Abstract
China today is an economic and geopolitical presence whose impact is felt across the globe in myriad ways. The country’s transformation has happened with such astonishing speed over the recent few decades that any mention of China evokes many emotions—of admiration, respect, envy, wariness, fear—or a combination of these. But above all there are questions: how did China rise to this position of global stature after 200 years of humiliation, backwardness, civil war and military defeat? And what does that portend for the world?
The authors’ central thesis is that it was during this period that China discovered—or rediscovered—the animating idea that underlies its rise and also explains the tortuous course that Chinese history has taken since the early nineteenth century. This idea is fuqiang: ‘wealth and power’ and has its origins in ancient Chinese history when the philosopher Han Feizi explained (p. 6): ‘If a wise ruler masters wealth and power, he can have whatever he desires’. China’s quest for fuqiang is thus the elan vital that runs through this work. To illustrate the flowering of this idea in its many forms and dimensions, the authors have selected the method of ‘historical reflection’ by building the book around ‘the lives, writings and speeches of a diverse group of iconic political and intellectual figures’ (p. 5) who collectively span these 200 years. This interweaving of biography with a thematic driving hypothesis works well as a narrative strategy, as the authors are able to keep the reader engaged whilst the argument unfolds at a smart clip.
Some of the historical characters who feature in the book are household names—Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping, who merit two chapters each—whilst others like Liang Qichao, Dowager Empress Ci Xi, Sun Yatsen, Chen Duxiu, Chiang Kai-shek, Zhu Rongji and Liu Xiaobo are better known to those with some acquaintanceship with Chinese history. And the earliest of them all—Wei Yuan and Feng Guifen—may be as new to the reader as they were to this reviewer; yet these two chapters are amongst the most gripping in the book. They set the scene by describing the first manifestations of fuqiang as China commenced its ‘long march to the twenty-first century’—the phrase that forms the sub-title of the book. That journey has indeed been one replete with many twists and turns.
Schell and Delury’s chapter on Wei Yuan is aptly titled ‘Humiliation’, for it was this scholar-official who wrote in his seminal work ‘Records of the Conquest’ that ‘humiliation stimulates effort; when the country is humiliated, its spirit will be aroused’. Wei Yuan urged that the Chinese people harness the energising power of the humiliation that its tormentors—the Western Powers and later Japan—inflicted on the country throughout the course of the nineteenth century. This energy could bring about fuxing or ‘rejuvenation’—another term that has great resonance today following its usage by President Xi Jinping as the foundation of the modern ‘Chinese dream’ of revival and rejuvenation. Chapter 3 then goes on to tell the tale of Feng Guifeng, another scholar–official. Feng carried the theme further by suggesting that the elemental energy unleashed by humiliation be put to work in the service of ziqiang or self-strengthening; China should learn from the West in the key areas of education, intellectual enquiry, technology and economic development, but yet retain its Chinese ‘essence’.
These chapters are good indicators of how the authors build their argument, and of their narrative process. There is sufficient biographical detail about each of the protagonists: whilst this is not overwhelming, a comprehensive bibliography is available to the reader should he wish to delve deeper. As the lives of the main characters unfold, we are drawn into their sense of turmoil and confusion at what, with hindsight, we can recognise as turning points in the fuqiang story. This is well illustrated by the chapter on Liang Qichao (Chapter 5). Liang started as a strong votary of ‘self-strengthening’ in the last days of the Qing dynasty, but soon became an advocate of ‘destructivism’ which urged that the very essence of Chinese culture was what stood in the way of China’s becoming a modern, self-confident country. He spent long years in exile in Japan, played a role in the 4 May 1919 events in Beijing and was deeply disillusioned by what he saw of Europe after the Great War had come to a close. Modernisation had not delivered happiness there, but destruction of a fearful magnitude. The wheel turned full circle, when Liang in his final years resumed his studies of the Chinese classics and suggested that ancient Chinese values might revive not only his own country but provide guidance to a world which had abandoned its moral moorings.
The chapters that follow bring out all the elements in the Liang story in different measure and reveal some unexpected similarities between the main characters depicted in the book. Arch-enemies Mao and Chiang—and even republicans like Sun—all displayed an underlying strand of authoritarianism borne out of a belief that the Chinese people were ‘poor and blank’ (Mao) or lacked sufficient will, being merely ‘sheets of loose sand’ (Chiang). Others, like Chen Duxiu, Sun Yatsen, Lu Xun and Liang himself reverted to Confucius towards the end of their lives (p. 389). Was this just resignation or senility, or is there a deeper significance in this pattern?
The book’s final chapters cover Liu Xiaobo, the Nobel Prize winner who is currently serving a jail sentence for ‘subversion of state power’. Concluding reflections bring us right up to date with President Xi Jinping’s new ‘Chinese Dream’ and ‘the great revival of the Chinese nation’—the latest edition of fuqiang. It is here that the authors have missed an opportunity.
Schell and Delury point out early in the book (p. 6) that by the eighteenth century the ancient term fuqiang had acquired a more emollient meaning, closer to ‘prosperity and strength’. This theme could have been explored further to indicate how fuqiang might evolve in the coming years. Today, we face the multiple threats of climate change, the possibility of pathogenic micro-organisms causing epidemic disease on a global scale and annihilation through nuclear weapons unleashed by terrorist actors. What is ‘wealth’ and what is ‘power’ in such a context? An early commentator on this subject was Laozi who said: ‘If you conquer others, you have power; if you conquer yourself, you have strength.’ Since then, many other Chinese scholars (and visitors to China such as Nobel-Laureate Rabindranath Tagore) have speculated that true ‘power’ and ‘wealth’ have dimensions that transcend the material and move into the spheres of the ecological, human and moral universe. Could China’s continuing search for fuqiang, in a new avatar, give the world pointers for the future?
On second thoughts, this subject cannot be covered in a mere postscript. It deserves an entire book. Here is a challenge to the authors. Would they be prepared to step up to the plate?