which the structure–agency divide is bridged.17 Like Foucault, Bourdieu is mainly preoccupied with the analysis of patterns of social domination and the question of how such social domination is reproduced. According to Bourdieu, society consists of the relationships between social agents who dispose of different types of capital such as economic, cultural, social or political capital. “Capital” means not only material resources but also the reputation that is attributed to the owner of these resources. Social fields are spaces of particular social practices that evolve around one given purpose. Thus one can distinguish in a large sense the economic field, the political field, the cultural field and so forth. Within these fields social agents hold hierarchical positions according to their configuration of capital and its appropriateness for the field’s purpose and “rules of the game.” The rules of the game and the field’s purpose are, in turn, defined by the need to reproduce the resources necessary for those configurations of capital that institute the social hierarchy inside the field. Social positions go along with specific ways of thinking about, behaving in, and interpreting the world. Bourdieu calls these social positions “dispositions” and argues that they reflect the hierarchical positions in the social fields. They are the mental reproductions of the existing social structures. In the way they reproduce world visions, they also reproduce the rules of the game and conditions for the appropriate capital configurations, as the decision of what is “right” or “wrong” is, effectively, a decision on the quality and quantity of capital that is needed in this particular social field. In the context, power can thus be defined as the capacity to decide over and to define the essential forms of capital, their configuration and their mechanisms of reproduction in a given social field and across fields. Although Bourdieu did not say if his theory is applicable to IR studies, it is reasonable to consider international relations as taking place in the international “social field” and to assume that states are actually agents in such a social field. Bourdieu has formulated his theory of domination not only with regard to social hierarchies within fields but also among fields. He argues that social fields tend to reproduce the domination structures within that reign among them, with some social fields reproducing quantitatively more and more relevant capital. In the hierarchical international “social field,” states occupy different positions and own different forms of capital, which in turn lead to the formation of their different

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dispositions. Conflict arises among states when and if they struggle over the definition of the relevant configuration of capital. The sociologies of Foucault and Bourdieu are intuitive when one applies them to IR studies. Several basic points can be drawn from their thinking on power and power relations among actors. First of all, no international order could be power-free. As long as it is international, there will be a form of power relations among states. No power, no international relations. In this sense, power is neutral, and is a prerequisite of international relations. Second, a power relationship is mutual. One can assume that the international “social field” is an area in which the interactions between and among states take place. The interactions between and among states are mutually transformative. Since a bigger power possesses more capital than a lesser power in the system, the former reproduces itself and maintains its dominant position through interacting with the latter. Nevertheless, the lesser power is not completely helpless since it possesses its own “field” power, as expressed in the sociology of Bourdieu. Through their continuous struggles with bigger powers, lesser powers facilitate the transformation of the international relations. Third, since states influence one another, there never exists a state with absolute sovereignty. The concept of absolute sovereignty is a social construct. Similarly, there never exists a state which could be fully independent from other states in the system. All states exercise some forms of power over others. In this sense, it is scientifically and empirically wrong to use the concept of absolute sovereignty to make a moral judgment on the forms of power relations such as hegemony and domination. Fourth, due to an uneven distribution of capital among different states in the system, even domination and hegemony could be neutral. What matters is whether a given state, especially the hegemon, wants to use its power potentials for its own self-interests or for the interests of the system as a whole. From the sociologies of Foucault and Bourdieu, one can also identify several important forms of power relation between and among states in the system. In other words, there are different “technologies of power” or “mechanisms of power” (in Foucault’s terms) by which one state exercises its power in relation to others. More specifically, power is exercised in the following three ways. First, it can be exercised coercively, as reflected in the popular statement that “politics is war without bloodshed, and war is politics with bloodshed.” Though not all politics is coercive, it is certainly one way among others to force people to do what you want them to do, against their will. Second, power can be exercised through bargaining or power exchange. In simple terms, exchange power means that, “I do something for you, in order to get you to do something for me.” Incentives involve rewarding another party for changing their behavior. Third, power can also be exercised through reciprocity and persuasion. It is the ability to induce others’ voluntary obedience and cooperation. Table 15.1 summarizes these three forms of power relation between and among states.18 These power relations can be summarized as follows: Coercion can be defined as a process in which one party employs coercive means to solicit compliance from another party. Coercion is unilateral, aiming at guaranteeing, pursuing and maintaining one party’s domination over others.

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Table 15.1 Institutions governing power relations between and among states in the system Institutions

Justification

Motives

Process

Goal

Coercion

Moral superiority

Control and coordination

Military and administrative means

Forced compliance, and maintenance of domination, etc.

Bargaining

Mutually advantageous

Self-interest

Negotiations

Conflict resolution

Reciprocity

Mutually acceptable

Justification to Self-adjustment, Voluntary other, obligation deliberation cooperation

Source: Compiled by the author.

Bargaining can be defined as a process in which two parties resolve conflicts between them through various forms of bargaining. It is bilateral and both parties utilize their resources to promote their mutual interests or maximize their respective interests. Reciprocity can be defined as a process in which two parties achieve voluntary cooperation between them through self-adjustment and deliberation. Reciprocity is based on obligation, with each side behaving in a mutually acceptable way or with each party’s behavior justifiable to the other party.

Tianxia and its practice Throughout China’s long history, all external relations were conducted through a tributary system. As a form of practice, the tributary system was largely organized by China’s state-idea, namely, tianxia. According to Richard Hartshorne, a member of the German school of geographers, what is primarily responsible for the formation of political communities is not economic organization, language, or religion, let alone the influence of race, climate, or topography, but rather the existence of an idea, the “state-idea” (raison d’être).19 Hartshorne sees the state as the product of two opposing forces: the centrifugal and the centripetal. The former consists of those forces that would lead to disintegration and would include distance, both real and psychological, physical barriers, economic and social systems that overlap state boundaries, and variations in the strength of the state-idea itself. The primary centripetal force is this state-idea, and for a state to exist at all this must be stronger than all the other centrifugal forces separately or combined. John Fairbank saw the tributary system as China’s “grand design.”20 If it was a design, then there must be an idea behind it. That idea was China’s idea of a natural social and political order. Traditionally, Chinese emperors ruled the country by creating a “natural” hierarchical and thus anti-egalitarian political order. Tianxia (all-under-heaven), presided over by the Tianzi (the son of Heaven), embraced the whole world. It was a natural order since it was based on the relationships that

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existed between family members in the private sphere, such as those between father and son, husband and wife. These family relations were simply extended to the relationship between prince and minister in the public sphere, and then extended to China’s external relations with the non-Chinese. In the West, domestic political order and international order are constructed in accordance to intellectually imagined concepts or “reality” such as “nature” and “God.” It seems that the Chinese intellectual imagination did not go beyond this world. In the minds of the Chinese, the individual within a family was the natural starting point of both internal and external orders. In other words, the Chinese natural order was from the individual to the family, from the family to the state, and from the state to other states under the heaven. Since it was a natural order, it was also universal. The empire of the traditional Chinese state was thus a universal empire and its rulers perceived its ideology as having meaning and relevance not just for the Han people but for all mankind. Its content was potentially, if not actually, coterminous with the extent of the whole world. Chinese emperors, however, were not naïve enough to believe that they could rule the world. If they assumed that China (Zhongguo, or the middle kingdom) was the center of the world, they did not have any knowledge where it would end. Therefore, as Joseph Whitney pointed out, “when the empire did not recognize boundaries to its universality, it did recognize that the actual appeal of its ideology and the area over which it could make its power felt was limited.”21 In its long history, since the imperial state-idea was universal and was coextensive with all mankind, there was no necessity to define the discontinuities in its strength by any legal agreements. It was only after the seventeenth century, when China came into contact with other empires similarly imbued with aspirations towards universality that she was forced to abandon for practical, if not for ideological, reasons her claims on large parts of the world and to define in legalistic and egalitarian terms the precise extent of her national space. The earliest boundary fixed by treaty was that between China and the Russian Empire as a result of the Treaty of Nerchinsk and Kiakhta in 1727. By the time other international boundaries of China were delineated, China’s position in the world was very different from what it had been during the early years of the Qing dynasty. Then, at the nadir of her powers, she was in no position to challenge the boundary agreements that were being forced on her by her imperialist neighbors, sometimes with her knowledge and sometimes without. Whitney offers us a geographical presentation of China’s tributary system. According to Whitney, this order was arranged by dividing it into several zones, namely, the ecumenical and extra-ecumenical zones, and the contact zone between the two, in accordance to China’s state-idea – tianxia.22 Within the ecumenical zone there were three areas. The first was the core area: the apex or core of the hierarchy of national space was situated where the water economy was most intensively developed. Second, there was the intensive ecumenical area: the second echelon in the hierarchy of the empire’s national space. The third was the extensive ecumenical area: the minimally effective areas within the ecumene were those characterized by poor resources, low population densities,

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and a minimal degree of spatial interaction. This was the area with the greatest concentrations of non-Han people who either had actively resisted assimilation or were not considered by the Chinese to be sufficiently civilized to become subjects of the empire. This also includes areas which have most recently been “colonized” by the Han people themselves. Between the ecumenical and extra-ecumenical areas were the contact zone, namely, transitional areas where assimilation into and spatial interaction with the ecumene itself took place in varying degrees. The contract zone consists of marchlands between the extensively organized area occupied by non-Han peoples and the intensively organized ecumene. Next to the contact zone is the outer zone. In the territories of the outer zone (Tibet, parts of Xinjiang and outer Mongolia), extreme cultural and political distance from the ecumene reinforced centrifugal tendencies. Beyond the outer zone there were territories within the peripheral zone which fitted the Chinese model of the world as “colonial” dependencies like Korea, Annam, and Burma, or those which had even more tenuous relationship, such as tribute-bearing states like Afghanistan and Ladakh. Throughout most of Chinese history these territories of the inner and outer zones posed particularly crucial problems to the Han administrators; with the coming of other imperial powers in the nineteenth century the nature of the problem changed. Prior to the arrival of Western powers there was no other known power that could challenge the cultural and technological supremacy of the Empire of “all-under-heaven.” It was true that barbarians in the peripheral areas might rise from time to time and would conquer China and impose an alien rule on her, but such non-Han usurpers quickly regaled themselves in the whole attire and outlook of traditional Chinese emperors, and did everything they could to uphold the legitimacy and supremacy of the imperial idea. With the coming of the West, a new kind of challenge was presented. No longer was it merely a matter of China’s military and technological power that was being challenged but there was a denial by outsiders of the very uniqueness and supremacy of the Confucian-imperial ideal itself. Moreover, the non-Han people in the outer realms were in danger of being captivated, if not literally captured, by the power of these other empires. Whitney gives us a geographical sense of how the tianxia was organized. One caveat needs to be added here. Whitney uses Western terms such as “colonized” and “colonial dependencies” to refer to the expansion of the Middle Kingdom. Such usage could be misleading since the colonial system was a highly institutionalized way of governance through which Western powers ruled other states. Obviously, this can hardly explain the relations among different parts within the Middle Kingdom and between the Middle Kingdom and beyond. Wang Gungwu pointed out some unique features of the Middle Kingdom in comparison with other empires in the world. According to Wang, the Middle Kingdom was characterized by “historical oneness,” which was inapplicable to Europe, Africa, and other parts of Asia, where kingdoms and empires rose and fell to form different nations.23 Most of the core lands of North, Central, and South China, where the Han Chinese have always been the majority, have an unbroken history of two to three thousand years. Others farther north and West have been

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alternately inside and outside the borders of Chinese empires, but have been regarded as integral parts of the ebb and flow of Chinese history. The fact that many of the more powerful tribal federations, such as the Turks, Mongols, Tibetans, and Jurchen-Manchus, have actually ruled over all or parts of the core lands has established the tradition that they all share a common heritage with the Han Chinese. That many of these people have also been assimilated into the dominant Han culture over time has confirmed this common heritage. Thus, although China has been divided in the past because of the fall of dynasties or foreign conquest, the driving force behind all governments has always been to reunify the empire.24 Given that the tianxia was universality, there was no necessity for the Middle Kingdom to develop a concept of boundary demarcation. Except for those of Korea and Vietnam, the boundaries with China of all other kingdoms, principalities, and tribal groups that accepted the Chinese tributary system were either unclear or not contiguous with China, and their tributary missions arrived by sea.25 Understandably, there was also no necessity for China to develop concepts like sovereignty or jurisdiction. Actually, the geographical lines between different zones, as Whitney identified, were often blurred. The efficacy of what Fairbank called “the Chinese grand design” was the reach of the central government. When the central government was strong, the influence of the Middle Kingdom expanded; and when the former was weak or was weakened, the latter retreated. While tianxia was the normative view by the Chinese of their relations with the non-Chinese, it did not mean in any sense the acceptance of it by the non-Chinese. As Fairbank pointed out, the tributaries from the Inner Asian and Outer zones had their own non-Chinese views of their relationship with China and accepted the Chinese view of it only in part, superficially or tacitly, as a matter of expedience. As the mystique of the imperial virtue grew thin across the cultural gap, in Lhasa, Moscow, or Batavia, alternative theories of politics were asserted and sometimes clashed with the Chinese doctrine.26 While all non-Chinese states and people were expected in theory to be tributary to the Son of Heaven in the Middle Kingdom, the theory frequently was not observed in fact.27 In some cases, for example Korea in the north and Vietnam in the south, the non-Chinese often manipulated the tributary system to secure a large measure of independence. Korea kept itself out away of the Chinese tributary system through its geographical location, self-restraint, and diplomatic skills. The Vietnamese had to fight their way out, then struggled for centuries to define their own nationhood and finally used both military and diplomatic skills to keep their lands from Chinese invaders. Both Korea and Vietnam were further helped by the crucial fact that neither was ever a threat to China.28 Another key feature of tianxia was that it was formed by the “natural” expansion of the Middle Kingdom, not by conquest. The historical empires of the Persians, Greeks, or Romans, those of Asoka, Tamerlane, or Babur, or in more modern times, those of the Ottomans, the British, the French, or tsarist Russia, were empires by conquest over long distances and even across oceans. Their lifespan depended on whether their military forces were victorious. This was not the case with China for most of its two thousand years of “imperial” history. With the exception of the short

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Mongol period of ninety years, when China was itself part of the world empire of the Mongols, no armies marched out of traditional Middle Kingdom lands. The Mongol expeditionary force that burst far into Eurasia, and across the sea to Japan and Java, was strictly non-Chinese. The successor dynasty of the Ming, which was led by Han Chinese, strongly resisted the Mongol worldview. After three decades, early in the fifteenth century, of exceptional voyages by Admiral Zheng He into the South China Sea and across the Indian Ocean to the shores of East Africa, the Ming emperors insisted on returning to the control of traditional lands and forbade foreign adventures.29 The tributary system was never used for territorial expansion, only for extending influence and affirming China’s interpretation of its central place in the universe. At the practical level, according to Wang, the institution of the tributary system was an arrangement for trading between China and the rest of “all-underheaven.” Although the rhetoric in China was that various rulers and chieftains from near and far came to pay tribute to the emperor, in reality the system evolved into one that dealt with foreigners who wished to have trading or diplomatic relations with China.30 The tributary system as an arrangement for trading was also recognized by Fairbank. According to Fairbank, it was a political framework for trading states. Therefore, outside countries, if they were to have contact with China at all, were expected and when possible obliged to do so as tributaries. Thus their trade must be regarded as a boon granted to their ruler by the emperor and must be accompanied by the formalities of presenting tribute through missions to Peking.31 Moreover, “the principal economic problem was the conflict of interest over trade, but here the rulers of China usually declared themselves ready to sacrifice economic substance in order to preserve political form.”32 At a deeper level, the tributary system as a trading arrangement might have another – more important – goal, namely, to ensuring minimum security on China’s borders. Wang stressed that in essence, the system was used to stabilize the status quo. This was particularly true for the coastal regions where there had never been any serious threats to the empire, and tribute became the key to the intimate cultural relationship between China and both Vietnam and Korea.33 Therefore, the tributary system can hardly be regarded as “the Chinese world order,” as Fairbank called it. According to Wang, the use of the word “world” is problematic because China’s political concerns were limited to its neighbors. As a matter of fact, China did not develop the concept of world. It only assumed that

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China was in the middle of “all-under-heaven,” and attempted to establish normative relations between the Chinese and the non-Chinese. Furthermore, the use of “order” is problematic because the tributary relations were largely unsystematic and unenforceable. Fairbank did realize that the infeasibility of the tianxia and its enforcement. For example, he mentioned that “the Chinese world order was a unified concept only at the Chinese end and only on the normative level, as an ideal pattern.”34 Indeed, when Fairbank began to conceptualize the tianxia or “all-under-heaven,” he found it difficult to find an equivalent concept in the West. This was reflected in many of his paragraphs: In the course of time, there grew up a network of Sino-foreign relations that roughly corresponded in East Asia to the international order that grew up in Europe, although international and even interstate do not seem appropriate terms for it. We prefer to call it the Chinese world order.35 The traditional Chinese world order can hardly be called international because the participants in it did not use concepts corresponding to the Western ideas of nation, or sovereignty, or equality of states each having equal sovereignty.36 Europe saw the development of a number of nation-states theoretically equal in sovereignty and mutually independent within the culture area of Christendom. The European order, with its interest in precise division of territories and its own concepts of legitimacy, came to depend upon a balance of power among the nation states. The Chinese world order, in contrast, was unified and centralized in theory by the universal preeminence of the Son of Heaven. It was not organized by a division of territories among sovereigns of equal status but rather by the subordination of all local authorities to the central and awe-inspiring power of the emperor.37 Tianxia, as a normative idea, was not always realized in practice. But it seemed to Fairbank that the idea of tianxia had become a highly institutionalized mind-set of the Chinese. He argued: Nationalist and Communist China have inherited a set of institutionalized attitudes and historical precedents not easily conformable to the European tradition of international relations among equally sovereign nation states. Modern China’s difficulty of adjustment to the international order of nation-states in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries has come partly from the great tradition of the Chinese world order. This tradition is of more than historical interest and bears upon Chinese political thinking today.38 While Fairbank made these remarks more than four decades ago, they actually point to one of the worries that the rest of the world, especially China’s neighbors, has over the rise of China today. The worry is whether China will go back to its

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traditional feudal relationships between itself and the rest of the world when the ingredients for her to become a regional power are already in place, whether in terms of a rejuvenated economic presence, a modern nation built on its historic past, or a potential model capable of challenging the Western models of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. As Wang pointed out, for China’s neighbors, the view is simpler. China’s size and location by themselves are powerful reminders of past superiority and possible future threat. China’s very existence, however passive and inward-looking, has always aroused interest and concern. What would be new and alarming to the region would be a modernized China finding that it has to behave like the modern great powers of the West. China today desires to be a nation. In the traditional tianxia mind-set, there was no space for nationhood and nationality. While tianxia was meant to be universal, nationhood and nationality symbolized particularism. It was only after the complete collapse of the old empire during the early years of the twentieth century that the idea of nationhood and nationality began to take shape in the minds of Chinese leaders. However, as Wang pointed out, the emphasis was never on the question of citizenship, nor on political participation by all who share a common identity, nor on acquiring an international persona and seeking the protection of international law. What the Chinese leaders saw as nations were clearly the powerful ones like Britain, France, Germany, Russia, and the United States – the great powers with which China compared unfavorably.39 Many questions can thus be raised. Is it likely that China will behave like eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Britain and France in their quest for maritime empires, or like Russia in its overland drive toward the east? Or would China model itself after the intensely aggressive latecomers, Germany and Japan, or aspire to become some version of the American Manifest Destiny? With all these “glorious” and recent examples before them, could the Chinese resist the dynamic urges of modern competitive expansionism? Could China’s neighbors be assured that future regional relations would be based on fraternal cooperation, or, at worst, merely the benign neglect of a patronizing “big brother?”40

China’s modern international order Central to these questions is China’s relations with the international order. To answer these questions, one has to look at the Chinese intellectual and the cultural imagination of an international order, and the way in which the Chinese have pursued or will pursue such an order. One also needs to look at the convergence with and divergence between the international order that China imagines and the one that was established by the West, and the one that the West wants to have in the future. So, what is China’s imagined “international order” today? Like the tianxia, this international order must be based on China’s state-idea. There, we have to examine whether the traditional mind-set of the tianxia is still in existence and whether it has been transformed. Moreover, as discussed earlier, in modern times, China has learned tremendously from the West on how to become a great power, and how

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to behave like a great power. Therefore, China’s imagination of “international order” is also likely to be based on the West’s state-idea. In this case, we have to examine whether China wants to repeat what many Western powers did in the past centuries, namely, opt for expansionism. Of course, either going back to the past or following the model of the modern West must be acceptable for the rest of the world, especially China’s neighbors. There are different ways to answer these questions. Simply speaking, China has given up the feudal idea of the tributary system. As Wang Gungwu stressed, despite the long history of the tributary system, China today has accepted the independence of both Korea and Vietnam. It has also acknowledged the independence of the Mongolian republic.41 Therefore, the references to a possible return to a threatening tributary system in the future not only misrepresent the system to imply dominance and potential expansionism, but are also totally anachronistic. The world has changed enormously. Given the international system of nation-states and the interdependent networks of a market economy, any return to a system largely based on feudalistic relations simply will not be acceptable, not even to the Chinese.42 Scholars also look at how China’s rise has been perceived by its East Asian neighbors. For David Kang, China’s rise makes it possible for her to become a source of stability in the region, just as it did in the past. With China’s rise in the contemporary area, other states in East Asia have moved to strengthen their military, economic, and diplomatic relations with China. Somehow, a similar pattern to that of the past seems to have re-emerged since these smaller states have chosen to accommodate China’s rise, instead of balancing it, as realism would predict. There is also little evidence that the region is rupturing. Kang contends that certain preferences and beliefs are responsible for maintaining stability in East Asia. Rising powers present opportunities as well as threats, and the economic benefits and military threat China poses for its regional neighbors are both potentially huge; however, East Asian states see more advantage than danger in China’s rise, making the region more stable, not less so. Furthermore, although East Asian states do not unequivocally welcome China in all areas, they are willing to defer judgment regarding what China wants and its role in East Asia. They believe that a strong China stabilizes East Asia, while a weak China tempts other states to try to control the region.43 China itself has attempted to tell its neighbors and the rest of the world that it would not go back to its old tributary system; neither will it follow Western imperialism. Its leaders have tried hard to present its new imagination of the international order. For example, speaking at Cambridge University on 2 February 2009, China’s Premier Wen Jiabao stressed that that a country will become hegemonic when it becomes strong does not fit China. To become a hegemon is against our tradition, against the will of the Chinese people. China’s development does not harm anyone, and does not

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threaten anyone in the world. China wants to be a peaceful great power, a learning power, a cooperative power, and it wants to build a harmonious world.44 Wen’s speech can be regarded as an executive summary of the Chinese doctrine of its external relations. From Deng Xiaoping’s “low profile” foreign policy to Jiang Zemin’s “peaceful rise” to Hu Jintao’s “harmonious world,” the theme of this doctrine is the same, namely, peace and development.45 Wen’s words make it clear that China wants to be a state with a continuous valuable tradition of external relations, a peaceful state, a cooperative state, a learning state, and a state that wants to build a harmonious world. China’s old Confucian imperial states were based on the idea of a universal ideology and a high degree of cultural homogeneity. As discussed earlier, tianxia was based on such a state-idea. Needless to say, the Chinese no long believe that China is the Middle Kingdom today; neither do they believe that China’s external relations can be established and maintained by a feudal system like the tributary system. However, the mind-set that the tianxia should be an open system continues to prevail today. The mind-set has been transformed though. In modern times, China and other states in the regions, many of whom were within China’s tributary system, have struggled to achieve an independent sovereign status. However, for the Chinese, a world of sovereign states does not contradict its old idea of the tianxia, except that China can no longer regard itself as the center of the world. What matters is how China is able to realize its old concept of the tianxia. Tianxia without China as the center is completely new to the Chinese. It is the context of China as a learning state that matters for its neighbors as well as the world. As a matter of fact, even since the fall of the old tianxia, China has been a learning state. China had to learn in order to first survive and then develop. Now with its rise, China is ready to tell the rest of the world something about the future international order. As Wang commented, “after 150 years of interaction, the Chinese have integrated outside and inside views sufficiently to begin to make contributions to a future international order.”46 The Chinese leadership decides that China should go with the existing international order. After the fall of the tianxia, the tributary system was completely destroyed by the modern state system. During the Cold War, Mao Zedong once attempted to establish again a China-centered external order. But that effort failed badly. After China established diplomatic relations with the United States, it quickly moved closer to the international order established by the West. By the time Deng Xiaoping initiated the open-door policy, China was already a member of the United Nations Security Council. The post-Mao leadership did not find it difficult to accept and join this international order. There are norms and rules governing the idea of the international order. Like other countries in Asia, China is conscious that the norms of behavior and discourse of this order have been established by the West, and these norms come from a distinct political culture that evolved from a particular state-system in Europe. Even though the Chinese understand from their history of the tianxia that alliances and

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friendships between polities do require degrees of cultural harmony, they accepted these norms for practical as well as cultural reasons. At the practical level, to accept this international order is a powerful means of protecting China’s sovereignty and national integrity as this order recognizes sovereignty for each member within it. At the cultural level, the Chinese were actually confident that they could learn much from another culture without losing their Chineseness. For many decades, China has tried to model its international behavior on that of the Great Powers and has moved away from the hierarchical view that underlies the tributary relationships of the past. Alastair Iain Johnston convincingly shows how China has been socialized by the West to be a more cooperative partner in international relations.47 There is also another, probably far more important, reason for China to accept the existing international order; that is, the Chinese have a deep cultural belief in “the prevalence and inevitability of change,” as Wang emphasized.48 The only proposition that does not change is that everything else is subject to change “stems from the Book of Change, the nearest thing to a universal guide to Chinese thought and action ever since their civilization emerged some 5,000 years ago.”49 For China’s leaders, by accepting and joining this international order, their country is socialized by this order, but other countries can also be socialized by China. The state-system of the Great Powers is not fixed, and it has itself been evolving. China’s post-Mao leaders did not find it difficult to join the world. More importantly, they were willing to change China’s existing laws and institutions, or, in Chinese conceptual terms, China was willing to gear itself (jiegui) to the international order. Needless to say, the existing international order can be interpreted in different ways. When the Chinese accepted it, they had their own expectations. According to Wang, China’s strategic experience before and after the nineteenth and twentieth centuries has led them to focus on three major strands that are already in the “system” today. What the Chinese hope is to support these three existing frameworks by strengthening them with their contributions wherever they can. The three strands are a) a balanced and restraining multipolar system; b) a rule-based global market economy, one that is increasingly interdependent at more and more levels; and c) a world of modern, rational, and “secular” civilization.50 This idealized world order is, of course, in the best interest of China. The Chinese believe that this ideal world order is also in the best interest of other countries, be they Great Powers or small states. But from their experience in the past, Chinese leaders know that the realization and survival of such an order requires tools and mechanisms, just as the old tianxia was realized and maintained by the tributary system. While the Chinese are willing to make efforts towards that ideal world order, they are not ready to offer any specific tools and mechanisms. However, the Chinese can see clearly that many elements that are the pillars of the existing order and could motivate the existing order towards a new one are already embedded in the existing system. China was not forced to join the existing world order. The

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Chinese had examined this system before joining, and knew how to use this order to protect and promote their own interests.

Mechanisms for the new international order The new international order is also a network of power relationships between and among sovereign states. Power must be exercised if this order is to exist, as – no power, no order. However, as Foucault argued, there must be mechanisms of power for the exercise of power. The Chinese do not have difficulty identifying the key mechanisms of power in the international order. The mechanisms the Chinese identify include the United Nations, Great Power politics, sovereignty, multilateralism, globalization and regionalism. Some of these mechanisms are highly institutionalized while others are not. The Chinese know that these mechanisms can be employed to their advantage, but that they can also be used against their interests if not employed properly. What matters is that these mechanisms have to be available for all countries, be they Great Powers or small states. In other words, the international order must be open equally to everyone. In this sense, the international order is similar to the tianxia of the old China. The UN structure To the surprise of many people, China today appears to be one of the strongest supporters of the world order established by the victors of World War II. China joined the United Nations-based international community, believing that the United Nations, especially its Security Council, is the institutional pillar of the existing world order. For the Chinese, although the UN structure is unable to impose an ideal order on the world, it is the best form of organization that the world could have. It is the only international organization which could constrain the power of Great Powers. The Chinese also believe that the UN structure is a system which is open to all sovereign states and protects their interests, especially those of small states. China has been calling on the UN to delegate more power to the developing world, since only by doing so would the UN structure provide a workable model for a multipolar world. The Chinese seem committed to making this order become more effective. China has become proactive in taking part in all kinds of activity under the UN structure.51 Despite dissatisfaction from time to time, China does not want any revolutionary changes to be introduced to the UN structure, especially its Security Council. China has been cautious and even conservative over the issues of UN reform since the Chinese believe that radical changes will probably undermine the current foundation. To place an overwhelming emphasis on the UN structure does not mean that China does not understand Great Power politics. China has actively interacted with the United States and other great powers either within the UN structure or on a bilateral basis. From their own history of the tianxia, the Chinese know that though every sovereign state is equal, it does not mean that the world order will not be hierarchical; an order based on Great Powers implies that it is a hierarchical

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order. Nevertheless, all Great Powers must be restrained for that order to be sustainable. China is therefore trying to develop a balanced and multipolar world order capable of restraining the United States whose power is often based on its superior military strength.52 The Chinese do not believe that a system devised to serve the interests of a single superpower can be stable for long. From their own experience in the past dealing with neighboring states within the Chinese orbit, the Chinese understand that what is needed is a “competent hegemony” by a strong responsible power, one that could protect the world from anarchy.53 However, the Chinese also know that at this stage, China is not capable of becoming such a competent hegemon, and only the United States can perform such a role. In this sense, China does not seek to challenge the US itself, nor does it expect other countries to do so.54 According to Wang Jisi, “In the long term, the decline of US primacy and the subsequent transition to a multipolar world are inevitable; but in the short term, Washington’s power is unlikely to decline, and its position in world affairs is unlikely to change.”55 What China can do is to work with the United States as closely as possible to push it towards that goal. Meanwhile, the Chinese are confident that they can work with the United States and other Great Powers, since, as Wang argued, the Chinese culture tends to stress humanistic rationality that is compatible with the enlightenment histories experienced by the other four permanent members of the Security Council – the US, Russia, Britain and France. The Chinese see their civilization as comparable, if not equal and similar, to that of others, and they believe that there are no serious obstacles to absorbing modern values.56 China wants to see a world which recognizes its own rightful place in world history, one in which it can make its own distinctive inputs. Towards that goal, China has accepted a rule-based global market system. More importantly, China has learned, by trial and error, how to make a contribution to this existing system. For example, China has already offered alternative routes to development, routes that have worked better than those offered by the World Bank and International Monetary Fund (IMF) models, and routes that could at least offer useful ways to stimulate and sustain development in the Third World. Sovereignty While Great Power politics is important, China also recognizes the role of small states in the international order. From their experience of the tributary system, the Chinese know how a Great Power should treat a small state or a group of small states. Historically, as Fairbank commented, “Age, size, and wealth all made China the natural center of this East Asian world.”57 In this sense, China as the center of the tianxia was a natural hegemon in the region, and the tributary system was the way China managed its relations with other polities. The question now is, with its rise to Great Power status, will China become a natural hegemon again? As discussed earlier, while this has been a heatedly debated issue, China herself does not have an obvious answer. But from its efforts in protecting the concept of absolute sovereignty, one can see how China is struggling in this area.

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The concept of sovereignty is the foundation of the modern international order. In the contemporary era, it is reflected in the UN-based international system where all countries are equal members, at least at the normative level. With its acceptance of the concept in this modern age, China has ruthlessly defended this concept for multiple purposes. China has to defend it for the sake of its own sovereignty. After more than a century of struggle for an independent sovereign state, China is still not a unified state. Hong Kong and Macao were returned to their motherland from the colonial rule of the British and Portuguese, in 1997 and 1999 respectively, but there is no indication that Taiwan will be reunified with the mainland in the foreseeable future. Despite its incapacity to reunite with Taiwan, China has done everything possible to prevent the island from achieving de jure independence. Interestingly, China has actually been quite flexible in interpreting the concept of sovereignty when it is applied to unification. The late Deng Xiaoping innovatively designed the “one country, two system” to unify Hong Kong and Macao with the mainland. In both cases, China has retained its sovereignty only in a normative sense. Over the Taiwan issue, it would be too naïve to expect China to give up its sovereignty. China has also made efforts to find a feasible way to retain its sovereignty in a normative sense. Taiwan is a member of the World Trade Organization (WTO). China has also begun to discuss a “proper” arrangement for Taiwan in the World Health Organization (WHO).58 And indeed, Taiwan became a part of the WHA (World Health Assembly) in 2009. In the economic realm, China has no difficulty “giving up” a part of its economic sovereignty. During the era of Mao Zedong, economic nationalism was the rule, and China built a closed and self-sufficient economic system. Since the reform and opening up, China has joined the WTO and all other major international organizations. Allen Carlson sees sweeping changes in China’s stance on economic sovereignty.59 According to Nicholas Lardy, by a number of measures China has transformed its economy from one of the most protected to perhaps the most open among emerging market economies in less than three decades.60 More importantly, in the developing world, China has played a pro-active role in defending free trade. In the realm of international affairs, China has appealed to the concept of sovereignty to defend its own interest as well as those of small states. In the past decade, attempts have been made to reinterpret the concept of sovereignty and new concepts such as “humanitarian intervention” proposed by the developed West to justify its interventions in small states. China has been caught between the West and the developing world. On the one hand, as mentioned earlier, China has realized from its own past experience that an international order requires a minimum degree of cultural (value) harmony, meaning that all states, be they great or small, have to conform to established international rules and norms. China herself has worked hard to meet such a minimum requirement. In this sense, Great Powers have to press these small states to conform to these rules and norms. This is especially important since China herself is already regarded as a member of the Great Power club and is expected to bear great international responsibility which matches the Great Power status. On the other hand, China has also realized

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that such rules and norms are often instrumental in Great Powers intervening in small states, and small states have the right to defend themselves from unjustified external intervention. Nevertheless, China has also tried hard to find a solution which differs from both its own feudal tradition with small states and the Western tradition of intervention. China has consistently and strongly opposed the Western tradition of economic sanction and military intervention towards small states. This is even true in the cases of North Korea, Myanmar and Sudan. The West often sees the necessity of humanitarian intervention and even military action against human rights violations in these countries. China has sided with these countries against any Western intervention in the UN structure. Meanwhile, China has actually pursued a “new intervention” policy in various ways such as economic linkages, diplomatic mediation and leadership connections, ways that are much softer than those by other Great Powers.61 China has great incentives to pursue a different approach. First of all, as has already been mentioned, there is the issue of sovereignty. China does not want to see Great Powers intervening in small states without justification. China herself has resisted intervention of other Great Powers in her own affairs – such as Taiwan, Tibet, Xinjiang and human rights. Second, from their past experience, the Chinese also know that hard intervention is not a long-term solution. China herself has experienced different sorts of economic sanction by foreign powers. Third, China is now a rising power, and its soft power lies in whether it is able to develop a different way in its relations with small states. The Chinese actually believe that they can achieve this goal. They know where the fault of the Western hard approach lies: without different forms of relation with a small state, a state will not be influenced; the only way is an external solution such as economic sanction and military intervention; however, if these hard approaches do not work out, confrontation becomes inevitable. The Chinese philosophy of guanxi (connections) is in an opposite position to these Western hard approaches. The Chinese believe that only by developing all kinds of relations with a small state can it influence that state. In this area, the Chinese indeed have rich experience from their tradition of the tributary system which, to a great degree, can be interpreted as a guanxi network between China and small states. Understandably, China has made great efforts in developing and deepening its relations with states like North Korea, Myanmar and Sudan, even in the face of serious criticisms from the West. The Chinese do realize that such approaches are not as effective as those by other Great Powers, but they know that soft intervention is a better solution. Globalization In the contemporary era, China appreciates globalization more than any other country. The Chinese find elements of convergence between globalization and Confucian universalism on the one hand, and between globalization and their own tradition of the tianxia, a hierarchical but open interstate system on the other hand. But more importantly, the Chinese perceive globalization as a mechanism of power relations. While China does not want to become a revolutionary force in

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the existing international order, it is rapidly rising. The Chinese realize that a rising power could become a revolutionary force in the existing international order. China must find a way to solve the contradiction between the maintenance of the existing order and its own rise. China therefore perceives globalization as a mechanism for its peaceful rise. As a matter of fact, when China stresses its intended peaceful rise, it puts much emphasis on globalization as the mechanism.62 Moreover, the Chinese also see that globalization, an important element embedded in the existing system, can help China expand its influence as a Great Power. With its rise, China’s influence is growing. But to exercise its influence, China needs mechanisms which are also acceptable to other powers. The Chinese see globalization as a dense global network in which states influence one another. The Chinese also believe that while the influence within this network is hierarchical, with Great Powers exercising more power than small states, the interactions between and among states will not be a zero-sum game; instead, it is a win-win situation. More importantly, the Chinese believe that globalization not only enables China to expand its external influence, at least in economic terms, in a peaceful manner, but also leads it to a new international order in a peaceful manner. Globalization has brought China and the international order together, and the two are now mutually transformative. Whilst China tries to reshape the world, the world also tries to reshape China. In other words, a new international order will not be imposed by any Great Powers or a group of powers, but by the interaction among all powers. After nearly three decades of reform and open-door policy, China is now an integral part of the world economy. A high degree of interdependence between China and the world economy means that China is now an important link in the entire chain of global capitalism. Many factors including the colossal size of its population, its developmental potential, and the speedy expansion of both demand and supply have enabled China to influence the world economy. To a great degree, China has reshaped the world economy in a short span of time. Some scholars would argue from a strategic perspective that the Chinese government has strategically expanded China’s external influence to establish a new international order that is in China’s interest. However, in reality, China’s expanding role in the world economy has been driven mainly by “invisible hands”’ (market forces), without a strategic plan on the part of the government. Of course, this does not mean that the “invisible hands” are without problems in the world market. Sometimes political interference becomes necessary. This is reflected in the massive efforts made by the Chinese leadership in its pursuance of a policy of “going global” (zou chuqu) in recent years.63 To become a global power, China certainly cannot rely on its economic power alone as many severe external constraints will have to be overcome by non-economic factors. China’s practice of “resource diplomacy” in recent years is a good example. The Chinese believe that if conflicts arise between China and other powers, it will be easier to solve them within this dense network than outside it. Internally, as discussed earlier, China is willing to reform its own system in order to be accommodated by the existing system. Indeed, China has made ever-greater efforts to rebuild the state system, meaning that China has been reshaped by the international order.64

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Multilateral regionalism Multilateral regionalism provides another important mechanism for China and the outside world to interact with, and transform, each other.65 Whilst multilateral regionalism and globalization often overlap, their strategic weights in China’s international relations are greatly different. To a large degree, multilateral regionalism is far more strategically significant than globalization to China. Ever since the reform and open-door policy, the Chinese leadership has placed much emphasis on improving China’s relations with its neighbors through multilateral regionalism. In practicing multilateral regionalism, China has actively learned from other powers without a standard model to follow. China’s path towards multilateralism has been characterized by “learning by doing.” What is important is that once China realized the advantages of multilateralism, it became active in organizing it. In the early days, China was reluctant to accept multilateralism but in recent years, China seems to have become a pro-active force in promoting it on the world stage. In doing so, China has met with success in some cases, but it has encountered great difficulty in others. This is especially true when it comes to practicing multilateral regionalism in Northeast Asia where China meets its two strong neighbors, namely Japan and Korea. China has made great efforts in becoming a responsible actor in initiating and sustaining the Six-Party Talks, measures which are undoubtedly conducive to advancing regionalism. However, there is nothing substantial or substantive in place in terms of a multilateral regional framework, orientation, or direction among China, Japan and South Korea. Moreover, regionalism in Northeast Asia seems to have been lost on the regional states, which are leaning toward forming an East Asian regionalism with Southeast Asian states. The absence of confidence and trust among regional states is a primary factor. Despite some concrete initiatives and progress, the region has not been able to overcome conventional impediments such as discrepancies in economic development, differences in social and political systems and ideology, and historical problems. China has been very cautious in organizing multilateral regionalism in this region. Certainly, it does not want to be seen as going back to the old tributary system, a concern which is visible among its neighbors, especially South Korea. When China acts, it has to take others’ interests, be they material or ideational, into account. To be realistic, no regionalism has been built without enormous difficulties. China, however, does have a good track record of promoting regionalism from scratch. One example is the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO).66 The SCO brings together China, Russia and Central Asian states for the first time in history in a multilateral mechanism of regional security, and economic and cultural cooperation. In the process of promoting the SCO, China has played a key role and served as a major driving force, and seems to have been greatly motivated in this case. While the initial goal of the SCO was to counter terrorism using the joint force of member states, the scope of the SCO has been rapidly expanded in recent years. With its rapid economic growth, and particularly with the further development of its western region and the country’s accelerating demand for energy, Central Asia is becoming strategically significant for China. The SCO has enabled China

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to develop ties – security, political, economic and cultural ties – with the region, providing it with an institutional means of playing an active and constructive role. Multilateral cooperation within the multilateral framework makes it possible for China to avoid friction with its neighbors whilst preserving and pursuing its own national interests. China has been cautious in driving the SCO process, since it does not want to dominate that process.67 The development of China-ASEAN relations is another case which demonstrates how China deals with multilateral regionalism in Asia. In contrast to both Northeast Asian regionalism and the SCO, ASEAN is already a highly institutionalized regional organization before China’s engagement. In this case, China’s strategy has been different; having chosen to join existing multilateral regional organizations, China gradually learned how to participate actively within them. This shows that a multilateral regional institution like ASEAN can shape the behavior of a big power like China, and how China is willing to work with small states toward effective multilateral regionalism in the region.68 Multilateralism, of course, is not limited to China’s neighbors. As discussed earlier, since the end of the Cold War, China has become increasingly active in international fora such as the United Nations, or WTO, and has shown clear willingness to join multilateral agreements in the wider area (non-proliferation, peacekeeping).69 Besides, China has actively participated in and organized multilateral organizations and forums with other regions and Great Powers such as the Six-Party Talks, China–EU summit, East Asian Summit, and APEC. As Johnston has demonstrated, China has been socialized by all kinds of multilateral organizations.70 It is also important to note that the Chinese believe that by practicing multilateralism, they can not only make a contribution to the existing international order, but also move that order to a new one which fits China’s ideal international order.

Conclusion In this chapter, I have attempted to explain China’s international behavior, based on my understanding of Wang Gungwu’s interpretation of the Chinese international order. It is worthwhile to emphasize the following points. First, to interpret China’s international behavior, it is important to develop a language which is able to perform this task. Ever since joining the modern world, China does not have its own language to interpret the world as well as itself. Scholars outside China also lack a proper language to explain China’s international behavior. Apparently, without a suitable language, it will continue to be difficult to interpret China’s international relations. A scientific language can only be developed based on our observations of China’s actual international behavior from a Chinese perspective. Scholars using theories that have grown out of Western experiences of international behavior will encounter problems understanding China. Second, while it is important to examine China’s behavior in international affairs, it is more important to ask why it behaves the way it does. Here the Chinese mind-set, mentality, and their perceptions of an ideal international order are important motivating factors. A world with a rising China is different from a

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world with a weak China. What role China plays and will play in the international order matters significantly. This requires one to look at the Chinese mind-set and the Chinese’s perceptions of the international order. As emphasized in this chapter, China has been a learning state since the beginning of the modern age. This is especially true during the era of the reform and open-door policy when China is living in the dense framework of international relations. Of course, China has learned tremendously from members of the international community, especially from Great Powers that China has admired. However, it is important to point out that China has also learned from its own past. China blamed its own tradition for the lack of dynamic changes. But now, with the rapid rise of China, the Chinese have become increasingly confident about their culture and tradition. Of course, this does not mean that China will go back to its feudal tradition of the tributary system. Though China was forced to give up such a feudal relationship in dealing with the outside world, it will not go back to the feudal tradition not only because the international system is strong enough to resist it, but also because China now has developed a new mind-set and a new ideal international order. In other words, the Chinese perceptions of the international order have been transformed and the new set of perceptions is a mixture of Western and Chinese experiences. That leads to the third point; that is, China will neither go back to its own tradition nor become another Western power. There is the Western-ness of China’s international relations and its Chineseness. As discussed throughout this chapter, China has accepted the rules and norms of the existing international order since it is in China’s interest to do so. The Chinese believe that the international order should be open to all states based on the principle of sovereignty. However, China is resistant to certain aspects of this system or certain behaviors which the Great Powers employ in their dealing with other states. The Chinese feel that some Western intervention methods such as economic sanctions and military intervention are not in their own tradition. Since giving up the tributary system, China has regarded the principle of sovereignty as the most powerful mechanism to protect itself as well as other states from unjustified interventions by Great Powers. Lastly, China and the international system are mutually transformative. The Chinese will not completely give up their own tradition as they can confidently draw on their tradition of external relations to guide their behavior in international affairs. They also believe that China can make a civilized contribution to the future international order. Therefore, while China has been socialized by the international system, it will also socialize other states within this system. Such a mutual socialization process will lead to a mutual transformation both of China and of the international system.

Notes 1 Wang Gungwu, ‘Nation and heritage’, in Bind Us in Time: Nation and civilization in Asia (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003),p. 37. 2 Wang Gungwu, China and Southeast Asia: Myths, threats and culture (Singapore and London: World Scientific and Singapore University Press, 1999), pp. 30–1. For

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the concern over China’s tributary system, see Eric Teo, ‘Asian security and the re-emergence of China’s tributary system’, China Brief, 4(18) (2006): 7–9. John K. Fairbank, ‘A preliminary framework’, in Fairbank, J. (ed.), The Chinese World Order: Traditional Chinese foreign relations (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1968), p. 2. Wang Gungwu, The Chinese Way: China’s position in international relations (Oslo: Scandinavian University Press, 1995), p. 56. Ibid., p. 58. Robert Gilpin, War and Change in World Politics (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1981), p. 29. Max Weber, Economy and Society: An outline of interpretive sociology, translated by Ephraim Fischoff et al. (Berkeley CA: University of California Press. 1978), p. 53. Robert Dahl, ‘The concept of power’, Behavioral Science, 2 (1957): 201–15, at 202–3. Steven Lukes, Power: A radical view (London: Macmillan, 1974), p. 30. Michel Foucault, ‘Afterword: The subject and power’, in Hubert Dreyfus and Paul Rabinow, Michel Foucault: Beyond structuralism and hermeneutics, 2nd ed. (Chicago IL: University of Chicago Press. 1983), p. 217. Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan (New York: Penguin, 1985 [1641]), p. 150. Hannah Arendt, On Violence (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1970), p. 44. Hanna Fenichel Pitkin, Wittgenstein and Justice: On the Significance of Ludwig Wittgenstein for social and political thought (Berkeley CA: University of California Press, 1976), p. 276. Steven Lukes, Power: A radical view, 2nd expanded ed. (London: Macmillan, 2005), p. 69. M. Philp, ‘Foucault on power: A problem in radical translation?’ Political Theory, 11(1) (1983): 34. Ibid.: 36 Bourdieu’s sociology is reflected in his massive writings. An incomplete list of his works in English include: P. Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1977); Bourdieu, Distinction: A social critique of the judgment of taste, translated by Richard Nice (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1984); Bourdieu, In Other Words: Essays toward a reflective sociology (Stanford CA: Stanford University Press, 1990); Bourdieu, Language and Symbolic Power (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press 1991); Bourdieu, An Invitation to Reflexive Sociology, with Loïc Wacquant (Chicago IL: University of Chicago Press, 1992); Bourdieu, Practical Reason: On the theory of action (Stanford CA: Stanford University Press, 1998); and Bourdieu, Acts of Resistance: Against the tyranny of the market (New York: New Press, 1999). The three forms of power relationship are similar to the three types of relationship identified by John Fairbank. These include a) control (military [wu] and administrative [li and fa]; b) manipulation (material interest [li] and diplomatic); and c) attraction (cultural and ideological [wen, de] and religious). According to Fairbank, these types of relation suggest ‘the principal repertoire of means available to rulers of the Chinese empire in their relations with non-Chinese. These means lie along a spectrum that runs from one extreme of military conquest and administrative assimilation (under control) to another extreme of complete nonintercourse and avoidance of contact’. See Fairbank, ‘A preliminary framework’, op. cit., pp. 12–3. It is worth noting that ‘another extreme of compete nonintercourse and avoidance of contact’ should not be included in these three types of relationship since these parties at this end do not belong to the same system. Richard Hartshorne, ‘The functional approach in political geography’, Annals of the Association of American Geographers, XL (2) (1950): 95–130. Fairbank, ‘A preliminary framework’, op. cit., p. 12. Joseph B. R. Whitney, China: Area, administration, and nation building, The University of Chicago, Department of Geography, Research Paper, no. 123 (1970), p. 30.

320 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45

46 47 48 49 50 51 52

53 54

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Zheng Yongnian Ibid., pp. 26–45. Wang Gungwu, The Chinese Way, op. cit., p. 52. Ibid., pp. 52–3. Ibid., p. 53. Fairbank, ‘A preliminary framework’, op. cit., p. 12. Ibid., p. 2. Wang, The Chinese Way, op. cit., p. 53. Ibid., p. 54. Ibid., p. 58. Fairbank, ‘A preliminary framework’, op. cit., p. 4. Ibid., p. 12. Wang Gungwu, China and Southeast Asia: Myths, threats and culture (Singapore and London: World Scientific and Singapore University Press, 1999), pp. 32–3. Ibid., p. 12. Ibid., p. 2. Ibid., p. 5. Ibid., p. 9. Ibid., p. 4. Wang, The Chinese Way, op. cit., pp. 45–6. Ibid., p. 69. Wang, China and Southeast Asia, op. cit., p. 33. Ibid., p. 34. David C. Kang, China Rising: Peace, power, and order in East Asia (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007). Xinhua News Agency (3 February 2009). For a review, see Yongnian Zheng and Sow Keat Tok, ‘Intentions on trial: “peaceful rise” and Sino-ASEAN relations’, in Guoguang Wu and Helen Lansdowne (eds), China Turns to Multilateralism: Foreign policy and regional security (London and New York: Routledge, 2008), pp. 175–97. Wang Gungwu, ‘China and the international order: Some historical perspectives’, in Wang Gungwu and Zheng Yongnian (eds), China and the New International Order (London and New York: Routledge, 2008), p. 30. Alastair Iain Johnston, Social States: China in international institutions, 1980–2000 (Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 2008). Wang, ‘China and the international order’, op. cit., p. 23. Ibid. Ibid., p. 28. Bates Gill and James Reilly, ‘Sovereignty, intervention and peacekeeping: The view from Beijing’, Survival, 42(3) (2000): 41–59. For the debate on multipolarity, see, for example, Yong Deng, ‘Hegemon on the offensive: Chinese perspectives of U.S. global strategy’, Political Science Quarterly, 116(3) (2001): 343–65; Qin Yaqing, ‘A response to Yong Deng: Power, perception and the cultural lens’, Asian Affairs: An American Review, 28(3) (2001): 155–9; and Yan Xuetong, ‘The new trend in the power configuration of the international system’, Beijing: Contemporary International Relations, 10 (2005): 5–7. Wang, ‘China and the international order’, op. cit., p. 28. Jin Canrong, ‘The US global strategy in the post-Cold War era and its implications for China–United States relations: A Chinese perspective’, Journal of Contemporary China, 10(27) (2001); Jia Qingguo, ‘Learning to live with the hegemon: Evolution of China’s policy toward the US since the end of the Cold War’, Journal of Contemporary China, 14(44) (2005); and Sheng Dingli, ‘The decline of the U.S. may not be a good thing’, Global Times, Beijing (19 December 2005). Wang Jisi, ‘China’s search for stability with America’, Foreign Affairs, 84(5) (2005): 39–48.

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62

63 64 65 66 67 68

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Wang, ‘China and the international order’, op. cit., p. 29. Fairbank, ‘A preliminary framework’, op. cit., pp. 1–2. The Xinhua News Agency (11 February 2009). Allen Carlson, Unifying China, Integrating with the World: Securing Chinese sovereignty in the reform era (Stanford CA: Stanford University Press, 2005), Chapter 6. N. Lardy, Integrating China into the World Economy (Brookings Institution, Washington DC, 2002). Thomas J. Christensen, ‘Will China become a “responsible stakeholder”? The Six Party talks, Taiwan arms sales, and Sino-Japanese relations’, Foreign Policy (Fall 2005); and Hak Yin Li and Yongnian Zheng, ‘Re-interpreting China’s non-intervention policy towards Myanmar: Leverage, interest and intervention’, Journal of Contemporary China, 18(61) (September 2009): 617–37. Zheng Bijian, ‘China’s “peaceful rise”’ to great power status’, Foreign Affairs, 84: 5 (2005), pp. 18–24. Also see, Zheng Bijian, Lun Zhongguo heping jueqi fazhan xin daolu [‘Peaceful rise: China’s new road to development’], (Beijing: Zhonggong zhongyang dangxiao chubanshe, 2005). Yongjin Zhang, China Goes Global (London: Foreign Policy Center, 2005); and Deng Ziliang and Zheng Yongnian, ‘China reshapes the world economy’, in Wang and Zheng (eds), China and the New International Order, op. cit., pp. 127–48. For example, Yongnian Zheng, Globalization and State Transformation in China (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004). Guoguang Wu and Helen Lansdowne (eds), China Turns to Multilateralism: Foreign policy and regional security (London and New York: Routledge, 2008). Thrass Marketos, China’s Energy Geopolitics: The Shanghai Cooperation Organization and Central Asia (London and New York: Routledge, 2008). Pan Guang, ‘China in the Shanghai Cooperation Organization’, in Wang and Zheng (eds), China and the New International Order, op. cit., pp. 237–55. Sheng Lijun, ‘China and ASEAN in Asian regional integration’, in Wang and Zheng (eds), China and the New International Order, op. cit., pp. 256–78. Also see John Wong, Zou Keyuan and Zeng Huaqun (eds), China-ASEAN Relations: Economic and legal dimensions (Singapore and London: World Scientific, 2006). Gerald Chan, China’s Compliance in Global Affairs: Trade, arms control, environmental protection, human rights (Singapore and London: World Scientific, 2006). Johnston, Social States, op. cit.

16 Wang Gungwu, the transnational, and research imagination Zhang Yongjin

Introduction The contribution that Wang Gungwu has made to the studies of Southeast Asian history and to the emerging field of research on the Chinese overseas has long been well acknowledged. A decade ago, Philip Kuhn called Wang Gungwu ‘the historian in his time’, who ‘filled the indispensable roles of authoritative historian, cultural intermediary, academic leader and teacher-mentor that the times and region required’ (Kuhn 2003: 27). More recently, Liu and Benton, in their assessment of the life and work of Wang Gungwu, noted that writing history was ‘his first and in many ways best love’ and argued that Wang’s work ‘ultimately shatters the Sino-centric (and colonial) view of Asian history and has created the conditions for ethnic Chinese studies to emerge as a field of scholarship in its own right’ (Liu and Benton 2004: 5). A prolific writer whose scholarship moves gracefully across disciplinary boundaries of humanities and social sciences, Wang has also made significant contribution to the studies of China’s international relations from both historical and contemporary perspectives.1 Such contributions seem to have been insufficiently noted and inadequately appreciated in the discipline of International Relations (IR), least of all in IR theories. This should not, perhaps, be surprising. With his characteristic humility and modesty, Wang has never made any claim to being an IR specialist or a theorist of any description. In addition, such contributions from Wang tend to be overshadowed by, and often interpreted (with good reason) as part of, his historical scholarship. In this chapter, I offer a different reading of Wang’s innovative and imaginative scholarship on Chinese overseas from the perspective of transnational studies in International Relations. Through a close, but also necessarily cursory, examination of Wang Gungwu’s ground-breaking studies of the Chinese overseas in terms of transnational flows of people, ideas, goods and capital – all four of these aspects have been investigated in different ways and with varied intensity in Wang’s scholarship – I look at how Wang Gungwu’s transnational imagination has opened up an unconventional area of research in IR – transnational migration cum global diasporic Chinese ventures. In tracing the evolution of the scholarship of transnational studies in International Relations, I argue that Wang Gungwu is one of the pioneers who opened for us the transnational as a field of research in his own way. His creative research is substantially different from, but ultimately

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complementary to, the studies of transnational relations initiated innovatively by Joseph Nye, Robert Keohane and Susan Strange in the 1970s, and of transnational advocacy networks initiated by Kathryn Sikkink and Margaret Keck, among others, in the 1990s. As an exemplar scholar, Wang Gungwu remains inspirational precisely because, I argue, research imagination and imaginative research are what we badly need today to bridge the chasm between China studies and IR theories. Chinese experiences should be brought to bear on the theorization of International Relations not as, to borrow from Appadurai (2005: 5), ‘simply producers of data for the theory mills of the North’. China and the Chinese world should become the subjects, not just the objects, of knowledge of IR.

The transnational and the theorization of international relations At the beginning of the twenty-first century, Thomas Friedman’s celebrated catch-phrase ‘the world is flat’ (Friedman 2005) symbolically captures the essence of the transformation of the world brought about by the compression of time and space and the facilitated movement of capital, people, knowledge and ideas as well as weapons, toxins, crimes and drugs across national and international boundaries. It instils a sense of increasing obsolescence of territorial space, territorial distances and territorial borders as the defining features of the social space of international life. Over the last decade or so, ‘transnational’, next to ‘global’, has enjoyed a kind of explosion in popularity in the discourses related to our changing international life. This is true in the vernacular discussions in everyday reports in the newspapers, over the cyberspace and through all other media-scope. Take for example transnational cinema. It is also true of the academic debates about the future of global politics and economy as well as policy discourse concerning a whole range of new challenges that threaten humanity as a whole and confront sub-national, national, transnational and global actors alike. These range from climate change, global environmental degradation, transnational crimes (especially terrorism) to intensified transnational migration, emerging global civil society and transnational social movements more broadly. The transnational has become so entrenched in such discourses in recent years largely because of the excitement, and anxieties, evoked by the phenomena and developments associated with it. For the enthusiasts, the emerging transnational civil society may provide a basis for an alternative world order (Cox 1999). It seems to have already exerted considerable transformative impact on our conception of global norms and global justice. The advance of human-rights norms in global politics is a case in point. The transnational as part of contentious politics provides exciting research opportunities to understand the global social, economic and political changes (Tarrow 2001). For those more sensitive to the ‘dark side’ of the transnational, it is undoubtedly a source of anxiety. Al Quaeda, a phantom of global terrorist organizations operating transnationally, and the 11/9 attacks it launched in 2001, have fundamentally changed our sense of security. Terrorist attacks since, which seem to have followed the pattern of having been conceived,

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planned and launched across national borders, have even caused serious anxieties about the effectiveness of the traditional intelligence paradigm that the CIA has followed in its operations (George 2007). In a similar vein, Ronald Noble, the INTERPOL Secretary-General, in a recent speech at New York University, pointedly asked whether INTERPOL is prepared for ‘confronting the terrorist and transnational crime challenges of the 21st century’ (Noble 2009). The current global financial crisis makes unregulated and unsupervised transnational capital flow another source of anxiety. We are also increasingly conscious of and worried about such transnational threats as epidemics, proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, and human trafficking. The intellectual challenges that the transnational presents cannot be dismissed lightly, even by skeptics. Although what we call ‘transnational’ may be nothing new, and although the transnational has to operate, in the last analysis, within the parameters and constraints set up by states and international institutions, the possibility that such activities might transform political, economic and social communities as we know them has to be confronted urgently and with imagination. It is perhaps not surprising that transnationalism, a derivative of the transnational, has gained particular currency in recent academic discourse. Shelley Fisher Fishkin asserted, in her 2004 presidential address at the American Studies Association (ASA), that there was a ‘transnational turn in American studies’. Further, rather than being a passing fad, transnationalism is a force that transforms the field of American studies into ‘a place where diasporic imaginations are valued for the dazzlingly hybrid syntheses they produce; a place where the term “American” is understood in its broadest hemispheric sense’ (Fishkin 2004: 26). She also claimed that studies of the transnational shed new light on familiar cultural phenomena and have transformative impact (ibid.). The transnationalist moment seems to have arrived with a vengeance,2 so much so that ‘one hesitates to be left standing in the station when the train is obviously departing’ (Waldinger and Fitzgerald 2004: 1181).3 A note of caution is necessary here. The rapid rise in popular use of such a term as an analytical tool has its own problems. As far as academic research is concerned, there are still considerable disagreements in respect of the definition of transnationalism, which has been used to refer to a whole range of varied phenomena of border-crossing activities in different disciplines and in inter-disciplinary research. For some critics, the term has become embarrassingly all-inclusive and it is increasingly characterized by entrenched conceptual muddling, as ‘transnational’ and ‘global’ are often used interchangeably. To the extent that the transnational has made any impact on the fresh attempts at theorizing of IR in the twenty-first century, it needs to be evaluated against the background of what I would call ‘the transnational intervention’ in the historical evolution of disciplinary IR. It is well acknowledged today that studies of transnational flow of goods, capital, ideas and people constitute a critical and integral part of the expanding IR scholarship. Research on transnational corporations, transnational social movements, and more recently transnational migration, which has been increasingly integrated into the emerging field of global studies, has become

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indispensable in constructing international theory. However, such disciplinary development owes much to three significant ‘waves’ of transnational intervention in theorizing about IR since the late 1960s. Until the late 1960s, the discipline of IR remained largely unconcerned about economics or its links with world politics. The first wave of the ‘transnational intervention’ started when an intellectual opening appeared as a result of a series of developments that ‘brought political salience to international economic issues: the revival of the European and Japanese economies, inflationary pressures in the United States, the abandonment of the Bretton Woods in 1971, and the OPEC oil embargo in 1973–74’ (Katzenstein et al. 1998: 655). Starting in the late 1960s, writings by Richard Cooper, Robert Keohane, Joseph Nye and Susan Strange, among others, introduced such key concepts as economic interdependence, multinational enterprises, transnational corporations, politics of international economic relations, non-state actors, and transnational relations into the then narrowly conceived domain of international politics. The implications of transnational relations for the state autonomy, tensions between integrating forces of the world economy and the political fragmentation of the international system, and contentious interactions between markets and states began to capture the imagination of IR scholars. When Keohane and Nye’s seminal work Power and Interdependence: World politics in transition was published in 1977, international political economy (IPE) as a subfield of IR was firmly established as part of liberal challenges to the state-centric theories of Realism in the 1970s. In many ways, this transnational intervention coincided with, and constituted an integral part of, the rise of Neoliberal Institutionalism, one of the two predominant contending theoretical paradigms in IR in the 1980s (Katzenstein et al., 1998; Gilpin 2001). One could therefore argue with good reason that the transnational intervention in the 1970s had dual achievements: it ushered in a new field of research with exciting specific research programmes, which filled an intellectual vacuum. And it made a significant contribution to the emergence of Neoliberal Institutionalism as a creative attempt at theorizing IR. Over the next twenty years, this was, however, also where its limitations lay. Not only was the research agenda of the transnational fixated largely on transnational flow of goods, capital and services – i.e. on transnational economic relations – but also, as Sidney Tarrow stated, it was ‘difficult for students of transnational politics to assess the role of states without looking over their shoulders at the realists’, since Realism remained ‘the stated or unstated target of much of the field of transnational politics’ (Tarrow 2001: 8). The obsessive contestations between Neorealism and Neoliberal Institutionalism, particularly in the 1980s, restricted, perhaps inadvertently, our visions of what world politics was and can be. It is the Constructivist turn in the theorization of IR that instigated, in the 1990s, what I regard as the second wave of the transnational intervention. It is no coincidence that this turn should have been made in the wake of a systemic transformation of international relations symbolized by the end of the Cold War. For the disciplinary IR, the end of the Cold War is emancipatory, as it exposed a number of intellectual traps perpetuated by the Cold War, creating intellectual openings

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and institutional opportunities for the discipline to break the narrow confines of war and peace and to go further beyond relations between nations and states. Freed from the assumptions and axioms of the Cold War, the discipline’s enquiries have been returned to more fundamental concerns about improving human conditions and about ethics of our international life. In this context, the Constructivist research programmes and projects sought to open up the narrow theoretical boundaries to a variety of issues, subjectivities and identities and to return the social, the historical and the normative to the centre stage of the disciplinary debates. It is in the Constructivist attempts to understand and to explain dynamic changes in global norms and normative dynamics of domestic and global change that the transnational intervention takes on a significantly different meaning from the first wave. It has directed the disciplinary attention to transnational organizing and transnational activism that deals with such political and humanitarian issues as refugees, violence against women and children, and human rights. One of the most influential works in this regard, an exemplar one, is Activists Beyond Borders: Advocacy Networks in International Politics, edited by Margaret Beck and Kathryn Sikkink and published in 1998. Focusing on the essential role of what they call ‘transnational advocacy networks’,4 Keck, Sikkink and their collaborators set out to show how human rights norms can be constructed, and how this can produce and has produced real and valuable changes in states’ behaviour in the area of human rights. Though lacking material power, transnational advocacy networks, they argued, have brought about those changes through such strategies as persuasion and socialization, which are designed to ‘condition the normative environment in which states act, clarifying and promoting international norms and exposing the dissonance between standards and state conduct’ (Reus-smit 2002: 500). This exploration of transnational flow and diffusion of ideas through transnational activism and transnational networks and its impact on normative changes in global politics were both preceded and followed by a number of influential works by other Constructivist scholars.5 The transnational intervention instigated by Constructionist scholars is meaningful, facilitating a general ‘normative turn’ in IR theory. But it is necessarily narrowly confined. A more momentous and consequential transnational intervention, the third wave, came when the transnational in IR scholarship began to be integrated with the growing field of contentious politics symbolized by international protest movements against global international economic institutions; for example, the ‘Battle of Seattle’ (Tarrow 2001). With the emergence of global civil society, the proliferation of transnational non-governmental organizations, the prominence of transnational social movements and intensified transnational migration as part of the globalization process,6 ‘transnationalization’ of world politics is happening in terms of issues, policies and goals and in seeking global justice and non-territorial governance. This new transnationalism, as a fresh research paradigm in global politics, sees high analytical stakes in its research as an attempt to understand how a variety of transnational actors, old and new, engage in sustained contentious interaction with states, multinational corporations, and/or international institutions, sometimes in temporary alliance and sometimes in perpetual conflicts and how such interactions reshape global politics.

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Though still unfolding, this third wave of the transnational intervention has already shaken up the research agenda of IR and global politics. It holds great promise for opening up exciting avenues of conversation between IR theories and transnational phenomena previously neglected by IR scholars. Its broad and ambitious research agenda on contentious transnational politics contains a significant thrust in examining transnational migration as both a historical phenomenon and a twenty-first-century development and its varied impact on world politics.7

Wang Gungwu’s imagined regions and worlds How, then, can we evaluate Wang Gungwu’s scholarship against the background of this intriguing evolution of transnational interventions in the disciplinary IR in both their historical and contemporary manifestations? In what sense has Wang dealt with the transnational as we understand it? Where does Wang Gungwu stand in relation to, say, Robert Keohane and Joseph Nye, who are universally regarded as pioneers in the field of translational relations and whose work opened up exciting research opportunities? What are the ‘conditions’ created by Wang’s research ‘for ethnic Chinese studies to emerge as a field of scholarship in its own right’? The single most important claim, if there should be one, that I am making in this chapter is that Wang Gungwu should be counted as one of the pioneers in carving out the transnational as an imaginative area of interdisciplinary research. This is not only because Wang Gungwu started to work on what we today call the transnational well before the word was even invented in academic IR. One of his earliest works, The Nanhai Trade, which ‘recounts how a bureaucratic-agrarian civilization groped tentatively towards the maritime world’ (Kuhn 2003: 13) was published half a century ago. It is also because looking through the lens of transnational studies, it is not difficult to see that the corpus of Wang’s writings in the last fifty years has an identifiable focus of attention on the transnational flow of Chinese people in Nanyang (literally Southern Ocean, denoting part of Southeast Asia today) as well as transnational flow of goods, capital and ideas associated with it. This is a transnational phenomenon with a significant twist and with its own dynamics and characteristics. Wang’s indisputable contribution to this field has been conventionally seen, in the first instance, as having moved the studies of such transnational activities from the periphery of historiography of Chinese overseas and Southeast Asia to its mainstream. It has also been seen, more recently, as helping the study of the Chinese overseas and global Chinese diasporic ventures to gain increasing recognition as an emerging field of research of its own right, and a subject increasingly incorporated into the studies of transnational migration as a global phenomenon. The establishment of the Centre for the Study of the Chinese Southern Diaspora at the Australian National University, and the publication of Lyn Pann’s The Encyclopedia of the Chinese Overseas by Harvard University Press, both in 1999, stand as testimony to Wang Gungwu’s influence in promoting the growth of the field both as an enterprising scholar and as an intellectual entrepreneur. This conception of the transnational is clearly different from that of Keohane, Nye, Strange and more generally of those scholars working in the sub-field of

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International Political Economy. Until very recently, when transnational migration and the study of diaspora were brought to the attention of the disciplinary IR, these lay well beyond the transnational as conceived in IR theories. Yet, it is here that we see Wang Gungwu’s pioneering contribution. Such contribution is pioneering not so much because it proved to be prophetic of the evolution of the studies of the transnational in the global epistemic communities, but because it had opened up, well before IPE was ushered in, a new field of research of the transnational, which continues to provide payoffs that contemporary researchers can pick up and profit from in their endeavours. To fully understand Wang’s outstanding contribution to the studies of the transnational, we need to, I suggest, cultivate the vantage of hindsight and have a critical re-reading of, and consequently a different take on, Wang’s pioneering scholarship in the studies of transnational flow of the Chinese overseas. What is then my particular ‘take’ in this regard? In a critical essay on grassroots globalization first published in 2001, Arjun Appadurai (2005) made a number of trenchant criticisms of area studies, especially as it had been configured in the United States. One point merits particular attention in our discussion here. ‘The trouble with much of the paradigm of area studies as it now exists,’ he noted, ‘is that it has tended to mistake a particular configuration of apparent stabilities for permanent associations between space, territory, and cultural organization.’ Appadurai was particularly critical of ‘a recent cartography of large civilizational landmasses associated with different relationship to “Europe” (itself a complex historical and cultural emergent), and a Cold War-based geography of fear and competition in which the study of world languages and regions in the United States was legislatively configured for security purposes into a reified map of geographical regions’. He argued for the need of ‘an architecture for area studies that is based on process geographies and sees significant areas of human organization as precipitates of various kinds of action, interaction, and motion – trade, travel, pilgrimage, warfare, proselytization, colonization, exile, and the like’. He reminded us that ‘the large regions that dominate our map for area studies are not permanent geographic facts. They are problematic heuristic devices for the study of global geographic and cultural processes.’ He asserted that ‘the capability to imagine regions and worlds is now itself a globalised phenomenon. That is, due to the activities of migrants, media, capital, tourism, and so forth the means for imagining areas is now itself globally widely distributed’ (Appadurai 2005: 7–8). Reading Wang’s scholarship in the light of such critical wisdom, it is not difficult to see that Wang’s imaginative research has constantly challenged the reified geographical regions and those apparent stabilities associated with them. In mounting such challenges, Wang has suggested new regional artifacts and constructs as a heuristic device for the study of transnational cultural, social and economic processes. Most importantly, Wang’s research has engaged in and promoted a critical dialogue between different world images, ‘a sort of a dialectic of areas and regions, built on the axiom that areas are not facts but artifacts of our interests and our fantasies as well as of our needs to know, to remember, and to forget’

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(Appadurai 2005: 9). This has been most cogently done in Wang’s uncompromising exploration of Chinese worlds and regions in Southeast Asia and in extending such exploration in the study of the constructed Chinese World globally. Central to Wang’s creative and pioneering scholarship is his capability to imagine regions and worlds as the transnational social spaces dominated by the Chinese overseas. The key question then becomes, how in Wang’s imagination, to paraphrase Appadurai, does the Chinese World, as produced globally, look – as a congeries of regions – from various other locations, social, cultural and national? In ‘Mixing memory and desire: Tracking the migrant cycles’, a keynote speech delivered to the 2003 conference of the World Confederation of Institutes and Libraries for Chinese Overseas Studies, Wang started with a few lines of T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land and then went on to note that [t]he words I want to stress are memory and desire. The words capture my own mood, wishing to recall what has been done for the Chinese who had left home, and to understand the kinds of desires, dreams, hopes, longings these sojourners had, especially those for security, wealth and adventure, once they were away from China. (Wang 2003a) This short paragraph provides us with important clues as to the major concerns of Wang’s scholarship and humanism. It reveals the central puzzle that Wang has been grappling with in his fifty years’ quest for understanding what drives the Chinese overseas in their search for security, prosperity, and fulfilment. Indeed, it is Wang’s humanist concerns and passion that have heavily influenced his research imagination. It is his examination of desires, dreams, hopes and longings as well as sorrows, sufferings, predicaments, and trials and tribulations of those Chinese people who left and stayed away from China that constitutes the core of Wang’s scholarship on the study of the Chinese overseas. Wang’s imagined Chinese regions and worlds are rich, complex and subtle constructs occupying transnational spaces. It would be impossible to capture all the richness, complexities and subtleties of those constructs in the short space of this chapter. By way of illustration, several features and attributes are particularly worth noting. In the first place, these regions and worlds have been constructed by the Chinese overseas through their transnational activities ‘among non-Chinese’, since ‘for most Chinese abroad, it is the non-Chinese environment that impinges on their lives most directly’ (Wang 1991a: 136). More specifically, it is through trading with non-Chinese, working with non-Chinese, studying with non-Chinese, and living with non-Chinese that Chinese communities and the image of Chinese worlds in their respective locations have been formulated and shaped. These are among ‘some common strands that continue to run through the story of the Chinese outside China’ (ibid.: 153). Elsewhere, Wang suggested a set of core and common values that bind Chinese people together and are shared by Chinese people both within and outside China. These include respect for education and meritocracy; hard work and thrift, and loyalty to family and networks (Kuhn 2003: 22).

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Second, different areal worlds of the Chinese overseas have been produced because of varying historical experiences. To start with, there have been four patterns of Chinese migration in historical perspective, namely, the trader pattern, the coolie pattern, the sojourner pattern and the descent or re-migrant pattern (Wang 1989). ‘Many variables are involved in the formation of Chinese communities overseas,’ he further contended, and many ‘unpredictable elements’ need ‘to be taken into account’ (Wang 2000: 116). For example, those ‘merchants without empires’ – the Southern Fujianese [Hokkien] sojourning communities in Southeast Asia before the nineteenth century – had different cultural, social and life experience from those Chinese coolie workers who found themselves in the West Coast of the United States and in Australasia at the turn of the twentieth century. ‘Fresh migrations’ (Wang 2000: 103–6) – be they ‘a small exodus of talented and educated Chinese’ after 1949, or re-migrants of Southeast Asian huayi to North America and Australasia since the 1960s, or hundreds of thousands of Chinese students and scholars who left China to engage in their academic pursuit after 1978 and choose not to return – are again different from earlier generations of Chinese migrants. Some of these areal worlds have not only been moulded by the European colonial rule – the British, the Dutch and the French, and the Spanish – and post-colonial transformations, but have survived and flourished under the conditions where ethnic differences have been intensely politicized. Others have encountered ‘tolerant multiculturalism that has overspread North America, Australasia and parts of Europe since the 1970s’ (Kuhn 2003: 21). Careful differentiation between huanren, huanqiao, and huayi as self-identifications for different groups of Chinese overseas and Wang’s reluctance to use ‘Chinese diaspora’ as a generic and all-inclusive term highlight his sensitivity to the existence of many different areal worlds constructed and occupied by the Chinese overseas. ‘There is no single Chinese diaspora,’ he declared in 1999, ‘but many Chinese diasporas’ (Wang 2004a: 170).8 It is precisely such diversity that underlines also the fluidity, complexity and dynamics of the construction and constitution of the Chinese areal worlds as well as their resilience, and constant renewal and rejuvenation. Third, and closely related to the question of different constructs of areal worlds of the Chinese overseas, is the troublesome and controversial subject of Chinese identities outside China, framed sometimes as the content of ‘Chineseness’. In a perceptive essay, Wang reminded us that The perspectives on how to be Chinese, how to remain Chinese, how to become Chinese or how to lose one’s Chineseness vary greatly between regions, and even within each region. There are also other perspectives, from Sydney, London, Paris, Tokyo, Calcutta, Lima, Mauritius, Fiji, Tahiti, or the West Indies, where an even great variety can be found. (Wang 1991a: 153) Two insightful observations made by Philip Kuhn in an elegant assessment of Wang’s scholarship afford us more understanding Wang’s views of the question of the Chinese identity outside China, particularly given the intense conflict between

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political loyalty and cultural belonging. First, it is the idea that the Chinese identities are contextual and situational. Not only has the Chinese identity ‘begun to lose its hard boundary’ in the process of trading, working, living and studying with non-Chinese, ‘but intensive contact with non-Chinese is making it more situational and more personal’ (Kuhn 2003: 21). And second, it is the idea of autonomy as ‘the multicultural quest’ for the Chinese overseas, which Wang elaborated in his 1997 Edwin O. Reischauer Lectures at Harvard (Wang 2000). Autonomy here, in Kuhn’s interpretation, ‘involves migrants’ freedom from pressure by China to be politically loyal and financially responsive to China’s needs; as well as freedom to remain “Chinese” in some way, to some degree and form some period, according to individual choice’. Put in more forceful terms, it means ‘the freedom to be as Chinese as one wants, without feeling coerced either by zealots to be more so, or by bigots to be less so’ (Kuhn 2003: 21). Indeed, as Wang observed towards the end of his Edwin O. Reischauer Lectures, ‘the evidence of history is that overseas Chinese communities have always sought as much cultural autonomy as they could get wherever they have gone’. By the same token, the only prediction he was prepared to make, he stated, was that ‘there will always be some ethnic Chinese who will press for the autonomy they need in order to remain culturally Chinese as long as possible’ (Wang 2000: 116–17). The above discussions raise the crucial question about the relationship between China – either as a civilization or as a state – and the Chinese overseas. This is the fourth point to note in Wang’s imagined regions and worlds that are Chinese. Wang seems to be quite unequivocal about this. While he noted that ‘there are many levels and dimensions in the subtle and uncertain relationship between China and its wandering people’, he was firm that in his research he has never ‘accepted China’s view that China alone has the capacity to give the overseas Chinese what they need in order to remain Chinese’ (Wang 2004a: 163). Accordingly, he has urged that ‘the Chinese overseas be studied in the context of their respective national environment, and taken out of a dominant China reference point’ (ibid.: 157). Further, if he does not unreservedly concur with Tu Wei-ming’s articulation of Chineseness, he seems to share with him at least the following. First, the ubiquitous presence of China as a civilizational state ‘continues to loom large in the psychocultural constructs of diaspora Chinese’ (Tu 1991: 16). And second, the centre, i.e. Mainland China, may ‘no longer have the ability, insight or legitimate authority to dictate the agenda for cultural China. On the contrary, the transformative potential of the periphery is so great that it seems inevitable that it will significantly shape the intellectual discourse on cultural China for years to come’ (ibid.: 27–8).9 In such conception of the Chinese World as a global phenomenon, Mainland China becomes one of many regions in that world, and a localized one at that.10 One particular challenge, nevertheless remains, as Wang bluntly asked, If it is not to the existing regime in China that the Chinese abroad owe loyalty today, how would idealized images and symbols of China’s past glories stand up to the challenge offered by the more open and modern cultural, social

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One is tempted at this stage to compare Wang’s imagined worlds with Benedict Anderson’s imagined communities and Edward Said’s imaginative geographies.12 There is, however, a vital difference. Wang’s research imagination, as briefly discussed above, is much more personal. As a living transnational Chinese, he has been living passionately in these imagined worlds at the same time that he has been engaged in dispassionate studies of this phenomenon by exercising his research imagination. His scholarship on the transnational, it seems, is almost accidental. As he reflected in a kind of semi-biographical mode in 1999, ‘Between sojourning and settling in one place, I discovered that being Chinese was not a handicap but an anchor,’ but ‘I did not set out to study the Chinese overseas. My interest was always in Chinese history’ (Wang 2004a: 160–2). Only by moving to Australia could he engage in research on topics that ‘were bedeviled the long-term and deeply ingrained misunderstanding’ in the Malaysia of the 1960s (Kuhn 2003: 15). It was only in Australia that, in Wang’s own words, I could now study both China and the Chinese communities outside. And because of that, the interplay between China’s view of those communities and the view of themselves by the Chinese outside was never far from my mind. This interplay has guided my main writings till this day. (Wang 2004a: 163) How much Wang’s personal and political circumstances and his life experience have influenced his research imagination is a subject of speculation and debate. We may, however, gain some understanding from his suggestion that whereas paradigm shifts in social sciences in the West are likely to come from ‘academic and intellectual activity’, in Asia they are ‘more situational, much more influenced by contemporary political and economic developments’ (Wang, quoted in Benton and Liu (2004: 4)).

The transnational in Wang Gungwu’s imaginative research Research is ‘a practice of the imagination’ (Appadurai 2005: 9). The transnational in Wang’s imaginative research is rich and pervasive. Many detailed studies have been conducted to explore, critique and engage in Wang’s wide-ranging scholarship on the Chinese overseas. In the discussions that follow, I will restrict myself to outlining, in broad brush, three themes that I believe Wang’s transnational imagination has been intensively and productively engaged in and of which further investigation will yield new research opportunities, contributing to the research agenda of the studies of transnational migration as an emerging field of global scholarship. The three themes are the transnational as history, the transnational as cross-culture and the transnational as political economy.

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The transnational as history Wang is first and foremost a historian. Writing history is ‘his first and in many ways best love’. It is in his passionate (re)search to understand desires, dreams, hopes, longings of the Chinese overseas for security, prosperity and fulfilment that we find how and where his historical imagination meets with his transnational imagination. From his publication of The Nanhai Trade half a century ago, through to the publication of ‘“Public” and “private” overseas trade in Chinese history’ (1970), ‘Patterns of Chinese migration in historical perspective’ (1989), ‘Merchants without Empires: Hokkien sojourners communities in Southeast Asia’ (1990) and to his 1997 Edwin O. Reischauer Lectures at Harvard published in 2000 as The Chinese Overseas: From earthbound China to the quest for autonomy, the history that Wang has explored is in every way transnational in a contemporary sense, whether it is about trade, sojourning, or migration. There is one clear and consistent message that he has hammered out and tried to convey: the transnational movement of goods, capital, people and ideas is not new to the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. It is constitutive of history. In one moment of historical musing, Wang observed that during the Tang Dynasty (618–907), ‘[m]any Buddhist priests and scholars left China for India, some never returned, including those who chose to reside in religious centers in Southeast Asia itself’. ‘I am tempted,’ he continued, ‘to compare some of them to modern Chinese students who travel to the West in search of Truth and never return’ (Wang 2000: 10). In another such moment, he likened the Ming loyalists fleeing the Manchu rule to Southeast Asia in the seventeenth century to the KMT supporters fleeing the Communist rule in the twentieth. In his words, The fall of Ming and the loyalist cause that is produced after 1644 may be compared to the exodus of the Nationalist supports from the Mainland after 1949. While the political and ideological positions were quite different, the seaward sweep to the coast and the islands, to Taiwan, and then across the sea was similar. (Wang 2000: 33) In reflecting on the Pax Mongolica which prevailed during the Yuan Dynasty in the thirteenth century, Wang quoted a Chinese source directly to tell us that ‘China’s traders who go forth among the different courts and various territories travel as if between prefectures of the East and the West’ (Wang 2000: 18). Where Wang’s transnational imagination and historical imagination meet, the transnational is deeply historical. Noting Wang’s scepticism about the image of a ‘global village’,13 Kuhn rightly observed that in Wang’s work, the global scope ‘was already limned by the Hokkien merchants of the seventeenth century and by the colonialists with whom they collaborated’. He then went on to claim that ‘Indeed, all his earlier work could be said to constitute a powerful qualification of the idea that a “global” world civilization is the product of the past several decades’ (Kuhn 2003: 25).

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The transnational as cross-culture The transnational as cross-culture is an idea that Wang touched upon in one of his earliest publications, The Nanhai Trade (1959). Merchants – Chinese and foreign – in the Nanhai trade in the period of over a millennium after 221 BC, he contended, were not just ‘carriers’ of goods, but also ‘carriers’ of ideas and culture. While noting, not without regret, that the Chinese cultural impact and influence on the Nanhai region through trade in this period was ‘negligible’, he did give a list of ‘cultural imports’ to China via the Nanhai region, which includes ‘ancient Fu-nan music, Buddhist ideas of arts and rituals, Arab navigation skill, and even the religion of Islam’. Such one-way traffic seems to him a historical aberration. In a retrospectively foretelling mood, he stated that ‘[i]t remained for the merchant, whether he be Chinese or Southeast Asian, to raise the Nanhai trade above the level of the mere exchange of goods and make it the basis for a more lasting intercourse of ideas’ (Wang 1959: 116–17). Three other themes concerning the transnational as cross-cultural also emerge from Wang’s writings. The first is encountering. ‘Among non-Chinese’ is probably the most expressive term of the cultural encountering that the Chinese overseas experience globally and daily. In Southeast Asia, Wang suggested, such encountering is found in ‘interactions with many varieties of indigenous Southeast Asians, different kinds of Europeans and Euroasians, with other Asian migrants and sojourners such as the Indians, the Japanese, the Jews, and various kinds of Muslims’ (Wang 2000: 75). Such encountering, therefore, confronts the Chinese overseas, both as individuals and as a community, with challenges of constructing as well as preserving their new identities, which involves resisting cultural integration and assimilation imposed by their host country and resinicization attempted by China, either by design or by default. It thus raises the questions of, in Wang’s words, ‘cultural maintenance’ and ‘cultural autonomy’, particularly but not exclusively for the local-born Chinese (Wang 2000). The second is abrogating and appropriating. Cross-cultural encountering naturally creates ‘cross-cultural spaces’. Negotiating in such spaces inevitably engages in the simultaneous processes of abrogation and appropriation of cultural values and practices, which shape identity. Here Wang used the concept of ‘cultural amalgam’ to describe the outcome of such processes of abrogation and appropriation. Two examples will suffice. In commenting on the sojourners’ struggle in reconciling their political loyalty and cultural identity, Wang remarked that ‘[i]ndividuals sought, and sometimes found, their own cultural amalgam in which they could lodge a Chinese ethnic loyalty’ (Wang 2000: 76). In a more specific elaboration, he gave much more content to what he means by ‘cultural amalgam’ through abrogation and appropriation. In his words, The modern bourgeois identity, legal protection of rights and property, educational opportunities, and upward social mobility in free and secular societies are some of the ideals and values which huayi remigrants from Southeast Asia to the West have acquired during the past few decades. These seem to have

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been the same qualities that the huaqiao from Hong Kong, Taiwan, and China also sought in the West. (Wang 1991: 152) Finally, there is the question of enriching. I have here in my mind a picture of how cross-cultural encountering enriches the multicultural environment in which the Chinese overseas have found themselves. In the cross-cultural spaces, it should be remembered, abrogating and appropriating go both ways. Many ‘new breed Chinese,’ Wang suggested, ‘found their own cultural amalgam or niche where they could assert their own identity’. ‘The internationally acclaimed works of ethnic Chinese novelists, playwrights, musicians and film-makers in North America,’ he continued, ‘have symbolized this success’ (Wang 2000: 97). Here, the successful cultural transfer from cultural China to American culture and society is implicitly suggested, not clearly stated. Indeed, this is an area that Wang seems not to have elaborated as much as the cultural encountering, abrogating and appropriating. This deficit is fortunately addressed, in part and in a different fashion, by another historian, Warren I. Cohen, in his Edwin O. Reischauer Lectures delivered in 2000, three years after Wang delivered his. In The Asian American Century, Cohen elaborates his views of ‘the Americanization of East Asia’ and ‘the Asianization of America’ in historical perspective and concludes that As we begin the twenty-first century, the United States, its people, and their culture cannot be considered products exclusively of Western civilization. The extensive – and intensive – contact with East Asia in the previous hundred or so years has changed American dramatically.14 (Cohen 2002: 126)

The transnational as political economy The transnational as political economy is naturally a major subject matter of Wang’s scholarship, for two reasons. One is the importance of maritime China in Wang’s research imagination vis-à-vis the historical transformation of China’s continental mindset and the close historical association of maritime China with transregional and transnational trade. ‘The South China Sea (Nanhai),’ he stated in the Nanhai Trade, was ‘the second Silk Route’, and ‘the main route of what may be called the East-West trade in commodities and ideas’ (Wang 1959: 6). This pioneering work was followed in his historiography of political economy by investigations of the ‘public’ and ‘private’ overseas trade in Chinese history in Nanyang, the Zhenghe naval expeditions and the defensive tributary system, and the Nanyang merchant networks. Particularly worth mentioning is perhaps his study of the Hokkien sojourning communities in Southeast Asia as ‘participants, even supporting agents’ in the European merchant empires – the Portuguese, the Spanish and the Dutch – in the region in the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries (Wang 1990).

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The other reason is his practical concern about the Nanyang Chinese. It is, after all, Chinese merchants who kept opening up and extending China’s maritime frontiers in the South. It is a particular cluster of these merchants that was the formative group of the Nanyang Chinese, as ‘for the ordinary Chinese, trade would have been the only reason to venture out across the seas and sojourn in foreign parts’ (Wang 2000: 16). It is in a transnational social space complicated and defined by European colonial rule, anti-colonial revolutions, post-colonial nation-state building, and economic transformation in Southeast Asia as well as wars, revolutions and internal convulsions witnessed by China that the Nanyang Chinese pursued their dreams and articulated their desires and hopes for security and prosperity. It is their stories and the evolution and formation of the Nanyang Chinese communities through their struggles to survive and prosper in such a transnational space far from China that Wang studied intensively.

Conclusion In the discussion above, I have tried to outline my particular ‘take’ on Wang Gungwu’s pioneering scholarship in studies of the Chinese overseas. I have argued that it is Wang’s capability to exercise research imagination that has enabled him to map out transnational social spaces dominated by the Chinese overseas as one realm of his research. Starting with two organic concepts – Nanhai and Nanyang – which happen to denote particular transnational spaces, Wang has pioneered a field of study not just of ethnic Chinese studies, as has been well acknowledged; but also of the transnational flow of Chinese people as well as of goods, capital and ideas associated with it, which now constitutes an integral part of global studies of transnational migration. Largely thanks to his unremitting endeavour both as an esteemed scholar and as an intellectual entrepreneur, the transnational dimension of the global diasporic Chinese ventures has also become a valuable addition to the emerging field of transnational (contentious) politics. The impact of this transnational dimension on, and its constitution of, the globalization of world politics with particular reference to China has yet to be fully appreciated. Wang’s scholarship on the transnational has anticipated, and can be considered as a precursor to, the third wave of transnational intervention in the theorization of International Relations. Wang’s conceptualization of the transnational is rather personal. That makes it appreciably different from that of Keohane, Nye, and Strange. It is fairly particularistic. Wang’s imagined regions and worlds as transnational social spaces are dominated and occupied by the Chinese overseas. As an accomplished historian, Wang’s transnational is deeply located in his historical imagination. Yet, Wang’s research imagination has explored the transnational not only as constitutive of history, but also as integrally cross-cultural and equally central to political economy. Ultimately, it is Wang’s creative exercise of research imagination in opening up new research opportunities, his daring spirit in exploring the frontiers of IR as a discipline, his refusal to compartmentalize history and theory, his innovative scholarship that crosses boundaries of humanities and social sciences, and his

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locating of Chinese experiences in the local and in the global that should remain inspirational for those of us who aspire and attempt to bridge the chasm between China studies and IR theories. His imaginative research and scholarship have shown us that, to quote Ann Tickner, ‘Being the subjects rather than the objects of knowledge gives one a claim to one’s own history, a pride in one’s past, a sense of agency in determining one’s future’ (Tickner 2006: 392). ‘It is admirable to do good,’ Mark Twain has been quoted as saying, ‘[i]t is also admirable to tell others to do good – and a lot less trouble’ (Goldstein et al. 2001: 759). As an exemplar scholar, Wang Gungwu is indisputably an admirable example of doing good in scholarship and knowledge creation. It is through his admirable example that he inspires, not just tells, others to use research imagination in their academic pursuit in understanding China and the world. It is time that we pick up the challenges as well as the opportunities in regard to the transnational, the global and the international that Wang Gungwu’s accomplished scholarship has presented to all of us.

Notes 1 Of Wang’s publications that directly address the topics of international relations, the following books are particularly worth mentioning: Wang (1977, 1995, 2003b, 2006) and Wang and Zheng (2008). 2 The same is true of the UK. In 1997, the Economic and Social Research Council of Great Britain (ESRC) launched a five-year large-scale research programme on transnational communities. A total of £3.7 million was provided by ESRC for the research programme. ‘While the programme’s Directorship is based at Oxford University, the projects themselves are managed from a variety of British universities with multi-site research to be undertaken throughout the world’ (Vertovec 1999). 3 Waldinger and Fitzgerald (2004) also noted that, by the time they were writing, ‘sympathizers, if not adherents of [a] transnationalist view’ were ‘at the helm of three scholarly journals’, namely, Diaspora, Identities, and Global Networks. 4 In the words of Keck and Sikkink, ‘A transnational advocacy network includes those relevant actors working internationally on an issue, who are bound together by shared values, a common discourse, and dense exchanges of information and services’ (Keck and Sikkink 1998: 2). 5 Among them are, for example, Norms in International Relations: The Struggle against apartheid by Kloz (1995), The Chemical Weapons Taboo by Price (1997), Finnemore and Sikkink (1998) ‘International norm dynamics and political change’, and The Power of Human Rights: International norms and domestic change edited by Risse, Ropp and Sikkink. 6 It is important to note that intensified transnational migration is happening today not because of any liberalisation of immigration controls by nation-states. Indeed, the opposite is perhaps more true. Rather, it is as a result of growing labour supply pressures, because the free flow of goods and capital worsens income inequalities within and across nations, which has shaken up traditional labour markets. 7 For example, in 2003, International Organization published a specific study on ‘Diasporas and International Relations theory’ (Shain and Barth 2003). 8 In the same speech, Wang also stated, ‘I have long advocated that the Chinese overseas be studied in the context of their respective national environment, and taken out of a dominant China reference point. It is necessary that each Chinese community overseas be open to comparative study, both among themselves and together with other migrant communities’ (Wang 2004a: 157).

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9 Tu then goes on to say that ‘It is perhaps premature to announce that “the centre is nothing, whereas the periphery is everything,” but undeniably, the fruitful interaction among a variety of economic, political, social and cultural forces at work along the periphery will activate the dynamics of cultural China’ (Tu 1991: 28). 10 The question of ‘the appeal of China, either as a political entity or as a cultural centre, to people of Chinese descent living in areas outside China’s control’ has been central to Wang’s research imagination. ‘China’s glorious past,’ he noted, ‘still exerts power over the imagination of most first generation Chinese wherever they may be, but how strongly and for how long? For how many generations can that last?’ (Wang 1998: 10) 11 It seems that on further reflection, Wang proposed, in 2000, an idea which sees, possibly, China as the primary centre in cultural terms for the Chinese overseas, with both Hong Kong and Taiwan as secondary centres, and the tertiary centres located among the Chinese overseas (Wang 2004b). 12 See Anderson (2006) and Said (1995). 13 Wang is quoted by Kuhn as saying ‘Far from confirming the “global village”, the longer perspective will always be there to remind us that the roots of difference are still with us underneath the surface similarities’ (Kuhn 2003: 25). 14 Cohen’s third lecture on ‘The Asianization of America’, in particular, offers some definitive discussion on the effect of Asian cultural transfer on the transformation of American society (see Cohen (2002: 79–127)).

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Tarrow, Sidney, ‘Transnational political contention and institutions in international politics’, American Review of Political Science, 4 (2001): 1–20. Tickner, Ann, ‘On the frontlines or sidelines of knowledge and power? Feminist practices of responsible scholarship’, International Studies Review, 8(3) (2006): 383–95. Tu Wei-ming, ‘Cultural China: The periphery as the centre’, Daedalus, 120(2) – The Living Tree: The Changing Meaning of Being Chinese Today (1991): 1–32. Vertovec, Steven, ‘Conceiving and researching transnationalism’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 22(2) (1999): 447–62. Waldinger, Roger and David Fitzgerald, ‘Transnationalism in question’, American Journal of Sociology, 105(5) (2004): 1177–95. Wang, Gungwu, ‘The Nanhai trade: A study of the early history of Chinese trade in the South China Sea’, Kuala Lumpur: Journal of the Malayan Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, XXXI (2) (1959). ——, ‘“Public” and “private” overseas trade in Chinese history’, in Mollat, Michel (ed.), Société et Compagnies de Commerce en Orient et dans l’Océan Indien (Paris: S.E.V.P.E.N, 1970), pp. 215–26. ——, China and the World since 1949: The impact of independence, modernity and revolution (London: Macmillan, 1977). ——, ‘Southeast Asian Huaqiao in Chinese history writing’, Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, 12(1) (1981). ——, ‘Patterns of Chinese migration in historical perspective’, in May, R. J. and W. J. O. Malley (eds), Observing Change in Asia (Bathurst NSW: Crawford House Press, 1989). ——, ‘Merchants without empires: The Hokkien sojourning communities’, in Tracy, James D. (ed.), The Rise of Merchant Empires: Long-distance trade in the early modern world, 1350–1750 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), pp. 400–21. ——, ‘Among non-Chinese’, Daedalus, 120 (2) – The Living Tree: The Changing Meaning of Being Chinese Today (1991a): 135–57. ——, China and Chinese Overseas (Singapore: Times Academic, 1991b). ——, Community and Nation: China, Southeast Asia and Australia (St Leonard NSW: Allen & Unwin, 1992). ——,The Chinese Way: China’s position in international relations (Oslo: Scandinavian University Press, 1995). ——, ‘The status of Overseas Chinese studies’, in Wang, Ling-chih and Wang Gungwu (eds), Chinese Diaspora: Selected essays, Vol. 1 (Singapore: Times Academic, 1998), pp. 1–13. ——, The Chinese Overseas: From earthbound China to the quest for autonomy (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 2000). ——, ‘Mixing memory and desire: Tracking the migrant cycles’, a keynote speech delivered to the conference of the World Confederation of Institutes and Libraries for Chinese Overseas Studies (2003a). Available online at: http://www.overseaschineseconfederation. org/conference/2003conf2003_keynotes2.php (accessed 30 April 2009). ——, Anglo-Chinese Encounters since 1800: War, trade, science and governance (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003b). ——, ‘A single Chinese diaspora?’, in Benton and Liu (eds), Diasporic Chinese Ventures: The life and work of Wang Gungwu (London and New York: Routledge, 2004a): pp. 157–77. ——, ‘Cultural centres for the Chinese overseas’, in Benton and Liu (eds), Diasporic Chinese Ventures: The life and work of Wang Gungwu (London and New York: Routledge, 2004b): pp. 210–26.

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——, ‘China’s influence in Central and South Asia: Is it increasing?’, in David Shambaugh (ed.), Power Shift: China and Asia’s new dynamics (Berkeley CA: University of California Press, 2006). Wang, Gungwu and Yongnian Zheng (eds), China and the New International Order (London and New York: Routledge, 2008).

Index

Abe Shinzo 249, 258, 263–4 abrahamic ideology 19, 22, 37; abrahamic values 17–18 abrahamic religions 58 abrahamic traditions 69 Abramowitz, Morton 35 absolutism 6, 9 Afghanistan 11–12, 303 Africa 83, 131, 303 Africa Summit 133 Al Quaeda 323 Alejandro de la Fuente 168 America Manifest Destiny 307 American neo-conservative vision 11; American neo-conservative project 13 American perception of China 206 American Studies Association 324 Americanism 165 Americanization xiv, 251, 335; Americanization of China’s IR studies 272 American-led world order 14 analects 18 angry youth (fen qing) 209 Annam 163 anti-communism 44 APEC 317 Appadurai, Arjun 328 Arctic Ocean 118 Arendt, Hannah 297 Argentina 235, 236–7 Article IX (Pease Clause) 252 ASEAN xiii, 13, 251, 317 ASEAN+3 131 ASEAN-China Free Trade Agreement xiii Asia 5, 25, 34, 43, 48, 106, 118, 126, 128, 141, 183, 215, 226 Asia Pacific region 182 Asian Century 34 Asian civilization 215

Asian Financial Crisis 18, 42, 249 Asian model of development 19 Asian Tigers group 20 Asian Values 18, 22, 25 Aso Taro 250, 262–4 Australia 160, 264 Australian National University 140, 150, 327 Axial Age civilizations 59 ba dao 110 Banco del Sur (Bank of the South) 13 Bandung Conference 183 bandwagoning 32 Baraclough, Geoffrey 281 Barth, Aharon 179 Beck, Margaret 326 Beijing 43, 66, 118, 123, 133, 165, 169, 171–2, 184–5, 188, 192, 209, 223, 239, 259–62, 280, 287 Beijing Consensus 55, 210 Beijing Olympic Games 205, 214 Beijing Treaty of 1879 162 Benton, Gregor 152, 322 Bergsten, Fred 52 Bhakti movements 60 bible 128 biological category 212 Bolivia 223, 231 Borneo 118, 142 Bosworth, Stephen 35 Bourdieu, Pierre 298–300 bourgeois materialism 171 Boxers 68 Bracken, Paul 25 brain circulation 182, 188 brain drain 182 Brazil 13, 131–2, 230, 234–7 Britain 14, 34, 104, 160–1, 188, 254, 307, 312

Index British empire 128 Buddhism 63–5, 67, 159 Buenos Aires 13 Burke, Edmund 275 Burma 18, 142, 184, 223, 279; Myanmar 108, 286, 314 Burton, Dan 225 Bush administration 7, 34 Bush George W. 258 Calcutta 330 Cambridge University 308 Canada 13, 188, 212–13 Canberra 140–1 capitalism 9, 165, 206, 210, 281, 315 Casino Chung Wah 163 catholic orthodoxy 9 Caucasus 14 Central Asia 11, 14, 81, 226 Champa 120 Chang, K. C. 58 Chaoyang county 67 Chardin Teilhard de 4–5 Charles V 27 Chavez, Hugo 13, 227, 232–3 Che Guevara 171 Chen Lanbin 158, 161–3 Chen Yi 185 Chen Yujie 189 Cheng, Lucie 182 Chiang Kai-shek 166, 184 Chicago Council on Global Affairs 208 Chile 236 China 10, 13–14, 17, 25–9, 32–4, 36, 44, 46–7, 49, 51, 54, 60, 64, 69, 75, 78, 80, 83, 85, 105, 117, 119, 121–3, 126, 129, 131–3, 139–40, 158–9, 161, 171, 177, 183, 185, 188–90, 192, 203–4, 206–7, 210, 213, 216–17, 222–3, 225, 227, 233–4, 237–8, 247–8, 255, 258, 260, 264, 272–3, 276, 277, 279, 283, 287–8, 302, 304, 308, 310, 312–13, 315, 317–18, 323, 331, 335 China Investment Corporation (CIC) 211 China National Offshore Oil Corporation (CNOOC) 210 China studies 271 China-EU summit 317 Chinalco 211 China-Taiwan diplomatic rivalry 186 Chinese Academy of Social Sciences 204 Chinese Communist Party 145, 210, 276, 283 Chinese diaspora 148, 149, 151, 180–1

343

Chinese Heritage Centre 152 Chinese international migration 178 Chinese policy circles 208 Chinese School of International Relations 181; Chinese theory of international relations 54 Chinese transnationalism 191 Chinese World Order 46–7, 75, 79, 90, 102 Chineseness 271, 273, 276, 278, 283, 287, 331 Choson dynasty 88 Chow, Kai-wing 61 Christensen, Thomas 180 Christian eschatological vision 9 Christianity 65 civil society 323 civilization 3, 5, 6, 9, 14, 43, 203, 212, 287 Claremont Graduate University 33 classical Greece 8 Clausewitz, Carl von 273 ‘close acquaintance’ 274 Cohen, Warren I. 335 Cold War 21, 25, 26, 51, 126, 128, 129, 177–8, 181, 186, 192–3, 210, 224, 230, 232, 248, 261, 309, 325, 328 Collingwood, R. G. 4, 216 Colombia 223, 232, 236 communism 129, 210 communist political system 212 Confucian literati 59 Confucian order 46 Confucian values 17, 23, 37, 123; Confucian value system 277; Confucian ethics 110 Confucian-Asian perspective 17 Confucianism 17, 24, 46, 60–1, 65, 67, 88, 124, 159, 276, 282, 294; Confucian tradition 22 Confucian classics 141; Confucian eremitism 60; Confucian humanism 22; Confucian principles 109; Confucian theory 49, 278–9 Confucius 22, 110 Confucius Institute 121 constructivism xiv convergence of civilization 8 Cooper, Richard 325 Correlates of War Project 230 cosmology 58 Costa Rica 236 Croce, Benedetto 3 Cuba 158–62, 164, 168–9, 172, 210, 232 Cuba Commission 158, 161, 165 Cuba Revolution 171

344

Index

Cuban Communist Party 165 Cuban Republic 162 cultural China 331 Cultural Revolution 7, 47, 131, 183, 284, 287 culturalism 48 Current History 35 cycle of hegemonic rise and fall 127 cyclical pattern 7, 9 Dahl, Robert 297 Daoism 60, 63–5, 67 Darfur 286 Darwinian model of evolution 21 democracy 9, 50 Democratic Party of Japan 246 democratic spirit 53 democratization 233 Deng Xiaoping 44, 130, 148, 185, 206, 261, 272, 281–2, 309, 313 deregulation 10 Descartes 9 Desker, Barry 55 developmental state 20 dialectical contradiction 9 dollar-dominated international currency system 216 Dual Nationality Issue 189 Duara, Prasenjit 94 Dufoix, Stephane 181 Dutch 90 Dutch colonialism 184 East Asia xiii, 10, 27, 35, 44, 75–6, 78, 85, 88, 92, 106, 114–15, 117–18, 203, 213, 225, 232, 250, 255, 308 East Asian community 264; East Asian Economic Community 251 East Asian hierarchy 29 East Asian international relations 194 East Asian model 10; state-led economic growth 10; East Asian economic miracle 49 East Asian model of world order 104; East Asian order 79, 110 East Asian regionalism 316 East Asian Summit 317 East Asian system 80 Eastern bloc 210 economic globalization 10, 11 economic liberalization 233 Economist 19, 35, 211 Ecuador 223, 230–1 Egypt 125, 128, 163

El Salvador 236 Eliot, T. S. 141 Elvin, Mark 119 Emperor Wu 24 Empire of Japan 248 English School 80–1 enlightenment 9 equalitarianism 285 eschatological movements 7 Esteban Lazo Hernandez 170 Eternal Mother 64 ethnoi 5 ethnos 5 Europe 5, 7, 9, 49, 205, 303, 309 European constitution 11 European perceptions of China 207 European Union xiii, 13 Exclusion Law 163 Fairbank, J King 42, 44–5, 47, 49–50, 53–4, 75, 77, 81, 83, 89, 95–6, 103, 294, 301, 304–6, 312 faith 59, 64 faith-based communities 69 faith-based salvation 64 Fellowship of Goodness 64 Fengtian Provincial Assembly 67 Feuchtwang, Stephan 63 Fiji 330 Fishkin, Shelley Fisher 324 Fitzgerald, Stephen 181, 185 Five Principles of Peaceful Co-existence 130, 183 Foreign Affairs 19, 26, 35–6, 205 Foster, E. M. 141 Foucault, Michel 297–300 ‘four cardinal principles’ 215 France 11, 27, 32–3, 161, 247, 254, 307, 312 free ride strategy 252 Friedman, Thomas 323 Fukuda 262–4 Fukuda Yasuo 250, 258 Fukuyam, Francis 21 Fukuyama, Francis 19 Fukuzawa Yukichi 250 G2 13, 33, 43 G20 33, 43 G7 13 G8 43 Gao Mingshi 81, 106 Gates, Bill 221 Gates, Melinda 221

Index Gaza 11, 14 Geneva 207 Georgia 13 Georgia 14 Gerardo Machado 167 Germany 27, 32, 34, 160–1, 247, 254, 307 Germany-Italy-Japan axis 248 Ghengis Khan 11 governance 7; global governance 4, 10 global War on Terror 34 globalization 3, 11, 117, 249, 263, 314–5, 336 Goh Sui Noi 108 ‘going global’ 315 Gonzalez Macchi 230 Gonzalo de Quesada y Arostegui 164 Gorbachev 206 Grau San Martin 167 Great Unity of World Religions 64 Great Wall 118 Greater China 148, 151, 181 Greek 150 Green Card system 191 Guangzhou 166 Guatemala 236 Guizhou 121 Guo Songtao 161 H1N1 pandemic 204 Han Dynasty 24, 276–7 Han Fangming 189–90 Han Fei Zi 127 Han Wu Di 107 Hapsburg 27 hard power 11 Harding, Harry 54 harmonious society xvi, 42, 215, 283, 286 Hartshorne, Richard 301 Harvard University 327 Hatoyama Yukio 246, 250, 252, 259–60, 262–4 Hatta, Mohammad 184 Havana 161, 162, 163, 167, 168, 170 Hawaii 159 Hebrew 150 Hegel 126, 130 hegemony 35; hegemonism 13 Henderson, Jeffrey 19 Herzog, Peter J. 20 Hevia, James 91 ‘high-level equilibrium’ 119 high-performance economies 20 Hindu-Buddhist traditions 60 Hiroshima 248

345

Hitler, Adolf 27 Hobbes, Thomas 23, 27, 297 Holland 125 Holsti, K. J. 31 Homo sapiens 4–6 Hong Kong 19–20, 45, 148–9, 313, 335 Hongwu 86, 88, 123 Hu Jintao 133, 234, 262, 283–4, 286 Huang Zhilian 110 ‘huaqiao’ (overseas Chinese) 142–5 Huayi Guan 147 Hui, Victoria 76 human consciousness 4 humanism 329 humanistic rationality 51 Huntington, Samuel 212, 255 Hyde Henry 260 idealism 55 identity-based interest 178 Ikenberry, John 31 ‘imperial amnesia’ 121 imperial Confucianism 53 imperial expansionism 7 imperialism 130 inclusiveness 8 indeterminate relevance 47 India 8, 13, 25, 34, 35, 132, 163–4 India-Vietnam-Japan-US cooperation xiv individualism 212 Indonesian Nationalist Party 184 Industrial Revolution 6, 279 industrialization 46 interdependence 204 international community 205, 206, 208, 210, 212 International Court of Justice 32 International Monetary Fund (IMF) 13, 32, 312 International Political Economy (IEP) 328 Iran 12, 14, 223, 225, 233, 286 Islam 65 isolationism 10 Israel 11, 14 Jakarta-Peking Axis 186 Jamaica 234 Japan xiii, 18, 20, 24–8, 34–5, 37, 46, 84–5, 87, 124, 163, 167–8, 172, 203, 207, 209, 213–4, 245–9, 250–1, 254–5, 259–60, 262–44, 307, 316 Japanese invasion of China 207; Japanese aggression 279

346

Index

Japanese psyche 207 Japan-US alliance 259, 263 Japan-US Security Treaty 251 Jiang Zemin 170, 215, 286, 309 Jimenez Pastrana 171 Johnson, Chalmers 20 Johnston, Alastair Iain 76, 180, 317 Jose Bu Tack 160 Jose Luis Gomez Garriga 165 Jose Tolon 160 Jose Wong 166–7 Juan Chao Sen 160 Juan Mok 166 Juan Perez de la Riva 165, 171 Judaism 275 Julio Su-leng 166 Kampuchea 115 Kan Naoto 259 Kanenaga 87 Kang Youwei 65, 276 Kang, David 28–9, 31–2, 35, 194, 308 Kangxi 121 Karl, Rebecca 162 Kazakhs 90, 124 Keck, Margaret 323, 326 Keio University 250 keju system 24 Kennan, George 55 Keohane, Robert 323, 325, 327, 336 Koehn, Peter 181 Koizumi Junichiro 249, 251, 254, 257–61, 264 Korea 18, 44, 46, 85–9, 91, 104–5, 107, 120, 124, 128, 131, 163, 248, 257, 303–5, 308, 316 Koreans 90 Koutou 85 Kraisak Choonhavaan 192 Kristoph, Nicholas D. 19 Kugler, Jacek 33, 36 Kuhn, Philip 153, 322, 330–1, 333 Kung-sun Hong 24 Kuomintang (KMT) 52 L-20 43 labour internationalism 166 Ladakh 303 laissez faire 17, 283; laissez-faire capitalism 19; laissez-faire economics 20 Lake, David 33 Laos 142 Lapid, Yosef 178

Lardy, Nicholas 313 Latin America 11, 167, 169, 221, 223–4, 226–7, 230–1, 234–5, 237–9 Layne, Christopher 26 League of Nations 214 ‘leave Asia, enter Europe’ 249–50 Lebanon 11 Lee Kuan Yew 211 Lee Teng-hui 262 legalist 6 Leo Suryadinata 146, 149, 152 Levenson, Joseph 124 Li Dijun 167–8 Li Shiyu 64 Li Yuanchao 187, 191 Li Yunquan 79 Li Zhi 60 Liang Cheng 163 Liang Qichao 162, 276, 295 Liao Chengzhi 159 Liberal Democratic Party 20, 246 liberalism xiii, 11, 247 liberalization 215 Lima 330 Lima, Alfredo 160 Lin Anwu 67 Lippman, Walter 55 Liu Shuquan 67 Liu Weidong 259 Liu Yunshan 170 Liu, Hong 152, 322 Liuqiu 85; Ryukyu islands 90, 120 London 33, 42, 66, 330 Lord Macartney 106 Louis XIV 27 ‘low profile’ 309 Luis Lei 166 Lukes, Steven 297 Lula da Silva 227, 230 Luo Haocai 189 Lynch, Allen 129 Ma Jian 226 Macao 161, 313, 148 Machiavelli 23, 127 Mahayana Buddhism 59 Mahtthir 211 Majapahit 105 Malacca 105, 108 Malay Peninsula 105; Malaya 139; Malaysia 11, 46, 141, 159 Mancall, Mark 90 Manchester Business School 19 Manchu 122

Index Manchukuo 68; Manchuria 29, 64, 89, 95, 118 Mandeville, Bernard 127 Manuel Zelaya 231 Mao Zedong xv, 208, 261, 281–2, 284, 286, 296, 309, 313; Maoism 233 Mario Eng San 166 Marti, Jose 160 Marx 160; Marxism 128, 221, 296 Marxism-Leninism 296; Marxist-Leninist way 296 Marxist theories of imperialism 47 Mauritius 330 May Fourth Movement 276, 281–2 McCarthyism 44 McKeown, Adam 146, 152 Mead, Walter Russell 19, 21 Mearsheimer, John 26, 36 mechanisms of power 298 Mediterranean 117, 125 Meiji era 24 214 Meiji Reform 37; Meiji Restoration 248–9, 254, 262 Melbourne 49 Mencius 22, 108 Mexico 13, 223, 234, 235–7 Middle East 5, 11–2, 31, 14, 225, 226 Middle Kingdom 49, 115, 117, 213, 303–4, 309; Middle Kingdomism 43, 52 Miller, Benjamin 224–6, 235 Millward, James 90 Ming dynasty 7, 79, 89, 92, 94–6, 104, 107, 119, 121, 123, 144 Ministry of Foreign Affairs 184 Ministry of Personnel 191 Ministry of Public Security 189 Ministry of Public Security 190 mobilization 281 modern scientific thinking 9 modernization 50, 281 Mongolia 95, 118, 303 Mongols 90, 105, 118 monotheism 5–6 Monroe Doctrine 48 morality 67 Morality Society 64, 66, 68 Morgenthau, Hans 26, 55 Moscow 166, 169, 261, 304 Mughal India 128 Muller, Gotelind 159 multilateral regionalism 316 Munro, Donald 23 Muslim 150 mutual accommodation 209

347

Nagasaki 248 Nakasone Yasuhiro 263 nanhai trade 139 Nanjing 123, 130, 158, 165, 276 Nanyang Chinese 142 Napoleon 27 Nathan, Andrew 284 National Essence 281 nationalism 46, 215, 245, 273, 280, 282; Chinese nationalism 159, 280–81; nonwestern nationalism 281; conservative nationalism 288; popular nationalism 283 Nationality Law of PRC 188; Nationality Law 191 nation-state 245 NATO 12, 30 Nazi 27 neo-Confucian doctrine 60 neo-Confucian school 61 neo-liberalism xiii neoliberal institutionalism 325; neoliberal institutionalist 80 neorealism xiii, 325; neorealist 17–8, 26, 30 Netherlands 11 ‘networks of nationalism’ 260 ‘new Chinese society’ 265 New Life Movement 281 New Religion to Save the World 65 new transnationalism 326 New York 10, 160 New York Times 19, 250, 252, 253 New Zealand 189, 264 Nicaragua 231 Noble, Ronald 324 non-governmental organizations (NGOs) 206 non-unilinear view of history 25 North America 13 North Atlantic 125 North Chinese Community of Canada 189 North Korea 32, 204, 210, 223, 245, 249, 264, 286, 314 Northeast Asia 81, 131, 316 Northern Expedition 166 Norway 50 Nye, Joseph 323, 325, 327, 336 OAD (overseas economic development aid) 254 Office of Overseas Chinese Affairs 189 ‘official-oriented’(guan benwei) system 285

348

Index

Ogden, Chris 180 Okakura Tenshin 250 Olympic Torch relay 214 Opium War 247, 279 Organski, Alfred 33 Orientalism 165 Ottoman Turkey 279 Oxford 46 Ozawa Ichiro 252 Pacific Century 34 Pact of Zanjon 162 Pan Ku 278 Panama 236 pan-Americanism 159 Pann, Lyn 327 paradigm 21 Parameswara 105 Paris 66, 330 Parkinson, C. N. 141 particularism 275 patriotism 273, 287 Patten, Christopher 19 pax mongolica 333 Pax Sinica 80 peaceful development 42; ‘peaceful rise’ 309 Pearl Harbor 248 Pedro Lei 166 Pentagon 35–6 peranakan Chinese 183 Peru 223, 235 Pew Global Attitudes Project 212 Philippines 140, 142, 159, 161 Philp, M 298 Pitkin, Hanna 298 pluralism 7 Poland 159, 163 populism 281 Portugal 125 post-American world 12 post-Cold War era 31 postcolonialism 25 power balancing 32 pragmatic flexibility 8 pragmatism 80, 93 pre-Christian classical civilization 9 primitive religion 6 protestant ethic 17; 60, 62 pseudo-democracy 20 Puerto Rico 230 Qian Mu 295 Qian Qichen 170

Qianlong emperor 106 Qing dynasty 62, 94, 105–6, 120, 122, 124, 128, 144, 294; Qing Empire 247 Qin-Han era 139 racism 213 Ranke, Leopold von 275 rationalism 9 Reagan, Ronald 7 realism xiii, 27, 246, 325; realist 37; realpolitik 282 realistic recognition 8 Red Cross Society 66 Red Guard 28 Red Swastika Society 64, 66 regional hegemonism 115 regionalism 249, 316 regulatory state 20 Reid, Anthony 105, 109 Reischauer, Edwin O. 44, 331, 335 relativism 6 Ren Xiao 180 Republic of Cuba 165 ‘return to Asia’ 251 Rice, Condoleeza 36 ‘rich country, strong military’ 249–50 Richelieu, Cardinal 275 Rio Tinto 211 Rosecrance, Richard 34, 36 Ross, Robert 43, 180 rule by virtue 78, 215; rule-by-virtue 109 Rumsfeld, Donald 35 Russia 13–4, 26, 30, 32, 34, 160–1, 204, 223, 225, 233–5, 247, 264, 307, 312, 316 Russian Empire 302 Russo-Japanese War 248 San Diego 32 San Francisco 160, 214 Santo Domingo 233 Saturnino Achon 161 scholar-officials 79 School of Oriental and African Studies 140 Schwartz, Benjamin 47 scientism 275 secular civilization 51, 239; secularism 58 security council 33 Segal, Gerald 42 ‘selective restoration’ 282 self-isolation 122 Sen, Amartya 221

Index Shain, Yossi 179 Shakespeare 141 Shandong 64 Shanghai 165 Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) 131, 316 Shao Yong 64 Shirk, Susan 287 Shirokogoroff, S. M. 4–5 Siam 105, 120, 142, 163 Sichuan 121 Sikkink, Kathryn 323, 326 Singapore 20, 45, 49 Sino-centric world order 213; Sinocentrism 78, 82, 93; Sinic superiority 29 Sino-Indonesian Treaty on Dual Nationality 185 Sino-Spanish Treaty of Tianjin 161 Six-Party Talks 316 Skinner, William 183 Smith, Adam 275 Socialism with Chinese characteristics 283 Society of the Way 64 soft power 11, 112 Song dynasty 94 Sophia University 20 South Africa 13, 163 South America 13, 131 South America security 225 South Asia 31, 225 South Korea 20, 131, 150, 249, 251, 264, 316 Southeast Asia 44, 81, 108, 141, 146–7, 149, 152, 182–3, 186, 188, 190, 203, 245, 248, 271 Southern Sung (Song) Dynasty 29 Soviet Red Army 248 Soviet Union 4, 12, 19, 27, 32, 126, 169, 206, 210, 249 Spain 27, 125, 160 Spence, Jonathan D. 102 Spengler, Oswald 8–9 Stalin 169 State Council 187 ‘state-idea’ 301, 308 Strange, Susan 30, 323, 325, 327, 336 strategic realism 278 sub-Saharan Africa 224 Sudan 314 Suemitsu Takayoshi 64 sufism 60 Sui Yang Di 107 Sukarno 185

349

Sun Yat-sen 111, 145, 159, 276, 281 Sydney 330 Tahiti 330 Taiping Christianity 68, 159 Taiwan 14, 18, 20, 46, 69, 148–9, 187, 206–7, 214, 245, 258, 263, 265, 287, 313, 333, 335 Taiwan Strait xiii Takeshita Noboru 262 Tan Chee Beng 149, 152 Tan Sitong 276 Tanaka Kakue 261 Tang dynasty 49, 94, 139–40, 278, 333 Tang Song tradition 62 Tang Tai Zong 107 Taylor, Charles 65 Teaching of the Abiding Principle 64 technologies of power 298 Temple of the Heavenly Immortals 68 Ten Years’ War of 1868–78 161 Thailand 32, 131, 140 Third World 204, 208 Three Kingdoms 63 ‘three-in-one’ 67 Thucydides 27, 127, 209 Tiananmen 53; Tiananmen Square 226 Tianjin 66 tianxia (all-under-heaven) xvii, 49, 81, 94, 111–3, 117, 122, 124, 132–3, 215, 222, 293, 295, 297, 301, 306–7, 309–10; traditional Chinese world order 29 tianzi 301; Son of Heaven 78, 94, 107, 110 Tibet 122, 187, 207, 214, 287, 303, 314 Tickner, Ann 337 Tokugawa jusha Confucianism 24 Tokyo 66, 255, 260, 261–3, 330 Tomas Estrada Palma 162 toxic US mortgage debt 10 Toyotomi Hideyoshi 120 transnational activism 326 transnational Chinese 187 transnational migration 324 transnationalism 187, 324 Treaty of Naking 247 Treaty of Nerchinsk and Kiakhta 302 tribute system 75–7, 102, 105, 87, 91, 96; tribute system-feng-gong relationship 103, 107–8 Tu, Wei-ming 331 Turkey 159, 163 Turkic empire 278 Twain, Mark 337

350

Index

UN Economic and Social Council 33 UN Human Rights Commission 207 UN Security Council 51, 255, 260, 264, 309, 311 unilateralism 7 unilinear progressive vision of history 8; unilinear view 17; unilinearity 18 United Kingdom 33, 139, 255 United Nations 12, 19, 140, 213, 255, 311, 317 United States xiii, 11, 13–4, 25–6, 30–5, 46–7, 126, 129, 131–2, 161, 179, 182, 194, 205, 209, 212, 245–6, 248–9, 260, 307, 312, 325, 328 universalism 275 University of Chicago 26 University of Hong Kong 141 University of London 140 University of Malaya 139, 141 Uppsala Data Conflict Program 230 Uruguay 236, 237 US foreign policy 7 US hegemony 223–4, 233; US militarystrategic hegemony 28 utilitarianism 17 van Ness, Peter 27, 30, 32 Varshney Ashutosh 19–20 Venezuela 13, 223, 231–5 Venice 125 Vico, Giambattista 9 Vietnam xiii, 25, 46–7, 84–5, 105, 108–9, 115, 118, 122, 128, 142, 169, 210, 304, 305, 308; Annan 120 Vietnamese nationalism 128 Vogel, Ezra 245–6 Wall Street 31, 132 Wallace, Alfred 21 Waltz, Kenneth 26–7, 30 wang dao 110 Wang Fengyi 67 Wang Gungwu xiv, vx, xvi, 3–4, 8, 15, 17–8, 37, 43–5, 50, 52, 54, 58, 75, 82, 91, 93, 102, 109, 115, 117, 119, 122–4, 133, 139–40, 146, 149, 152–3, 158, 177, 181, 190, 192, 194, 203, 217, 221, 238, 245, 255, 263–4, 271–3, 277–8, 282, 284, 287–8, 293, 296, 303, 307, 309, 317, 322–3, 327–9; 331, 335–7 Wang Guohua schools 67 Wang Huiyao 189 Wang Jisi 180, 312

Wang Yangming 60 Washington 10–1, 32, 48, 133, 163, 168, 210–1, 238, 249, 259–60, 261, 263, 312 Washington consensus 11, 55, 210, 215 Waters, Mary-Alice 171 Way of Pervading Unity 64 Weber, Max 17, 59, 297 Wei Zheng 278 Weiner, Myron 178 Wen Jiabao 42, 262, 308 West Indies 330 West-dominated international community 215 Western civilization 215 Western colonialism 26 Western cultural foundation 203 Western Europe 224, 226, 281 Western imperialism 124, 308; Western imperial consciousness 128 Western liberalism 21 Western nationalism xiv Western parochialism 129 Western scientific tradition xiii Western values 21 Westernization 130, 250 Western-type of democracy 19 Westphalian state system 12; Westphalian state system culture 203; Westphalian system 27, 31, 34, 37 White Lotus 68 Wills Jr., John W. 83 Wilson, Woodrow 286 Winthrop, John 7 Womack, Brantly 76 Wong, Angel 166 Woodside, Alexander 121, 129 World Bank 20, 32, 312 World Confederation of Institutes and Libraries for Chinese Overseas Studies 329 World Health Assembly (WHA) 313 world order 3 World Trade Organization (WTO) 210 World War I 65 World War II 14, 24, 27, 142, 184, 207, 224, 245–6, 251, 253, 262, 279 Wu Tingfang 162–3 WuDunn, Sheryl 19 Xenophobia 11 Xi Jinping 234 Xiao Gungquan 295 Xinjiang 211, 303, 314

Index Xiongnu 82 Xuantong emperor 66 Xun Zi 22

Yu, Anthony 60 Yuan dynasty 88, 105, 333 Yugoslavia 224

Yale University 286 Yan Fu 276, 281 Yang Zhenya 262 Yangshan 67 Yashida Shigeru 253 Yasukuni Shrine 254, 257, 259, 261 ‘yellow peril’ 213 Yeo, George 147 Yi Song-gye 88 Yiguandao 64, 69 yin and yang 6–7 Yin, Xiao-huan 181 Yongle 86, 89, 109, 121, 123, 131 Yoshida Doctrine 253 Yoshimochi 87 Younghusband, Francis 128

Zeng Guofan 104 Zeng Jize 104 Zhang Bingling 276 Zhang Junli 285 Zhang Zhidong 163 Zhang, Yongjin 80 Zhao Tingyang 111–3 Zheng He 119, 123, 221–2, 305, 335 Zheng, Yongnian 51, 221 Zheng Zhu neo-Confucianists 61 Zhigongtang 163 Zhou dynasty 111–2 Zhou Enlai 184, 261 Zhu Feng 43 Zhu Yuanzhang 109 Zoellick, Robert 55

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