A Tragic Ballad That Demands Prolonged Reflection
一曲悲歌费长吟
By Xiao Sanza (萧三匝)
【Editor’s Note: Mao Haijian's The Collapse of the Celestial Empire (《天朝的崩溃》) dissects the systemic causes behind China's defeat in the Opium War, marking a critical transition from ancient to modern history. Mao argues that the war was inevitable—a clash of globalization-driven capitalism against China's natural economy. Britain's superior military, organizational, and technological advancements secured its victory. Mao critiques China's "Celestial Empire" mindset, rooted in Confucian universalism, which emphasized cultural superiority and resisted modernization. This ideological rigidity left China ill-prepared for a world increasingly governed by egalitarian principles like those of the Westphalian system. Emperor Daoguang and Qing officials underestimated the British, exemplifying cultural arrogance and systemic inefficiencies. The failure to modernize led to repeated defeats, with no significant reforms between the Opium War and the subsequent Anglo-French invasion. Mao highlights that true national progress demands abandoning the insular "Celestial Empire" ideology in favor of openness, equality, and modernization.】
More than twenty years after its initial publication, Mao Haijian's (茅海建) seminal work The Collapse of the Celestial Empire: A Reinterpretation of the Opium War (《天朝的崩溃——鸦片战争再研究》) has been reprinted 18 times. That a scholarly historical study can enjoy such enduring popularity suggests at least two things: first, the author presents insights that diverge from mainstream views and are compelling enough to persuade readers; second, the issues raised remain relevant, leading readers to feel that "history has not yet concluded."
The Opium War serves as a watershed marking China's transition from ancient to modern history and is universally regarded as a tragedy. The significance of The Collapse of the Celestial Empire lies in its profound revelation of the causes behind this tragedy.
Though the smoke of battle has not yet dissipated, a tragic ballad demands prolonged reflection.
The Opium War was an inevitable clash between China and the West, with the outcome predetermined even before the first shot was fired.
Why was the Opium War inevitable? From a macro perspective, the inexorable trend of capitalist development is globalization. The rapid technological advancements in Western countries during the 18th and 19th centuries accelerated this globalizing process, much like how the Internet further accelerated globalization in the 21st century. At the time, China, characterized by a natural economy, had no need for globalization. Not only did it not need it, but it hadn't even contemplated it. When these two economic organizational forms collided, conflict was inevitable. When such conflict couldn't be resolved, it escalated into war. Therefore, the essence of the Opium War was a war of capitalism against a natural economy—an industrial age waging war on an agricultural age. Examining historical facts, Britain initiated the Opium War mainly to advance its commercial trade with China. Of course, the primary goods British merchants sold to China at the time were the nefarious opium.
Understanding this background makes it easy to foresee the war's outcome: China was destined to lose.
This defeat was systemic, first manifesting as a failure in technology and military capability—a foundational consensus among the Chinese.
Many simplify this failure to China's swords and spears being no match for the West's ironclad ships and cannons. While such simplifications create vivid impressions, they often overlook nuances. Mao Haijian points out that China's military defeat was mainly due to three reasons:
Weaponry and Equipment: "At the time, the British military had already entered the early stages of the firearm era, while the Qing army was still in a period mixing cold and hot weapons." In other words, the British were half a generation ahead of the Qing forces.
Troop Strength and Organization: "The Qing military's structure clearly favored dispersed 'civil governance' over concentrated external defense. Viewed through a modern lens, the Qing army was not a purely national defense force but simultaneously served as police, internal security, and national defense. Among these, its national defense role was the weakest, and its policing role the strongest." This means that when the Qing army engaged in the Opium War, it had to constantly monitor and guard against civilian rebellions. Troops had to be drawn from various regions, and even in combat zones, they couldn't mobilize all forces against a foreign enemy. Such an organizational structure was, of course, ill-suited for modern warfare.
Recruitment and Command: The Qing dynasty's recruitment system, characterized by the integration of soldiers and farmers, along with its mechanisms for producing and selecting officers, not only failed to ensure effective military command but inevitably led to lax training and discipline. In a certain sense, the army had even become the enemy of the people.
Was China's defeat in the Opium War solely due to military inferiority? Or, was the root cause truly military? Who should bear the primary responsibility for the defeat? Some proponents of traditional culture still believe that China lost because it lacked the West's "ironclad ships and cannons." Beyond that, they argue, China excelled over the West in every aspect. If traditional Chinese culture must be held accountable for the defeat, it's only because it didn't emphasize technological development. Some even go further to say that this isn't the fault of Chinese culture; we cannot adopt the law of the jungle as the guiding principle of human society. The only principle humanity should adhere to is morality, and China's cosmology of the unity of heaven and humanity is the source of supreme morality.
Culture is a catch-all—it can accommodate anything. Culture is a concept whose connotations and denotations are difficult to define. It can be as narrow as referring specifically to intellectual traditions in literature, history, and philosophy, or as broad as encompassing the eating, drinking, and daily habits of a group. It can even be synonymous with "civilization."
I agree with Mr. Yin Haiguang's (殷海光) views on culture. In his later masterpiece, A Prospect of Chinese Culture (《中国文化的展望》), Yin posits that culture can be divided into several levels: the most basic is the material level, followed by the institutional level, and finally, the philosophical and ideological level (paraphrased). When we discuss culture in specific contexts, we primarily refer to its political and ideological dimensions.
If we accept Yin Haiguang's definition of culture, we can say that China's defeat in the Opium War was fundamentally a cultural failure, with the crux of that failure lying in ideology. Mao Haijian's book title, The Collapse of the Celestial Empire, directly points to the failure of Chinese ideology. The term "Celestial Empire" ("天朝") itself is an ideological concept—a precise encapsulation and distillation of Chinese ideology.
The fundamental problem with Chinese ideology is that Confucian universalism ("天下主义") couldn't adapt to the competition among modern nation-states. Universalism uses cultural and moral superiority as standards for evaluating communal order, placing particular emphasis on the distinction between "China and the barbarians" ("华夷之辨"). The world order it advocates is pyramidal in structure and is inherently inegalitarian. In contrast, interactions among modern Western nation-states adhered to the Westphalian system established in 1648. The foundation of this contract-based world order is the equality of all contracting parties, although this equality is often influenced by power dynamics. The trend of world history clearly shows egalitarianism triumphing over inegalitarianism—a development aligning with universal human nature.
Let's examine the strength of the "Celestial Empire" mindset held by Emperor Daoguang before and after the Opium War—so strong that even after defeat, he failed to grasp the reasons behind it.
The Chinese had long regarded distant peoples as "barbarians" culturally inferior to China. During the Opium War, Emperor Daoguang and his ministers, when referring to "barbarians" like England ("英吉利"), would often add the radical "口" to each character of the country's name to express contempt (the term "鄙夷" itself literally means "to despise barbarians").
At the outset of the Opium War, British Foreign Secretary Lord Palmerston sent multiple letters titled "Letter to the Prime Minister of China" through various channels. However, according to Qing dynasty protocols, how could "barbarians" have such qualifications? Naturally, local officials had no authority to receive Palmerston's letters. Long after the war had begun and the Qing army had suffered defeats, Emperor Daoguang finally decreed that if local officials received documents from the British, they could report them to the court.
During the Opium War, Emperor Daoguang's strategies shifted from suppression to appeasement and finally to seeking peace, with many reversals in between. What were the criteria for suppression or appeasement? If the enemy was "arrogant and unruly," they were suppressed; if they were "humble and obedient," they were appeased. Everything depended on the attitude of the barbarians!
Knowing oneself and the enemy is a prerequisite to achieving victory in war. Yet, it wasn't until May 1, 1842—two years after the war began—that Emperor Daoguang realized how ignorant he was about Britain. After receiving a memorial from Imperial Commissioner Qiying (耆英), he immediately issued an edict:
"Order Yijing (奕经, frontline commander of the Qing army) and others to inquire in detail about the sea route distance from England (with the interior. It is said to be 70,000 li; how many countries does it pass through to reach our territory?
"What is the distance from Kashmir to that country? Is there a water route? Has that country had any interactions with England (same as above)? Why did they come together to Zhejiang this time?
"The other barbarians coming to Zhejiang, such as Bengal (with '口' radical), Greater and Lesser Luzon, and the Twin Eagle Country—are their soldiers privately summoned by their leaders, or were they sent by their kings? Were they coerced or promised great profits?
"Their queen is only twenty-two years old; how did she become the ruler of a country? Is she married? What is her husband's name, where is he from, and what position does he hold in that country?
"Are the titles they claim, such as Imperial Commissioner and Admiral, bestowed by the queen, or are they self-appointed by their leaders? Regarding the rebellious barbarians' rampage in Zhejiang, who is directing all their movements of fake soldiers, occupation of counties, and plundering of people's wealth?
"Elliot (义律) has reportedly returned to his country; is this true? What are his plans after returning? Has there been any news in Zhejiang?
"That country manufactures opium to sell to China—do they merely seek profit, or do they have ulterior motives?"
Subsequently, Emperor Daoguang ordered Taiwan Circuit Intendant Tahunga (达洪阿) to interrogate British prisoners of war: "What is the perimeter of that country's territory? How many countries are subordinate to it? How many powerful nations are not under its control? Is there an overland route from England (with '口' radical) to the various parts of Xinjiang? Do they usually have interactions? Does Russia border them? Do they have trade relations?"
Only after being beaten to the point of helplessness did they begin to understand the enemy. Reading history up to this point, how can one not feel a profound sadness?!
Because of a deep-seated and blind sense of cultural superiority, not only was Emperor Daoguang so arrogant, but the entire court was equally conceited. In this sense, the pro-war figures like Lin Zexu (林则徐) were not particularly insightful, nor were the pro-peace figures like Qishan (琦善) traitors or sellouts. Through rigorous examination, Mao Haijian convincingly demonstrates that Qing officials were, without exception, initially pro-war; there were no purely pro-peace factions. All pro-peace advocates evolved from the pro-war camp. "Under the 'Celestial Empire's' foreign policy system and steeped in the concept of 'China versus the barbarians,' Qing officials instinctively and unthinkingly advocated 'expedition and suppression' against the 'rebellious barbarians.'" However, the more they fought, the bigger the problems became. Stimulated by successive defeats, officials with actual responsibilities became pro-peace. "The difference between those advocating 'appeasement' and those advocating 'suppression' lay only in whether they were in the war zone and whether they bore the actual responsibility of resisting the British army. For a local official in the war zone, this was no trivial matter; they couldn't irresponsibly sing high praises of 'righteousness and principle' like officials outside the war zone."
Despite this, given that the entire nation was afflicted with arrogance, no one dared to report bad news. They only reported victories, even in the face of defeats, and some were even promoted as a result.
One could say that during the Opium War, the Chinese frontline commanders were competent novelists—their ability to weave lies far surpassed their ability to wage war.
Cultural and moral idealism repeatedly received slaps from realism, but neither Emperor Daoguang nor his court officials identified the crux of the problem—modernization. During the war, Emperor Daoguang often questioned his ministers about whether they still possessed a "heavenly conscience," trying to invoke their moral integrity. After the war, the sole lesson he learned was that he had employed the wrong person (Lin Zexu). It was as if as long as his ministers had loyal hearts toward the royal family and court, and the emperor could employ the right people, the military would restore discipline, and the war could be won! After the war, Daoguang ordered the construction of coastal defenses, but what was built was still the same pre-war "tofu-dreg" structures. In other words, there was no awareness of even material-level reforms, let alone cultural (especially institutional and ideological) rejuvenation.
As a result, the entire nation avoided discussing state affairs, continuing with their pleasures as if nothing had happened, seemingly forgetting that such a humiliating war had ever occurred. Both pro-war and pro-peace participants lacked deep reflection afterward.
The consequence of forgetting history was that 14 years after the Opium War ended, the Anglo-French forces defeated China once again. In those 14 years, China had made no progress; the mistakes made during the war were astonishingly similar to the previous ones. The direct trigger for the subsequent Self-Strengthening Movement wasn't even the "barbarians" but the need to quell the Taiping Rebellion! This was determined by the nature of the autocratic monarchy. The "barbarians" didn't seek to replace the emperor; thus, what the emperor feared wasn't distant "barbarians" but domestic "subjects" who, if they rebelled, could smash the crown at any time. Mao Haijian astutely points out that the Opium War was not a nationalist war defending the motherland for the Chinese people. China's true nationalist war of defense began with the Anti-Japanese War in the 1930s. During the Opium War, the majority of the populace was indifferent because, in their view, both the Qing court and the British forces were oppressors. Regardless of who won, the country didn't belong to the people.
While the Chinese failed to learn historical lessons, others did it for us—the Japanese. Thirteen years after the Opium War ended, U.S. Commodore Matthew Perry led four warships into Tokyo Bay, forcing Japan to open up—a event known as the "Black Ships Incident." In light of China's disastrous defeat in the Opium War, the Tokugawa shogunate chose not to resist. Japan subsequently signed a series of unequal treaties with Western powers, ushering in the Meiji Restoration.
Fifty-two years after the Opium War ended, Japan had become a great power and launched the First Sino-Japanese War, defeating China once again. Thereafter, Japan also emerged victorious in the Russo-Japanese War.
The Opium War marked the beginning of a humiliating modern history for China, but the knocking and door-breaking actions of Western powers objectively accelerated China's opening-up process. Without the strong stimulus of external enemies, China, as a "super-stable system," could not have broken free from its cyclical path of dynastic rise and fall. In the short term, the Opium War was naturally a tragedy for China, but in the long run, it can also be seen as a historical necessity.
For an ancient empire with a long history and culture, the emergence of the "Celestial Empire" mindset was quite natural. The consolidation of this concept helped people within the community unite, forming the necessary cohesion for the community. The "Celestial Empire" mindset instilled a deep sense of pride and became one source of happiness. However, once culture matures, it inherently tends to solidify and revolve around itself. Once it solidifies, blind arrogance becomes inevitable, obscuring awareness of global shifts. Culture is created by people, but it, in turn, shapes people—hence the Chinese saying about "becoming a person" ("成人"). When the power of culture becomes too great, living individuals become slaves to culture. When living people rigidly adhere to the dogmas of a dead culture, culture can kill.
The biggest problem with the "Celestial Empire" mindset lies in its closed nature. External forces can break its surface, but it is hard to penetrate its core.
A nation's self-esteem and confidence are largely built upon cultural traditions. But what exactly is Chinese culture? How can we maintain its vitality? I believe that Chinese culture has always been a dynamic process of continuous construction—a process characterized by human initiative and openness. When we uphold human initiative and openness, our culture can flourish; when we abandon it, our culture will wither, and we may even suffer because of it.
The essence of openness is the concept of equality. Openness without the notion of equality is pseudo-openness. Only by treating others with equality can a nation demonstrate confidence and earn others' recognition. What Chinese people lack most is precisely the spirit of equality. Achieving the four-character ideal of "neither overbearing nor servile" ("不卑不亢") is as difficult for us as ascending to heaven.
Where does the spirit of equality come from? When the cultural soil has become compacted, how can we restore vitality? Simple—what the "earth" cannot solve on its own, let "heaven" take over: let the sunlight from heaven shine down, let the rain from heaven pour down! "There is a crack in everything; that's how the light gets in." Of course, the "heaven" I refer to here is not the natural sky. When people learn to revere heaven and dare not proclaim themselves as heaven, they won't presume to be subjects of the Celestial Empire and will find it easier to understand what equality is. I have discussed the reasoning behind this in several articles and won't repeat it here.
The so-called "Celestial Empire" is essentially an imagined mirage that can deceive oneself but cannot deceive others. All dreams eventually come to an end.
Finally, I want to say that only when the "Celestial Empire" mindset truly collapses can a great nation be born.
November 28, 2024
This translation is authorized by the original author and undertaken by the China Thought Express editorial team. The article can be found on the author’s WeChat. Kindly attribute the translation if referenced.