Some basic pattern in Chinese history

Francesco Scisci from AsianTimes:

In the past 150 years, China's complex cultural values have been under constant attack, forcing revision. That is, not only did China have to undergo the same structural changes as the West in a shorter period, at the same time it also underwent dramatic cultural changes.

(...)China arrived to the fast phase of modernization pretty late, with a larger gap to fill in less time. China also didn't have much confidence, as it had been defeated by foreign powers, invaded and almost totally conquered by Japan, and had won only a small war against India. It managed to gain an almost honorable draw with America in Korea in the 1950s (with Russian support) and with Vietnam in 1979 (with some American assistance).

Furthermore, China had no affirmed tradition of digesting foreign culture into its own mold and changing itself in the process. It had the opposite tradition, of making anything foreign "Chinese", which occurred several times in Chinese history. The last time was with the minority Manchu invaders, who eventually were completely Sinified (or Hanized). One could argue that Buddhism vastly changed China, but the current perception is that, in fact, China changed Buddhism even more. Now, the situation is completely different, and there is no doubt that China is changing to adapt to a Western values-dominated world, rather than the contrary.

The country that faced the "foreign devils from the ocean", yang guizi, during the Opium Wars in the mid 19th century dramatically changed in the following century and a half - to the point that contemporary China can be regarded as only superficially similar to the country it was during the Opium Wars. In fact, the whole social and personal context, which defines and influences ideas, ambitions and world-views, has been totally transformed in these 150 years.

The change started with the family, the cell and basis for society and the state. The ideal family in the 19th century was unchanged from the times of Confucius, some 2,000 years before: three generations under one roof. The older man had many wives and even more children. Each male heir also had many wives and children, all living together in a large courtyard, resembling a small village of dozens of people.

In the courtyard, there were also many servants. The females of the clan were betrothed to neighbors, who then gained a closer relationship with the family. In this way, whole villages or even towns were under the control of one family. Each relative had a name indicating his precise relationship to the speaker. There were no vague appellations like "aunt", "uncle" or "cousin". There were terms such as "uncle, first younger brother of my father" (da shufu) or "uncle, second brother of my mother" (er jiufu), and so on. Cousins also bore different names, accordingly.

It was an intricate cobweb of relations in which each individual had his or her precise place. A male child grew up thinking that if he studied hard and if he were virtuous and filial, he would pass official exams, become a successful mandarin, inherit the family fortune and establish his own large family home. Then, he would pick the brightest of his heirs and support that child through his studies, continuing the glorious family tradition.

That was an ideal. Most men had only one wife, as they could not afford more. Some men, poor, had no wives; and some, just a little less poor, had to share a wife with their brothers. Yet, the ideal family was one man, many wives and many, many children.

For the emperor, this was an issue of state security. The emperor had many wives to make sure he had many children and could choose the fittest from them to succeed him. The successor had to be male, but not necessarily the first born from the first wife, as was the situation in Europe. The Chinese system tried to make sure the emperor was not incompetent, which could be the case with the European system where God chose the successor - namely, the first-born.

The issue of family and keeping only one wife was the stumbling block in the conversion of a Qing emperor to Catholicism. The Wanli emperor might have entertained the idea of converting to Catholicism, as many of his closest advisors were Jesuits, but he could not accept the idea of having one wife, as this would alter the rules for succession in China. However, the Jesuits in the 17th century knew that they could not compromise on the rule of succession: the king's many wives and their children had been the very issue that had caused a split between England and Rome the century before with Henry VIII and Elizabeth. Elizabeth died in 1603, seven years before Italian Jesuit priest Matteo Ricci's demise in Beijing in 1610.

This ideal of the family persisted until the communists took over in 1949. After the May Fourth movement in 1919, the idea of one wife was introduced as progressive and modern. However, Kuomintang (KMT) leader Chiang Kai-shek had more than one wife, as did many senior KMT officials.

Conversely, the Communist Party broke the old mold and introduced puritanical rules imposing just one wife. This was already a major break with tradition, but an even greater break came in the 1980s with the one-child rule. This completely reversed the old pyramid of relations. A hundred years before, a grandfather could be served by scores of grandchildren all vying for his favor.

In 1980s, one couple, some of them being two single children of single-wife marriages, could have as many as four grandparents all hovering around their single child. Then, there would be six adults spoiling one child. This is the phenomenon of the "little emperors". The children were spoiled, but also under enormous pressure. They had the responsibility to succeed for their family's glory.

In larger families, this responsibility was spread among scores of siblings who first had to learn to live with each other. The one child born after 1980 had to be number one in his class to be sure to get into a good high school, which, in turn, guarantees a place at a good university in the extremely selective Chinese education system.

But this, of course, is impossible. What happens, then, in most families, if the one child fails to get into a good university and has no hope for a good job? How do the children reconcile themselves with their lot? Will they be frustrated and angry? They are no small number - millions of children fall into this generation. How will these people impact society, the state, the world and culture in the next 20 years?

One thing is sure, China has never experienced a generation like this, and neither has any society in the world, so it is difficult to forecast trends. Because the situation is so widespread, the Chinese government has realized the problem and is trying to address it. But before turning our attention to the answer, first we have to look at how the Chinese government itself has dramatically changed.

Since unification in the late 3rd century BC, China was ruled by an emperor, a supreme head of state, ultimate source of power and decision-maker. Possibly, there were "emperors" even before then, such as the son of heaven (tianzi) of Zhou times, but he was likely more of a religious and ceremonial figure than a real political monarch.

The imperial system really started with the first emperor of the Qin Dynasty (221 BC-207 BC) - Qinshi Huangdi. The system underwent many changes, but there was always one constant: the emperor did not run the administration of the country. That duty was largely entrusted to a body of ministers and officials who were selected on the basis of merit. The emperor embodied the interests of the state, as the state was his. It was a mechanism similar to that of modern companies differentiating property and management. The owner, or major stock-holder, sets the goals and decides the broad direction and the interests of the company, such as its stability and welfare. The emperor's interests coincide with the interests of the population, or in our comparison, the employees in a company. The citizens want to lead comfortable safe lives, and creating this environment ensures a stable hold on power for the emperor.

In the middle, between the emperor and the people, there were officials who had the job of running the country and maintaining stability. It is easy to see how people recognized their interests as coinciding with those of the emperor, and as a result both the emperor and the people blamed officials if something minor went wrong. If something major was wrong, it meant the emperor had lost his marbles, he did not understand his and his people's interests, or heaven did not want him to rule - and that was the end for him and the dynasty. They would be replaced by a new emperor and dynasty, setting new standards for the old stability game.

In the 20th century, Chiang Kai-shek and communist leader Mao Zedong also followed this pattern. Although they did not call themselves "emperors", they were the ultimate embodiment of the interests of the state and the ones who set the grand directions. Deng Xiaoping's rule (1978 to the early 1990s) was softer, but he still commanded great respect. Jiang Zemin (president from 1993 to 2003), was something in between.

However, the real radical change occurred at the beginning of this century, with the smooth transition of power from Jiang to Hu Jintao, the current president. That transition confirmed that both men were not emperors. They are Communist Party officials promoted because of merit to become head of state, but they do not embody the ultimate interests of the state. They cannot make the ultimate decisions alone - they have to reach a consensus among top leaders.

And they cannot even choose their own successors: Hu's post was decided by Deng (Jiang might have preferred Zeng Qinghong), and Hu's successor Xi Jinping was not decided by Hu alone (who might have preferred Li Keqiang). Both Jiang and Hu are top managers, but this raises a new question: who embodies the interests of the state and of the people?

In democracies, those interests are represented by the electoral body, which votes for the head of state and other representatives. In modern China, there are no elections and the "legitimization" offered by the leaders is simple: we are in power because we are in power. If nobody topples us, then we are legitimized to stay. We can stay in power by granting economic growth and development that spreads welfare to the whole population, although unequally.

However, legitimization is only part of the issue. The larger issue is: who decides the broad direction for the country to take? What are the criteria and standards to judge the performance of officials and top managing-rulers? Here, there are two arenas that have a greater and lesser voice in deciding on performance and setting goals.

The less powerful arena (whose voice is growing) is public opinion, which is conveyed by a number of channels, such as local media, blogs on the web, social surveys and local elections. This does not form a black and white picture, but reveals in which direction general interests are moving, or not moving. For instance, on the issue of environmental protection, 10 years ago people were less responsive to it, now they are more receptive.

A more powerful arena influencing China's leaders is a pool of experts, old party cadres called on to discuss different policies. The opinion of experts is solicited when considering any given policy, and the opinion of retired cadres, who now have no vested interests, is also tapped to consider the promotion of party officials. Tens of thousands were consulted to set the program for the Communist Party Congress in 2007, and 5,000 helped write the draft.

Even after retirement, officials have access to some levels of internal news bulletins and maintain privileged channels of communication with the top leadership. Therefore, they influence the broad decision-making process.

But the system is not transparent, opening many avenues for corruption. For example, middle- and low-level party officials who are backed by companies can try to climb up the official ladder by distributing presents and favors to higher-ranking officials. Companies, especially if they are state ones, can try to move policies by offering gifts and favors to officials.

It was to counter this that the party moved toward appealing to academic experts, with no personal interest in the issues involved, and retired cadres, also without personal interests.

The whole process is secretive and thus not open to wide interference. But even this is not watertight, and the leaders know it. For this reason, they are now pushing for some form of democratization, although they are concerned about the shortcomings of that system as well.

The party faces a major dilemma over how to move forward, especially as, for many people, the ultimate goal is to be "emperor".

At the southern end of Tiananmen Square in the capital Beijing, next to Zhengyang Men ("The Midday Gate") and about 200 meters from Mao's mausoleum, there is a spot where people take pictures of their children dressed as little Manchu emperors, sitting on a throne.

The place is symbolic: the ancient gate once opened on the nei cheng (inner city) and the buildings of the imperial government. Every day, there is a line of parents, mostly from the countryside, holding their children by the hand and waiting to take pictures as a sign of good luck. Each parent wants his or her only child to be successful - to become an emperor.

For centuries in ancient times there were only two ways to be successful. The first was to lead a rebellion or follow one - to topple a dynasty and become the emperor, or part of his circle. This was the method of Liu Bang (the founder of the Han Dynasty, 206 BC-220 AD), Zhu Yuanzhang (founder of the Ming Dynasty, 1368-1644 AD), and Mao Zedong ( founder of the "communist dynasty"). The path is extremely dangerous - one could easily lose his head - and the possibilities of success are very slim.

Second, an ambitious young man could pursue a career as an imperial official. He could take the challenging exams, and if he passed become even the top official of the empire. This path had no risk - nobody would kill the youth who did not pass his exam. And it was relatively easier. Although the official bureaucracy was tiny compared to the population, hundreds of officials were promoted every year, giving the average person a much better chance to succeed this way than by rebelling against the system. For this reason, most people first tried to become an official.

However, the exam system was not perfect, and many rebel leaders began as students who had failed the imperial examinations, like the famous Hong Xiuquan, who started the Taiping rebellion that in the middle of the 19th century almost toppled the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911 AD). If these brilliant people had earned a post, perhaps there would have been no rebellion, or a much more modest one.

There is a less common path to try to make a fortune for oneself - clever people could go into business. This path, however, was not as glorious as the choice of being an official, the top of the social hierarchy. And although not as risky as being a rebel, it was far from secure. Officials could easily concoct all kinds of excuses to seize the property of rich merchants. Business, concentrated in cities, was tolerated but not exalted, and businessmen had to be careful not to eclipse the wealth of local officials, who had to remain officially the richest in the area.

Businessmen could protect their assets in two ways: befriending officials or having their son pass state examinations and become an official. The second choice was safer and considered more socially respectable than the first. The remainder of the people, the vast majority of the population, were peasants who were bound to the land and had all types of constraints to leaving their place and moving on.

Furthermore, officials and peasants were the stronghold of stable power, the guarantors that nothing would change and the imperial power would be unchallenged. Business, with its drive to accumulate wealth and invest in new ventures, was a force for instability and change. This had to be tolerated for several reasons, but the imperial power could not allow business and enterprise to grow to threaten the emperor's stability.

This situation has changed in the past 30 years. Officials are still selected through a complex party system, with courses and exams, but now business is exalted for the first time in Chinese history. Business is central to the drive for fast development, which is the paramount task for the nation to recover its former might and glory. This has many consequences.

On a personal level, being a businessman is now as glorious as - or perhaps even more than - being an official. When the best kids at university are chosen to join the party and have an official career, they feel it is an honor that they must accept. But this career is long, very difficult, full of traps and rewarding only at the end - if, at about age 50, one has managed to survive the political selection and become a senior official.

Most young people prefer to try to become businessmen. They can be successful early in their lives, they are freer since they are not subject to strict party discipline, and they can enjoy themselves with the money they make. A businessman can have his own enterprise and decide what to do with minimal official interference. In other words, each young person can become the little emperor of a small empire, a possibility that did not exist in the imperial past.

Besides, trying one's hand in business is easier and far less risky than trying to start a revolution to become emperor.

On a social level, the changes brought by business and enterprises must be "digested" at every level by the system. Formerly, the imperial system could stop businesses from threatening the status quo. Now the nation wants to improve the status quo, and therefore it has to push for new businesses and then factor in the constant changes to the social and political fabric of the nation. Moreover, business-driven growth means urbanization, depopulation of the countryside, decimation of the peasant class, the end of ancient rural China and the birth of a new, urbanized China. This course will follow the only existing pattern for urbanization - the Western one.

Most importantly, the overall system has discarded the ancient notion of stability and embraced the notions of change and development. This is a deep cultural change, confirmed by the official Chinese rhetoric about stability. When the leaders stress the need for stability, they are looking for some balance in a situation that has inherently rejected it. And if everything fails, the government thinks, there must be something to appease the public. In the West, those appeasements were traditionally sports and religion.

(...)
The Mozi (Mocius), by the philosopher Mozi (470 BCE ca - 391 BCE), possibly the earliest text of systematic philosophy in China, begins its earliest part (4th century BC) by discussing the importance of promoting capable people as high officials (Shangxian pian, or to venerate the wise). It is claimed this is an ancient tradition from the Shang Dynasty (2nd millennium BC), which in turn was taken from the most legendary ancient Chinese emperors - Yao, Shun, Yu and Tang - who selected their successors on the basis of merit, regardless of origin. Shun and Yu had very humble origins.

Confucius, about a generation older than Mozi but referring to the earlier cultural tradition of Zhou (starting around 1,000 BC), also stressed the paramount importance of education and upbringing over birthright in the promotion of officials.

The original and enduring Chinese cultural belief is of a self-made man - the senior official born out of a peasant family or the top general starting off as a foot soldier. In this sense, social mobility was encouraged, and this may have created a strong bond in society.

In fact, as we have seen, there were two channels for upward mobility: the selection of officials, which was open to all, and the revolution (geming). The second is particularly important in comparison to Western tradition. Since the early first millennium BC, there has been a tradition of change (ge) of the Mandate of Heaven (ming).

Essentially, the idea was that the dynasty would rule until it was overthrown. The toppling was seen as legitimate when it was successful, evidence that heaven had withdrawn its graces from one emperor and granted them to another. The emperor, Son of Heaven, had to hold onto its power. His success in so doing proved his ritual and religious legitimacy. Large natural disasters and social uprisings confirmed the waning of heaven's favors.

Besides selected officials, each dynasty had its court of aristocrats - relatives of the emperor or descendents of the closest comrades of the founder of the dynasty. They, and the relatives of the senior officials, had varying influence. But this influence faded with the decades, as the generations grew away from the original connection. Furthermore, each change of dynasty completely wiped out the former aristocracy and established a new one. The Mongols eliminated the Song aristocrats, so did the Ming with Mongols, the Manchu with the Ming, and the communists with the Manchu.

This created a situation in which there is no aristocratic continuity stretching back hundreds of years, as there is in Europe. At most, Chinese aristocrats can claim a lineage of 300 years. Presently, there is no official aristocracy, but the siblings of senior leaders are called taizi dang (princelings). However, even they can claim an aristocracy that is less than 100 years old. This means that social mobility is strong, and aristocracy has not played as conspicuous and continuous a role as it has in Europe.