World Affairs

Vol. 5, Number 1 (Jan-March, 2001)

 

Chinese Perspectives On Nation, State And The World
By Chang Pao-Min

 

The ethnic and political factors that condition the Chinese perspectives on the nation, state and the world. Chang Pao-Min presents a comprehensive analysis on the subject.

It may seem anachronistic to talk about nationalism at a time of rapid globalisation. Indeed, in an age of high technology and instant communication which recognises no national borders, nationalism loses much of its original appeal and value. In a world of ever-growing volume of the international flow of both people and goods, and in view of the towering size of multinational corporations and the accelerating rate of privatisation of world assets, national consciousness has also become practically irrelevant. But this is also a time when neither God nor Marx inspires much awe or generates any appeal to the human world, when global competition for resources and markets becomes increasingly tense and ugly, and when uneven economic development has widened, rather than narrowed. The gap between the advanced and the backward nations has rendered many nations increasingly vulnerable and insecure. As a result, national identity, national awareness and national dignity also appear to gain new currency for power-hungry or security-conscious politicians, those thirsty for ideals, and for the economically deprived masses of the common people. As a matter of fact, most countries have been consciously striving for the realisation of nationalism and globalisation simultaneously, however contradictory and incompatible these goals may appear. This is perhaps precisely the irony or paradox confronting the world on the eve of the twenty-first century.

The Chinese perception of nationalism epitomises this paradox perhaps more than any other national view, and as such it merits some attention and analysis. Whereas the term nationalism has been used rather loosely and could mean a variety of things, for our purpose of analysis only two general dimensions of the concept will be examined in this essay, namely the cultural and political aspects.

Nationalism in its cultural dimension refers to a common sense of identity based upon a common culture. Nationalism in its political dimension refers to a common sense of identity based upon a common political consensus and a common political destiny. For the convenience of argument the first may be conveniently referred to as cultural nationalism, and the second, political nationalism. What follows are some random observations on the Chinese brand of nationalism and a survey of the development of modern Chinese nationalism, with a view to scrutinising the political implications and problems Chinese perspectives have often entailed.

Conceptual Ambiguities And Moralistic Orientations

Perhaps the single most outstanding feature of nationalism in China is that it is much more cultural than political. That is, the Chinese display a strong sense of cultural awareness but a weak sense of political identity. In fact, China and Chinese are ambiguous terms precisely because they have often been used to refer, before anything else, to a cultural phenomenon or a group of people bound by the Chinese language, Chinese customs, Chinese values and the Chinese way of life, rather than to a territorial state or its citizens. To be Chinese or part of China in the eyes and minds of the Chinese is always first of all to be included in this cultural phenomenon and to accept its systems of values and way of life, rather than to have a special bond to a territorial state or to be loyal to a specific political regime in China. Although this is indeed the original meaning of nation or nationality from which the term nationalism derives its political dimension as represented more aptly by the word state, which has overridden its cultural counterpart in the modern West, has never taken root in Chinese soil. In other words, if there is usually no difficulty for a Chinese to admit his cultural identity or roots, he is often more ambivalent when it comes to locating his political loyalty or choosing a political regime to identify with.

In this context, perhaps it cannot be over-emphasised that the very terms China or Chinese were first coined by Westerners, not invented by the Chinese themselves. Both terms apparently originated from the first Chinese dynasty that unified China, namely Chin. But they were not used by the Chinese until the nineteenth century. This has inevitably rendered the usage of these terms more problematic. In fact, the Chinese for centuries called themselves Han ren (meaning Han people, originating from the second Chinese dynasty, Han), and referred to their country as zhong yuan (meaning central lands) or hua xia (meaning brilliant or prosperous xia, with xia referring to the earliest recorded Chinese dynasty and also the model dynasty). Zhong yuan and hua xia are clearly vague in their political or territorial implications. Neither was the name of any Chinese dynasty, but only implied a culturally advanced country that could be easily marked apart from all the less cultured, barbarian lands or peoples (yi di). Similarly, the term Han has strong cultural and sociological connotations, as it is closely associated with a specific nationality that can be distinguished from all others.

Moreover, it does not refer to the subjects or citizens of a particular dynasty, but applies to all residents of all ages in cultural China. Even after the Chinese accepted the usages of China (zhong guo and Chinese zhong quo ren) in the late nineteenth century, with the corresponding Chinese characters meaning state (quo) rather than nationality (min zu), thereby implying political, not cultural, ties, they continued to favour the cultural, rather than the political, yardsticks for necessary measurements and analysis. At the least the Chinese remain ambivalent in their interpretation of the two terms. Hence the continuing ambiguity of the meaning of China and Chinese.

There are many reasons for the early development of cultural awareness among the Chinese, but not of political nationalism in China. Perhaps the most obvious is that China as a nation is a product of many centuries of evolutionary change that began long before the modern age of nationalism appeared in Europe. This long process of evolution also took place more or less in an isolated environment, with relatively little input or interference from other nations. Moreover, it was accomplished mainly through gradual cultural assimilation, rather than by abrupt military conquest. Starting with a common writing script, uniform standards of measurements and an identical wheel distance of all vehicles, a common set of customs and values gradually emerged to become the Chinese way of life, with which all Chinese came to identify. In fact, over the ages China has developed an independent, highly sophisticated and self-sufficient civilisation that embraces all realms of human activities (food, dress, language, literature, fine arts, medicine, architecture, moral and political philosophy, system of government, etc.). China, therefore, is actually "a civilisation that pretends to be a nation", as one American scholar aptly put it. As such, China cannot be readily confined to a territorial state with clearly demarcated boundaries. Nor can Chinese be easily required to identify their focus of political loyalty. To be part of China is to be included in an all-encompassing but self-contained world of its own. To be Chinese is to be involved in or concerned with the activities in that world.

The early blossoming of cultural nationalism in China, to be sure, also has to do with the early maturing of the Chinese nation which marked China apart from all the neighbouring nations and peoples. In other words, China was for centuries simply much more advanced culturally, economically, and politically than all the surrounding known nations or peoples. As such, China naturally became the centre of the world, and the absence of sustained competition from equally developed nations around China has weakened the political awareness of all Chinese, and consequently also their sense of political loyalty. At a time of technological under-development and poor international communication, when national or racial groups around China were either nomadic or tribal, there was certainly no need or possibility to demarcate clearly the boundaries between China and other nations. Instead, the distinction between China and other parts of the world, or between Chinese and foreigners, could only be cultural rather than territorial or political. Different races of the world were indeed graded and ranked by their cultural proximity to the Chinese nation. For the Chinese, therefore, political awareness was already inherent in cultural identity and intertwined with the latter. As China was the only well-organised political entity in Asia for centuries, it was also unthinkable for the Chinese to abandon China and shift their loyalty to another political regime. Even if the alternative had existed, the choice would have been one between civilisation and barbarity.

In a similar manner and to a similar degree, a non-competitive political environment also persisted within China. Here, unlike Western Europe which broke up into territorial units of similar size and developmental stage following the demise of the Holy Roman Empire and was entangled in nearly four centuries of inverse political rivalry and military conflict right up to the twentieth century, China for two thousand years has been a politically unified entity ruled from one single centre of power. Since spatially there was only one unified China that was coterminous with Chinese civilisation, cultural identity was indistinguishable from political identity. The frequent rise and fall of dynasties in Chinese history, which is also a unique feature of Chinese history, further implied that loyalty to a specific political regime was both unnecessary and meaningless for the Chinese in the long run. Indeed, as the old Chinese sayings go: "Every new dynasty recruits its new team of ministers" and "When the leader passes away, his policies go with him". Rather than committed to any specific political regime or ruler, the Chinese traditionally took a highly pragmatic stand on the question of political loyalty and had a long view of history. All this has tended to promote cultural rather than political nationalism. After all, the sheer size and large population of the country and the thinly spread fleet of government officials usually produced a situation in which "Heaven is high above and the emperor far away", thereby making the cultivation of a strong political consciousness a massive social engineering task that was both difficult and unnecessary.

The combined effects of all the above factors also produced another most unique feature of the Chinese civilisation that has in turn sustained the cultural dimension of Chinese nationalism and impeded the development of political nationalism in China, namely a cosmopolitan orientation and a moralistic approach to the affairs of man and states. In other words, Chinese nationalism as outlined above actually contains elements of globalism, thereby further complicating the whole issue of cultural versus political nationalism, and also rendering the distinction between nation (or state) and world ambiguous. Indeed, the traditional Chinese perception of world has always been global and even cosmopolitan, not national or inter-national. The Chinese Empire was customarily referred to as tianxia, literally meaning all under heaven, and the Chinese emperor was habitually known as tianzi, meaning son of heaven. The imperial dynasty was addressed as tian chao, meaning heavenly dynasty, and the ordinary citizens, tian chao zi min, meaning subjects of the heavenly dynasty. China, of course, was for ages believed to occupy the central position on the entire globe, if not indeed in the entire universe. Hence there was no need to inculcate a specific sense of political identity. Hence also the usage of zhong guo or Middle Kingdom even after the Chinese discovered the existence of the West and recognised the extent of the world in the nineteenth century.

In fact, the word quo (meaning state) was for centuries used in China to refer to geographically limited and politically transitory entities perpetually competing for the tian ming (mandate of heaven). The very existence of guo also implied a divided globe, which was seen as a passing phenomenon. Hence the well-known Chinese saying: "The world (tianxia) will be divided after prolonged unity and will be reunited after prolonged division." In other words, the Chinese somehow took it for granted that the entire world (or at least the Chinese world) could be and should be united, but at the same time also recognised the presence of recurrent and even resilient divisive forces. There was also a conflict between the ideal (unity) and the reality (division), a natural phenomenon that could not be avoided. At any rate, guo meaning state, was not a unit worthy of complete or lasting Chinese allegiance. And for centuries the educated Chinese were taught to "take up responsibility for all affairs under heaven" and "to worry about problems before all others under heaven do, and to enjoy life only after all others under heaven do". Clearly for the Chinese, the boundary between nation or state on one hand, and the world on the other, was never sacrosanct and the distance never that far.

Nevertheless, contrary to the views of so many Western scholars, the traditional Chinese perception of the world was not so much politically self-centred as culturally discriminative and morally hierarchical. In other words, all races and nations, like all men, were to be judged and ranked by the level of culture or civility they had attained, rather than by their actual size, strength or possessions. Whereas the concept and scope of tianxia is an all-emcompassing one, the Mandate of Heaven was to be won and preserved not by superior might, military conquest, brute force, or involuntary submission, but by superior culture, moral persuasion, exemplary conduct and voluntary assimilation. In fact this was also the Chinese experience. The Chinese Empire as the centre of civilisation was open to all nations and all races that were prepared by their own choice to be associated with, and socialised into, the Chinese culture and way of life. Hence the well-known Confucian motto: "Forced submission is no genuine submission; virtuous conduct ensures genuine submission." The Confucian classics contain numerous such admonitions against the use of brute force for political purposes, a recourse which was believed to be in itself a testimony to deficient moral appeal and absence of good government, and which, therefore, would produce no lasting effects and would eventually lead to the downfall of all power-holders. Confucian teachings also abound in appeals to all rulers for humane and benevolent government and exemplary conduct as the rightful and also most economical way of ruling and enlarging small kingdoms and eventually unifying all under heaven.

Now the very realisation of the superiority of moral persuasion over forced submission, and the practice of such a principle, was believed not only to serve a most useful political purpose, but also to distinguish a superior man from an inferior man, a civilised person from a barbarian, and a cultured race or nation from all uncultured ones. Since the inferior, the barbarian and the uncultured tended to be naturally attracted to, assimilated into, and eventually led by the superior, the civilised, and the cultured, all men and all nations should strive to become cultured and civilised. The use of force, in particular, was to be considered only as a last resort, and only for a rightful moral purpose. But even in the conduct of war, the best strategy was, as the legendary Sun Zi put it, to disarm the enemy psychologically, whereas the worst was to launch an actual attack. And until the minds and hearts of the people (or nations) were won over, the war was not really over. Indeed, to the Chinese, the truly mighty are those men or nations which know how to restrain their might, not to use it. And heroism is always associated with the courage and ability to resist the mighty, whereas the height of cowardice always refers to the strong intimidating the weak, or the many bullying the few. Indeed, the very Chinese character for might, i.e. wu, is a combination of two characters, namely stop (zhi) and fighting (ge). This essentially cultural, moralistic and non-military approach of the Chinese to the affairs of man and state, therefore, further blurs the boundaries between the state and the world. Indeed, by almost negating the moral value and practical utility of' physical strength and military might, the Chinese have brushed aside the single most important ingredient and concrete manifestation of modern statehood, and for that matter, modern nationalism.

The actual historical experience of China in both domestic and external affairs further tends to reinforce the Chinese way of thinking. It is now a well-known fact that the Chinese Empire was managed by a civilian bureaucracy based upon meritocracy; a large standing army was never kept during peacetime. Dynasties rose and fell often not because of their military strength or weakness, but owing to their ability or inability to resolve the problems of the mass of the people. In fact, the soldier was not only kept out of politics, but also downgraded to the very bottom of the social hierarchy, even lower than the merchant. China and Chinese, to be sure, were superior to the surrounding world at least up to the end of the nineteenth century, but this was by virtue of their well-developed institutions and superior cultural heritage, not China's superior military might. And other nations and races were attracted to China because of the intrinsic appeal of China, not because of any colonising effort it had made. In fact, the Chinese Empire, particularly under the rule of Han Chinese, rarely launched wars of aggression against its neighbours and almost never dispatched a military expedition on its own initiative. The only large-scale maritime expeditions launched by a Chinese dynasty, namely Ming in the early fifteenth century, were not even externally targeted and led to no military occupation or colonisation of any territory overseas. The entire tributary system that governed China's external relations, and was so often claimed by Western scholars to be unequal in favour of China, was based on voluntary choice on the part of the vassal states rather than imposed upon the latter. It was certainly predominantly cultural rather than military or political in connotation.

What is more, although the centuries-old assumption was that Chinese culture was superior to the neighbouring barbarian cultures, the logic of the mandate of heaven implied that any foreign ruler that qualified to be the Son of Heaven would be equally acceptable to the Chinese. Hence the not infrequent phenomenon of diarchy in Chinese history. The Manchus actually produced the second longest dynasty in Chinese history precisely because they brought peace and order to a chaotic China and were also quickly assimilated into Chinese culture. By contrast, the Mongols had one of the shortest reigns mainly because they relied almost exclusively on force to rule China, thereby quickly losing the Mandate of Heaven. Taiwan under Japanese rule and Hong Kong under British rule merely represented the most recent examples. In both cases, co-operation between the colonisers and the colonised was near perfect, and the Chinese residents developed a remarkable sense of trust in, and identity with, their colonisers. In other words, China could and did lose the Mandate of Heaven even in its own perceived universe and according to the Chinese rules of the game. To be sure, China ought to strive for it and could regain such a coveted status with sincere efforts and hard work, but China could also lose it again.

As a corollary of this universalist, moralistic, and non-military view deeply rooted in Chinese history, the Chinese traditionally had a relatively weak sense of nation or nationalism, and much less of a modern, political sense. Because of their universalist and even cosmopolitan orientation, the Chinese have always been ambivalent in their attitude towards the boundaries of nation or state, as well as towards territorial issues. They have also ventured beyond the nation and the state more readily than any other people, as reflected in the consistently large volume of Chinese emigrants. Indeed, for the Chinese, political boundaries are somewhat elastic and changeable according to the performance of individual governments, Because of their cultural interpretation of the nation and the state, the Chinese have been most pragmatic in their political attitude, often to the extent of readily shifting their loyalty from nation to nation and from regime to regime. And because of their moralistic approach towards the affairs of states, the Chinese have been much less sensitive to international power politics, particularly with regard to the art of balancing acts, and to the utility of military might. All these national traits apply to both the ruling and the ruled. They have not only impeded the development of political nationalism in China, but also cost the Chinese State dearly in its encounter with the West. As will be shown later in this essay, these national traits have continued to cause problems to China in the 1990s, both internally and externally.

But that is not all. Because of the unique characteristics of the Chinese perception of nation and the world, the resulting ambiguity between the trio concepts and the high-sounding moral principles or ideals the Chinese view embodies, concepts and habits of loyalty to the Chinese state as such or the emperor in particular cannot be taken for granted but need to be actively inculcated. And this process of politisation has usually been carried out through an energetic and sustained programme of moral and political education in order to take roots. But two unique institutional features have further rendered the task of nation-building more difficult. One has been the persistent absence of a common God or national church that could exert a politically unifying force or at least serve as a source of inspiration for concerted public actions or dedicated mass movements. The other was the early demise of a system of graded aristocracy that could supply the Chinese with a ready symbol of leadership or target for identification and ensure a high degree of social order and hierarchy conducive to political mobilisation. The periodic rise and fall of dynasties and the replaceability of the emperor, both in theory and in practice, has certainly rendered the legitimacy of all political regimes equally vulnerable. The vast expanse of the Chinese Empire functioning in an ethnically diverse but technologically backward society has tended to weaken further the Chinese sense of national identity and national awareness, confining it more or less to the educated upper stream of Chinese society.

For all these reasons, beneath the universalist outlook of the Chinese and all the noble principles and moral arguments associated with it, one not infrequently finds simmering and even prevalent their antitheses, namely parochialism, localism, familism, and self-serving individualism, all of which are also intrinsic to Chinese society and culture and are barely submerged in Chinese thinking. Indeed, with no church to go nor God to pray to, no inherited loyalty to any political regime or ruler, and not even the habit of associating with people outside blood relations as in a country with a feudal tradition, the family has always been the centre of Chinese life, and pragmatism the rule in almost every undertaking of the Chinese. The family in particular is not only the most important economic and social unit in Chinese society, but also constitutes the only source of spiritual support and the only emotional haven for all Chinese. No wonder that even after nation, meaning state quojia has become a daily term throughout the twentieth century, it is still a combination of two terms, namely ‘state' and ‘family', a combination that could mean ‘a nation of families' or ‘the nation as a family', or even ‘a nation ruled by a family'.

No wonder too that some form and degree of political and moral education has always been central to the domestic policies of all regimes in Chinese history, if only to ensure their own survival. No wonder also that the idea of Chinese nationalism in the modern sense has had to be intensely propagated by all governments in post-imperial China, often to the point of making it sacrosanct, in order to be effective. And in this process demigods have had to be created and deification of living figures promoted so as to command the allegiance of the masses. But if and when such efforts at acculturation or politicisation lost their vigour or steam, or in the absence of a sustained and pervasive programme of moral education, or simply in times of economic crises, social unrest or political turmoil, the opposites of nationalism would quickly burst into the open and spread like wildfire, turning Chinese society into a chaotic mess.

A weak sense of nationalism and the distant ideal of globalism, or rather being both family-centred and cosmopolitan in orientation, have also combined to produce often apparently contradictory behaviour patterns among the Chinese, no matter where they are found. Hence the Chinese have only grand visions but no religious zeal to pursue them. They can be politically aroused to the point of fanaticism, yet any political movement with messianic goals can also lose its steam overnight or instantaneously. Indeed, frequently expressed determination for national undertakings and occasional outpourings of patriotic feelings are often not followed by concerted action, and unity for any common cause is almost always undermined by considerations of family and individual self-interest, and marred by disputes over means and strategies. Hence the political disunity characteristic of all Chinese communities anywhere. The Chinese have been among the most enthusiastic immigrants to Western countries and the most eager subscribers to Western culture, and yet at the same time they are perhaps also the most Chinese or nationalistic in their political orientations, forever concerned with the affairs and destiny of their motherland. Hence the vehement claim of all Hong Kong residents to be Chinese has been coupled with their demonstrated unwillingness to return to the embrace of the Motherland.

All these traits also mean that China as a modern nation-state faces perennial challenges both from sub-national and supranational elements. Together they constitute powerful centrifugal forces that could easily divide the Chinese and tear the Chinese State apart. The development of the modern Chinese State and Chinese nationalism consequently represents the golden mean, one force being controlled while the other is being resisted. However, even the government may not always be aware of the confused state of mind in which it operates.

Problems And Prospects

Nationalism, however defined, is incompatible with the concept of globalism or the trend towards globalisation. Further, the tension and conflict between the two has caused concern and instability to all multi-national states and will continue to do so. The case of China is a complicated one not only because of China's size and the diversity of its national groups, but also because the idea of globalism is inherent in the Chinese brand of nationalism. Because of China's unique social environment and cultural tradition, the fostering of Chinese nationalism entails not only a scaling down of the Chinese world outlook from empire to nation, and from the universe to the State, but also an upgrading of provincial, parochial, and even individualistic feelings prevailing in Chinese society. Moreover, there is a continuing need to extend effective control to all Chinese territories and to broaden the concept of State, and a need for a continuous programme of political education; failing either of these, the Chinese nation would become vulnerable to both sub-national and supranational forces. The Chinese State itself would become prone to political disintegration.

Nevertheless, one must recognise that after decades of nationalist rule and half a century of communist rule, the development of Chinese nationalism had reached a more mature stage by the late 1990s. In spite of much discontinuity and disruption in the tortuous socialisation process, China as a territorial and political entity with clear boundaries had already taken root in the Chinese mind. China as a regular and major actor in the international community, and bound by its many rules of the game, is also well accepted by Chinese leaders. In fact, Chinese citizens have never been more clearly aware of the State, its authority, its policies, and its relationship to themselves than they are today. On both sides of the Taiwan Strait, the population has no doubt as to which political regime it is under. In the international arena, both the Peoples' Republic of China (PRC) on the mainland and the Republic of China (ROC) in Taiwan have been avid and faithful observers of international law. The communist regime in particular has enshrined the territorial integrity and sovereign independence of the Chinese State as the top priority concern in China's foreign relations, and has even gone to war at great risk to itself in order to safeguard this glorious principle of modern statehood.

However, as the foregoing survey shows, the development of modern Chinese nationalism has been a zig-zag process, with many twists and turns, and has left its results unsecured and many problems unresolved. The still incipient nature of political nationalism in China and its uncertain future point to the heavy cultural baggage the Chinese continue to carry. Indeed, orientations evolved over centuries cannot be easily erased or negated in a few decades. In spite of its strong anti-tradition, anti-Confucian bent, the Chinese communist regime has conspicuously displayed very traditional and very Chinese outlooks. Thus, having ensured national survival and regained political independence in 1949, the Chinese government in Beijing quickly fell back on a global and strongly moralistic approach towards the affairs of nations. From an enthusiastic advocate of peaceful co-existence in Asia to a global champion of Third World interests, from the generous territorial concessions made to its small and weak neighbours to the most risky military assistance extended to North Korea and North Vietnam, from the uncompromising posture in the Sino-Soviet dispute of the 1960s to the widely propagated policy of anti-hegemonism against both superpowers in the 1980s and the 1990s, and from the consistent condemnation of the use or threat of force in resolving international disputes to the reiterated policy of not using nuclear weapons first or against non-nuclear countries, one sees the long shadow of the old Chinese Empire; this is a China which not only aspires to a global role for itself, but also adamantly abides by its age-old principles of moral conduct and even lectures the two superpowers constantly about such principles. In all these incidents one also finds China striving to regain its cherished status of the centre of civilisation and the moral leader for the entire world. Indeed, Chinese foreign policy since the Korean War has repeatedly subjected realistic considerations to grander moral ideals, often to the extent where it totally disregarded the existing international balance of power and the acute danger entailed. In the light of all the above, China under communism has not been contented with or confined to nationalism, even during its darkest days.

Similarly, in spite of all the official efforts made to glorify the Chinese State and to promote political nationalism following the fall of the Manchu rule, the boundary between the Chinese nation and the Chinese State, or for that matter between nation and State, has remained blurred under communist rule. Thus, when China declares that Tibet or Xinjiang is an inseparable part of China as it has done so many times, the China referred to is political and territorial meaning, only the Chinese State. But when Beijing proclaims Hong Kong, Macao, or Taiwan to be an inseparable part of China, the China is cultural, as the concept of sovereignty is completely brushed aside. In the case of Hong Kong, at least Hong Kong Island was ceded to the British in perpetuity. Macao was not bound by any formal treaty of cession, but has been unmistakably a Portuguese colony for 400 years. Yet the Chinese official position had been that both Hong Kong and Macao "have always been Chinese territory except that they are temporarily under foreign administration", thereby not only denying the principle of international law on cession, but negating the reality of actual foreign rule. The rationale underlying this position clearly gives a premium to the cultural origin of Hong Kong and Macao, both of which are indeed at least 98 per cent Chinese in terms of population. In recovering control of the two colonies, Beijing has also invented the ingenuous phrase "resuming the exercise of sovereignty" over the two colonies, a position that implied that Chinese sovereignty over both places had never been lost, but had merely lapsed.

Similarly, in spite of the undeniable fact that Taiwan is separated from mainland China by the Taiwan Strait and has been a sovereign state for more than half a century, Beijing still insists that Taiwan is an "inseparable part of China", a claim that is true only by cultural, not political criteria. Indeed, all the diplomatic offensives launched by Beijing have totally disregarded the political dimension of nationalism. And in its appeal to Taiwan, Beijing has also emphasised the common cultural roots of the two states and the similarity of the tradition they have inherited. In other words, mainland China sees Taiwan as unequivocally Chinese culturally and therefore an inseparable part of China. Thus, by promoting Taiwan's formal independence, Lee Teng-hui has been branded as ‘traitor of the Chinese nation(s)'. In all these respects the traditional Chinese outlook has not changed; one sees a China unwilling to differentiate between the cultural and political dimensions of nationalism. Hence China's dogmatic position on all three of these territories.

The continuing ambiguity associated with the Chinese perspectives on nation, state and globalism has led to persistent misunderstanding and misgivings between China and the West in their diplomatic dealings ever since the mid-nineteenth century. It certainly cost China tremendous territorial losses in the nineteenth century. During the past 50 years China's propensity to go beyond the nation and nationalism in its external relations and to play a role larger than its physical strength warrants, plus its often unpredictable conduct in the affairs of nations, have apparently caused repeated concern and alarm in many quarters of the world. These traits have certainly constituted the basis of a new China threat theory current in many capitals, including Washington. Although what China is seeking is most probably more cultural and moral than military or territorial, and China most likely also harbours no expansionist ambitions, it is not so perceived by other countries which do not have the same cultural tradition, nor do they appreciate its political implications.

Indeed, from the perspective of Western countries in general and the United States in particular, and even Japan, all of which are ingrained in the tradition of balance of power and convinced of the wonders military technology could work, China's search for any kind of global role or influence cannot but harbour ulterior motives and include a design for territorial aggrandisement and political domination. And China's very emphasis upon moral principles and cultural superiority merely attests to its temporary deficiency in military calibre and political means, and also reveals its hypocrisy. But any Western or American effort to confine China's role to the political and territorial China will in turn be seen by China as over-reactive and unwarranted, and therefore hostile. The resulting vicious circle can only turn the China threat theory into a self-fulfilling prophesy.

China's unwillingness to accept fully the political connotations of the modern nation or nationalism has also caused problems on another level. By using the terms ‘nation' and ‘state' interchangeably, depending on China's own needs or aspirations, the Chinese government has certainly aroused suspicions among other countries in general and its Southeast Asian neighbours in particular about its aggressive stance and even imperialistic designs. China's perennial concern about the well-being of the so-called overseas Chinese has clearly angered many Southeast Asian governments. Although in defending its claim to the border regions and the tiny islands in the South China Sea, China is merely exercising its sovereign rights as a state, and in taking an adamant stance on the issue of Taiwan is most likely also seeking merely the recovery of the last piece of culturally Chinese territory, the combination of these positions can easily be seen as aggressive and potentially disruptive. By the same token, China could also be underestimated in its determination to honour its claims, as has occurred in the case of Hong Kong. China might well be misunderstood again on the issue of reunification with Taiwan.

Interestingly enough, the thinking of the Chinese in Taiwan on nationalism and related issues has been strikingly similar. In spite of the small size of Taiwan, for decades the nationalist government displayed the Middle Kingdom mentality by pursuing a foreign policy not only on a global scale but also with a strong cultural-moralistic orientation, focusing its primary attention on the major powers of the world and particularly on the United States. For years too Taiwan maintained close liaison with the so-called overseas Chinese communities all over the world, and still does. However, in handling relations with its immediate neighbours in Southeast Asia, all of which are much larger than Taiwan, as well as with all other relatively small and weak nations, Taiwan has demonstrated a conspicuously big-power but benevolent attitude, making territorial and other concessions that were often both unnecessary and unwarranted in order to cultivate the friendship and support of these nations. In other words, the Chinese in Taiwan for decades remained global and moralistic in their perception of world affairs. Consequently the suspension of diplomatic relations by the United States was viewed in Taiwan as a brutal betrayal of a trusted ally, just as the unwillingness of the former Soviet Union to back up China in confrontation with the United States was seen as most unbecoming to a close comrade and even cowardly. Too, for decades both Chinese governments have expected special considerations or preferential treatment from Japan because of the extensive damages Japan had caused the Chinese during the Sino-Japanese War.

Until very recently the nationalist government in Taiwan has persisted in a one-China policy, seeing itself as only a part of China, just as the mainland is. No question whatsoever was raised about the Chineseness of the Taiwanese residents. The nationalist government also claimed sovereignty over Hong Kong and Macao, in addition to Outer Mongolia, in spite of the fact that all the territories were either under effective foreign control or politically independent. And for at least 22 years, the ROC claimed to represent all China in spite of the fact that its exercise of sovereignty was confined to Taiwan. Indeed, it was on this basis that General Guidelines for National Reunification was drafted in 1990 and a National Reunification Council set up in 1991 to promote cross-strait contacts and to handle related problems. Even when Taiwan's pro-independence opposition began to promote a separate brand of Taiwanese nationalism in the mid-1980s, it faced difficulties in being compatible with the Taiwanese State. They still have this problem, as most Taiwanese residents have continued to consider themselves both Taiwanese and Chinese. The term Taiwanese nationalism has never been clearly defined by anyone, as a clear definition is impossible. And the fact that the concept has never been accepted outside a small group of hard-line independence supporters also reflects the strong Chineseness of Taiwan's residents. It was apparently only after failing to develop Taiwan's own brand of nationalism that Taiwan's new leaders decided to opt for a two-states theory in July 1999, in a most recent and provocative bid for formal independence. Although this stance merely reflects the reality of the current state of affairs on both sides of the Taiwan Strait, it is yet to gain currency within the island republic. All these show that the Chinese tradition dies hard.

Further, in spite of the tense relations between Taiwan and mainland China, and the once intense brain-washing programmes implemented by both sides, public opinion surveys in post-authoritarian Taiwan have almost consistently shown more people supporting eventual reunification with mainland China than favouring independence. Indeed, the abrupt but smooth shift from the decades-old anti-Communist policy and propaganda to an accommodating mood towards mainland China with an unmistakable sense of common identity with their cultural brethren across the Taiwan Strait points to the powerful influence of Chinese culture. It is perhaps also no wonder that the Chinese on the mainland have overwhelmingly stood for reunification, including all the most prominent dissents of the Communist regime. Here the cultural rather than political dimension of Chinese nationalism again stands out clearly.

The prolonged tension between mainland China and Taiwan can also be seen as a contest for the Mandate of Heaven in the Chinese universe, and both sides have taken it in this light. Hence the intensive and prolonged war of propaganda in which both sides have taken turns to claim to be the sole legitimate government of all China, seeing each other as the bandit regime and usurper. Each side has also drawn freely and extensively from ancient Chinese wisdom to reinforce its claim to superior cultural status or moral standing. Whereas Taiwan's anti-Communist policy for decades assumed the fervour of a religious crusade, mainland China's reunification drive has taken the form of worldwide campaigns. Since the late 1970s both sides have certainly sought eagerly to gain a cultural edge over each other in a new round of economic competition. It is perhaps also no accident that the final decisive round of military conflict has been consciously postponed by both sides, and even its necessity and desirability have been openly played down, first by the nationalist government in Taiwan during the most tense period of the 1950s-1970s, and by the Communist side since 1979, even though Beijing has apparently gained the military capacity not only to demoralise its rival regime, but also to destroy the island republic without crossing the Taiwan Strait. Viewed in this light, the Chinese in Taiwan do not really fear an actual military attack from mainland China any more than their cultural brethren across the strait are eager to launch it. By the same token, any form of US military intervention in the Taiwan Strait might well trigger off a real war between the two sides rather than forestall it.

Looking to the future, it may be predicted that China is unlikely to abandon its traditional outlook on the affairs of nations, if only because it is deep-rooted in Chinese culture and Chinese thinking. Although tianxia has already been replaced by the Chinese State as the locus of political allegiance by virtue of its size and potential influence, China will continue to think big and see problems on a global scale. After all, there is still a tianxia that continues to affect the security and prosperity of China which no Chinese regime can afford to overlook. As for the moralistic approach to the affairs of man and state, one must admit that there is an intrinsic value in judging peoples and nations not by their physical strength but by their standard of morality. In other words, there is a strong persuasive element in the Chinese approach which no Chinese will readily forsake. To propagate this approach through China's global role and influence will certainly enhance rather than downgrade China's international status. Indeed, it might even confer on China the laurel crown of moral leadership of the world, an honour which China has always cherished. This also means that China will continue to project an image that is perhaps larger and more aggressive than it actually is, with the result that problems and misunderstanding will recur in China's external relations.

As for the ambiguity between nation and state, it is also bound to persist for some time, if only because China remains very much divided ethnically and racially, and the building of one truly united and homogeneous nation out of 56 nationalities will not be easy or rapid. The problem of making the Chinese State truly coterminous with the Chinese nation depends upon the will and ability of the Chinese government not only to suppress separatist movements effectively in the border regions, but also to absorb them gradually into the culture of China. So far the Chinese government has indeed been most sensitive to any encroachments upon Chinese territory and to any separatist movements that challenge the authority of the government. But in view of the apparently growing external pressure to skirt China and to confine China to its cultural borders, the future is less certain In this context. Taiwan clearly presents a most immediate challenge to the one-China principle and China's nation-building process, both politically and culturally. Apart from the strategic value of the island to China and the continuing threat it poses to China's security, China could not tolerate the formal cession of a Chinese province, as it would permanently compromise the sovereign rights of the Chinese State and also breakup the Chinese nation irreparably. What is worse, China would lose its bargaining position on all the issues of minority nationalities, with far-reaching and unpredictable consequences. Taiwan must be kept in China, therefore; this is essential to the preservation of the integrity of both the Chinese State and the Chinese nation. For years Beijing has adopted a policy of gradual reunification with Taiwan through peaceful contacts and peaceful competition, on the assumption that the common culture of the two sides would eventually override their political differences. But the recent flare-up of new tension arising from Taiwan's two-states theory might force China to take more threatening moves against the island republic again. And when it does, Beijing would be convinced of its moral right to settle this domestic issue within the Chinese nation, and would therefore be unlikely to succumb to any external military pressure. The Chinese government's ability to integrate Taiwan fully into the Chinese State, therefore, constitutes a crucial indicator of the success of crystallising the concept and practice of Chinese nationalism. In fact, unless and until the Taiwan problem is fully resolved, the boundary between the Chinese nation and the Chinese State will remain blurred for both China and Taiwan in the foreseeable future.

However, the ageless, changeless Chinese culture is not a completely negative factor in the development of modern Chinese nationalism or the consolidation of the Chinese State. After all, it constitutes a powerful bulwark against thorough globalisation and the complete alienation that globalisation could bring about. As the Chineseness of all Chinese is a self-contained and self-sufficient phenomenon, it cannot be easily erased or changed no matter where found. The Chinese may refrain or even forget to identify with a specific political regime, but they will always retain their Chineseness in thinking, habit, etc., and their concern with the affairs of their homeland. And they can also readily identify with people of the same culture. In this regard, cultural Chinese nationalism alone can also generate among all Chinese a common sense of belonging that will pull them back from time to time from the abstract tianxia to the more concrete Chinese State. However, in spite of the powerful under-currents of pragmatism, family focus and individualism in Chinese society, the common culture all Chinese share also represents a potentially powerful reservoir of nationalistic sentiments that can be usefully tapped for political purposes, as has effectively been the case during the twentieth century. Viewed in this light, the distance between the Chinese nation and the Chinese State is perhaps not so long or significant, and the gulf between the two rivalling Chinese states not unbridgeable.