Browsing through photos of a 2007 visit to the vast “Forbidden City” in Beijing got me thinking about how, in imperial China, even the most distinguished foreign visitors to the Emperor were expected to prostrate themselves to acknowledge his supremacy. Imperial officials would ensure that this was done, after which the Emperor would condescend to accept tribute and grant gifts. That got me reflecting on an unrelated event in the US capital a few months ago.
Forbidden City
Built in the early 15th Century to reflect the hegemonic might of the Ming empire, the size of the vast complex of the Forbidden City is perhaps best appreciated atop Jingshan Park, which is impressive in itself. It is an an entirely artificial hill, constructed with soil excavated to create the moat surrounding the compound.
The Emperor was believed to derive his power from Heaven, and the place where he resided was the centre of the world, so his palace had to be oriented exactly north-south along a symmetrical axis. Jingshan was erected north of the compound in accordance with feng shui principles to protect the palace from negative energy and the cold north wind.
Zheng He
In the same year that the Yongli Emperor began constructing the Forbidden City, his Muslim admiral, Zheng He, was leading the first of seven historic voyages into the Indian Ocean, predating the appearance of the first Europeans off the coast of East Africa by 90 years. The Chinese ships were ten times the size and sophistication of the little Portuguese caravels. Little did Europeans know it, but they just missed crossing paths with the worlds mightiest sea power.
After Zheng He’s death, the late Ming Emperors judged that China was so great that it had no need to reach out to the world. Let the world come to it and pay tribute. The fleets were scrapped, the records destroyed and overseas voyages abandoned. The Grand Canal would suffice for coastal traffic and avoid having to worry about pirates. There was no need for allies, only obedient and respectful vassals.
Macartney’s Mission
Although the Qianlong Emperor didn’t recognize it, by 1793 Britain had risen to become the world’s real preeminent sea power. Its Industrial Revolution was underway and its empire was expanding from Australia, to parts of India, to Canada. To open doors to trade, King George III dispatched a mission to the Chinese court led by 66 year-old Lord George Macartney, an experienced diplomat and former governor of Grenada in the Caribbean and then Madras in India. But to a self-absorbed China, Britain was just another small, tribute-bearing, barbarian island. Macartney was certainly not about to act like a vassal, while the Qianlong Emperor saw the idea of a negotiation between equals as preposterous.
Kowtow
“Kowtow” (the Cantonese spelling for the Standard Mandarin “kòutóu” [ 叩头]) was the custom of formal prostration. In Imperial China, kòutóu was an accepted mark of respect at all levels of society. Even the Emperor himself would kowtow to Heaven and to the ancestral shrine of Confucius – but certainly not to any human being. Barbarian foreigners were expected to bring “tribute” and acknowledge the superiority of the “Son of Heaven” with due humility and respect.
The Emperor’s advisers had warned that Macartney would not kowtow. Unknown to Macartney, the Emperor had already prepared a response in advance, writing to King George that “[a]s your Ambassador can see for himself, we possess all things. I set no value on objects strange or ingenious, and have no use for your country’s manufactures.” For his part, Macartney likened China to an old warship that looked impressive but could not last long. When his reports reached Britain, people took offence at being dismissed as inferiors and called for boycotts of Chinese goods.
Macartney had a point. China may have been at the height of its power but was already showing signs of decline. Within 50 years Britain would force it to cede Hong Kong, while other European powers were scrambling to occupy parts of the coast. In another 70 years the last emperor abdicated and China descended into the chaos that led to declaration of the People’s Republic in 1949.
Echoes of the Past
Earlier this year the president of an embattled European democracy travelled to Washington, trusting that the self-styled leader of the democratic world would support his people’s struggle against brutal invasion by an autocratic power. Instead, Ukraine’s President Zelenskyy was criticised for not being dressed appropriately and advised that he should “offer some words of appreciation for the United States of America and the president who’s trying to save your country”. He was unceremoniously sent away empty handed. He was not the first world leader to be insulted, nor the last. Thinking of Washington these days I am reminded of Macartney’s metaphor:
“an old, crazy, first rate man-of-war, which a fortunate succession of able and vigilant officers have contrived to keep afloat for these 150 years past, and to overawe their neighbours merely by its bulk and appearance, but whenever an insufficient man happens to have the command upon deck, adieu to the discipline and safety of the ship. She may perhaps not sink outright; she may drift some time as a wreck, and will then be dashed to pieces on the shore; but she can never be rebuilt on the old bottom.”
Pictures of the Forbidden City are mine. The picture of one of Zheng He’s ships compared to a European vessel is from https://artkarel.com/zheng/. The photo of a kowtow from 1889 is courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.