The New Summer Palace and its Stone Steam Ship
Deep wounds?
Like many other facilities of the era, the boat was restored several times and then destroyed again. Each time by Western armies. Destroyed, not rebuilt that is.
Several years ago, as I strolled through the Old Summer Palace, my wife heard a passer-by muttering towards me, “Look at him! This is one of those who destroyed everything here.”
The statement felt awkward, but the guy wasn’t really wrong. Now, I am not centuries old, but as a Westerner, even in a touristy place like Beijing, you stand out from the crowd. And the colonial excesses of the 19th century have left deep marks on the Chinese soul.
The once so proud and progressive Middle Kingdom was put into submission by the opium trade within a short time and in contrast to international law, even in that era. Through long isolation from the West, its technological and economic development showed many weaknesses. And when China resisted, it was forced to its knees in several wars.
The collapse dragged on for some time, but then took place with the fall of the Qing dynasty, revolution and civil war. Interestingly, the boat was never again damaged in all the ensuing turmoil. And so today we see what the taste was of China’s most powerful woman.
Oh, the irony of history
The boat has a highly symbolic meaning, which is an example of how navel-gazing, ignorance and corruption can lead to the fall of empires.
Instead of using the rich monetary resources to expand the fleet, modernize the army, and renew China, it seems Cixi diverted huge sums of money to building activities. Instead of a real fleet, China got a boat that doesn’t swim. One that doesn’t shoot. And one that was as immobile as the entire imperial government apparatus of the time.
Prince Chun (pronounced: Tshoon), one of the highest admirals, owed dowager Empress more than just a small favor. His position was secured only by her influence and his son Zai tian (pronounced Dsa´i tian) had been adopted by her. Thus, under the name Guang xu (pronounced: Guang Shü), the path to the imperial throne was opened for him. It is fair to assume that he was reluctant with any criticism. Either out of gratitude or out of fear for his position, he might have turned a blind eye.
The irony in all this is that – in order to keep up appearances and somehow justify the misallocation of funds – it was decided to officially hand over the boat to the imperial fleet. Thus, appearance was upheld. Finally, the money was used for the intended purposes: the renewal of the fleet.
Yet, the Jade Ship was originally associated with a completely different interpretation. Emperor Qianlong saw it as a symbol of the stability of his dynasty.
Conclusions?
How do you come up with the idea for a boat, that is exposed to the up and down of waves, as a symbol of stability? Is it just the exaggerated fantasy of a monarch, who has it all?
The Chinese culture, so rich in symbols and references to literature and nature, shows again its love for deep analogies. Presumably the idea goes back to a story from the Tang Dynasty. Wei Zhang (pronounced We’i Dshung), chancellor of Tang Emperor Tai zong (pronounced Ta´i Dsoong), allegedly said that water can make a boat swim but also make it capsize. The warning that a ruler always depends on the people should come true centuries later.
Presumably, these words do not yet include the realization of Enlightenment that the ruler only governs lawfully, if the subject accepts it. The mass of the people supports the ruling class and is ultimately the most important element of a state. And she can get rid of the rulers just as quickly, if she wills it. Regarding the regular change of rulers over the millennia, this can well be understood as a timeless warning and call to duty.
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