Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Origins of Chinese Civilization, Part III: Something Happens



Hello friends, welcome back to Office Hours with the Brofessor, the Show Where I Say Things. Tonight: Something Happens.

Last time we talked about the development of the Longshan culture of the third milennium BC. Here we see an increased social stratification, when village “Big Men” became increasingly powerful chieftains. Finally, we had an urban agricultural society—what we would call civilization. Things were picking up steam.

But then, something happened, something sudden and catastrophic. Around four thousand years ago, after developing and flourishing for a millennium, the Longshan culture vanished. Cities emptied after centuries of growth, as if everyone had suddenly decided to pick up their stuff and go home. We don’t know what happened, but it may have had something to do with changing weather patterns(1). Indeed, Chinese folk history still seems to retain some faint memory of dramatic climatic change in its form of the Flood Myth.

In terms of cultural significance the Chinese Flood Myth plays a similar role to the Deluge of the Ancient Near East. In his book “Babylon: Mesopotamia and the Birth of Civilization” Paul Kriwaczek talks about the Great Flood serving an interesting purpose in Mesopotamian history. According to the Sumerian King List, the time before the flood was a sort of heroic age, with kings reigning for tens of thousands of years—a probable parallel to the longevity recorded in the Bible. Following the Deluge, life expectancy dramatically shortens in both the Sumerian and Biblical accounts. Thus, Kriwaczek suggests that the Flood represents a kind of transition between the half-remembered mythical past, and the more concrete annals of what, to the ancients, was recorded history.

So, too, does the Chinese Flood Myth separate the mythical Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors from the time of the dynasties. This was the time of my bro Da Yu, who supposedly set the precedent of dynastic succession (as opposed to a Big Man society, where children do not inherit their parents’ positions). The ensuing royal house was known as the Xia dynasty, and although we don’t know for sure, it may well have actually existed. Thus, the Flood Legend marks a kind of barrier between the real and the unreal, history and myth.

Of course a lot of cultures have the Flood Myth, and there have been a few attempts to explain this(2). What seems probable is that these stories were inspired by a real-life event: global warming.

Between nine and five thousand years ago, climatologists tell us that an event occurred known as the Holocene Climatic Optimum(3). Basically this refers to a time following the last glacial period when temperatures around the world were quite warm, warmer than today. Of course, and unfortunately for polar bears, global warming means melting ice:


Melting ice means rising sea levels, and rising sea levels mean floods. To ancient small-scale communities the effects must have been devastating.

Consider, for example, the filling of the Persian Gulf some eight thousand years ago(4). Prior to this, what is now the Persian Gulf was a fertile depression that people must have inhabited. But around 7.5 thousand years ago, we very suddenly have archaeological evidence of settlement around the gulf’s present shoreline. The flooding of the basin must have been a terribly catastrophic event for these people. Imagine your whole community permanently uprooted from their home and forced to settle on higher ground, because the water just won’t stop rising. To these communities, their whole world really did flood, and in an age when natural forces were believed to be sentient, it would not have been difficult to ascribe the disaster to divine wrath. Cultures around the world must have experienced such a shock that it is not difficult to see the flood myths as very faint memories of an actual event.

But the Holocene Climatic Optimum wasn’t all bad. The balmier climate allowed for the spread of agriculture, and with it civilization. Prior to the HCO, humans had reached a stalemate with nature. Societies, say, twenty thousand years ago were just as complex and nuanced as societies today, but due to the harsh climate any large-scale, settled mode of existence was doomed to failure. It wasn’t until the last ten thousand years that the climate was in the right place for large-scale societies to emerge.

As Kriwaczek points out, the transition from a nomadic hunting and gathering lifestyle to one based on gardening, farming or herding must have been incredibly traumatic for societies. It was indeed a “great flood,” one might say, of new ideas and ways of life. This “flood” uprooted and supplanted languages, cultural practices and entire ways of life that had remained intact for ages untold. Next time you roll your eyes at an old person writing checks at the supermarket, imagine the generational gap within a society that has just adopted agriculture. Imagine the vastness of knowledge and tradition, accumulated over tens (or even hundreds) of millennia, rendered suddenly obsolete by the emergence of settled agricultural life. Imagine the antiquity of the languages lost as more and more communities were absorbed into large-scale societies.

As the distant hunting-and-gathering past receded deeper and deeper into the chasm of the ages, a dim memory must have been preserved of some ancient age. This age was disconnected with our own, a time when things were somehow different, maybe even better. And then—suddenly—everything changed, and here we are in the present, with a new status quo. It seems plausible that this transition was so jarring to societies that it is remembered to this day as some great natural disaster. Given that this cultural shift occurred during a time of rising sea levels leads us to the possible origin of the Flood Myth. At any rate, at least in the mythology of China, the Great Flood functions as a kind of dividing line between myth and history.


So, what do you think about the Great Flood in China? Let me know, and be sure to tune in for our next episode, Origins of Chinese Civilization, Part III: The Xia Dynasty. See you next time.

Sources:

Origins of Chinese Civilization, Part II: BIg Men and Kings


 Hi everyone, welcome back to Office Hours with the Brofessor: The Show Where I Say Things. Tonight: The Origins of Chinese Civilization, Part II: Big Men and Kings. Or as I like to call it: Ongka’s Big Chinese Moka.

Last time we talked about some of the early cultures along the Yellow river during the neolithic period—remember, neolithic means “new stone age” and refers to the period between the dawn of agriculture and the first use of metal tools. Basically we had during this time settled farming villages that were too small to really call a civilization, but were already forming some of the cultural elements that we see throughout Chinese history even to modern times. One of the most important of these societies is called the Yangshao culture by archaeologists. Its heyday was around the fifth millennium BC, and by the third millennium BC it had developed into what is known as the Longshan Culture.

As I say, the Longshan culture flourished between five and four thousand years ago in the Yellow River basin. During its second half of development there existed, for the first time in China, what we might have called “civilization”(1)--that is, a culture with cities. Although we cannot really call this the beginning of Chinese “history”, as written documents from this time have not (yet?) been discovered, all of the foundations were in place by the end of the Longshan period(2). In traditional Chinese historiography, the period between five and four thousand years ago was a larger-than-life time of heroic badasses like the Yellow Emperor and Da Yu getting up to all sorts of heroic badassery(3). It’s could it be that these myths are in fact folk memories of actual people and events from the Longshan period? Maybe not, but it’s fun to speculate. At any rate the late Longshan period is, in my view, really where the “China ball” started not just rolling, but picking up speed. By this I mean that the distinctly “Chinese” cultural elements we discussed last time now existed in a stratified urban society. Regardless of whether the language of the Longshan people was ancestral to modern Chinese (though it may well have been) the culture certainly was.

As this new civilization grew, villages became cities. Hundreds became thousands, then tens of thousands(4); The result of this population growth, as in other ancient civilization, was increased social stratification. A priestly ruling class governed, and being part of it meant some pretty sweet perks: for one thing, you got to have bitchin’ parties with tons of booze, ostensibly to honor your ancestors (5). The drink of choice was probably not unlike Huangjiu(6), or yellow rice beer, still widely enjoyed in China today.

The strong emphasis of partying by the ruling class during the early millennia of Chinese history is particularly interesting when viewed in comparison with other cultures’ tradition of the “Big Man”. To this day, among some Papuan and Austronesian speakers of the South Seas, societies tend to be nominally egalitarian, but in reality things are run by the local “Big Man”, who everyone respects as the de-facto leader(7). The position is maintained by a) giving gifts to your neighbors, and b) throwing awesome parties. Anyone who wants to become the next Big Man has a simple task: throw a more epic kegger than the last guy. Friendly competition between Big Men is of course highly encouraged in these societies, since the ones who benefit most are the neighbors and friends of the Big Men. The institution of the Big Man is central to many, if not most, cultures of the South Seas. In Tok Pisin, a creole language of Papua New Guinea, the word for “president” is bikman bilong kantri—“Big Man belong country”(8). On the other hand, the thing that you don’t want to be in Tok Pisin is liklik man “small man”.

The Big Man society appears to be a fairly natural development in the emergence of sedentary societies the world over. Consider the Potlatch of the Pacific Northwest Indians, for example. Even the term “Big Man” appears in different times, places and languages, always referring to a man who was not physically large, but rather socially influential. In ancient Sumer, the earliest kings were known as lugal—which literally translates to, you guessed it, Big Man. I’ve always wondered if this term was a holdover from the very earliest days of sedentary life, when a Big Man society actually did exist.

As populations grew, Big Men became chieftains, and chieftains became kings. In ancient China, the proper form of address to a nobleman was 大人 da1ren2 “big man”. The antonym to this was of course 小人 xiao3ren2 “villain”. Compare both with Tok Pisin bikman/liklik man. I don’t know when these terms were first used, but if they were present in the earliest written documents, I can’t help but wonder if it’s a holdover from the Longshan period: a time when city chieftains and kings had been, just a few generations before, village Big Men. Indeed, traditional Chinese histories talk about the “Three Emperors and Five Sovereigns” of the extremely remote past not always following a hereditary dynastic succession—which corresponds beautifully to a Big Man society, wherein influence is held by an individual, but not passed on to children. Very interesting. I think Ongka, of Anthro 101 fame, would feel quite at home in this society.


So, that’s my hypothesis: that in the Longshan culture we are seeing a transition from a Big Man society to a stratified civilization, and we can hear very faint echoes of that transition in Chinese mythology to this day. What do you think? Send me a comment or email, I’d love to discuss this with you guys. Also, be sure to tune in next time, for Origins of Chinese Civilization, Part III: Something Happens. See you next time!

Sources: 

8. Baing, Susan, and Craig Alan Volker. Papua New Guinea Tok Pisin English Dictionary. South Melbourne, Vic: Oxford UP, 2008. Print.

Monday, July 11, 2016

Origins of Chinese Civilization, Part I: Intro to Neolithic China



Hey guys, welcome back to Office Hours with the Brofessor: The Show Where I Say Things. Tonight we’re going to begin a new series that I’m really excited about: we’re going to discuss the ancient origins of Chinese civilization.

In this series we’re going to go way back in time to the very earliest cultures that could be considered ancestral to what we call “China”, and look at some of the cultural elements that continue to be with us even to this day.

Something my Chinese friends like to say is “China has five thousand years of history”. Even the Chinese president, Xi Jinping, recently made an address to the UK parliament wherein he claimed the figure to be “over” five thousand. The “5k figure”, as I call it, is usually used as an assertion of Chinese national pride. To question the figure is tantamount to belittling the Chinese nation, so in my experience when someone makes this claim the best thing to do is nod and go along with it—internal cringing aside.

The 5k figure is inaccurate. For one thing, “history”, strictly speaking, means that contemporary written sources are available from this time. They weren’t. The very oldest undisputed Chinese written documents date from the 13th century BC, maybe a little older. Sorry, Xi. Saying “China has over five thousand years of history” isn’t wrong in the “2+2=5” sense, but it is a gross oversimplification. I think it would be more accurate to say this:

China has almost 3500 years of written history, four thousand years of civilization, and at least seven thousand years of continuous cultural development. That is to say, the Yellow River basin seven thousand years ago was home to cultures directly ancestral to the Chinese culture of today.

Wow.

That’s a period of existence older than any other society today. Egypt and Mesopotamia became Arabic-speaking Islamic societies. Byzantium, the continuation of ancient Greco-Roman culture, fell to the Ottomans. But China is still here, and arguably has been for seven thousand years.

To an American—especially one from Colorado, a history-starved pocket of a history-starved nation—these numbers boggle the mind. It’s almost unfathomable, but there it is.

So, let’s get started by going back to five thousand BC in the Yellow River basin of central China. This is the middle of what’s called the neolithic, or new stone age. Agriculture is hardly a new thing, but we’re still thousands of years off from what we would call civilization, or even the use of metal. Basically we’re looking at a continuum of culturally related farming villages (1).

The apparent continuity between these cultures suggests some degree of language contact. Even if these communities were not linguistically related, the people belonging to them were at least bro enough to learn each other’s languages. There might even have been what linguists call a sprachbund—that is, languages that influence each other, but are not necessarily related themselves. A good example is the linguistic exchange between Sumerian and Akkadian in ancient Mesopotamia. While of course we can’t prove whether language contact did in fact occur, I like to think of the words of the immortal Dr. Seuss:

“If such a thing could be, it certainly would be.”
--Dr. Seuss, McElligott’s Pool

...or at least, so I like to think.

Gradually, between the seventh and fourth millennia BC, a unifying set of ideas spread throughout the Yellow River basin. Among these were, for example, a belief in a circular sky and square earth, with totem items to represent them (2) and the association of dragons with storms and water (3). It is possible, and perhaps even likely, that these concepts were spread by people speaking a language ancestral, or at least related, to modern Chinese, given that some of the words for these concepts may be found in reconstructed Proto-Sino-Tibetan. A good example is PST /*m-bruk/(4), which referred to a heavenly dragon associated with storms and weather. This concept was probably held by the PST speakers of eight thousand years ago, and remains prominent in Chinese culture today. We even still have the same word in modern Standard Chinese, written like this:



靐


That is, bing4 “sound of thunder”. It was ideas like these that spread across the Yellow River basin of seven thousand years ago—perhaps spread, as I say, by a language ancestral to today’s Chinese.

These prehistoric farming communities gradually coalesced into what is known to archaeologists as the Yangshao culture, which flourished between the seventh and fifth milennia BC and developed out of the earlier Penligang, Dadiwan and Cishan cultures(4). The Yangshao people have given us some of the very earliest distinctively “Chinese” cultural elements. For example, present in the Yangshao culture was the ding, or ceremonial cauldron(5), which really began with the even earlier Cishan culture (6). To this day dings are highly prestigious symbols in China. Here’s a look at a Cishan and Yangshao ding:


Cishan ding (8-7kya)(5)



Yangshao ding (7-5kya)(6)

To the north of the Yangshao was the culturally similar Hongshan culture. From the Hongshan people, too, we find some of the first recognizable elements of what we would call Chinese culture. For instance, the Hongshan people used shapes and figures at ceremonial sites that imply, incredibly, the earliest example of what we know today as Feng Shui(7). Another great Hongshan find is this beautiful jade dragon:


Hongshan Jade Dragon (7-5 kya)(8)

I love to look at the dings and the dragon, and think about how I am now living in what could be called a direct continuation of these seven thousand year old cultures. Pretty amazing, and that’s why I love China.


So that’s part I of our series on the origins of Chinese civilization. Up next: Origins of Chinese Civilization, Part II: Big Men and Kings. See you next time!

Part I:

Wednesday, July 6, 2016

Badass Historical Chinese Bros, Part IV: Sun Yat-Sen



Hey guys, welcome back to Office Hours with the Brofessor: The Show Where I Say Things. Tonight: Badass Historical Chinese Bros, Part IV: Sun Yat-Sen.

The 19th century was not a good time for China. Chinese historians use the term “Century of Humiliation” to describe the period between the Opium Wars in the 1830s and the end of WWII. China, mainly due to corruption and cultural chauvinism on the part of the ruling Qing dynasty, had fallen seriously behind the West in terms of technological and economic development, and as a result became a victim of Western imperialism. Japan even got involved following its modernization in the 1870s. This culminated in the Japanese Imperial Army committing some of the most horrific war crimes in human history against the Chinese during WWII. In the 1850s and 60s, the Taiping rebellion swept across southern China. Taiping, incidentally, translates as “extremely peaceful”, an interesting name for a conflict that killed over twice as many people as World War I(1).

In the midst of all this chaos there emerged a man of vision and dedication, who believed in his nation when no one else seemed to. This man’s name was Sun Zhongshan, known in the West as Sun Yat-Sen.

Sun Yat-Sen was one of those rare individuals whose ideals were just too far ahead of their time, and as a result were not nearly as successful as they should have been. Sun Yat-Sen was born in 1866 and grew up in Hawaii, where he received a Western education and even converted to Christianity. He returned to China just in time to see China get completely obliterated in the first Sino-Japanese war, and then get carved up by foreign powers in the 1890s. Frustrated at the Qing dynasty’s incompetence, Sun advocated revolution and setting up a democratic form of government.

Cool idea, his friends said, but who’s going to lead this revolution? You? And of course, that’s just what he did. After a few false starts, in 1912 Sun Yat-Sen overthrew the Qing dynasty and established the Republic of China, a state which continues to this day on Taiwan and continues to be recognized by some countries as the legitimate government of all China. He struggled for the next decade to make a free, just and strong China, ultimately dying in 1925—before his goal was accomplished.

Sun Yat-Sen was guided by what he called the “Three Principles of the People” (Chinese 三民主义 San1min2 Zhu3yi4). He developed the philosophy as a kind of blueprint for a prosperous, strong, and democratic China. Let’s take a look at each principle in detail:

The first principle is 民族 min2zu2 usually translated as “nationalism”. However, that term has an air of chauvinism, or even racism, about it in English that was never present in Sun Yat-Sen’s ideology. A more accurate translation might be “People’s Nation”. Basically it referred to a national Chinese identity and pride regardless of ethnic group; that is, a Manchu or a Tibetan had just as much right to call himself “Chinese” as a Mandarin speaker from Beijing. I like this principle because it applies to me too! I like to have daydreams about settling down in the ROC, getting naturalized as a dual citizen, and looking like a foreigner but really being just as Chinese as anyone else. Sun Zhongshan would’ve been totally on board with that, and it’s something that I think some people forget: that China isn’t homogeneous! It’s a multiethnic country too, just like the US, and Sun wanted to make sure that each ethnic group in China was treated fairly.

The second principle is 民權 min2quan2 or “people’s rule”--that is, democracy. Sun’s great hope was that he would see China develop into a genuine democracy where people could express themselves freely and choose their leaders. In the end, he never accomplished his dream within his lifetime, but due to the groundwork he laid as the Republic of China’s first president, we now have a genuine multiparty democracy in the ROC—that is to say, Taiwan. On the mainland, too, things are getting better every day. That said, I’m not exactly gonna be the first one to wear a “Free Tibet” t-shirt to Tienanmen Square. But it’ll get there someday, I have faith.

Good will always triumph over evil, freedom will always triumph over tyranny, and I believe that someday, Sun’s dream of a united, free and strong China will come true. The Communist Party of China likes to talk about the “great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation”, which I really believe I’m witnessing right now. That’s why I love living in China.

The third principle is 民生 min2sheng1 “people’s livelihood”. Basically this means socialism, and a highly-developed social welfare system for those members of society who need an extra hand. I personally think socialism is a great idea, within the framework of a free democracy. Sun Yat-Sen thought so too, and believed in a fairer and more equitable society. While people do have the opportunity to become successful through hard work, the weaker members of society are taken care of. I’m down with that. China is a huge country, with enormous natural resources. There’s plenty to go around, and Sun Yat-Sen understood that.

So those are my bro Sun Yat-Sen’s Three Principles of the People, and that wraps up not only today’s discussion, but my whole series on Badass Historical Chinese Bros. Up next: The Origins of Chinese Civilization. See you next time.

Sources:


Monday, July 4, 2016

Badass Historical Chinese Bros, Part III: Guan Yu



Hi guys, welcome back to Office Hours with the Brofessor: the Show Where I Say Things. Today's episode: Badass Historical Chinese Bros, Part III: Guan Yu.

The year is 189 AD. The realm is in turmoil as the Han dynasty collapses. Warlords rise and fall against a backdrop of chaos and intrigue. Out of the mayhem emerges one man mighter than all the rest, a hero in battle and a loyal friend in peace. This man’s name is Guan Yu. He is the second of three sworn brothers. The oldest is the forgotten heir to the imperial throne. Against all odds, the three do battle to restore the dynasty and unite all under heaven! Guan Yu has pledged his honor and life to his big brother’s cause.

As both a friend and a warrior, Guan Yu was without peer. Before we get into Guan Yu’s accomplishments, let’s first get a feel for what the dude looked like. According to Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Guan Yu was nine feet tall, with a face that was red as a jujube. He had thick eyebrows, like nesting silkworms, and a three-foot-long beard. So impressive was this particular feature that he even came to be known as “The Lord of the Magnificent Beard”.

In battle he wielded a long spear called the Green Dragon Crescent Blade, which is perhaps the most video-gamesque name ever given to an item that was not actually in a video game. It was also called the “frost-fair blade”, since when he fought in the snow the blood of his enemies would freeze on the blade, forming a layer of frost. The weapon weighed a hundred pounds, but he could swing it around like he was the seventh-grade me in my backyard with a dowel rod.

Of course he didn’t actually look like that, or even actually do the things he’s best known for, but this is how we remember him. In a way I would argue that the legendary character of Guan Yu is in its own way quite real, perhaps as real as the historical figure no one really cares about. Guan Yu may not actually have been a nine-foot-tall red dude with an unrealistically heavy spear, but he may as well have been.

Guan Yu--or the legendary version of him--is my hero because, first and foremost, he was a good friend. He never betrayed his two brothers, no matter what was offered him. One time a rival warlord wanted Guan Yu to defect to his side, so he gave Guan a super fast horse. Guan Yu was like, “Cool thanks, now I can go home and see my bros.” It was pretty much the complete opposite of what the warlord wanted.

There was only one problem: Guan Yu was deep behind enemy lines, with five fortified passes between him and his bros. Did that stop him? Nope. Guan Yu wrecked some fools in each pass that he came to. He didn’t even slow down when a dude shot him with an arrow. Such was his loyalty to his friends.

Another time Guan Yu got a poisoned wound in battle. The poison got into the bone and would have to be scraped out surgically. When he got the news, Guan was in the middle of drinking with his homeboys and playing go. It was a really good game, so he didn’t feel like stopping for something stupid like lifesaving surgery. So he told the doc to just go ahead and do it then and there. He was awake, talking, drinking and playing go the whole time. Dude didn’t even flinch.

So Guan Yu has gone down in history for his steadfast loyalty and for being a tough-as-nails sumbitch who didn’t screw around and took the Bro Code seriously. It is for these qualities that he is my third da-ge. The world would be a better place if we all learned from his example.


So, that’s my big bro Guan Yu. Up next: Badass Historical Chinese Bros, Part IV: Sun Yat-Sen.