Empires of the Silk Road: A History of Central Eurasia From the Bronze Age to the Present (91 page)

87.
Luxury goods are considered to be items of relatively high cost per unit or amount. Trade in them is contrasted with trade in massive quantities of commodities such as grain, timber, or plain cotton cloth, which have relatively low cost per unit or amount (e.g., Pearson 1987: 24–25). The overt basis of the “luxury goods” characterization of the former type of trade items is the idea that they are not necessary for everyday life and are therefore not an indication of the existence of “real commerce.” The covert basis for the characterization is that they are somehow immoral. The fact that even today luxury goods such as computers, cell phones, automobiles, jet planes, and so forth dominate international trade and finance does not stop economic historians from repeating the old moralistically based ideas, which seem to go back to Antiquity. In the case of the trade in “coarse cloth” discussed by Pearson (1987: 25), he says, “It was these cloths which paid for many of the spices of southeast Asia. Indeed, in the sixteenth century in some agreements between the Portuguese and the suppliers, the price of the spices was fixed in cloths, not money.” It seems likely that much of this cloth, perhaps most of it, was actually a standardized commodity used as a kind of money, as had long been customary in China (Beckwith 1991).

88.
The introduction of Western astronomy and mathematics into China in the seventeenth century was only the beginning. It took Asians a long time to recognize that they had fallen behind Europe in technology, but in fact by the late nineteenth century they had fallen behind in nearly every field of learning, not only technology. Even today many do not realize that in humanistic scholarship Asia is still very far behind in many respects. This seems to be truer the further east one goes from Europe. In the Middle East and in Middle Eastern studies in the West, the concept of scientific critical edition of premodern texts not only is known and accepted among specialists in such literature, it is expected. In India and among foreign Indologists, the idea of critical edition is known and accepted, but in an earlier, much less developed form. In East Asia and among foreign East Asianists, scientific critical edition is essentially unknown. (See also endnote 13.) In the late twentieth century some Asian writers, led by the journalist Edward Said (1978), accused Western scholars of having “stolen” Asian peoples’ cultures
by studying them.
This extreme anti-intellectualism has been well criticized (Lewis 1982). Unfortunately, many Orientalists have unknowingly accepted Said’s views and have abandoned the old word
Orientalist
as being somehow, vaguely, bad. From this standpoint all genuine scholars are bad, because they seek the truth and help to enlighten the world.

89.
By the time of Nurhachi’s son, Hung Taiji (’Abahai’, r. 1627–1643, first as khan or ‘emperor’ of the Latter Chin Dynasty, then from 1636 as emperor of the Manchu-Ch’ing Dynasty), the Manchus had been converted to Tibetan Buddhism, mainly through the efforts of the Mongols and Uighurs, who had themselves converted to Tibetan Buddhism in the Mongol Empire period. The Manchus belonged to the “reformed” Dgelugspa (’virtuous school’) sect headed by the Dalai Lama, who had become a politically important reincarnation lineage with the help of the Mongols, including both Eastern and Western Mongols. The dynastic name Ch’ing ‘clear’ is evidently connected to the name of the holy mountain Ch’ing-liang Shan (’Mount Clear and Cool’) in Shansi (Shanxi), where Manchu, Mongol, Uighur, Tibetan, and Chinese Buddhists believed Mañjuśrī resided. The legitimacy of being declared a Buddhist
cakravartin
ruler, or
dharmarâja,
would give the Manchu ruler powerful support from these non-Chinese peoples. See Grupper (1980) and Farquhar (1978). There are other well-argued theories about the etymology of the name
Manju
(e.g., Stary 1990), and it is quite possible that the Manchus deliberately fostered different interpretations among the different peoples who made up their empire, but for the Manchus themselves it is difficult to imagine most of them, as fervent new converts to Buddhism, seeing the name as anything other than
Mañju,
the name of the Bodhisattva of wisdom.

90.
Recently some scholars have argued that the Silk Road did not really decline. They have pointed out that the trade routes never completely shut down—which is not surprising, because major phenomena of this sort rarely completely disappear—and that reorientation is what occurred; see, for example, Levi (2002, 2007c). This important new body of scholarship focuses on the growth of trade routes and the movement of traders from India to Central Asia and Russia between the sixteenth and the nineteenth centuries and opens a new dimension in the history of Eurasia that deserves attention. Nevertheless, the trade routes per se, and the attendant traders, are not really the crucial point, as is argued in this book. Moreover, the contention that Central Asia did not decline after the Timurid period, which is not supported by the Central Asian specialists cited by the new view’s proponents (e.g., Levi 2007a: 3–4; Markovits 2007: 124–125), is disproved by the attested shrinkage of cities and populations (Levi 2007b: 110; though as Levi points out, population fluctuations did occur and a few cities simply moved to nearby locations); the cessation of innovations in science, technology, art, literature, and philosophy (which had already been replaced by bigotry; see above in the text); and the failure of Central Asia to keep up with the rest of the world in technology and practically all other fields of human endeavor. Certainly the Central Asian khanates put up a good fight against the expansion of the Russian Empire in the nineteenth century, but they were outclassed militarily and in every other way because of the already marked backwardness and poverty of the region. The final, complete Russian conquest of Western Central Asia and the Manchu-Chinese conquest and colonization of Eastern Central Asia were absolutely disastrous for the economy and culture of Central Asia and the rest of Central Eurasia, which thenceforth fell precipitously into “severe decline” (Markovits 2007: 144), leading to the disastrous situation well known from the late nineteenth century through the late twentieth century. Some space has also been devoted to arguing against the traditional view that the continental trade declined due to the opening of the direct maritime routes between Europe and Asia by Western Europeans (e.g., Levi 2007a; Gommans 2007); on this issue, see the discussion in the text.

91.
As already noted, the present book is an attempt to correct the received view of the history of Central Eurasia and of relevant contiguous regions of Eurasia.
Chapter 11
is focused on what I see as the main
issues
of the modern period. The inclusion of a small amount of factual detail (compared to the mind-numbing quantity available) is intended to bring the book’s sketchy historical narrative more or less down to the present and to provide specific evidence for some of the arguments made; but that is as far as it goes. The modern period tends to dominate all history writing, partly because there is so much detailed information available on modern history (at least, in the eyes of this premodern specialist, who is accustomed to having a relatively small number of explicit, largely unquestioned facts). In order to avoid being drowned in the detail of modern historical works and, even more so, the sources for them, I have mostly relied on a number of standard reference works to get facts straight—for example, for World War II I have relied primarily on Sandler (2001), Dear and Foot (1995), Dunnigan and Nofi (1998), Goralski (1981), and Mowat (1968)—but I have not explicitly cited such sources except in cases where I give a verbatim quotation or depend on them for a substantial part of my argument. When necessary (mostly to find facts which no one else seems to mention, or at least to index) I have used the general works by Stearns (2002), Alexander et al. (1998), and Cook and Stevenson (1998), in addition to specialized works cited in the bibliography. On postmodernists’ rejection of facts and abandonment of critical thought, see the preface.

92.
Nearly all world history writers, from whatever country in the world, are fixated on Europe, perhaps because the idea of writing a unified “world history” began in Europe and was focused on Europe—the great Ilkhanid scholar and vizier Rashîd al-Dîn’s
Jâmi’ al-tawârîkh
is, as its name indicates, a ‘Collection of Histories’, not a world history. But regardless of the skewed vision of many history writers, no one should be misled into believing that the First World War, however devastating, was in fact a world war, despite the usual name given to it today. It was a European war (Vyvyan 1968: 140; Teed 1992: 506) that bled over into the neighboring Ottoman Near East and to European colonial territories. It would thus be more accurate, and perhaps clearer, to call it the Great War, as was once normal practice, or better, the Great European War. Then the Second World War could be called the World War. For clarity’s sake, I follow current practice.

93.
The Greek name
Constantinopolis
was shortened and distorted in everyday speech over the centuries, producing a variety of different colloquial pronunciations derived from it, including several similar to ‘Istanbul’. The popular theory argued by some scholars that the name Istanbul derives from an unrelated expression in Greek meaning ‘into the city’ (Inalcik 1997: 224) is incorrect. The Greek expression is clearly a folk etymology intended to explain the colloquial pronunciation of the name.

94.
As for the conspiracy theory, and the “significant circumstantial evidence” (Heidenreich 2003: 579–582) that the U.S. leadership knew about the attack on Pearl Harbor beforehand, it is countered not by the misinterpretation of that evidence, or the existence of evidence that contradicts it, but by the impossibility of believing that any U.S. administration was clever enough to plan and execute the rather complex sequence of events required. It is far simpler, and more consistent with American history, to believe that the disastrous mistakes made on that day were due mainly to the stupidity, ignorance, and arrogance of the U.S. leadership, both civilian and military, locally and nationally, whereas the lucky escapes were due to the genuine heroism of the officers and fighting men on the ground, aboard the ships, and in the air. What seems to be widely overlooked is the fact that the covert allies of the United States were already at war with the Axis in Europe. When these allies declared a trade embargo against Japan, inclusive of oil—a critical mineral for a modern country (Japan had no oil of its own)—that was tantamount to a declaration of war. (Note that the first Gulf War in 1990–1991 was caused specifically by the Iraqi seizure of Kuwait and its oil fields.) While the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor is not excusable, it should be seen in that light. It was only a matter of time, and could hardly have been a surprise to the U.S. political leaders, who indeed seem not to have been really surprised.

95.
Although Modernism may be one of the least understood phenomena in world history, it is impossible to understand the Modern period
as history
without understanding it. This section is an essay that attempts to explain what happened in the twentieth century, and why it is still happening. My goal is to stimulate thought on what I see as a historical problem that continues up to the present, so it can be addressed and, maybe, solutions can be found for it. Modernism is on the whole treated very generously by historians, who emphasize mankind’s technical triumphs in the conquest of nature, a generally positive view of scientific progress, and so on. But this has little to do with Modernism as a force—a largely negative force—in modern history. Belief in progress, philosophical positivism, and so on, were certainly prominent elements at times, as usually noted by intellectual historians, but the overtly negative nature of Modernism can hardly be reconciled with the largely approving stance taken by most intellectual historians toward it. Scott (1988: 4–5) gives an excellent, often insightful survey of the usual idea of modernism, which he calls “high-modernist ideology”: “It is best conceived as a strong, one might even say muscle-bound, version of the self-confidence about scientific and technical progress, the expansion of production, the growing satisfaction of human needs, the mastery of nature (including human nature), and, above all, the rational design of social order commensurate with the scientific understanding of natural laws. It originated, of course, in the West, as a by-product of unprecedented progress in science and industry.” He connects this ideology to political power, insofar as it was necessary for the Modernists to get the backing of the state to carry out their programs, notably “huge dams, centralized communication and transportation hubs, large factories and farms, and grid cities,” which “fit snugly into a high-modernist view and also answered their political interests as state officials.” The central figures in this “high-modernism” are “planners, engineers, architects, scientists, and technicians whose skills and status it celebrated as the designers of the new order. High-modernist faith was no respecter of traditional political boundaries; it could be found across the political spectrum from left to right but particularly among those who wanted to use state power to bring about huge, utopian changes in people’s work habits, living patterns, moral conduct, and worldview.” Finally, he notes, “Nor was this utopian vision dangerous in and of itself. Where it animated plans in liberal parliamentary societies and where the planners therefore had to negotiate with organized citizens, it could spur reform.” If an authoritarian state adopted the “high-modernist” ideology and was “willing and able to use the full weight of its coercive power to bring these high-modernist designs into being,” however, then would “the combination become potentially lethal.”

96.
In eastern Central Eurasia, “forced laicization was the fate of most lamas, but mass executions have been documented (through the exhumation of mass graves, records, etc.) in Mongolia. This was probably the case also in Buriatia and Kalmykia, but I’m not as familiar with them. The physical infrastructure was heavily damaged in the 1930s (due to the significant resistance), but was mostly eliminated only in the succeeding decades” (Christopher Atwood, per. comm., 2007).