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Friday, October 8, 2010

Team Canada female athletes disqualified from Commonwealth silver medal, jailed Chinese democracy activist awarded with Nobel peace prize, and others in between (Part 1) — when democracy can be trumped by issue-based politics

October 8, 2010 is an eventful day in my world of stories.

News comes that the Canadian women competing in the 4x100 freestyle relay swim event in the Commonwealth Games in New Delhi, India, have just won but then been disqualified from the silver medal, because one of the swimmers – not immediately clear if it was Montreal’s Victoria Poon, Geneviève Saumur, Calgary’s Erica Morningstar or Stratford’s Julia Wilkinson – leaped into the pool early thus committing an “illegal takeover”. (“Swimming DQ costs Canada a medal”, by Jesse Campigotto, October 8, 2010, CBC Sports.)

On the cheerful side of news, the Chinese intellectual and democracy activist Liu Xiaobo, who in a sense is a “prisoner of conscience” at the early stage of an 11+2-year jail sentence in China (an 11-year prison term plus 2 additional years without normal citizen’s political rights), is awarded the Nobel Peace Prize by the Norwegian Nobel Committee based in Oslo, a city Liu had visited in 1988 as a scholar before the 1989 Chinese democracy movement thrust him into the spotlight – during its final days on Tiananmen Square in late May and early June of that year. (“International PEN calls Liu Xiaobo’s sentence a grievous betrayal of inalienable human rights”, December 25, 2009, International PEN; “Nobel Peace Prize Given to Jailed Chinese Dissident”, by Andrew Jacobs and Jonathan Ansfield, October 8, 2010, The New York Times; “Chinese dissident Liu Xiaobo wins Nobel Peace Prize”, October 8, 2010, USA Today; and, “Liu: A champion for political change with a heart of gold”, by Mark MacKinnon, October 8, 2010, The Globe and Mail.)

To confess my relative lack of patriotism as a Canadian without others’ sporting fervor, and my relative lack of political correctness as someone who had grown up and received university education in China but did not become a more righteous human-rights campaigner, I admit that I feel more interested in, and intrigued by, another news story the meaning and morale of which is not so crystal clear: U.S. President Barack Obama announces the resignation of National Security Adviser James L. Jones, who will be replaced by his deputy Thomas Donilon. (“Security adviser Jones the latest to leave Obama's White House”, by Sheldon Alberts, October 8, 2010, Leader-Post.)

Ah, Mr. Donilon’s brother, Mike, is Vice President Joe Biden’s adviser, and his wife Catherine Russell is Mrs. Jill Biden’s Chief of Staff – I can see the point of it. (“Jones to announce resignation today, Donilon to replace him”, by Josh Rogin, October 8, 2010, Foreign Policy.)

I am thinking about the Joe Biden who before assuming the vice presidency was this curious yet assertive chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee during much of the short time in the New Millennium, providing the necessary scrutiny on George W. Bush’s War on Terror, and earlier had been the aggressive chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee known for his opposition to George H. W. Bush’s nomination of Clarence Thomas for the United States Supreme Court – Justice Thomas won in 1991 despite Biden and moreover despite Anita Hill who accused him of sexual harassment. (“Biden and Anita Hill, Revisited”, by Kate Phillips, August 23, 2008, The New York Times; “Joe Biden's the Man on Guantanamo, Iraq and the “War on Terror””, by Andy Worthington, August 24, 2008, The Huffington Post; and, “After Cheney”, by James Traub, November 29, 2009, The New York Times.)

What else, i.e., beside the Biden connections? Donilon was just in Beijing in early September, in a visit during which he and White House Economic Council Director Lawrence Summers met with at least five Chinese Communist Party Politburo members, eager to pressure China to let its Yuan currency appreciate. But soon after the visit Summers, former Secretary of the Treasury in the Clinton administration and ex-President of Harvard, tendered his resignation, and now less than three weeks later General Jones, ex-Commandant of the United States Marine Corps and former Allied Supreme Commander in Europe, follows. (“Summers, Donilon Get Unusual China Access as Yuan Debate Looms”, September 8, 2010, Bloomberg News; and, “Summers resigns as adviser on economy – Follows exits by Romer, Orszag”, by Kara Rowland, September 21, 2010, The Washington Times.)

Donilon and Biden are the men now, and we are talking about probably “back to the future”  in Biden’s way, who for decades took the commuter train daily from Wilmington, Delaware to the Union Station in Washington, D.C. to work at the Capitol, and whose favorite sport is women’s lacrosse! (“Biden First Nominee To Be Daily Amtrak Commuter?”, By Tom Acitelli, August 25, 2008, The New York Observer; “Biden announces change in Title IX women's sports policy”, by Jill Dougherty, April 20, 2010, CNN; and, “Joe Biden, No. 1 Fan of Women's Sports”, by Libby Sander, April 20, 2010, The Chronicle of Higher Education.)

Hopefully the changes of President Obama’s advisers and the increase of Joe Biden’s influence will lead to revisiting some important issues without falling into the danger of Michael J. Fox’s Parkinson’s disease – something I discussed in an earlier blog article, ““Nairobi to Shenzhen”, and on to Guangzhou”.

I actually am a sports fan, but not the type bitten by the ice hockey bug Canadians are supposed to be – as just reaffirmed by the installation of the new Governor General of Canada David Johnston, the British Queen’s vice-regal representative in Canada, in this case a former two-time hockey All-American at Harvard praised by Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper as “a true all-rounder”. (“For new GG David Johnston, being vice-regal is a family affair”, by Heather Scoffield, October 2, 2010, Winnipeg Free Press.)

For a long time Canada’s only national sport was actually lacrosse – a game first invented by the aboriginal people – until 1994 when the Parliament officially designated hockey the national winter sport, and lacrosse the national summer sport albeit by this time lacrosse has only a small following. (Alain Bairner, Sport, nationalism, and globalization: European and North American perspectives, 2001, State University of New York Press; and, “National Sports of Canada Act”, 1994, Canadian Heritage.)

So if Mr. Biden is looking to Canada, he is a little late and the glass is not even half full – unless global warming works in his favor.

For me though, when I was younger I dabbled in various sports recreationally but lacking the physical build and strength I could only wish I had really been competitive – so I’ll choose lacrosse if I were to play.

I am also a fan of women’s sports, and when it gets to the right level of skills versus physical power I can like women’s more, such as in the case of international volleyball. I remember when I was a Berkeley grad student I once volunteered to drive some of the visiting Chinese junior women’s volleyball players around sightseeing; and the only other time at Berkeley when I drove for anyone of celebrity type was when the actress Joan Chen – later of the movie “The Last Emperor” fame – and her all-boys entourage came to town – an anecdote I mentioned in my earlier blog article, ““Nairobi to Shenzhen”, and on to Guangzhou”.

Many years later on October 23, 2001, the Canadian women’s national hockey team came to San Jose for an exhibition game with the American women’s, a warm-up for the Salt Lake City Olympics in which the two were expected to be the ultimate rivals (“News”, Stanford Canadian Club). I had just established connection with Bernard Etzinger, then Canadian Consul and Trade Commissioner in Silicon Valley (“Canada Plans Legislative Secretariat in Washington, D.C.”, by Larry Luxner, August 2004, The Washington Diplomat), and through him to Paula Fairweather and the local Canadian club she headed, Digital Moose Lounge (“A New Magnetic North – How Canada Can Attract and Retain Young Talent”, July 1, 2001, Canada25), and was very glad to go with the other transplanted Canadians to cheer for the girls.

It was a good hockey game, and an even more interestingly enjoyable experience when at game’s start Bernie brought over and introduced to me Beth Lawlor, a newly arrived post-doc researcher at the University of California medical school in San Francisco, who so happened had just received her Ph.D. from the University of British Columbia and studied with a cancer-research scientist to whom I am related – albeit on the downside I had been kicked out of UBC by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) on July 2, 1992 at the end of my faculty job there when a civil dispute with my then boss, “Maria”, had turned politically charged.

But somehow there was something unsettling on this occasion of an exciting girls’ hockey game, to me anyway: the Canadians’ coach who later would lead the women to Canada’s first Olympic hockey gold in 50 years, was Sergeant Danièle Sauvageau, a Montreal police officer sometimes undercover in narcotics and formerly with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (“Danièle Sauvageau – Former Canadian Olympic Hockey Coach”, Speakers' Spotlight); then after the game, three Canadian players came to meet with us the local Canadians and the one towering above the other two was goalie Kim St. Pierre, a student at McGill University in Montreal (“2002 Games Team Canada – Kim St. Pierre”, Canoe.ca).

So it would take a Montreal police sergeant to lead the Canadian girls to make history, but was it just hockey – Sauvageau had distinguished herself as the founding coach of the Canadian junior women’s team (“Danièle Sauvageau”, Wikipedia) – or had there been safety concerns haunting the girls, like ghosts of the Montreal Massacre?

I hadn’t talked to Bernie (Etzinger) much after becoming acquainted with him only days earlier, but he was a friendly and no-nonsense guy, and at one point during the game he turned to me and said, “Last year I was invited to the wedding of Prime Minister Brian Mulroney’s daughter, and it was very nice, in 2000. It was Caroline. Or was it someone else?” (“Mulroney wedding to be a who's who”, August 23, 2ooo, CBC News.)

Ah hah, an unforgettable moment. I certainly knew only little about the Canadian liberal Frank magazine’s contest of “Deflower Caroline Mulroney” back in 1991, about then Prime Minister Brian Mulroney’s reaction to the joke about his only daughter, “I wanted to take a gun and go down there and do some serious damage to those people”, or about Caroline’s new husband Andrew Lapham, son of the famously liberal Lewis Lapham, editor of Harper’s Magazine. (“Lion of the US left”, by Gary Younge, March 5, 2003, The Guardian; and, “Mulroney’s Shadows: The Many Images of Canada’s Eighteenth Prime Minister”, by Jonathan Malloy, June 2008, Carlton University.)

But sitting with Mr. Etzinger the diplomatic consul on this occasion I was fully aware that Kim Campbell, Mulroney’s successor as the Progressive Conservative party leader and the first female Canadian Prime Minister, before that Justice Minister and my Member of Parliament in the Vancouver Centre riding during that earlier era, had just been the Canadian Consul General in Los Angeles from 1996 to 2000, overseeing several states including California, and Hawaii where I worked from 1997 to 1999. (“Campbell, Kim – Prime Minister of Canada (1993)”, Club of Madrid.)

Back in November 1992 I was politically active circulating press releases critical of Prime Minister Brian Mulroney’s leadership and conduct; then on November 30 several hours after I’d faxed the press releases to Campbell’s Vancouver MP office, RCMP Sergeant Brian Cotton led another officer arrived at my apartment, and he took me to UBC Hospital for a psychiatric assessment whereby I was involuntarily committed into the psychiatric ward. (I have mentioned some of this and related experiences in another blog article, “The myth of political vendetta in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police’s Airbus Affair investigation, the politics of Brian Mulroney and Jean Chretien, and some social undercurrents in Canada”.)

In fact, I was more than aware when Bernie suddenly so casually mentioned Mulroney: in the no more than ten days or so since first meeting him at the San Jose Consulate and Trade Office I had enquired about Kim Campbell, told by him that he hadn’t worked with Campbell much because until recently he had been dealing with Peru matters within foreign affairs, nevertheless received Campbell’s Harvard e-mail address from him, and on October 22 – the day before this hockey game – I had sent an e-mail letter to Kim Campbell asking if she could revisit my political case.

Women are better than men in positions of authority only when they can use the law better and not just cloak themselves in the aura of womanhood. Whether that had been the case in Canada is not clear to me, only that most of Kim Campbell’s contemporary female political leaders did poorly in elections – Campbell herself especially whose leadership bid had possibly involved a deal for Mulroney’s endorsement. (My blog article, ““Nairobi to Shenzhen”, and on to Guangzhou”.)

But sitting here with Mr. Bernard Etzinger the Canadian diplomatic consul – who several months later became deputy director of public relations and official spokesman at the Canadian Embassy in Washington, D.C. – and watching the Canadian girls play hockey under their coach who was a former RCMP officer and active-duty Montreal police sergeant, I wasn’t a suspect in anything diabolically deadly, was I? No way, out of others’ minds but not mine.

But you never know in politics.

The Montreal Massacre that came to mind refers to an event on December 6, 1989 at École Polytechnique, the engineering school of the University of Montreal, where a young man Marc Lepine carried a Ruger Mini-14 semi-automatic rifle into the building and killed 13 female students and one female staff. Lepine, the son of a Algerian father and a former Canadian nun mother, had allegedly been rejected by this school but on this occasion he picked out the women to shoot at. He yelled “I hate feminists”, and expressed his intent to kill them in a suicide note found on his body. (“Marc Lépine” and “École Polytechnique massacre”, Wikipedia.)

Canadians have generally been outraged by the atrocity. Gun-control law was soon strengthened by Justice Minister Kim Campbell, although it was not until the Liberal government of Prime Minister Jean Chretien in 1995 that a more general gun registry and more stringent restrictions were brought in – something I discussed in my blog article, “The myth of political vendetta in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police’s Airbus Affair investigation, the politics of Brian Mulroney and Jean Chretien, and some social undercurrents in Canada”.

To the feminists and many others, Lepine’s act was clearly that of anti-feminism and he chose this school to target because it was a training ground for women in engineering (“Remembering the Montreal massacre”, by Terri Saunders, December 6, 2009, Canoe.ca):

“Investigators and sociology experts tried to understand why Lepine did what he did and why he chose to do it at Ecole Polytechnique. The overwhelming conclusion was Lepine felt the school, which offered non-traditional trades training to women in fields such as engineering, would be a good place to find women he labeled as feminists.”

But I think Sgt. Danièle Sauvageau of the Montreal police probably knows more details than most of us, like for instance, why Lepine had written the following in his suicide note claiming that he was “forced to take extreme acts” (“Marc Lépine”, Wikipedia):

“Even if the Mad Killer epithet will be attributed to me by the media, I consider myself a rational erudite that only the arrival of the Grim Reaper has forced to take extreme acts.”

As a matter of fact Sgt. Sauvageau and many of her police colleagues may have also known Lepine’s last victim personally: Maryse Leclair, shot and then knifed to death by Lepine before he committed suicide, was the daughter of Pierre Leclair, director of public relations and chief spokesman for the Montreal police. Maryse Leclair’s name was actually on a list of 19 women Lepine had intended to kill, found with his suicide note. (“Montreal gun man had suicide note”, by David E. Pitt, December 8, 1989, The New York Times; Kevin Dwyer and Juré Fiorillo, True Stories of Law & Order: The Real Crimes Behind the Best Episodes of the Hit TV Show, 2006, Berkley Books; and, “École Polytechnique massacre”, Wikipedia.)

Many readers of the media stories about the Montreal Massacre may not have noticed an intriguing tale, that Maryse Leclair was a first cousin of Dominique Leclair, a friend of Marc Lepine’s from working together at a Montreal hospital where Lepine’s mother Monique was the nursing director and Dominique Leclair’s father was the hospital head who gave Marc Lepine the food-service job (“The Montreal massacre”, February 8, 1990, Canada.com):

“Dominique Leclair was 19 when she met Lepine that summer in the kitchen at St. Jude’s. Her father runs the hospital and was good friends with Monique Lepine when she was his nursing director. He gave Marc his job.

But that’s not why Dominique befriended Marc Lepine.

“I was kind to him because he was so hyperactive and nervous, nobody would talk to him at lunch or break time... Everyone else tried to avoid him because he was a bit strange because of his shyness.”

Lepine’s hyperactivity and his job didn’t mix either.

“He was always rushing things. He would never be calm.”

He raced the food carts the same way he did everything else. Always in a hurry. Soup got spilled. Dishes got broken.

Everytime he made a mess of something, his reaction was always the same: “Ah shit.”

Finally, he was put on food-serving duty in the cafeteria where his pace would at least be tempered by the task. But the steamy kitchen atmosphere had festered his already unsightly acne problem.

Dominique recalls: “The employees would say they didn’t want him to serve them their lunch because of his acne. They were mean.”

Lepine was stuffed back in the kitchen where no one would have to look at his pimples.

He tried growing a beard to hide the acne, but it was scraggly and seemed to make the rest of his complexion worse. He would cut it off and grow it again like a suburban lawn.

No matter how hard he might have tried, Lepine just couldn’t shed his shyness. Even with Dominique, he would stir his food and stare at the floor when he was speaking.”

So much about the Montreal Massacre being a random act of extreme violence. Although from China I have many second cousins born and raised in North America, including those in the successful Ling family in Canada (my blog article, “The myth of political vendetta in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police’s Airbus Affair investigation, the politics of Brian Mulroney and Jean Chretien, and some social undercurrents in Canada”); now if a colleague of one of them pulled a stunt or played a trick on me, would I consider it “random”, not “institutional”?

We see that even though Marc Lepine eventually became a monster of a human being and a “Mad Killer”, he had also endured a lot of emotional abuse over the years not just from his father as the media like to emphasize but from others in the community. The fact that in the end he lost it not only in an extreme manner but in a planned and premeditated manner makes Marc Lepine’s case worth further scrutiny.

It reminds me of a former Berkeley math professor I once studied briefly with. Prof. Andrew Majda was known for his strong temperament, and the year I was auditing a graduate class from him he was in the process of moving to Princeton which had made him an important job offer. Near the Berkeley classroom there was construction work going on at the time and the noise sometimes got really loud, and Majda would burst into tantrums like, “It’s driving me crazy, they are driving me out of Berkeley.”

Andrew Majda’s wife, Prof. Gerta Keller, an expert in the study of dinosaur evolution, has told of a tale of travelling in Algeria as an adventurous 20-year-old Swiss woman in 1965, not being let go by Algerian soldiers at the border, and exhorted by a 24-year-old or so looking French commander of the soldiers as possibly “the obstinate female I can’t get rid of”. (“Gerta Keller”, by Donna Gialanella, January 27, 2008, The Star-Ledger.)

I don’t know if anyone was trying to drive Prof. Majda out of Berkeley, but there have been others who questioned some of the feminist political agendas in the context of the Montreal Massacre.

University of Toronto computer science professor Charles Rackoff – someone in my professional field with whom I had at least some passing acquaintance – stirred a major controversy in December 2000 when he wrote some comments in an e-mail about a memorial service to mark the Montreal Massacre, comparing the feminist agenda to the Klu-Klux-Klan’s (“Professor criticizes Montreal massacre memorials”, December 7, 2000, CBC News):

“It is obvious that the point of this is not to remember anyone. The point is to use the death of these people as an excuse to promote the feminist/extreme left-wing agenda.”

“It is no different, and no more justified, than when organizations such as the Klu-Klux-Klan (sic) use the murder of a white person by a black person as an excuse to promote their agenda.”

Fortunately I am by no means cynical like, or so universal in doubting about political agendas as, my respected senior Prof. Charles Rackoff, whose remarks touched off a wave of condemnations from within the university (“Campus Briefs”, January 8, 2001, The McGill Tribune).

The city of Montreal in French-speaking Quebec has been one of the North American cities with an unusually high profile of social violence – in Montreal’s case at universities and colleges. After the 1989 Montreal Massacre, in August 1992 there was a multiple-murder shooting at Concordia University that killed 4 male engineering professors and wounded a female secretary.

After a more recent occurrence of multiple shooting in Montreal, in September 2006 at Dawson College killing a female student and wounding scores of men and women, The Globe and Mail newspaper published a front-page article in which columnist Jan Wong expressed the view that these killings had resulted from social resentment due to marginalization of immigrant minorities (“The Montreal Shootings – ‘Get under the desk’”, by Jan Wong, September 16, 2006, The Globe and Mail (courtesy of Vigile.net)):

“What many outsiders don’t realize is how alienating the decades-long linguistic struggle has been in the once-cosmopolitan city. It hasn’t just taken a toll on long-time anglophones, it’s affected immigrants, too. To be sure, the shootings in all three cases were carried out by mentally disturbed individuals. But what is also true is that in all three cases, the perpetrator was not pure laine, the argot for a “pure” francophone. Elsewhere, to talk of racial “purity” is repugnant. Not in Quebec.

In 1989, Marc Lepine shot and killed 14 women and wounded 13 others at the University of Montreal’s École Polytechnique. He was a francophone, but in the eyes of pure laine Quebeckers, he was not one of them, and would never be. He was only half French-Canadian. He was also half Algerian, a Muslim, and his name was Gamil Gharbi. Seven years earlier, after the Canadian Armed Forces rejected his application under that name, he legally changed his name to Marc Lepine.

Valery Fabrikant, an engineering professor, was an immigrant from Russia. In 1992, he shot four colleagues and wounded one other at Concordia University’s faculty of engineering after learning he would not be granted tenure.

This week’s killer, Kimveer Gill, was, like Marc Lepine, Canadian-born and 25. On his blog, he described himself as of “Indian” origin. (In their press conference, however, the police repeatedly referred to Mr. Gill as of “Canadian” origin.)

It isn’t known when Mr. Gill’s family arrived in Canada. But he attended English elementary and high schools in Montreal. That means he wasn’t a first-generation Canadian. Under the restrictions of Bill 101, the province’s infamous language law, that means at least one of his parents must have been educated in English elementary or high schools in Canada.

To be sure, Mr. Lepine hated women, Mr. Fabrikant hated his engineering colleagues and Mr. Gill hated everyone. But all of them had been marginalized, in a society that valued pure laine.”

Jan Wong probably hadn’t anticipated the furor her article would cause. It was roundly criticized by many in Quebec including Quebecois journalists, and called a “disgrace” by Quebec Premier Jean Charest, who questioned why French culture was singled out to blame (“Charest blasts Toronto reporter”, September 19, 2006, Montreal Gazette):

“The recent events at Dawson College seem to defy all logic. These events have brought back painful memories-for all of us in Québec, as well as people in the US, France, Ireland, Russia and to all other nations-who have experienced similar tragedies in recent years. This tragedy is certainly reminiscent of the shootings that took place in downtown Toronto on December 26, 2005.

In this kind of situation, anyone who ventures to put forward explanations or comparisons at the very least risks making a fool of himself. Jan Wong has certainly discredited herself with her gamble.

I was shocked and disappointed by the narrow-minded analysis published in the Saturday, September 16 edition, in which Ms Wong sought to identify the affirmation of French culture in Québec as the deeper cause of the Dawson College shootings and the killings at the Polytechnique in 1989.”

In the above quote, Charest stated that the Dawson College shooting reminded him of the shootings in downtown Toronto, on December 26, 2005. In that  Boxing Day incident a white teenage girl, Jane Creba, out shopping with her family, was critically shot – and later died in hospital – when two groups of mostly black youths had an argument in front of a Foot Locker store and exchanged gunfire. (“If Jane Creba had been black”, by Arthur Weinreb, January 11, 2006, Canada Free Press; “Doctor only steps away from Creba”, by Peter Small, November 11, 2008, Toronto Star; “Four suspects acquitted in Creba shooting”, November 23, 2009, CTV Toronto; and, “Judge sentences final two men in Creba killing”, by Megan O’Toole, August 26, 2010, National Post.).

Premier Charest had a reason to be incensed that Jan Wong had picked out Quebec’s French language law to blame, but one should not ignore the fact that in all of the three multiple-shooting cases in Montreal as cited by Wong the perpetrator was a member of an immigrant-minority culture while the victims tended to be more mainstream white and better educated, and likely had not been picked at random. Even in the case of Jane Creba’s death in Toronto, the “accidental” nature of her being caught in the crossfire between black gang members should not be presumed – at least I would not – until the undercurrent of its circumstances is adequately assessed without prejudice.

But then what the Canadian Parliament, which essentially represented the country in such a situation of public controversy, and The Globe and Mail newspaper did were excessive in my opinion, amounting to letting democracy be an institutional means to suppress a vital function of democracy that in this instance had incurred the wrath of some: the House of Commons unanimously passed a resolution calling for an apology to Quebec, and The Globe and Mail’s editor-in-chief Edward Greenspon who had cleared Wong’s article for publication, fired her and also imposed a gag order that she not speak publicly – in exchange for money, which she agreed to for a set period of time. (“Gagged No Longer: Controversial Journalist Breaks Silence”, by Jason Li, October 16, 2009, Digital Journal.)

It’s true that the journalist Jan Wong had a history of small acts of radical behavior that smack of ambitious opportunism (“Jan Wong, disgrace to journalism”, by Warren Kinsella, September 28, 2006, National Post; and, “The one who didn’t get away”, by Brian Bethune, October 31, 2007, Maclean’s), and in this case her logic of deduction to blame Quebec’s French language law was probably not sound. But if each time something like this happens the journalist has to apologize and retract simply because her criticism is directed at part of the political/legal institution, then any part of such institution when cloaked in the veil of secrecy or deception, and with the official appearance of democracy, would be untouchable by the media or the public, and thus become an organ of authoritarianism rather than democracy.

Montreal Gazette Columnist Hubert Bauch pointed out that this was exactly the outcome when it came to the French language law (“Jan Wong was misguided, maybe. But why the fuss?”, by Hubert Bauch, October 1, 2006, The Gazette (courtesy of Vigile.net)):

“The worst thing about what’s being called “l’affaire Wong” is that it makes it more difficult to rationally discuss what is in fact a very real problem, the integration of non-francophone immigrants and visible minorities into the mainstream of Quebec, said Jack Jedwab, executive director of the Association for Canadian Studies and former Quebec regional director of the Canadian Jewish Congress.

Racism is no more prevalent in Quebec than anywhere else, he is quick to say. But because of the particular nature of Quebec society and the complications of the language situation, the problem of integrating newcomers is more acute than elsewhere.

“They’re not being included in the decision-making fabric of Quebec,” Jedwab said. “If you look at the nominations process, to boards, committees, to various positions, Quebec has an absolutely abysmal record. Its public service by all standards has the lowest representation of visible minorities of any province or state in North America.””

Whether some of these high-profile cases of violence have been connected to gender politics, race politics, or other politics, my experience tells me that political agendas do often attempt to take control of issues of public debate and force outcomes in a direction wanted by powerful interests.

Thus I find it regrettable when the Canadian House of Commons recently intervened again to condemn, once more unanimously, a September 2010 Maclean’s Magazine cover story that calls Quebec the most corrupt province in Canada.

When this recent article came out, Liberal Member of Parliament Marc Garneau characterized it as “sensationalism”, “unworthy of a Canadian magazine” and “divisive” for the magazine’s use of the Quebec symbol Bonhomme Carnaval on its cover (“Will House demand Maclean’s apologize to Quebec?”, by Norman Spector, September 25, 2010, The Globe and Mail), but then the parliamentary motion was introduced, and Mr. Garneau expressed some concern that it might be overreacting (“Parliament rebukes Maclean’s”, by John Geddes, September 30, 2010, Maclean’s Magazine):

“If in two weeks, another magazine writes something that’s considered excessive,” Garneau said, “we can’t make a habit of putting out a motion every time we’re not happy about what’s written in the media.”

In my opinion, the “corrupt” label may be offensive to Quebec but the facts cited in the Maclean’s article cannot be denied out of hand, and Quebec Premier Jean Charest has inherited dubious political connections to some past practices perceived as corrupt by the public. (My Facebook comments and links posted to Andrew Coyne, national editor of Maclean’s Magazine, http://www.facebook.com/walltowall.php?id=1761327938&banter_id=712680225, and to David Frum, Canadian-American columnist, http://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=164721990204765&id=555811580.)

(A week after the initial posting of a draft in progress for this blog article, on October 15 Maclean’s Magazine’s Facebook page announced that its national editor Andrew Coyne’s Facebook account was hacked and was then removed by Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/MacleansMagazine/posts/157752344258228. The comments I left with Andrew who was a Facebook friend of mine are therefore gone, but the earlier cited Facebook “wall-to-wall” link is kept in this article as a record – I hope Andrew Coyne is not suffering like Jan Wong was.)

The mentality that every time someone in the media says something terribly offensive the person and the message need to be condemned is rather old and should be considered outdated, but unfortunately civility is often equated with democracy – even in modern Canadian politics – and that serves to suppress meaningful discussions and debates. Columnist David Frum puts it somewhat cynically when he compares it to the old English law of “seditious libel” (“Truth is no defence”, by David Frum, October 2, 2010, National Post):

“Some may wonder: What specifically about the Maclean’s piece gave such offence? The piece was built upon uncontested facts, including such nuggets as the information that to build a highway in Quebec costs 30% more per mile than anywhere else in Canada. It quoted acknowledged experts, including Quebec politicians. Nobody has detected -- or even suggested --any important errors of fact or interpretation in the piece.

But to ask the question is to misunderstand the problem.

In the old law of England, there existed a crime of “seditious libel” -- a libel that specifically affected the reputation of the sovereign. In a case of seditious libel, truth was not a defence. Very much to the contrary: As the saying went, truth compounded libel.

If you said the king was an imbecile, when he was not an imbecile, that would be bad. But if you said the king was an imbecile and he actually was an imbecile -- that would be very, very much worse.”

In his article accompanying the Maclean’s cover story, columnist Andrew Coyne points out that power and impotence are among the important factors in politics that can corrupt the political process (“What lies beneath Quebec’s scandals”, by Andrew Coyne, September 24, 2010, Maclean’s Magazine):

“Fighting corruption has often proved the best opportunity for it. The young Maurice Duplessis made his name denouncing the venality of Louis-Alexandre Taschereau’s government (Taschereau was eventually forced from office on charges of abusing public funds, the third Quebec premier to suffer this indignity), much as Brian Mulroney rose to fame for his work on the Cliche commission—and just as Jean Chrétien came to power promising to clean up the mess left by Mulroney. Sponsorships, Shawinigate, the ghostly voters of the Gaspésie, Airbus: there’s a pattern here, and it’s useless to deny it.

What explains Quebec’s unusual susceptibility to money politics? Deeply entrenched deference to authority? A worldly Catholic tolerance of official vice? There is no grand unified theory: at different times and in different situations, different forces have come into play. Nevertheless, a few broad factors emerge:

Power corrupts, but so does impotence. Healthy political cultures are marked by contestability: results are unpredictable, success is incremental, and neither victory nor defeat are ever far from view. But the tendency, in federal politics, for Quebecers to throw their support to one party or another en bloc—and the province’s outsized importance, therefore, in deciding elections—has given rise to a peculiar set of pathologies.

…”

Power can control, and impotence may mean reliance on that power of control and hence the en bloc approach in electoral politics that when unchecked can have the tendency to encroach on other vital parts of a democracy.

Returning to my personal story earlier, but fast forward from the Team Canada-Team USA women’s hockey game in San Jose, California, on October 23, 2001, which as said earlier was one day after my sending an e-mail letter to Kim Campbell enquiring about my old political case first presented to her through her Member of Parliament constituency office on November 30, 1992, when RCMP officers soon came to take me to a psychiatric committal.

In February 2003 I was now in Toronto, Canada, and through Lori Dawe, constituency director for then Progressive Conservative party leader Joe Clark, I requested a meeting with Mr. Clark, who had been the Minister of Constitutional Affairs in 1992 overseeing the Charlottetown constitutional process under then Prime Minister Brian Mulroney. I submitted a number of questions to Joe Clark, under four categories:

a) “Western alienation” and the Charlottetown constitutional campaign;

b) Bring Quebec into the constitution, and the balance between the interests of
Quebec and those of the western provinces;

c) Your contributions to the Charlottetown constitutional process, vs. contributions
by former Prime Minister Brian Mulroney; and

d) Distinct Society, Aboriginal self-government, and ethnic minority cultures.

These topics had been part of my interest back in 1992 when I circulated press releases critical of Brian Mulroney’s leadership and conduct, and Joe Clark’s role in constitutional reform was mentioned in some of them. But by the time in 2003 when I tried to connect directly to Clark, I had shifted my attentions away and back to computer science and software engineering, working in Hawaii and California from 1997 onward, and so my memory in 2003 of the earlier politics was a little faulty. Later during 2009 I took the time to review some of these constitutional and political issues, and my survey and analysis – including copies of some of the old press releases – can be found in my blog article, “The myth of political vendetta in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police’s Airbus Affair investigation, the politics of Brian Mulroney and Jean Chretien, and some social undercurrents in Canada”.

Nonetheless, the questions I raised to Joe Clark in early 2003 were meaningful, and some of them are excerpted here (My document, “Questions for honorable Joe Clark, February 12, 2003”).

From under a):

“It is somewhat puzzling to me that the Charlottetown accord, formed on the basis of broad nationwide consultations, and backed up by a strong group of political leaders from the west including yourself and Ms. Kim Campbell, faired rather disappointingly in the national referendum in the western provinces.

Is there a clearly identifiable explanation(s) for this? Could it be that the western populace found the referendum a good occasion to vent their angers, regardless of the substances in it for the west’s interests? Or could it be that the final form of the accord was perceived as relatively weak for the interests of the west, and therefore did not satisfy the voters? If the latter were the case, what would be your view of what to blame, the difficult-to-satisfy appetite of the west (analogous to what former Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau commented on about the popular mood in Quebec), or certain aspects of the accord desire to be improved?”

From under b):

“Therefore, when the Charlottetown accord did not do well in the national referendum in the western provinces and in the referendum in Quebec, it appeared to be evidence of regional conflicts being hard to resolve.

What is your opinion on this issue, that the gaps between the interests of the two regions were indeed difficult to bridge and the Charlottetown accord did as much as could be done at the time, armed with the knowledge and wisdom gained through expert and grass-root consultations? Could it be, instead, that some elements of the accord may not have been very good in this area, even in your judgment?”

From under c):

“Another major intervention by Mr. Mulroney, I remember, was with the final form of the accord (the consensus report). I cannot remember the details of the points by now, and would have difficulty finding the old media coverage stories on it (The Vancouver Sun newspaper had a long article on this during that time). The thrust of the story was that the accord draft in its pre-final form was completed by you after committee discussions and several rounds of inter-provincial negotiations. At the time Mr. Mulroney was busy with other governmental affairs and went on a foreign trip near the end. When he returned, he was displeased with some aspects of the accord and made several changes before taking it to the last round of negotiation with the premiers.

What were the main changes made by Mr. Mulroney at that time? I seem to
remember things about the senate (natural resources?) and about manpower control for Quebec, in particular.”

Under d):

“The French people of Canada, being one of the two European groups to first settle in the land that is now Canada, and the aboriginal people who by most historical accounts were the first to inhabit this land and were the inhibitors [correction: inhabitants] when the Europeans came, are certainly unique in their (powerful) positions in the Canadian society. But they are not unique in their desires to integrate with the rest of the Canadians but at the same time to preserve their native languages and cultures. Should the constitution address these issues for the other ethnic groups in a more definitive manner, beyond the ethnic minority rights in the charter? Would something like the Canadian Mosaic thinking be a good thing in formal language in the constitution? The Canadian constitutional experiments are interesting in an international sense as they may provide valuable lessons and precedence to a big part of the world.”

My document with the above and other questions were sent via e-mail to Lori Dawe on February 12, 2003. It took quite a while before Joe Clark sent me an e-mail reply, on April 3, 2003, the content of which is as follows (My document, “E-mail reply from Joe Clark, April 3, 2003”):

“Dear Dr. Gao:

Thank you very much for your recent letter concerning Western alienation and the Charlottetown Accord. I appreciate your having taken the time to contact me.

Once I cease to be Leader of the PC Party, I am hoping to have more time to adequately reflect upon that period of our collective history and perhaps, at some point in the future, I will put pen to paper and write my memoirs. Until then, however, I must deal with the present and as such, unfortunately, I am not be able to meet with you to discuss the issues you have raised.

Sincerely,

Joe Clark”

At the time, Joe Clark had in August 2002 announced his intent to resign as PC party leader, and in November 2002 a party leadership convention was set for May 29-31, 2003 in Toronto. (“Clark agrees to give up leadership”, by Tim Naumetz, August 7, 2002, Ottawa Citizen; “Tories set tentative dates: Leadership convention in late May or early June”, by Maria Babbage, October 6, 2002, The Telegram; and, “How Eves can thwart the Liberals and (maybe) avoid humiliation”, by Adam Radwanski, November 7, 2002, The Ottawa Citizen.)

But why was Joe Clark not only unwilling to discuss the constitutional issues with me – not that he had to – but essentially stating that he would not discuss them until when he wrote his memoirs?

To this day Clark has not published any memoir and has been largely inactive in public when it comes to Canadian constitutional issues. It is a far cry from his first departure from electoral politics in 1993 when he wrote and published the book, A Nation Too Good To Lose: Renewing The Purpose of Canada, in 1994 (“Talk about Renewing Canada – A summary of books and articles relating to the question of national unity”, Dialogue Canada), and a far cry even from Brian Mulroney who has published an 1152 page memoir in September 2007 focusing just on his earlier years to the time of his 1993 retirement from politics (“Memoirs 1939-1993, Written by Brian Mulroney”, McClelland).

When I scrutinize Joe Clark’s terse reply more carefully and ponder about any hidden meanings, there appears to be an answer emerging as in the following:

1) “that period of our collective history” – it means Clark hadn’t made all his decisions alone – there was Mulroney and there was the party at the least – and now it’s not that straightforward he could discuss them at his own will;

2) “Once I cease to be Leader of the PC Party, I am hoping to have more time to adequately reflect” – at this time Clark was also the party leader so his current consideration for the “collective” was more than just about the past;

3) “perhaps, at some point in the future, I will put pen to paper and write my memoirs. Until then, however, I must deal with the present” – only until when he writes his memoir that he would not be dealing with the present, i.e., even after retirement as the party leader it still wouldn’t be the future but the present, and that ‘later present’ may include his own reflection but not open discussion on the collective past.

The message was constant as I understand it: the past had been “collective”, the present was “collective”, and the future without Joe Clark would still be the “collective” present; the barometer of change to the real future is when Clark himself “perhaps” writes his memoir and touches on some of these topics – that so far hasn’t happened.

Brian Mulroney had been the boss of a big party during that “collective” past, Joe Clark was the boss of a small party in April 2003 when he sent me this reply, and Peter MacKay became the boss in late May 2003 when he replaced Clark as leader; then a few months later in December MacKay led the Progressive Conservative party to a merger with the Reform party (then called Canadian Alliance) under Stephen Harper to form the Conservative party. (“The Conservative Party of Canada”, January 30, 2006, CBC News.)

Now with Stephen Harper as the leader of this new party, and especially with Brian Mulroney having played a patriarchic role to help bring about the merger, Joe Clark is entitled to none of the “collective future” if it ever comes. In fact, Clark and the progressive wing of the PC party strongly opposed the merger, with Clark sitting out the remainder of his Member of Parliament term as an independent as well as declaring his support for then incoming Liberal Prime Minister Paul Martin; Harper doesn’t like Clark at all if only for this reason, although he has also maintained some degree of skepticism about Mulroney. (“Progressives at the brink”, by Joe Clark, November 14, 2003, The Globe and Mail (courtesy of davidorchard.com); “Joe Clark says he’d choose Martin over Harper”, April 26, 2004, CTV News; “The Right Honourable Joe”, May 14, 2004, CBC News; and, “Mulroney casts long shadow in Harper circle”, by Jane Taber, November 10, 2007, The Globe and Mail.)

I have wondered why Joe Clark chose to use the word “cease” to describe the end of his party leadership – a rather archaic and unflattering usage in this situation – and whether it gave away a sense that his party could “cease” to exist soon (a more typical use of the word).

I think Clark had a sense that the party was going to cease its presence soon, even though at the time the leadership frontrunner Peter MacKay denied any such intention (The Conservative Party of Canada”, January 30, 2006, CBC News); and I have also come to think of the merger prospect at that point as probably linked to the future plan of the former party leader in between Kim Campbell and Joe Clark – Jean Charest the once young rising star. It was Charest who was generally believed to have a future to lead the Progressive Conservative party back to government after it had nearly been eliminated in the 1993 election under Campbell when many of the MP seats in western Canada were taken over by the upstart Reform party and the Quebec ones taken over by the upstart Bloc Quebecois. But after the 1997 election the PC party was still far behind either the opposition Reform party or the separatist Bloc Quebecois in its standing in the House of Commons, and in 1998 Charest bolted to become leader of the Quebec Liberal party, which was also in opposition. (“Jean Charest” and “Progressive Conservative Party of Canada”, Wikipedia; and, “Former Quebec minister accuses Charest Liberals of major ethics violations”, April 13, 2010, The Daily Gleaner.)

On February 12, 2003 when I sent my list of questions to Joe Clark with a request for a meeting, there was no election in Quebec, then in March the Parti Quebecois government there called an election. The polls in Quebec during March mostly put the separatist party ahead of Charest’s Liberal party, until Jean Charest’s performance in a leaders’ debate at the end of March brought a sudden surge of popularity for him and for his party. (“PQ Takes Lead In Quebec Provincial Election”, March 30, 2003, and, “Liberals Take Lead In Quebec”, April 3, 2003, Angus Reid Public Opinion.)

The first poll results clearly in favor of Charest and his party went public on April 3, the same day Joe Clark sent me the earlier-quoted e-mail reply. (“Quebec: Charest Won Election Debate”, April 3, 2003, Angus Reid Public Opinion.)

In the April 14 election Jean Charest won a majority government, defeating the PQ under Premier Bernard Landry.

My sense is that during the February-April 2003 period Joe Clark waited until the Quebec election prospect and situation became clear, that Jean Charest would stay in Quebec as the next Premier, to send me a response conveying his feeling that the future did not look good for his federal PC party.

After all, Peter MacKay is the son of Elmer MacKay, a former senior figure in the Mulroney government, also known as one of the prominent Canadian friends of German-Canadian businessman Karlheinz Schreiber, the central figure in the Airbus Affair regarding tens of millions of dollars he distributed in Canada for the 1988 sale of Airbus planes to Air Canada, some of which may have gone to officials and politicians in government, possibly including Prime Minister Mulroney personally. (“Former Mulroney aide denies Schreiber’s allegations”, December 6, 2007, CBC News; and, my blog article, “The myth of political vendetta in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police’s Airbus Affair investigation, the politics of Brian Mulroney and Jean Chretien, and some social undercurrents in Canada”.)

Peter MacKay had all the reason to agree to a merger, and Brian Mulroney all the reasons to ferment one: the Reform party enjoyed a squeaky-clean image, and as long as the leadership of the new party went to a Reformer – it should given the Reform party’s much larger size and stronger position in the House of Commons – whatever collective past and unsavory past of the Progressive Conservative party would be buried and considered dealt with.

The timing of it was also critical: in August 2002 a few weeks after Joe Clark’s announcement of his retirement intent, then Prime Minister Jean Chretien of the Liberal party did it also – after winning three back-to-back majority government terms that earned him a place in history and outlasting Brian Mulroney in the length of time served as Prime Minister; eventually Chretien stepped down in December 2003 (my blog article, “The myth of political vendetta in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police’s Airbus Affair investigation, the politics of Brian Mulroney and Jean Chretien, and some social undercurrents in Canada”). The merger of the Progressive Conservative party with the Reform party came only days before Chretien’s stepping down and presented a stronger party of the right ready to take on Chretien’s party on the left after his departure.

These motives were quite likely behind what happened in the December 2003 merger and then with the new Conservative party, except that Karlheinz Schreiber, who had begun to turn against Brian Mulroney in 1999, also stepped up his efforts to expose Mulroney and win his fight to avoid extradition to his native Germany where he faced criminal charges of fraud and tax evasion. The first media report of some murky $300,000 Schreiber had given Mulroney during the 1990s came in November 2003 – just before the party merger.

My blog article, “The myth of political vendetta in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police’s Airbus Affair investigation, the politics of Brian Mulroney and Jean Chretien, and some social undercurrents in Canada”, has touched on some of these topics about Karlheinz Schreiber and Brian Mulroney. The Mulroney-Schreiber squabble became known as the Mulroney-Schreiber affair, and was the subject of a 2008-09 public inquiry led by Justice Jeffrey J. Oliphant; however, under mandates recommended by Dr. David Johnston – as earlier mentioned now the new Governor General of Canada appointed by Prime Minister Stephen Harper – and adopted by the Harper government, the inquiry would only examine the business and financial relationship between the two – mostly focusing on the $300,000 as conducted by the Oliphant Commission.

In the end, Justice Oliphant’s inquiry report has given Brian Mulroney a slap on the wrist, a very light one, concluding that Mulroney’s business and financial dealings with Schreiber were inappropriate and violated the ethics rules set by his own government in 1985 (“Oliphant Commission Report”, May 31, 2010, Commission of Inquiry into Certain Allegations Respecting Business and Financial Dealings Between Karlheinz Schreiber and the Right Honourable Brian Mulroney):

“… I found that the business and financial dealings between Mr. Schreiber and Mr. Mulroney were inappropriate. I also found that Mr. Mulroney’s failure to disclose those business and financial dealings was inappropriate.

Simply put, Mr. Mulroney, in his business and financial dealings with Mr. Schreiber, failed to live up to the standard of conduct that he had himself adopted in the 1985 Ethics Code.”

Karlheinz Schreiber wasn’t that dumb, at least not as to let himself be the fall guy hung out to dry for so little. Schreiber wrote and talked extensively in the last few years about the matters involving Mulroney. He stated unequivocally to the Oliphant Commission that his relationship with Brian Mulroney had begun with his helping depose then Progressive Conservative party leader (and former Prime Minister) Joe Clark and install Mulroney as the party leader in 1983 (“Summary of Interview of Karlheinz Schreiber”, March 24, 2009, Commission of Inquiry into Certain Allegations Respecting Business and Financial Dealings Between Karlheinz Schreiber and the Right Honourable Brian Mulroney):

“Mr. Schreiber recalled that in the late 1970s, he was approached in Germany by Walter Wolf and told that Canadian conservatives were seeking support. According to Mr. Schreiber, Mr. Wolf invited him to Newfoundland to meet with Frank Moores, who had just left office as Premier of Newfoundland. At the time, Mr. Moores was president of the Progressive Conservative Party of Canada [sic] (the “PC Party”), and he and Mr. Wolf were looking for support for Mr. Mulroney.

Mr. Schreiber stated that soon after his introduction to Mr. Moores, he met Mr. Mulroney who was president of Iron Ore, for the first time. Subsequent to this meeting, Mr. Moores asked Mr. Schreiber for funding, which was initially to be used for the 1983 party convention in Winnipeg. Mr. Schreiber was told that delegates were to be flown from Quebec to Winnipeg by Max Ward to ensure there would be sufficient votes against then party leader Joe Clark. Mr. Schreiber donated $30,000 or $50,000 CAD to this cause through his Alberta company MLE Industries. He gave the donation directly to Mr. Wolf (through his lawyer Michael Cogger) who may have claimed the donation as his own.”

Twenty years later, in the evening of the first day of the 2003 Tory (PC) party convention to elect a new leader to replace him, May 29, 2003, a tribute was held for Joe Clark at the convention venue, Toronto Metro Convention Centre. Joe Clark and his family were there.

Brian Mulroney wasn’t there, not arriving at the convention until the next day, but he did send a videotaped message full of praise for Joe Clark, especially for Clark as his government’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, and full of boasts about their friendship.

I was there at the tribute for Joe Clark, even though I have never been a Tory. The tribute gathering was open to the public and I attended as a small gesture of respect for Mr. Joe Clark. I don’t know how many in the public like me at the time anticipated – probably a lot more among the party delegates in the packed convention hall – that in a few months Mulroney would become a guiding patron of a newly merged party without Joe Clark, one that would return to governing in another two years or so – obviously without Joe Clark.

When it comes to his political image Brian Mulroney is a control freak where his influence can extend to, and from time to time quite a few journalists have looked upon him as a sort of Richard Nixon of Canadian politics. (“WASHINGTON NOTEBOOK”, by Susan Chung, December 1, 1995, Time – Colonist; “Free Speech; Canada Still Has Mulroney to Kick Around”, by Clifford Krauss, September 25, 2005, The New York Times; “Mulroney’s Shadows: The Many Images of Canada’s Eighteenth Prime Minister”, by Jonathan Malloy, June 2008, Carlton University; and, “The Mulroney show; Canadians are reminded why they dislike him so much”, by Don MacPherson, May 16, 2009, The Gazette.)

It was thus not surprising to see Brian Mulroney talk forcefully, and quite intimidatingly, before and during the Oliphant inquiry about defending his “father’s good name”, asserting that he kept his business dealings with Karlheinz Schreiber secret because he feared the Airbus Affair events of 1995-97 that “scarred me and my family for life”. (“Whatever did Mulroney expect after taking the cash?”, November 27, 2007, The Vancouver Sun; “Mulroney says he feared renewed Airbus attacks”, May 12, 2009, Fort Frances Times; and, “Mulroney: Bear Head deal kept secret to avoid another Airbus controversy”, May 12, 2009, The (Charlottetown) Guardian.)

But the logic really should be the opposite, that if Mulroney hadn’t done anything wrong false allegations could stick only temporarily yet nondisclosure on his part would keep them persist.

I remember commenting in a press release in November 1992, just after the Charlottetown constitutional referendum, somewhat cynically about then Constitutional Affairs Minister Joe Clark:

“Poor Mr. Clark, he never failed Mr. Mulroney, not yet anyway”.

Well, has Joe Clark ever, or ever will.

That time over a decade earlier I was muzzled when the Royal Canadian Mounted Police sent me to the psychiatric ward only hours after I had faxed press releases critical of Mulroney to Kim Campbell’s Member of Parliament constituency office. This time I communicated with Joe Clark through his constituency office and received a polite but “perhaps” revealing reply. Maybe – just maybe – this time Joe Clark was muzzled also but to a lesser degree.

The RCMP officer taking me to psychiatric committal on November 30, 1992 was appropriately named “Brian Cotton”. Later in 1993 another RCMP officer acting as liaison with some other psychiatric institutions over my case was identified as “Corporal Libel”.

I wonder if the “cotton” was clean, and whether the “libel” was considered “seditious”.

(Continuing to Part 2)

Friday, February 19, 2010

Bangkok to Kwangtung, and back to America (Part 1) – Opening China to Christianity

The title of this blog article shows obvious influence from that of my last two blog posts, ““Nairobi to Shenzhen”, and on to Guangzhou”, dated November 22 and December 15, 2009, which had its inspiration from the story of the book, “Nairobi to Shenzhen: A Novel of Love in the East”, about a young man of African heritage originally from Nairobi, Kenya, establishing a very different kind of family life and career in Shenzhen,  a fast-growing metropolis in southern China across from Hong Kong.

Mark Ndesandjo’s life has been that of international, cultural and social mobility. I added the name Guangzhou to the title of my two blog posts to wish him greater success, after he had chosen to unveil his book to the international media in the city a short distance north that happens to be the economic center of southern China and a center of international trade from its historical days when it was known as the port of Canton to its  modern status as the host of Canton Fair – one of the largest trade fairs in the world from where trade with Africa has been booming lately.

But Mark Ndesandjo’s life has also been a story of retreat. Born to parents educated in America, Mark received international education during his childhood in Nairobi, was sent to attend several elite universities in the United States, including Brown, Stanford, and Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia, and then embarked on an ambitious marketing career in the telecommunication industry. His life direction took a dramatic turn when he moved to China in 2002, but only after an unexpected layoff by the Canadian telecommunication giant at the time, Nortel Networks, shortly after 9/11, 2001.

Not to mention that Mark Ndesandjo is a half-brother of today’s U.S. President Barack Obama.

As interesting and intriguing as the Ndesandjo story was, and as was some of Obama’s politics and history which served as the backdrop for me to explore certain political issues of international interest, in this article I delve into a different type of cultural and social exchanges, one that had been practiced for many centuries in history, proliferated worldwide during the 19th century and become part of the international establishment by the dawn of the 20th century, but that ultimately went into retreat – the proselytizing of Christianity and its cultural and social dimensions.

From a personal perspective my focus will be on the arrival and evolution of Christianity in China, with special attention to certain stories about Protestant missionaries from Britain and America.

In this context, my choice of the title for this blog article has been influenced by Pace University historian Joseph Tse-Hei Lee’s article, “The Chinese Christian Transnational Networks Of Bangkok-Hong Kong-Chaozhou in the 19th Century” (2004, and a preceding 2001 article, “The Overseas Chinese Networks and Early Baptist Missionary Movement Across The South China Sea”), which reviewed the historical growth of Protestant Christian missions in southern China through influences from Christian missionary work among Chinese living in Siam (Thailand) and in Hong Kong. Dr. Lee is one of the first to paraphrase this part of  Christian mission history in the notion of “Transnational Networks”, while some scholars have begun to emphasize the influences on America, Europe, the Muslim world, Asia and Africa by economic migrations and cultural interactions across multinational regions. (See, e.g., “A History of Maritime Asia and East Asian Regional Dynamism 1600-1900 – Maritime Asia from the Ryukyu-Okinawa to the Hong Kong Networks”, by Takeshi Hamashita, International Congress of Historical Sciences, August 2000; The Muslim World after 9/11, by Angel Rabasa, Rand Corporation, 2004; Religion Across Borders: Transnational Immigrant Networks, edited by Helen Rose Ebaugh and Janet Saltzman Chafetz, Altamira Press, 2002; “Africa: New Book Examines Yoruba Religion in Nigeria and the Diaspora”, by Vicki L. Brennan, allAfrica.com, June 8, 2005; Christian Democracy and the Origins of European Union, by Wolfram Kaiser, Cambridge University Press, 2007; “Transnational Networks, Domestic Democratic Activists and Defeat of Dictators: Slovakia, Croatia and Serbia, from 1998 to 2000”, Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars, November 5, 2008; and, “Is there an Eastern Way to Practice Human Rights? A Comparison of Christian and Buddhist Transnational Networks in China”, by Yun Wang, International Studies Association 50th Annual Convention, February 2009.)

Multinational, and presumably grassroots-oriented movements, that is.

Long before the Bangkok-Hong Kong-southern China route of the Protestant missions’ first inroad into China beginning in the 1830s, there had been a history of Christianity in China – dating back to as early as the 7th century when Nestorian missionaries came via the Middle East and then the 13th century around the time of Marco Polo when Franciscan missionaries came to a Mongolian-ruled China. (See, e.g., “History of Christianity in China”, The Ricci 21st Century Roundtable on the History of Christianity in China.)

7th-century Chinese Nestorian Monument
781 A.D. Chinese Nestorian Stele discovered in 17th century (Nestorian.org)

The Nestorian Stele erected in China in the year 781 A.D. during the Tang (唐) dynasty recorded imperial reception granted by the second Tang Emperor, the Taizong Emperor (太宗) Li Shimin (李世民), in the year 635 A.D. for the religion and three years later the building of a church in the capital of Xi’an (Xian) with imperial blessing.

In this document the Roman Empire was referred to as “大秦”, (the Great Ch’in, or Qin – name of the first unified imperial Chinese dynasty in history), and Nestorian Christianity was referred to as “景教”, sometimes translated as “the Brilliant Teaching” or “the Luminous Religion” – although in my view a more appropriate translation would be “Religion of Scenes” and together “大秦景教”would mean “Religion of the Great Ch’in Scenes” or “Teaching of Great Ch’in’s Scenes”. (See, e.g., “Nestorian Stele: 唐景教碑頌正詮--陽瑪諾註”, Jesus Taiwan; “Chinese Nestorian Documents from the Tang Dynasty”, Centre for Late Antique Religion & Culture, Cardiff University; “Description and Significance of the Nestorian Stele, “A Monument Commemorating the Propagation of the Da Qin Luminous Religion in the Middle Kingdom” (大秦景教流行中國碑)”, Assyrian International News Agency; and, “Nestorian Stele”, Wikipedia.)

The reference to Nestorian Christianity as a religion of the “Great Ch’in” could have some additional significances: the Taizong Emperor who granted it the first imperial reception in the 7th century had held the title of the Ch’in Prince (秦王) prior to his succession to the throne – following a power struggle in which he deposed his elder brother the Crown Prince – and the imperial reception came in the same year 635 A.D. when his father, the retired Gaozu Emperor (高祖) Li Yuan (李渊), died. (See, e,g., The Shaolin Monastery: History, Religion, and the Chinese Martial Arts, by Meir Shahar, University of Hawaii Press, 2008.)

Nonetheless at the end of each historical era in China the Chinese Christian community the foreign missionaries had founded, and its culture, simply disappeared from the society, typically as a result of bans imposed by the officialdom. Thus Christianity had to be reintroduced to China at another time later, and its earlier heritage rediscovered by a new generation of foreign missionaries and their Chinese disciples.

Religious or intellectual prohibition and persecution were common in Chinese history. Both Buddhism and Nestorian Christianity were targeted during the late Tang dynasty in the 9th century but the prohibition did not succeed in eliminating the former as it did the latter. (See, e.g., “The Legacy of Chinese Christianity and China's Identity Crisis”, by Carol Lee Hamrin, Christianity in China, Global China Center, March 19, 2006.)

Meanwhile, Islam which had arrived in China in the mid-7th century – not long after its birth and shortly after Nestorian Christianity’s arrival – flourished, although initially the first mosque sanctioned by the Tang-dynasty emperor was built in Canton in southern China rather than in the capital Xi’an in western China – by a maternal uncle of the Prophet Muhammad. (See, e.g., “Islam in China”, by Mohammed Khamouch, Muslim Heritage, March 31, 2006.)

The most notorious official act of anti-religion and anti-intellectualism in Chinese history had come with the first unified imperial Chinese dynasty, the short-lived Great Ch’in (Qin) dynasty (circa 221–207 B.C.), ordered by the founding emperor Qin Shi Huang (秦始皇) famous for the construction of the Great Wall and for the Terracotta Warriors unearthed from his tomb. To enforce imperial centralized standards, the emperor ordered burning of most books and in that process buried alive hundreds of Confucian scholars. (See, e.g., “July 11, 1975: Unearthing Qin Shi Huang’s Terra-Cotta Army”, by Tony Long, July 11, 2007, Wired; and, “Burning of books and burying of scholars”, Wikipedia.)

But then in the other ‘Great Ch’in” – as the Chinese referred to the Roman Empire – such episodes of forced conformity and intolerance had also occurred beyond the Crucifixion of Jesus. Forcing conversion to Christianity was a cause for the destruction of the Library of Alexandria in Egypt in the 4th century, where the conversion was ordered by the Roman emperor and the enforcement carried out by Bishop Theophilus of Alexandria; this happened only several decades after the conversion of the Roman Empire to Christianity by Emperor Constantine and the founding of the empire’s eastern, Christian capital, Constantinople – previously the Greek colony of Byzantium – in today’s Turkey. Bishop Theophilus’s nephew and successor, Bishop Cyril, later in the 5th century was responsible for the Roman Catholic Church’s declaration of Bishop Nestorius of Constantinople and the Nestorian Christianity, which had initially arisen from Syria, as heretic. (See, e.g., The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, by Edward Gibbon, Harper & Brothers, 1845; Doctrine and Practice in the Early Church, by Stuart George Hall, Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1992; The Library of Alexandria, by Kelly Trumble and Robina MacIntyre Marshall, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2003; and, Constantine and the Christian Empire, by Charles Matson Odahl, Routledge, 2004.)

During the early historical period most of the foreign religions coming to China, including Buddhism, Zoroastrianism, Manichaeism, Nestorianism and Islam,  did so moving along the famous Silk Road to reach China’s northwest – although Islam in Canton arrived via the ocean in the south. (See, e.g., “Nestorianism in Central Asia during the First Millennium: Archaeological Evidence”, by Maria Adelaide Lala Comneno, Journal of the Assyrian Academic Society, Volume 11, No. 1; and, “Religions of the Silk Road”, Silk Road Seattle, Walter Chapin Simpson Center for the Humanities, University of Washington.)

Many nomadic tribes or nations of various ethnicities dotted the regions along the Silk Road, and that included the Ch’in (Qin) ancestors who had once been a nomadic tribe in the region of Tianshui (天水) in today’s Gansu (province) corridor through which ran the Chinese section of the Silk Road, just west of Xi’an. (See, e.g., “Qin (state)”, Wikipedia; “Brief Introduction to Shaanxi – History”, Shaanxi Sub-Council, China Council for the Promotion of International Trade; and, “Welcome to The Silk Road – Gansu Province”, China National Tourist Office.)

Today’s history literatures sometimes list the Han (汉) dynasty (206 B.C. - 220 A.D.) that followed the short-lived Ch'in as when the Silk Road began in China based on official records of it as a route of diplomatic exchanges between China and countries to the west including the Roman Empire. But archaeological finds have given strong indications of mutual influences in ancient crafts, from potteries to bronze tools to iron making, between Central Asia and China dating further back for centuries and millenniums, including along the Silk Road regions in China. Some scholars believe iron had been introduced to China from Central Asia. (See, e.g., “Sino-Roman Relations”, Wikipedia; “Themes in Global History: Trade, Economy, and Empires – Lecture 9: China I: Early Origins”, by Jari Eloranta, Department of History, Appalachian State University; History of Civilizations of Central Asia, Volume 1: The Dawn of Civilization: Earliest Times to 700 B.C., by Ahmad Hasan Dani and Vadim Mikhaĭlovich Masson,  Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 1999;  “The earliest use of iron in China”, by Don Wagner, Nordic Institute of Asian Studies, University of Copenhagen, 1999; War and State Formation in Ancient China and Early Modern Europe, by Victoria Tin-bor Hui, Cambridge University Press, 2005; and, 从考古看丝绸之路祁山道的形成”, by 苏海洋 and 雍际春, Sichuan Social Science Online, September 23, 2009.)

Moreover, of the seven Chinese states that existed during most of the Warring States Period (475-221 B.C.) prior to Ch’in’s annexation of the other six, Ch’in had grown from a state of modest size whose territory included the Chinese section of the Silk Road at the time to occupying the entire western China, even though China’s technological innovation centers at the time – from silk textiles to bronze and iron weaponries – were in the Yangtze-River region state of Chu (楚) according to both historical literatures and archaeological discoveries. (See, e.g., Don Wagner, referred to earlier; Defining Chu: image and reality in ancient China, by Constance A. Cook and John S. Major, University of Hawaii Press, 2004; Victoria Tin-bor Hui, referred to earlier;  “楚国丝绸——我国古代工艺水平最高的丝织品”, by 朱振汉, 荆州市档案信息网 (www.jzda.gov.cn); and, “战国时期的武器装备”, 中国国学网 (confucianism.com.cn), July 9, 2009.)

When Nestorian priest Alopen (阿罗本,  or Aluoben) came in the 7th century and was received by the Tang Taizong Emperor, the Chinese referred to the religion as “the Iranian religion”; only until the mid-8th century not long before the Nestorian Stele’s erection in 781 A.D. that the name was changed to refer to the “Great Ch’in”. (See, e.g., Religions of the Silk Road: Overland Trade and Cultural Exchange from Antiquity to the Fifteenth Century, by Richard Foltz, Palgrave Macmillan, 2000; and, “Alopen”, Wikipedia.)

The Chinese name change for Nestorian Christianity thus coincided with the start of the Tang dynasty’s decline following a 7-year civil war in the mid-8th century when two military generals, An Lushan (安禄山, or Aluoshan) and Shi Siming (史思明), with ethnic origins from nomad tribes in Central Asia and the former an adopted son of the Tang emperor, launched a coup from their bases in today’s Beijing region in northern China, sacked capital Xi’an and named themselves the Yan (燕, Swallow) dynasty. It was the worst instance of treachery and destruction associated with the nomads to that point in recorded Chinese history. (See, e.g., “An Lushan” and “An Shi Rebellion”, Wikipedia; and, “China’s Cosmopolitan Empire – by Mark Lewis”, by Stephen Maire, United Press International.)

490 years after the Nestorian Stele. the Mongolians conquered China, founding the Yuan (元) dynasty in Beijing in A.D. 1271. That brought a comeback of the Nestorians – and also the arrival of Franciscan missionaries sent by the Pope in Rome. But in another century or so the Yuan dynasty was overthrown and the Mongolians driven out, and with them the Christians. (See, e.g., “Beijing – A guide to China’s Capital City: Beijing’s History”, China Internet Information Center; and, A World History of Christianity, by Adrian Hastings, Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2000; and, “Yuan Dynasty”, Wikipedia.)

The 8th-century Nestorian Stele was rediscovered in the 17th-century after the Jesuit missionaries came to China and were officially received in the imperial court of the Ming (明) dynasty which had replaced the Mongolian Yuan two centuries earlier.

This time and onward, Christianity came primarily via the ocean route in the south rather than overland from the west or the north.

The Ming-dynasty era in Chinese history began with a southern focus not seen before in any other unified Chinese dynasty, partly due to such a preference by its founder Zhu Yuanzhang (朱元璋), the Hongwu Emperor (洪武). As a general in the White Lotus Rebellion in the Yellow-River region in northern China, Zhu Yuanzhang had moved south and taken the Yangtze-River city of Nanjing – at the time called Yingtian (应天) – as his base in the year 1356; and when he eventually defeated the other contenders, drove the Mongolians out of Beijing (Peking, 北京, “Northern Capital”) and back to Mongolia, and founded the Ming dynasty in 1368 A.D. he made Nanjing (Nanking, 南京, "Southern Capital") the national capital. (See, e.g., East Asia: A Cultural, Social, and Political History, by Patricia Ebrey, Anne Walthall and James Palais, Cengage Learning, 2008; “Zhu Yuanzhang”, Impression of China, September 20, 2009; and, “Strength of Nanjing’s Bid for Hosting the Youth Olympics: A Long Historical & Cultural Link”, Nanjing Municipal People’s Government.)

One ancient legacy of the Nanjing region that is often overlooked as it had not occurred in Nanjing city itself, had had to do with Xiang Yu (项羽), a crucial leader of the rebellions against the short-lived Ch’in dynasty after Ch’in’s founder Qin Si Huang’s death in 210 B.C. Xiang Yu was instrumental in defeating the Ch’in army in 207 B.C. and deciding Ch’in’s final fate, and he later committed suicide at the north bank of Yangtze River about 35 miles outside today’s Nanjing city, while being pursued by the forces of Liu Bang (刘邦), soon-to-be founder of the Han dynasty. Xiang Yu, Liu Bang and later Ming-dynasty founder Zhu Yuanzhang were all from regions in the former Yangtze-River Chu (楚) State of the Warring States Period before Ch’in’s unification of China, but all from some distances north of today’s Nanjing. (See, e.g., “Xiang Yu”, “Emperor Gaozu of Han” and “Hongwu Emperor”, Wikipedia; “Suqian”, Jiangsu.NET; and, “Joyous Selected Trip to the North Bank of Yangtze River──The Direct Bus of North Bank Outing Started Running from April 5th!Nanjing Outing──Pukou”, Pukou Nanjing City (www.pukou.gov.cn).)

This southern focus of the Ming dynasty lasted from 1356 to only the end of the 14th century. One year after Zhu Yuanzhang’s death, from 1399 to 1402 his grandson and successor Zhu Yunwen (朱允炆), the Jianwen Emperor (建文), tried to establish a more civil regime but was militarily challenged and usurped by his uncle Zhu Di (朱棣), then the Yan Prince (燕王), whose dominion was based in the former Yuan-dynasty capital of Beijing. (See, e.g., “Jianwen Emperor”, Wikipedia; and, Perpetual Happiness: The Ming Emperor Yongle, by Shih-Shan Henry Tsai, University of Washington Press, 2002.)

If the name Yan appears similar to that of the Yan dynasty earlier – an 8th-century imperial-throne pretender proclaimed by the nomad rebellion of An Lushan and Shi Siming just before renaming of Nestorian Christianity as the “Religion of the Great Ch’in Scenes” in Tang Dynasty – that is because the northern region of China around Beijing was once the traditional territory of the Yan (Yen, 燕, Swallow) State prior to Ch’in’s unification of China. (See, e.g., “Yenching University”, Wikipedia.)

The victorious Yan Prince Zhu Di who became the Yongle Emperor (永乐), viewed himself as the second founder of the Ming dynasty and decided to move the national capital back north to Beijing, going against the trend of economic and population growths in the Yangtze-River region and declines in the northern region, which was making the south far more prosperous. The official move took place in October 1420 after a brand-new capital – today’s Beijing city – was constructed not far from the old Yuan-capital site. (See, e.g., The Cambridge history of China, Volume 7: The Ming dynasty, 1368-1644, Part 1, by Frederick W. Mote, Denis Crispin Twitchett and John King Fairbank, Cambridge University Press, 1988; Imperial China 900-1800, by Frederick W. Mote, Harvard University Press, 2003; and, Chinese Spatial Strategies: Imperial Beijing, 1420-1911, Jianfei Zhu, Routledge, 2004.)

Zheng He map
Map of Zheng He’s seven voyages, 1405-1433 A.D. (“China’s Great Armada”, National Geographic, July 2005)

But even with the move back to Beijing the Ming dynasty still had another southern focus during the first half of the 15th century, that of sending large naval expeditions to visit countries in Southeast, South and West Asia and in East Africa – something never done before by a Chinese dynasty. From 1405 to 1433 A.D., a total of seven official envoys, each consisting of tens or hundreds of large ships, with crews totalling tens of thousands including sailors and soldiers,  sailed under the command of Admiral Zheng He (郑和).

From a family that had been Muslim for generations whose family name was Ma (马, Horse), a name common among Chinese Muslims, Zheng He’s heritage can be traced to a Central Asian Muslim nobleman and the Prophet Muhammad’s descendant, who joined the Mongolians under Genghis Khan (成吉思汗), later served as the governor of the Yuan-dynasty capital of Beijing (Yenching, 燕京) and was given a dominion in the southwestern province of Yunnan. When the Mongolian Yuan dynasty was overthrown, Zheng He became a child captive of the Ming forces in Yunnan, was made a eunuch, and later became a protege of the Yongle Emperor. Zheng He’s voyages reached countries no less than Indonesia,  Sri Lanka, Yemen and Somalia, and on his last voyage he made pilgrimage to the holiest city of Islam, Mecca in Saudi Arabia, before passing away during the return sail to China. (See, e.g., “The Admiral Zheng He”, by Paul Lunde, Saudi Aramco World, Vol. 56, No. 4, 2005; “Zheng He (1371-1433), the Chinese Muslim Admiral”, Islam for Today; “Ancient Chinese Explorers, Part 2: Exploits of the eunuch admiral Zheng He”, NOVA Online, PBS; “朱棣缘何派郑和下西洋”, by 陆元, 档案大观; and, “Zheng He” and “赛典赤·赡思丁”, Wikipedia.)

Nanjing during this time enjoyed a boom of its big shipyards building many of the ships for Zheng He’s voyages. (See, e.g., “Zheng He’s Voyages of Discovery”, by Richard Gunde, UCLA International Institute, April 20, 2004; and, “China showcases nautical hero Zheng He's shipyard in Nanjing”, China Daily, November 7, 2005.)

There were persistent rumours that one of the objectives of these Ming naval expeditions was to hunt for Yongle Emperor’s nephew, the previous Ming emperor, who when usurped by the uncle in 1402 might not have died but escaped elsewhere, possibly overseas. (See, e.g., Frederick W. Mote, referred to earlier; “Ming Emperor overseas?”, Chinatownology; and, “Yongle (emperor of Ming dynasty): Foreign policy”, Encyclopaedia Britannia.)

The rumours may not have been completely unfounded, considering that later when Ming was conquered by the Manchurian Qing dynasty in the 17th century the last claimant of the Ming imperial throne, the Yongli Emperor of South Ming, who by then had converted to Christianity and sought the support of Rome through Jesuit missionaries in China, fled to Burma before a Chinese military invasion captured and executed him. (See, e.g., Asian Borderlands: The Transformation of Qing China's Yunnan Frontier, by Charles Patterson Giersch, Harvard University Press, 2006; and, “Medicine and Culture: Chinese-Western Medical Exchange (1644-ca.1950)”, Pacific Rim Report, University of San Francisco Center for the Pacific Rim.)

The military expedition to capture the last South Ming emperor was launched from Yunnan province and led by Wu Sangui (吴三桂), a former Ming military general who had played the crucial role of opening the gate of the Great Wall to let the Manchurians in to attack Beijing, been rewarded with a princely title for that and put in charge of Yunnan– not unlike Zheng He’s forefather with the Mongolians though in a much bigger role. (See, e.g., Frederick W. Mote, referred to earlier.)

Legends never die. In 1999 before the New Millennium, Nicholas D. Kristof of The New York Times wrote a long article about visiting some of the places of significance in the history of Zheng He’s voyages, and trying to discover, on the island of Pate at the Kenyan coast, descendants of rumoured survivors of a Chinese shipwreck from long ago – feeling intrigued by similarities between some local customs and traditional Chinese customs. (See, “1492: The Prequel”, by Nicholas D. Kristof, The New York Times, June 6, 1999.)

After Zheng He’s death the Ming-dynasty government ended further naval expeditions and, rather inexplicably, by around the year 1479 official records of Zheng He’s voyages were destroyed and building of large ships was banned. (See, e.g., China: A New History, by John King Fairbank and Merle Goldman, Harvard University Press, 2006.)

Perhaps other matters called for preoccupation and for caution against the southern focus, matters such as continuing warfare in the far north against the Mongolians, and setback in the south where Vietnam won recognition of independence after a short period of Chinese occupation, or perhaps the objectives of the naval expeditions had been achieved: some of Zheng He’s crews stayed behind in places like Malacca in Malaysia and formed overseas Chinese communities there; the influences from his voyages were now enabling more Chinese to emigrate to these regions; and many of the countries the envoys visited established diplomatic relations with China and sent delegations to pay “tributes” for trade privileges with the largest country on earth – where the government preferred a Confucian hierarchical, authoritarian official-control approach to trade. (See, e.g., Frederick W. Mote, Denis Crispin Twitchett and John King Fairbank, referred to earlier; Admiral Zheng He & Southeast Asia, edited by Leo Suryadinata of International Zheng He Society, Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, Singapore, 2005; John King Fairbank and Merle Goldman, referred to earlier; and, “Museum tells past stories of overseas Chinese”, Global Times, November 18, 2009.)

John King Fairbank (费正清) and Merle Goldman, prominent scholars in Chinese history, even go as far as asserting that “Ming China almost purposely missed the boat of modern technological and economic development” (see, John King Fairbank and Merle Goldman, referred to earlier).

The decline of maritime power led to serious deterioration of piracy problems from the early 16th century on, with a mixture of Chinese and Japanese pirates plaguing the eastern and southern Chinese coasts, from which the Ming government had to retreat further as it no longer had a strong navy. (See, e.g., “Piracy in early modern China”, by Robert Antony, International Institute for Asian Studies Newsletter, The Netherlands, March 2005; and, “Wokou”, Wikipedia.)

Meanwhile, other important events were happening in what China considered the West.

20 years after Zheng He’s seventh and last voyage during which he is thought to have made a Mecca pilgrimage fulfilling a Muslim’s wish in life, in 1453 A.D. the Muslim Ottoman Empire conquered Constantinople, center of Eastern Christianity originating from which Nestorianism had officially reached China in the 7th century. (See, e.g., History of the Ottoman Empire and Modern Turkey, Volume 1, by Stanford J. Shaw, Cambridge University Press, 1976.)

In 1479-80 when Chinese official records of Zheng He’s voyages were destroyed, Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand ascended to the Spanish throne after a war of succession, and began the Spanish Inquisition to purify the Catholic churches in Spain, rooting out Jews, Muslims and heretics. (See, e.g., “Spanish Inquisition” and “Catholic Monarchs”, Wikipedia.)

Then in 1486 A.D., 130 years after the Ming-dynasty founder Zhu Yuanzhang’s conquer of Nanjing, Christopher Columbus, an Italian maritime explorer in Portugal, was granted an audience with Queen Isabella of Spain on his proposals to sail to China and India by circumnavigating the world from the Atlantic in the hope of establishing a new route to compensate for the loss of land routes due to the advance of the Muslim conquers. (See, e.g., Discovering Christopher Columbus: How History Is Invented, by Kathy Pelta, Twenty-First Century Books, 1991; “Christopher Columbus: Biography”, The Order Sons of Italy in America; and, “Christopher Columbus”, Wikipedia.)

Columbus reached and ‘discovered’ America in 1492.

Some scholars have since argued that Christopher Columbus’s true identity had been that of a young Greek prince in the Byzantine Empire who had fled when the Byzantine capital Constantinople fell to the Muslims in 1453,  and who identified himself as from Genoa, Italy for the reason that his true birth place had been the Greek island Chios, under Genoese rule at the time. (See, e.g., “Christophoros Columbus: A Byzantine Prince from Chios, Greece”, by Ruth G. Durlacher-Wolper, Australian Macedonian Advisory Council, American Chronicle, November 27, 2008.)

But there is also the contention, by former British naval officer and author Gavin Menzies, that part of Zheng He’s fleets during his sixth voyage, 1421-1422 (or 1423), actually went in the direction of and reached America. (See, 1421 The Year China Discovered America, by Gavin Menzies, HarperCollins Publishers, 2003.)

In any case, history as written and known today is that Christopher Columbus’s discovery marked the start of a new world era with the Portuguese in the role of global maritime traders and the Spanish as international colonizers. (See, e.g., The Emergence of the Global Political Economy, by William R. Thompson, Routledge, 1999.)

By 1509-1511 overseas Chinese traders hooked up with the Portuguese who took Malacca under their control, and by 1513-16  Portuguese ships from Malacca were in Canton to trade, one of them led by Rafael Perestrello, a cousin of Christopher Columbus’s wife. (See, e.g., The Cambridge history of China, Volume 8: The Ming Dynasty, 1368-1644, Part 2, by Denis Crispin Twitchett and John King Fairbank, Cambridge University Press, 1978; World Civilization: A Brief History, by Robin W. Winks, Rowman & Littlefield, 1993; and, “Rafael Perestrello”, Wikipedia.)

During the 16th century the commercial island of Macao off the southern Chinese coast near Canton was allowed de facto Portuguese control by the Ming government. (See, e.g., Denis Crispin Twitchett and John King Fairbank, referred to earlier; and, “Historic Centre of Macao”, UNESCO World Heritage.)

The Portuguese were setting up trade posts not only from Europe to Asia, but also from Africa to Europe and later to America where black salve trade was involved; they had built a permanent trade post in the Gold Coast of West Africa, i.e., today’s Ghana, during the 15th century – a subject related to the topics of my last two blog posts, ““Nairobi to Shenzhen”, and on to Guangzhou”.  (See, e.g., Four Centuries of Portuguese Expansion, 1415-1825: A Succinct Survey, by C. R. Boxer, University of California Press, 1972; and, The Atlantic Slave Trade: New Approaches to the Americas, by Herbert S. Klein, Cambridge University Press, 1999.)

Catholic missionaries, most notably Jesuit priests (members of the Society of Jesus), began to arrive in China in the late 16th century via Macao, and establish missions in Kwangtung (Guangdong) province. The Jesuits who came to China were of diverse European national backgrounds, ranging from Italian to Belgian, German to Polish, and the Jesuit influences, with their emphasis on the Western knowledge of mathematics, science and astronomy,  would grow to reach Beijing and other regions of China. (See, e.g.,  “Jesuit China missions”, Wikipedia.)

The first Jesuit missionaries to China were Father Michele Ruggieri (罗明坚, Luo Ming-jian) who arrived at Macao in 1579, and Father Matteo Ricci (利玛窦, Li Ma-dou) a few years after. The two founded missions in Kwangtung during the late 16th century, before Ricci went on to Beijing.

Before reaching Beijing, Ricci wrote a treatise to explain the “Memory Palace” to the sons of the governor of Jiangxi province (Guangdong’s neighbour to the northeast), about an old intellectual method of memorizing through identifying objects and subjects to remember with various parts of a palace or various structures of different sizes, styles and functionalities. Ricci pointed out to the Chinese that these palaces were not necessarily meant to be in the real world. (See, e.g., “Engines of Our Ingenuity, No. 1226: Ricci’s Memory Palace”, by John H. Lienhard, University of Houston, 1997; and, “Building the Palace”, by Douglas Anderson, Ricci Street – an online MBA community, Medaille College, Buffalo, NY, March 20, 2000.)

Matteo Ricci world map
World Map by Matteo Ricci, 1602 A.D. (Henry Davis Consulting)

In the imperial court in Beijing, Ricci produced world maps – the first Chinese maps to utilize Western knowledge of the world – on which he placed China near the center of the view. That caused quite a bit of controversy back in Europe. (See also, e.g., “Cartography and Memory”, by Alexander Fabry, The Harvard Advocate, Winter 2009; and, “China: Hong Kong: Matteo Ricci maps did not put China at centre of the world”, January 26, 2010, Spero News.).

Among other Jesuits who came to China during the 17th century was Father Johann Schreck (邓玉函, Deng Yu-han), a noted astronomer, physicist, friend of Galileo and Kepler, and the 7th elected member of the Lincean Academy – Galileo being its sixth member; Schreck brought the telescope to China. (See, e.g., Science and Civilisation in China, Volume 3: Mathematics and the Sciences of the Heavens and the Earth, , by Joseph Needham, Cambridge University Press, 1959; and, “Accademia dei Lincei”, Wikipedia.)

Steam Machine Of Verbiest in 1678
World's first car designed by Ferdinand Verbiest in China, 1672 A.D. (Wikipedia)

Other noted Jesuit innovators in China included Father Ferdinand Verbiest (南怀仁, Nan Huai-ren), who is now credited with designing and building the world’s first (model) automobile, in the year 1672 in China. (See, e.g., “The Mechanics of Heaven: Jesuit Astronomers at the Qing Court”, by Mark Stephen Mir, The Ricci Institute for Chinese-Western Cultural History, University of San Francisco, August 14, 2004; “The Jesuits and Sino-Western Technology”, by Mark Mir, The Ricci Institute for Chinese-Western Cultural History, University of San Francisco; and, “Ferdinand Verbiest”, Wikipedia.)

From the time of Schreck to the time of Verbiest China changed, through great upheavals: the same year 1630 when Schreck died a peasants’ rebellion began, led by Li Zicheng (李自成) of Yan’an (Yanan, later the center of the Chinese Communists led by Mao Zedong during World War II), which eventually overthrew the Ming dynasty but was then overcome by the Manchurians from the northeast who established the Ch’ing (清, Qing) dynasty, in 1644. (See, e.g., “Li Zicheng” and “Qing Dynasty”, Wikipedia.)

Geographically, it was not a long distance for the Manchurians to come south to take Beijing and claim it as their capital, after Wu Sangui opened the gate of the Great Wall to them. After all, the first Chinese regime making Beijing the capital had been their ancestral Jin (金, Jurchen) dynasty in the 12th and 13th century, which had conquered northern China and forced the Song (宋, Sung) dynasty to retreat south and become South Song – prior to conquers of both by the Mongolian Yuan. (See, e.g., The Cambridge History of China, Volume 6: Alien Regimes and Border States, 907-1368, by Denis Twitchett and Herbert Franke, Cambridge University Press, 1994.)

Like last time, resistances to the Manchurian rule from forces loyal to the Ming dynasty retreated to southern China under the banner of South Ming dynasty, and they were not put down until the early 1660s.

By this time, the Jesuit missionaries had converted about 100,000 Chinese to Christianity, with the highest concentrations in Beijing, in the Shaanxi region where the old capital of Xi’an is located, and in southern China. The last emperor of South Ming, the Yongli Emperor (永历), or at least his family, was among newest Chinese converts, and after retreating to Nanjing, then Canton, and then Guangxi province in the southwest, he sent Jesuit missionary Father Michał Boym (卜弥格) to lobby Portugal, France and Rome for support to counter Qing military offensives and re-establish the Ming dynasty; but by the time Boym returned to China in 1659 Yongli was near complete defeat and soon to flee into Burma, and Boym died on the way to reach the South Ming emperor – sick and exhausted. (See, e.g., “Southern Ming Dynasty”, “Zhu Youlang, Prince of Gui” and “Michał Boym”, Wikipedia; “卜弥格 (Michel Boym, 波兰, 1612—1659)”, National Library of China; “Medicine and Culture: Chinese-Western Medical Exchange (1644-ca.1950)”, Pacific Rim Report, University of San Francisco Center for the Pacific Rim; and, Journey to the East: the Jesuit Mission to China, 1579-1724, by Liam Matthew Brockey, Harvard University Press, 2007.)

During this time, in 1658 the Jesuit society in Rome redrew its map and transferred its jurisdiction of the southern China regions of Guangdong, Guangxi and Hainan island from the “Vice-Province” of China to the “Province” of Japan, boosting the status of Macao as an international Jesuit missionary center.  (See, e.g., Liam Matthew Brockey, referred to earlier.)

During the 1660s some of the Jesuit missionaries in Beijing suffered severe prosecutions by the Qing government: Ferdinand Verbiest first arrived in Beijing only to find jail, with Father Johann Adam Schall von Bell (湯若望, Tang Ruo-wang), the chief astronomer of the imperial court, already in prison in the so-called “Calendar Case” (历狱), accused of “falsifying the calendar, promoting a heterodox sect, and preparing an invasion by Europeans”. Schall von Bell was given the death penalty but it was later commuted, and he died after several years of prison life. Several of his Chinese assistants were executed, and most of the Jesuit missionaries in Beijing were exiled to Canton – with Verbiest one of the few exceptions during this period of “Canton exile”. (See, e.g., “Jesuit Astronomers in Beijing, 1601-1805”, by Agustin Udias, Quarterly Journal of the Royal Astronomical Society, December 1994; Mark Stephen Mir, referred to earlier; The Interweaving of Rituals: Funerals in the Cultural Exchange between China and Europe, by N. Standaert, University of Washington Press, 2008; and, “历狱”, Wikipedia.)

At the time there had indeed been European invasions, but not the kind of Portuguese administration of Macao for trade purposes agreed to by the Ming government, or possible promises of military assistance to the South Ming dynasty from some European countries, which came too late anyways.

It was the occupation and attempted colonization of the island of Taiwan (Formosa) off the southeast coast, by the Netherlands (the Dutch East India Company) and Spain beginning in the 1620s, at a time when the Manchurians in the northeast were also in their early stage of proclaiming hostility and insurrection against the Ming government. (See, e.g., The Search for Modern China, by Jonathan D. Spence, W. W. Norton & Company, 1991; How Taiwan Became Chinese: Dutch, Spanish, and Han Colonization in the Seventeenth Century, by Tonio Andrade, Columbia University Press, 2008; “History”, Portal of Republic of China (Taiwan) Diplomatic Missions; and, “How Taiwan became Chinese: Dutch, Spanish, and Han Colonization in the Seventeenth Century”, by Anne Gerritsen, Reviews in History, March 2010.)

By the 1660s when the victorious Qing dynasty began to prosecute the “Calendar Case” in the imperial court in Beijing, the colonial rules in Taiwan was actually ending after Chinese pro-Ming forces – under the command of the legendary Zheng Chenggong (郑成功, also known as Koxinga) from the family of a pirate-kingpin father and a Japanese mother – in 1662 captured Taiwan as their base of anti-Qing operations. Prior to that, in 1659 they had laid an offensive siege to Nanjing unsuccessfully. (See, e.g., Jonathan D. Spence, referred to earlier; and “Koxinga”, Wikipedia.)

As a matter of fact it was the Qing government that then cooperated with the Dutch to try to conquer Taiwan, but Qing’s attempts did not succeed until the battle of Penghu (Pescadores) in 1683.

Over a century after Matteo Ricci’s arrival in Beijing, in the early 18th century Father Giuseppe Castiglione (郎世宁, Lang Shi-ning) arrived at the imperial court of Qing. Born in the year 1688 in which Ferdinand Verbiest died, Castiglione was an accomplished artist when he went to China. Infusing his knowledge of Western arts and architecture with the Chinese arts and architecture, Castiglione became an imperial-palace painter, depicting several generations of emperors, their palaces and their lives in grandeur. (See, e.g., “New Visions at the Ch’ing Court – Giuseppe Castiglione and Western-Style Trends”, National Palace Museum, Taipei.)

Castiglione also helped design the Yuan-Ming Palace (圆明园) – finally an ambitious imperial palace with rich architectural styles from both the East and the West! (See, e.g., “18th Century Chinese Garden Architecture”, BibliOdyssey (blog), April 28, 2006; “Giuseppe Castiglione and Court Art in Qianlong’s Reign of Qing Dynasty”, Century Online Chinese Art Networks; and, “Old Summer Palace”, Wikipedia.)

The name of the Yuan-Ming Palace, 圆明园, is sometimes translated as the “Garden of Perfect Splendour” or the “Garden of Perfect Brightness”. (See, e.g., “Yuanming Yuan, The Garden of Perfect Brightness”, China Heritage Quarterly, China Heritage Project, The Australian National University, December 2004; and, “Yuanmingyuan (Garden of Perfect Splendor)”, Yuanmingyuan Park.)

But my preferred translation for the name 圆明园 would be the “Perfect Ming Garden” or the “Perfectly Round Ming Garden”, for the reasons that the Chinese word “圆”can mean ‘perfect’ or ‘round’ and the word “明”which means ‘bright’ is also the name of the Ming dynasty preceding Qing (清, Ch’ing).

Others may dismiss my interpretation offhand simply because of official Qing taboos on things related to the previous Ming dynasty, taboos that needed to be taken seriously such as in the infamous “Case of Ming Dynasty History” (明史案) in the 1660s – thus use of the same word “明”in naming the new imperial palace could not possibly refer to the Ming dynasty. (See, e.g., Autocratic Tradition and Chinese Politics, by Zhengyuan Fu, Cambridge University Press, 1993; and, “元明清史”, by 王天有 and 成崇德, 五南圖書出版股份有限公司, 2002.)

My argument for the merits of my interpretations is based on reading of the Yongzheng (雍正) Emperor’s essay, “圆明园记”(“Yuan-Ming Garden Notes”): Yongzheng states in his very first use of the word “明”outside of the Garden’s name, that the land had originally been expropriated by his father (the Kangxi Emperor, 康熙) from a site of dilapidated old mansions of former Ming-dynasty families – through reducing the size of their lots – for the construction of the spring garden Chang-Chun Yuan (畅春园, one of the gardens that formed the Yuan-Ming Palace) – “就明戚废墅,节缩其址,筑畅春园”; Yongzheng then states that he asked for a garden also and was granted a section of the land; later in the essay, to explain the meanings of the Yuan-Ming name granted by his father, Yongzheng composes the phrases “圆而入神”, meaning “round as to enter ecstasy”, and “明而普照,达人之睿智”, meaning “bright as to universally illuminate, reaching man’s wisdom”. (See, “圆明园记”, by 雍正, Yuan-Ming Palace (www.yuanmingyuan.cn); or, “圆明园记”, Yuanmingyuan Park.)

In other words, in his essay on the Yuan-Ming Palace the Ch’ing emperor did not try to avoid the use of the word “明”as a reference to the Ming dynasty, on the contrary used it specifically referring to the origin of the palace site, and in doing so in effect made a contrast between the high ideal he saw as embedded in the “brightness” meaning of the word “明”to that of the dilapidated state of the former-“Ming” mansions.

Thus in my view the Ch’ing emperor had an aspiration for “perfection” and “illumination” not only in the physical senses but in the social and intellectual senses, and quite possibly viewed it as an imperial dream the previous Ming-dynasty circles – if they had harboured it – had failed to achieve.

Such goals of “perfection” and “illumination” may indeed have been quite remote in Chinese history to that point, or at least to the point when the Ch’ing dynasty first arrived, despite the impressive accomplishments of the Chinese civilization.

When the Nestorian Stele was erected in the 8th century to record 7th-century imperial reception given to Nestorian Christianity by the Tang-dynasty Taizong Emperor – roughly one millennium before the Yuan-Ming Palace’s construction – the name “大秦景教”was used; I have expressed my view earlier that the meaning of the word “景”was more about the conveyance of the religion through presenting the  “scenes” of the Western “Great Ch’in”, than about the religion being “brilliant teaching” or “luminous religion”. 

An important point is that the cultural exchanges between China and the West at the time of Nestorian Christianity did not bring the advanced knowledge of the West to China, knowledge otherwise disseminated among the various Western cultures.

Take for instance mathematics – something of personal interest to me as a mathematician by training. The books of Elements, written by the Greek mathematician Euclid of Alexandria, Egypt, in the 3rd century B.C. on the fundamentals of mathematics, not only represented a crowning achievement of ancient mathematics but also a mathematical foundation for studying other scientific subjects such as the Ptolemy theory of astronomy about the universe rotating around a round, stationery earth. Euclid’s books were translated to Latin in the 5th or 6th century A.D., received by the Arabs around 750 A.D. and translated into Arabic around 800 A.D. – close to the time of the Nestorian Stele! Yet the first Chinese copy of Elements did not appear until 1607 – translated by none other than the pioneer Jesuit missionary Matteo Ricci and his Chinese collaborators – and it was only the first 6 books of the 15 volumes. The rest were not translated into Chinese until the 1850s – first published in 1859. (See, e.g., Mathematical Thought from Ancient to Modern Times, Volume 1, by Morris Kline, Oxford University Press, 1990; Euclid in China: The Genesis of the First Chinese Translation of Euclid’s Elements in 1607 & Its Reception up to 1723, by Peter M. Engelfriet, Brill, 1998; Science and Religion, 400 B.C. to A.D. 1550: From Aristotle to Copernicus, by Edward Grant, JHU Press, 2006; “A Study of the Translation and Fate of the Elements in Different Civilizations”, by F. C. Chen, Journal of Chinese Studies, 2008; and, “Euclid’s Elements”, Wikipedia.)

As discussed, after some initial southern focuses – particularly Zheng He’s voyages in the first part of the 15th century – the Ming dynasty turned isolationist, and self-limiting rather than innovative; and by the early 17th century when Jesuit missionaries began to arrive and bring scientific and technological knowledge to China, European colonial powers, i.e., the Portuguese, the Dutch and the Spanish, were also at the door.

No wonder the Qing’s Yongzheng Emperor could think of the Ming circles as failures.

Even with the Jesuit missionaries’ natural bend toward the scientific disciplines, some important Western knowledge, in astronomy, anatomy and medicine in particular, was either not transmitted to or not accepted in China, during the Ming and Qing eras.

In astronomy, despite the presence of many Jesuit astronomers in the imperial Qing court, for over a century until 1760 the Jesuits misrepresented the Copernicus theory to the Chinese, not telling them it was about a sun-centered planetary system. They did so in accordance with a ban on teaching Galileo’s theory, issued by the Roman Catholic Church in 1616 and in force till 1757. (See, e.g., “Jesuit Astronomers in Beijing, 1601-1805”, by Agustin Udias, Quarterly Journal of the Royal Astronomical Society, December 1994; and, “Copernicus in China or, Good Intentions Gone Astray”, in Science in Ancient China: Researches and Reflections, by Nathan Sivin, Variorum, 1995.)

The Jesuit astronomers did so despite their closeness to the center of European astronomy: Johann Schreck had been a contemporary and friend of Galileo and Kepler, Johann von Bell had been a Roman College student learning Galileo’s new discoveries that substantiated a sun-centered planetary system, and when Michał Boym first went to China, at Kepler’s request he brought along the latter’s mathematical tables on the Copernicus theory.  (See, e.g., Science and Civilisation in China, Volume 3: Mathematics and the Sciences of the Heavens and the Earth, , by Joseph Needham, Cambridge University Press, 1959; and, Between Copernicus and Galileo: Christoph Clavius and the collapse of Ptolemaic cosmology, by James M. Lattis, University of Chicago Press, 1994.)

In fact in the year 1610 when Galileo made his discoveries using a modernized telescope, Jesuit missionary Father Manuel Dias, Jr. (阳马诺) arrived in China, where in 1614-15 – the year before the Church’s ban on Galileo’s theory – he published a Chinese book, “天問略”(“Epitome of Astronomy”), on European astronomy and mentioned Galileo and the latter’s new discoveries. (See, e.g., Agustin Udias, referred to earlier; Chinese Books and Documents in the Jesuit Archives in Rome: Descriptive Catalogue: Japonica-Sinica I-IV, by Albert Chan, M.E. Sharpe, 2002; and, The Jesuits, the Padroado and East Asian science (1552-1773), by Luis Saraiva and Catherine Jami, World Scientific, 2008.)

Dias became friends with celebrated Chinese scientist and scholar Xu Guangqi (徐光启) – a collaborator of Matteo Ricci’s in the translation of Euclid’s Elements – and served for many years as the leader of the Jesuits in China, and later in 1644 – the year the Ming dynasty was ended and Qing dynasty came – published an influential commentary on the 781 A.D. Nestorian Stele rediscovered after the Jesuits arrived in China. (See, e.g., “Nestorian Stele: 唐景教碑頌正詮--陽瑪諾註”, Jesus Taiwan; The Story of a Stele: China’s Nestorian Monument and Its Reception in the West, 1625-1916, by Michael Keevak, Hong Kong University Press, 2008; and, “陽瑪諾, 作者生平”, Hong Kong Catholic Diocesan Archives.)

The Chinese might have only gotten the “scenes” the first time around (i.e., with Nestorian Christianity), and they weren’t “illuminated” this time, either.

The orthodoxy by the Roman Catholic Church in controlling dissemination of scientific thought was unfortunate during an era when transformational scientific discoveries and progresses – especially Newton’s work on the mathematics and physics of motion – were taking place in Europe.

In anatomy and medicine, efforts by the Jesuits to convince the Kangxi Emperor (Yongzheng’s father) about the Western system of universal human anatomy – instituted since the ancient Greek time of Aristotle – met with great scepticism and indifference. For instance, in a published lecture to his sons, the Kangxi Emperor admonished the food and drink south of the Yangtze River, stating that the southern cuisine would make northerners soft and weak like the southerners, and that following of the southern trend must be avoided. The anatomical knowledge brought by the Jesuits was not disseminated outside the imperial court during that time. By as late as the 19th century noted Chinese scholar Yu Zhengxie (俞正燮) still wrote an essay to refute the Jesuits’ illustrations of the human body two centuries earlier, arguing that the Chinese human organs were of different structures from the Westerner’s, and that it explained the differences in religious beliefs. (See, e.g., “Medicine and Culture: Chinese-Western Medical Exchange (1644-ca.1950)”, Pacific Rim Report, University of San Francisco Center for the Pacific Rim; Fighting Famine in North China: State, Market, and Environmental Decline, 1690s-1990s, by Lillian M. Li, Stanford University Press, 2007; and, “西风东渐的轶闻趣事”, by 周真真, Jiefang Daily, December 5, 2008.)

Medicine is also something of personal interest as I have discussed in some of my earlier blog posts and in my Chinese blog post, “忆往昔,学历史智慧(一)——从幼年的故事说起”(“Reminiscing the past, learning history’s wisdom (Part 1) – starting from childhood stories”), that my maternal grandmother’s grandfather became one of the first doctors of Western medicine in Kwangtung’s Shantou (Swatow) region when in the 1860s the region’s first hospital, the Swatow Mission Hospital, was founded by Dr. William Gauld of the English Presbyterian Mission and my great-great grandfather was fortunate enough to study medicine there.

Such huge gulfs in contemporary knowledge and understanding between the West and China serve as a backdrop to my glimpse into the thoughts it might have taken for the Yongzheng Emperor (who reigned from the early 1720s to the mid-1730s) to articulate a dream of perfect, universal illumination as embodied in the name of the Yuan-Ming Palace.

Among Giuseppe Castiglione’ paintings for the Yuan-Ming Palace was a portrait of a Western palace lady – one of six portraits on the “separation wall” in the back-corridor of the Four-Convenience Hall, completed in the 4th year of Yongzheng’s reign, circa 1726 (coincidentally, Yongzheng himself was the fourth son of his father Kangxi). The portraits were adapted from Western portrait prints provided by court officials, with the horses in the prints omitted at the emperor’s order.

Lang Shining painting

After viewing this portrait, the Yongzheng Emperor issued an edict: the appearance was painted well but the several steps behind were too high, too difficult to walk on, and their gradation too close; Castiglione should repaint with the background adjusted to the depth of the three rooms in the Hall, and leave this one for entertainment use in the backroom. (See, “圆明园四宜堂隔断贴画:西洋仕女”, by 苏金成, 中国美术研究 (Journal of Chinese Fine Arts), Number 3 (May-June) 2009).

Unfortunately, while Castiglione was working on artistic projects such as the portrait above and on designing  expansions of the Yuan-Ming Palace, Western missionaries were beginning to be banned from proselytizing in China following escalations of a nearly century-old dispute between Beijing and Rome over whether to allow Chinese Christians to practice Confucian rites which included ancestor worship, i.e., if the rites were not idolatry.

From the start of the Jesuit missionary work in China in the early 17th century, there were strong oppositions from Dominican missionaries who were closely associated with Spanish rule in the Philippines, against the Jesuits’ eclectic positions on Confucian rites. Throughout the 17th century different popes in Rome took different positions on the issue. The Kangxi Emperor’s 1692 edict of tolerance toward Christianity and his approval, in the year 1700, of the Jesuit interpretation of the rites failed to change Rome’s hardening position on the issue: in 1715 Pope Clement XI published an apostolic constitution requiring all missionaries to take an oath abiding by directives against the Chinese rites. (See, e.g., “George Minamiki, S. J., The Chinese Rites Controversy from Its Beginnings to Modern Times (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1985)”, by Paek-seop Shim, Journal of Religious Studies, Vol. 23, 2004; “Order of Preachers (OP) 聖多明我會”, The Ricci 21st Century Roundtable on the History of Christianity in China, and, and, “Chinese Rites controversy”, Wikipedia.)

In 1721 Kangxi issued a ban prohibiting foreign missionaries from preaching in China, specifically referring to it as a response to the Pope’s directives against Chinese Confucian rites.

Two years after taking over the throne upon winning a power struggle following his father’s death, in 1724 (i.e., two years before the Castiglione painting shown in this blog post) Yongzheng issued an edict banning Christianity in China altogether. The ban was enforced during the long reign of his son, the Qianlong Emperor (乾隆), which lasted to near the end of the 18th century. (See, e.g., God and Caesar in China: Policy Implications of Church-State Tensions, by Jason Kindopp and Carol Lee Hamrin, Brookings Institution Press, 2004; and, Journey to the East: the Jesuit Mission to China, 1579-1724, by Liam Matthew Brockey, Harvard University Press, 2007.)

By the time of the ban in 1724 there were several hundred thousand Chinese Christian followers of the Jesuits.

The Jesuit missionaries were exiled to Canton and then to Macao. Of course a person as talented and helpful as Giuseppe Castiglione in the imperial court, and other missionaries who had technical skills and scientific knowledge were treated as exceptions.

In contrast to the ban on Christianity, Yongzheng tried to lessen the traditional, harsh capital punishments on breaching of official intellectual taboos, instead ordered publication of his writings to debate and indoctrinate on the issues – including on the issue of whether he had “usurped” the throne. But the new approach was abruptly ended with his 13-year rule upon his death, and those not receiving the capital punishment under Yongzheng were given it by his son Qianlong. (See, e.g., The search for modern China, by Jonathan D. Spence, W. W. Norton & Company, 1991; and, “元明清史”, by 王天有 and 成崇德, 五南圖書出版股份有限公司, 2002.)

By the mid-18th century foreign trade with the West was also banned in China except within the Canton System, i.e., at the port of Canton on the Pearl-River Delta near the southern coast. In contrast, Yongzheng and Qianlong gradually relaxed restrictions previously in place on Chinese traders engaging in overseas trade with Southeast Asia. (See, e.g., The Canton trade: life and enterprise on the China coast, 1700-1845, by Paul Arthur Van Dyke, Hong Kong University Press, 2005; and, “Canton System - A Complement to the Old China Trade”, Cultural China; and, China’s Last Empire: The Great Qing, by William T. Rowe, Harvard University Press, 2009.)

Giuseppe Castiglione died in Beijing on July 17, 1766, nearly an exact century from Johann Adam Schall von Bell’s death on August 15, 1666, having born in the same year 1688 when Ferdinand Verbiest died. Several years later the Jesuit society was disbanded by the Catholic Church – coincidentally when the Church had finally lifted its ban on Galileo’s system of astronomy – until the year 1814.  “Christianity and the Jesuits in China”, the Royal Academy of Arts, London; and, “Society of Jesus”, Wikipedia.)

A British delegation to Beijing led by Lord Macartney in 1792 failed to lead to more open official trade or official diplomatic relation – with the ineptitude magnified in an anecdote where the official speeches by Macartney had to be first translated from English to Latin for the benefit of the Chinese interpreter who in turn translated them to Chinese for the Qianlong Emperor. (See, e.g., “From the Society of Jesus to the East India Company: A Case Study in the Social History of Translation”, by Sean Golden, in Beyond the Western Tradition. Translation. Perspectives XI, edited by Marilyn Gaddis Rose, Centre for Research in Translation, State University of New York at Binghamton, 2000; and, “Macartney Embassy to China: a diplomatic failure”, by Paulo Roberto Almeida (source: New World Encyclopedia), Shanghai Express (blog), November 13, 2009.)

At the time the British East India Company had a monopoly control of the British official trade with China, and a large part of its actual trade was the illegal trafficking of opium from India – opium sale other than for medicinal purposes having already been banned in 1729 by Yongzheng and trafficking banned in 1735 by Qianlong. (See, e.g., China’s Drug Practices and Policies: Regulating Controlled Substances in a Global Context, by Hong Lu, Terance D. Miethe and Bin Liang, Ashgate Publishing, Ltd., 2009.)

The aspiration to achieve a “Perfect Ming”, if the Qing emperors indeed had that in mind where the Ming dynasty had failed, was going down in a pattern similar to the Ming’s before them. By the time China re-opened again in the mid-19th century, it would literally be forced to do so under the guns of European powers.

cwC_1805_E78680_Flags
The Thirteen Foreign Factories of Canton, circa 1805 (MIT Visualizing Cultures)

In the early 19th century, the first Protestant missionaries began to arrive in China. They were sent by the London Missionary Society, starting with Rev. Robert Morrison (马礼逊) in 1807 and Rev. William Milne (米怜) in 1813. Affiliated with the British East India Company, the missionaries were very limited in their reach into the local Cantonese, let alone the majority of the Chinese. Distributing the Bible and pamphlets was a main method of preaching, and the printer who did work for Morrison, Liang Fa (梁发), became one of the first Chinese Protestants when he was baptized by Milne in Malacca, where they could conduct Christian printing operation legally. (See, e.g., “List of Protestant Missionaries to the Chinese”, The Chinese repository, Volume 20, by Elijah Coleman Bridgman and Samuel Wells Williams, 1851; “Religion and rebellion in China: the London Missionary Society collection”, by Andrew Gosling, National Library of Australia News, July 1998; “Liang Fa (Ah Fa, Leung Faat, Leong Kung Fa) 1789 ~ 1855”, Biographical Dictionary of Chinese Christianity; and, my first blog posts dated January 29, 2009, “Greeting the New Millennium – nearly a decade late”.)

The German Lutheran missionary Rev. Charles Gutzlaff (郭士立, or 郭实猎, Karl Friedrich August Gutzlaff) was a singular pioneer in the early formation of the Protestant transnational networks from Southeast Asia to China. Sent by the Netherlands Missionary Society, Gutzlaff was the first Protestant missionary to reach Siam (Thailand), arriving in 1828, and is also considered the first non-British Protestant missionary to China – ahead of American missionary Rev. Elijah Bridgman (裨治文). (See, e.g., “The death of the Rev. Charles Gutzlaff at Hong Kong, August 9” and “List of Protestant Missionaries to the Chinese”, The Chinese repository, Volume 20, by Elijah Coleman Bridgman and Samuel Wells Williams, 1851.)

Gutzlaff’s first Chinese convert in Bangkok, Boon Tee, was an immigrant from the Chaozhou region (a prefecture, later also known as Swatow for the port city of Shantou in the region) in eastern Kwangtung (Guangdong) province neighbouring southern Fujian (Fukien) province. (See, e.g., “The Chinese Christian Transnational Networks Of Bangkok-Hong Kong-Chaozhou in the 19th Century”, by Joseph Tse-Hei Lee, Department of History, Pace University, May 2004; and, Opening China: Karl F.A. Gützlaff and Sino-Western relations, 1827-1852, by Jessie Gregory Lutz, Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2008.)

The Chaozhou-speaking were the largest group of Chinese in Siam at the time. Their dialect is similar to that in southern Fujian and different from Cantonese spoken in Guangzhou (Canton) where I grew up, and the ancestors of many of them had originally come from Fujian.

Gutzlaff was apparently fluent in the Fujian dialect.

The Chaozhou region’s Christian heritage would include that of my maternal family’s, as I have mentioned earlier my great-great grandfather studied medicine at the Swatow Mission Hospital during the 1860s and became one of the first Chinese doctors of Western medicine in that region. He later also became an ordained Presbyterian minister.

The date of February 19, 2010 for this blog post and for my first Chinese blog post on 高峰的博客 (and its companion blog in China, 高峰的凤凰博客) has been chosen for the reason that in the Chinese Lunar Calendar it happens to be the sixth day of the Chinese year – my maternal grandmother’s birthday. My father’s birthday happens to be on February 20, which I discussed last year in another context in my ongoing, multi-part blog article on Canadian politics.

In the early 1830s at Charles Gutzlaff’s initiation, the American Baptist Missionary Union sent its first missionaries to Thailand and China, Rev. John Taylor Jones in 1832 and Rev. William Dean (憐为仁) in 1835, who set up a base in Bangkok to preach to the local Chinese community – with the objective of expanding into China. (See, e.g., Joseph Tse-Hei Lee, referred to earlier).

Gutzlaff also undertook a number of important journeys along the Chinese coasts and into inland China, on most of them working as an interpreter for opium traders. Gutzlaff’s mastery of various Chinese dialects and customs grew to a point that starting in late 1834 (shortly after the death of Robert Morrison) he became an official Chinese interpreter for the British administration in China. (See, e.g., Journal of three voyages along the coast of China, in 1831, 1832, & 1833: with notices of Siam, Corea, and the Loo-Choo Islands, by Karl Friedrich August Gützlaff and William Ellis, F. Westley and A.H. Davis, 1834; and, “The legacy of Karl Friedrich August Gutzlaff”, by Jessie G. Lutz, International Bulletin Of Missionary Research, Vol.24, No.3, July 2000.)

In Macao in 1835, Gutzlaff met several Japanese persons who on their ship had been blown off course by a typhoon to the Oregon coast, taken slaves by North American natives, and rescued by the Hudson Bay Company and sent from Canada to Macao. With their help Gutzlaff produced the first Japanese translation of a part of the Bible. (See, e.g., Jessie Gregory Lutz, referred to earlier; and, The Bible and Missions, by Helen Barrett Montgomery, BiblioBazaar, LLC, 2009.)

In his official role with the British, Gutzlaff was a key negotiator when the Chinese government brought in an opium ban that was resolutely enforced by Imperial Commissioner Lin Zexu (林则徐, Lin Tse-hsu). The conflict led to an 1839 letter from Commissioner Lin to Queen Victoria to protest the opium trade, and the dispatch of the British navy to China in the Opium War (1839-1842) to protect British commercial interests, which Gutzlaff participated in. That led to the 1842 Treaty of Nanking, signed with the British laying siege to the former Chinese capital at the Yangtze River near the eastern coast; Gutzlaff acted as one of 3 interpreters for the treaty negotiations, and in 1843 became the official Chinese Secretary to the British administration now based in the colony of Hong Kong, upon the island’s cession to Britain as part of the treaty. (See, e.g., “The death of the Rev. Charles Gutzlaff at Hong Kong, August 9”, by Elijah Coleman Bridgman and Samuel Wells Williams, referred to earlier; The Opium War through Chinese eyes, by Arthur Waley, Stanford University Press, 1958; Trade and Diplomacy on the China Coast: The Opening of the Treaty Ports, 1842-1854, by John King Fairbank,  Stanford University Press, 1964; “The Treaty of Nanking: Form and the Foreign Office, 1842-43”, by R. Derek Wood, Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History, Vol. 24 (2), May 1996; Foreign mud: being an account of the opium imbroglio at Canton in the 1830's and the Anglo-Chinese war that followed, by Maurice Collis, New Directions Publishing, 2002; and, “Lin Zexu (LinTse-hsu) writing to Britain's Queen Victoria to Protest the Opium Trade, 1839”, USC-UCLA Joint East Asian Studies Center.)

During the 1830-40s, Gutzlaff was intimately involved in many private meetings and formal negotiations between the British and the Chinese officials. His indispensability to the British could mean the difference between peace and confrontation in a situation, as seen in an episode during the Opium War when he served as the British-appointed magistrate of Zhoushan (舟山, Chusan), a strategic east-coast island-city the British captured and held for a time, which they really liked (but reluctantly accepted only cession Hong Kong, then a barren island near Canton and Macao in the south) (see, John King Fairbank; referred to earlier):

“When Gutzlaff was transferred from Chusan to take the place of J. R. Morrison as Chinese secretary in the superintendency of trade at Hongkong, the military government of Chusan was left without an interpreter; and when Chinese authorities came to take a register of fishing vessels late in 1843 the British army officers in charge drove them summarily away under the Anglo-Saxon misapprehension that they were trying to hold court and flout the Queen. When translated at Hongkong, their communications were found to be both polite and innocuous.”

The J. R. Morrison referred to in the above quote was the son of Robert Morrison– the first Protestant missionary to China. The junior Morrison was the official Chinese secretary to the British authority – a job he had taken over when his father died in 1834 – and acted as the chief interpreter for the Treaty of Nanking negotiations, but when he soon died in 1843 around the one-year anniversary of the Treaty – at a young age of only 29 – Gutzlaff was given the job. (See, e.g., R. Derek Wood, referred to earlier; and, The China Mission: Embracing a History of the Various Missions of All Denominations among the Chinese, with Biographical Sketches of Deceased Missionaries, by William Dean, Sheldon, 1859.)

Organization was another of Gutzlaff’s strengths, though it would ultimately become his Achille’s Heel. Continuing as a Christian missionary while holding the official Chinese Secretary position in the British colonial government, in 1844 Gutzlaff formed his own Chinese missionary organization, the Chinese Union.

In the next several years Gutzlaff’s organization reached far and wide into the various regions of southern China; of particular interest, in the year 1847 a person of Chaozhou (Swatow) background, “Ming”, became president of this organization. (See, e.g., Joseph Tse-Hei Lee, referred to earlier).

But the authenticity of the Chinese Union members’ Christian belief and Gutzlaff’s own ‘double duties’ were matters of concern among other Western missionaries.

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Signing of the Treaty of Nanking aboard HMS Cornwallis, August 29, 1842 (Getty Images)

It would not be difficult to see why other missionaries hesitated: the Treaty of Nanjing Charles Gutzlaff and J. R. Morrison had taken part in negotiating made no mention of protecting Christian missions, but was preoccupied with reparations for the war and for damages to the British merchants including for the opium destroyed, with future trade privileges at the port of Canton and the additional ports of Amoy (Xiamen) and Foochow (Fuzhou) in Fujian province in the southeast and Ningpo (Ningbo) and Shanghai in the eastern coast, and with cession of Hong Kong to Britain. (See, e.g., “Treaty of Nanjing (Nanking), 1842”, UCLA Asia Institute.)

Following the Opium War, in 1843-45 a number of other Western powers sent their navy ships to the coasts of China, in the hope of obtaining similar legal trade privileges granted Britain by the Qing government. Although the primary objectives in the showing of military might and in the subsequent treaty negotiations were commercial, both the United State and France asked for and received treaty concessions for limited rights and protection of foreign missionaries.

With a small naval fleet, the U.S. negotiated and won the 1844 Treaty of Wangxia (Wanghia, 望厦条约), receiving permission for American missionaries to preach Christianity and establish churches in the five open ports. The Americans also won extraterritoriality for their citizens in China, i.e., any American accused of a crime would be handled by the American consul under the U.S. law, but with an explicit exception on anyone caught smuggling opium or contraband goods. (See, e.g.,  Modern China: An Encyclopedia of History, Culture, and Nationalism, by Ke-wen Wang, Taylor & Francis, 1998; Westerners in China: A History of Exploration and Trade, Ancient Times through the Present, by Foster Stockwell, McFarland, 2003; and, “The Opening to China Part I: the First Opium War, the United States, and the Treaty of Wangxia, 1839-1844”, U.S. Department of State.)

Closely following, in the 1844 Treaty of Whampoa (黄埔条约) France won privileges similar to what the Americans received, including the rights to preach Christianity and establish churches in the five open ports.

But with the backing of a large naval fleet, the French Ambassador Theodore de Lagrene, who was also a high-ranking Jesuit, decided to also demand Chinese imperial lifting of the ban on Christianity, which had been in place since the Yongzheng Emperor’s 1724 edict. After many months of bargaining and pressures by the French, the Daoguang Emperor (道光) issued a number of edicts in 1844-46, making Christianity legal in China and ordering the return of church properties confiscated over a century ago. (See, e.g., China: Political, Commercial, and Social; In an Official Report to Her Majesty’s Government, Volume 2, by R. Montgomery Martin, J. Madden, 1847; France Overseas: A Study of Modern Imperialism, by Herbert Ingram Priestley, Routledge, 1967; and, Ke-wen Wang, referred to earlier.)

In an 1847 official report to the British government in London, Robert Montgomery Martin, the treasurer for the British colonial government and diplomatic services in China, lamented about Britain’s focus on opium trade and not on Christianity (see, R. Montgomery Martin, referred to earlier):

“Our Government appear ashamed of Christianity as if its principles were poison and its professors demons. At the treaty of Nankin we made less mention of our religion than any heathens would have done; we did not require permission to erect a place of worship at the consular ports, or even to form a Christian burial-ground; thanks to the French and Americans, these two points since been obtained. We do not appear to have given ourselves the least trouble on the subject; it is as well we did not: we were far more solicitous about licensing opium smoking at Hong Kong, than of building even a Protestant church there. Even the circular to our consuls in China, from Her Majesty’s government in England, was hostile to English missionaries at the consular ports!”

Though Christianity was now legal in China, foreign missionaries were still restricted from freely venturing into China outside of the five open ports.

(To be continued in Part 2)