Ancient Chinese Examination System Made Relevant

This article first appeared in the Singapore Straits Times on 16 March 1996.

There are few countries that can surpass China in its long tradition of according the highest respect and honour to scholars. The epitome of this tradition is the awe and reverence in which China’s premier sage and scholar, Confucius (551-479 BC), is held by successive generations of Chinese everywhere. His teachings permeate every aspect of Chinese life, 2,500 years after they were first enunciated.

In its long recorded history that spans over 5,000 years, China had traditionally placed scholars at the top of the social hierarchy. This was followed by farmers and labourers, with the merchants occupying the bottom rung. In Imperial China, the most worthwhile calling was to be a civil servant, which was dominated by men of letters steeped in the Confucian tradition. On the other hand, the merchant class was despised as money-making was equated with exploitation and therefore anathema to the Confucian value system.

While Chinese history is replete with instances of military adventurers and other “lesser breeds” mounting the dragon throne through military successes, it was inevitably the scholar-bureaucrat who was called upon to administer the affairs of state and to formulate policies in the emperor’s name for compliance throughout the extensive empire. They were recruited primarily from amongst the literati – men with a classical education who became the custodians of the Confucian value system. It requires its adherents to have moral rectitude and integrity. In a society where every facet of community life came under the state purview, civil servants enjoyed more powers and prestige than corresponding positions in the armed forces and the private sector.

The story is often told of Liu Bang, Founder of the Han Dynasty (206 BC – 220 AD), who once boasted that, as he had conquered China on horseback, he could rule the country without the help of Confucian scholars. He was promptly cautioned that this would mean disaster; and that, to govern China effectively, the services of Confucian scholars were indispensable. This sentiment is echoed in the Doctrine of the Mean, one of the Confucian classics: “When men of right calibre are available, government flourishes; and when they are not, it declines.”

As early as the Zhou Dynasty (1026-221 BC) rudimentary methods already existed for selecting talents for the state bureaucracy. However, recruitment based solely on competitive written examination was first introduced during the Sui Dynasty (581-618 AD) and became well established during the Tang Dynasty (618-906 AD). According to historian Northcote Parkinson, author of the famous book called Parkinson’s Law and one-time Professor of History at the University of Malaya in Singapore, the Chinese examination system was once so extensively copied by the other nations, including the West, that few people realised its Chinese origin. It predated the beginning of the European competitive written examination system by more than 1200 years. France was the first to study the Chinese system and introduce it in 1791. Germany followed in 1800, Britain in 1855 and United States in 1883. It was adopted in Korea, Thailand and Vietnam even earlier.

The principal advantage of the Chinese system was that it enabled the selection of civil servants on merit, rather than on the nepotic or corrupt basis that is usually a tempting alternative. Prof Parkinson contended that, whatever the faults of the competitive written examination, it certainly produced better results than any other method that had been attempted since. The competitive examination system had gripped the imagination and excitement of the Chinese people since its inception.

Many parents would make great sacrifices in order to ensure that their children have a good education which would prepare them adequately for the Civil Service. Such a practice would, of course, not appear strange to today’s East Asian parents, many of whom are firm believers in the Confucianist emphasis on education. What better testimony to this than the flourishing tuition industry, one of the most dynamic throughout East Asia?

The passing of competitive examinations was crucial to success in officialdom. It was not uncommon for candidates to spend years, sometimes even decades, in order to pass these examinations. Those in dire financial circumstances were supported by their families, or even by the entire village. A succesful scholar would bring great honour to his family and village.

The traditional Chinese regard for scholarship percolates beyond China, and has spread to the homes of the Overseas Chinese and to other East Asian countries. In Singapore, Chinese Singaporeans’ benefactions to education abound. Among those who will always be remembered for their munificence include Tan Kah Kee, Tan Lark Sye, Aw Boon Haw, Lee Kong Chian and Runme Shaw. The latter two were also founders of the Lee and Shaw Foundations, which still actively support education in Singapore today.

As in many other East Asian countries, the Singapore Government and people are imbued with the Confucian respect for education. A large amount of public funds have been expended on improving the education system. Schemes are developed to encourage continual educational improvement, such as the ability to withdraw the Government CPF funds for the purpose of further education.

While Singapore’s civil service is a legacy of colonial rule, the Confucian heritage has played an important role in making it among the finest in the world. Today, it attracts a good proportion of Singapore’s top talent pool into its fold. Much that is hailed, and at the same time controversial, about the Singapore scholarship system, has antecedents in the Chinese imperial Examination system. For instance, Singapore’s elite civilian Government service, the Administrative service, is today selected primarily from among Scholars. Administrative officers, some 200-strong, occupy key positions at Ministry headquarters such as permanent Secretary, deputy Secretary, divisional Directors and deputy Directors. A scholar fresh from University could begin his career as an Assistant or Deputy Director, whose views would be considered by his Permanent Secretary and Minister. By his late thirties or early forties, the most able administrative officers would have made it to permanent secretary. A few have even been picked for political office and elevated to ministerial positions.

On the positive side, such an accelerated track enables the Government to motivate and retain the best and most ambitious of the annual crop, thus assuring political leaders the continual availability of top quality advice and implementation. The counter argument has, however, always been the unfairness and elitism of selecting so many of the nation’s top civil servants largely on the basis of academic results early in life.

Whichever side one falls on this debate, one cannot help but see the striking similarity between Singapore’s system of scholar-administrators and the Chinese imperial Examination system. The latter was clearly also a system where the top office-holders in government were selected on the basis of examination performance. Another common thread was social mobility.  Just as top positions in the Singapore Civil Service are open to all eligible candidates regardless of their social background, religion or race, top candidates in Imperial China also came from all regions and walks of life. Just as many of Singapore’s prominent civil servants are sons of clerks, shopkeepers and taxi drivers, many of the emperor’s leading advisers had similarly modest antecedents.

What are the special features of the Chinese examination system?  The Chinese competitive examination system had undergone changes in each dynasty. The system described below is that of the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911).

  • First, the would-be scholar must pass a County Examination and earn the title of Xiu Cai (Cultured Talent), probably comparable to a Bachelor’s degree.
  • The next hurdle would be to get through the Provincial Examination.  The successful candidates would then become a Ju Ren (Exalted Man), corresponding to a Master’s degree.
  • The Metropolitan Examination was conducted in the Chinese capital, Beijing, triennially. It was spread over three days of three sessions each.  The candidates must be knowledgeable in Confucian classics and the works of the other sages such as Mencius.  They would write a total of fifteen essays of classical themes including the art of government and current political problems. In addition, they would also compose a poem of eight couplets.
  • The examination would be held in a gigantic examination complex, with a tiny cell allocated to each candidate. He would write, eat and sleep in it until the ordeal was over.
  • Those successful (about three per cent of the candidates) would be conferred the title of Jin Shi (Finished Scholar), equivalent to a Doctorate degree.
  • The final lap was for all Finished Scholars to be invited to sit a Palace Examination, to be conducted with aplomb and ceremony in the august presence of the Son of Heaven. They would compose an essay in a single session, on a political or administrative subject to be personally selected by the Emperor.
  • The examination scripts of the top ten candidates would be submitted to the Emperor, who had the ultimate prerogative to either confirm or alter the examiners’ recommended rankings.

There had been isolated instances where the emperor did revise the rankings, sometimes for whimsical reasons. The Emperor would personally announce the names of the top three candidates. They would be conferred the most coveted titles of Zhuangyuan (Premier Scholar), Bangyan (Second Scholar) and Tanhua (Third Scholar) respectively. They would be groomed for the highest civil offices in the land. All the other Finished Scholars would be offered a variety of lesser appointments in the various provinces.

Two Southern Chinese provinces, Jiangsu and Zhejiang, had the distinction of having produced the highest number of Zhuangyuans than any other province. Among the Zhuangyuans who had become household names in China are:

  • Guo Zhiyi (a renowned Tang Dynasty general who combined brains with brawn)
  • Wang Wei ( a celebrated Tang Dynasty poet)
  • Liu Gongquan (a leading Tang Dynasty calligrapher)
  • Wen Tian-xiang (the revered Song Dynasty Prime Minister and patriot)
  • Shen Kun (a high-ranking official of the Ming Dynasty who hailed from Xiuning County in Anhui province)
  • Vung Tunghe (a Qing Dynasty high official and personal tutor to two emperors)
  • Liu Chunlin (the last Qing Zhuangyuan who died a pauper but was highly venerated)

The Chinese Competitive examination system was abolished in 1905. What brought about its demise?

By the late 19th Century the Qing Dynasty was already on the verge of collapse because of rampant corruption and incompetence. It had refused to introduce political, educational and other reforms that were badly needed to make China strong again. This led to aggressive foreign military interventions and the imposition of unequal treaties on China by the victorious powers. They also carved China into their respective spheres of influence with extra-territorial privileges.

The Qing Government then began to introduce the necessary reforms in a desperate attempt to prevent the disintegration of China. Scholars were sent abroad to study in western and Japanese universities. Upon their return, some were given important positions at Court in preference to Confucian scholars. Chinese universities, with syllabi based upon the western model, were established in large cities to cater to the emerging needs of China. Consequently, the importance and prestige of the Imperial Examination system declined as it had become outmoded, leading to its abolition.

How would one appraise the contributions of the Chinese examination system? In its more than 1,300 years of history, it had, on the whole, served China well, despite its many shortcomings. It enabled the nation to recruit the best talents into government administration, more than any other alternative systems could perhaps have achieved. However, because of its inability to adapt to the changing needs of China in the 20th Century, an era of industrial and technological revolution, it had outlived its usefulness and had to be replaced.

What implications does the demise of the Chinese examination system have on Singapore’s system of scholar-administrators? In one word, the answer is probably “relevance”. The imperial system declined because it continued to adhere rigidly to a syllabus of classical texts, when the world clearly required administrators who knew more than that. Similarly, Singapore’s system of scholar-administrators will continue to work well (charges of elitism and unfairness notwithstanding) as long as there continues to be a high correlation between academic performance and success in administration. The Government’s present system of awarding scholarships for a variety of academic disciplines and broadening their exposure through further scholarships in public and business administration at Masters level, is an excellent means of ensuring that Singapore has scholar-administrators who are exposed to the latest ideas in the governance of complex institutions and whole countries. It is unlikely that Singapore’s scholar-administrator system would follow the demise of the Chinese imperial system. As Singapore moves into the information age, the ability to grasp and analyse information would become all the more critical. These skills are the precinct of the scholar. Like it or not, many of these skills do become apparent by the time students are in their late teens.

There is, however, such a thing as a late developer. The challenge for the system would thus be one of fine tuning, of finding ways to identify those who might not have excelled at a crucial examination at 18 or 21, but who can nevertheless make a vital contribution to Singapore’s governance.

Lam Pin Foo

The Beauty of Chinese Ceramic Spoons is Not Skin Deep

Looking back to my thirty-five years’ love affair with collecting antique Chinese ceramic spoons always brings back joyful and exciting memories. I can vividly recall scouring for these much ignored and elusive common dining utensils in three continents. When I first became a novice collector in the late 1960s, I had to endure painful learning experiences which are documented in my posting of February 2008. However unpleasant these experiences were, they have taught me an indelible lesson in collecting that it takes years of experience and learning to become a shrewd and cultivated collector, and there are no short cuts to it.

At that time, good quality antique pieces were still available in several reputable antique shops in my native Singapore and neighbouring Southeast Asian countries at prices that were a mere fraction of their current market values. In places like Hong Kong, Macau and China prices were much lower than in Singapore and supplies were plentiful as China was then more concerned with political and economic developments than worrying about the outflow of their huge quantities of various kinds of antiques. By allowing the sales of these antiques to other countries to satisfy international demand would earn them the urgently needed foreign exchange in so-called hard currencies, like  the American dollar and the British pound sterling, which would enable them to pay for imports which they needed for national development. It was only years later that they started to restrict the export of good quality antiques when the stocks of these finite historic legacies had run low. Consequently, international market prices for fine Chinese antiques, especially ceramics, shot up by leaps and bounds everywhere because the demand for these had far exceeded supply. Singapore was no exception.

It was four years after I started collecting Chinese ceramics that I began to notice that  a rather unique kind of colourful and gaudy ceramic ware, known as Nonya ware, mostly of the 19th to early 20th century vintages, had made their appearance in a few secondary antique shops and flea marts. They came in different varieties, sizes, shapes, forms and motifs and were decorated in blue and white, monochrome or polychrome palettes. In the bygone era, Nonya ware was highly popular with the affluent local-born Chinese families in both Malaysia and Singapore who would have them specially made in China with specifications to suit their tastes and requirements. The tea and dinner sets would be used only on auspicious occasions to reflect their prominence in society. It became a status symbol to own them. Their entire collections would be handed down to the next generation as family heirlooms. After the older generations had passed on, some unsentimental younger descendants would often sell them off cheaply to antique shops or flea marts due to economic reasons or ignorance of their market worth. Among these Nonya pieces were different types of ceramic spoons which, despite being lowly priced at the shops compared with other more popular Nonya items, had few takers except for a handful of expatriates working in Singapore. There were two main reasons for the lack of interest in these spoons. First, the serious collectors would deem it beneath contempt to have these common dining utensils in their collections. Also spoons, which are a necessity in every Chinese household, both rich and poor, for their daily meals did not appeal to lesser collectors as worthy of collecting. Consequently, most reputable antique shops and other lesser shops would not carry them in their stocks. However, these and other non Nonya spoons were sometimes available mostly at the flea marts. Influenced by the snobbish attitudes of the more experienced collectors, I too, gave these spoons a miss even though I was initially quite fascinated by  some of the finer pieces whose beauty was far from skin deep. In retrospect, I had forfeited a golden opportunity to acquire an assortment of these Nonya and other types of spoons and paid a high price for being a crowd follower instead of being guided by my own artistic inclinations.

A couple of years later, I chanced to read an interesting article in the famed Hong Kong based art magazine, Arts of Asia, about the impressive Chinese spoon collection of an American couple working in Hong Kong. They gave a vivid account of the joys and frustrations of searching, finding and buying different varieties of Chinese spoons in Hong Kong and Macao, mostly dating from the 18th to the early 20th century. The couple had accumulated several hundred pieces of  these over a number of years, with the help of a trusted antique dealer there. They were still eagerly looking out for more finds to add to their collection. These spoons had rewarded them with endless hours of enjoyment and would continue to do so for many more years to come. This article reignited my latent interest in collecting spoons, and I was resolved to buy some before their prices went up.

From then onwards, I spent many a weekend visiting a couple of art and craft shops and flea marts in my home town, which previously had spoons for sale, but I was disappointed that only a few spoons of lower quality but high prices were available. The shop owners told me that spoons were harder to come by now as more collectors, especially local ones, had begun to buy them, thus putting pressures on prices. Another reason was that, compared with other more sought after ceramic wares, spoons were still more affordable for the new spoon collectors caught by the bug of collecting. Over a period of more than a year, I succeeded in buying only twenty pieces of average quality spoons. However, my luck improved significantly when I took a week-long holiday in Penang in neighbouring Malaysia. One of the first things I did was to visit Penang Rd and Rope Walk, where there were a number of antique shops, arts and craft shops and flea marts. What a delightful and rewarding outing it turned out to be! Among the old ceramic items on display, there were many old Nonya and other spoons awaiting patronage. After spending several hours there, I was able to harvest no less than 50 pieces of above average quality spoons, more than two-third of them were Nonya pieces, at vastly lower prices than those I previously paid in Singapore flea marts. The next day, I visited more shops in other parts of the city where there were a number of established antique and arts and craft shops. Good fortune was again on my side and I made several other memorable purchases. I added another 40 pieces of spoons to my collection, not to mention my purchases of other good quality ceramic wares which I would have gladly bought at higher prices in Singapore.

As I was fully satisfied with my lucky ceramic acquisitions there, my family and I spent the rest of our holiday sightseeing and enjoying the justly famous Penang street food which, without a doubt, was and still is, the best and cheapest  in Malaysia and Singapore. Many Singaporeans go there just for the hawker food and for the equally famed pungent local durian fruit, which came fresh from its several durian orchards. After visiting many of the well-known landmarks, we  finally ended up in the historic but somewhat run-down Penang Museum, which was housed in a stately looking building. We were the only visitors there. A very friendly museum staff volunteered to guide us around and he explained to us the history and significance of the major exhibits. My interest was aroused when we came to the section on Chinese and other ceramic collections of Southeast Asian countries, and I spent sometime admiring the rare Nonya ware pieces. Among them was a set of refined Chinese spoons, which were often found in the homes of  the rich local-born Chinese families there. Sensing my obvious interest in the Nonya collection, the genial museum guide inquired if I would be interested to view a private Nonya ware collection at the home of his once-rich family friends, who had asked him to look out for potential buyers for their extensive collection. I accepted the invitation gladly. He later telephoned this family and a family member offered to fetch me from my hotel the same night to see the collection. What a bountiful evening it turned out to be. The large bungalow of colonial architectural design, though old and dilapidated, must have been grand in its heyday. There were plenty of different shapes and sizes of Nonya antiques throughout the house: in the entrance hall, in the living room, in the study and in the dining rooms. They included furniture, cupboards, gold-gilted chest of drawers, intricate wood carvings and dazzling Nonya ceramic pieces in the display cabinets and on the sideboards. There were also many porcelain vases standing at the corners of the floors. To my great delight, there were dozens of perfect condition Nonya spoons and other small pieces of porcelain bowls and plates neatly laid out on a large dinning table for my convenience of viewing. After hours of inspecting and negotiating with my friendly and hospitable host, I bought all the spoons, several other portable ceramic pieces which I could bring home in my car, as well as a number of large wood carvings and furniture items which the owner would arrange to ship to Singapore. I left the house well after 3 AM in the morning fully exhausted, and was grateful for a lift home to my seaside hotel. I made several other return trips to Penang in subsequent years. Alas, by then, there were not many Nonya ceramic pieces and spoons left in the shops and prices had escalated to a level that was approaching the prevailing Singapore prices. This was because Singapore antique dealers and collectors had bought up whatever Nonya pieces they could find in Penang when they were much cheaper than in Singapore. This had seriously depleted the finite stock available to satisfy the insatiable appetite of collectors for this particular ware. It has sentimental values to the people of Singapore and Malaysia who were prepared to pay inflated prices for them.

Besides Penang, the only other Malaysian city that has an even richer Nonya heritage is Malacca, where the Chinese traders had left their permanent footprints since the 15th century. Many had subsequently sunk their roots and set up their families there through inter-marriages with the native women. Their community was continually being augmented throughout the ensuing centuries by migrations of men and women from China, especially during the 19th and the early 20th century. The local-born offsprings of these immigrants came to be called Baba for men and Nonya for women to distinguish them from those born in China. There were, and still are, many wealthy Chinese families there and it is truly the home of Nonya ware. However, being much closer to Singapore in terms of distance compared with far away Penang, it was the most popular destination for Singapore antique dealers and collectors to descend on in search of Nonya ware at bargain prices, years before they would go to Penang after the Malacca shops had practically run dry of these ceramics. By the time I became a buyer of Nonya and other spoons, there were not many such items left in Malacca for me to buy. All in all I was only able to buy less  than ten pieces of spoons there at quite high prices. Of these, I was extremely fortunate to acquire one truly outstanding spoon from a well-known local shop simply because I was willing to pay a grossly jacked-up price as I was anxious to add it to my collection at all cost. Be that as it may, looking back more than 25 years later, I did not make such a bad decision after all for such a pedigree piece! Some distance from Malacca is the Malaysian capital, Kuala Lumpur, which is  not particularly noted for Nonya ware, but I had better luck there in securing more than thirty good pieces of Nonya and other spoons at much more competitive prices than in the home of Nonya ware itself.

As time marched on, my fascination for old Chinese ceramic spoons had become a passion. I was a familiar face in the local shops on weekends. Knowing my partiality for spoons, some shop owners would telephone me whenever they had these in their shops and I would invariably buy those that suited my taste even if I had to pay a higher price for them. Thus, slowly and steadily, my spoon collection grew and I became known as an avid spoon collector to dealers and some collector friends. One fine day, and quite unexpectedly, a collector friend of ours, who was reputed to have the largest collection of Nonya ware in Singapore and Malaysia, telephoned me and invited me to his home to see his collection. It was by far the most comprehensive and superb collection of this ware that I had ever come across. According to my host, he had inherited some of these from his parents and the rest were added to his collection through selective purchases, mainly in Malaysia, over the years when prices were low and this particular porcelain had not yet become so hotly sought after as it has since become. He had accumulated several thousand pieces, much of these were packed in boxes due to lack of display space in his spacious house. He said that he had from time to time sold some of the pieces to take advantage of the growing interest for Nonya ware and the escalated prices paid for these. He assured me that he would offer me very favourable prices for the pieces that I fancied. I told him that I was not a regular collector of Nonya ware in general, but would certainly be keen to purchase his two sets of spoons, of the rare early 19th century provenance, which were among the finest of its kind that I had seen anywhere. Sensing my  keen desire to own these, he quoted what I thought was quite a stiff price because of their rarity. I finally bought them after some haggling over the price. I have never regretted buying these rare and superb pieces and paid a high price for them. What is their estimated value today? according to an expert Nonya ware collector who had seen my spoons, he reckoned that they would be immediately snapped up by a discerning collector at no less than twelve times the price that I paid ages ago!  Like any other form of art collecting, rarity is what determines the market worth of any work of art, apart from its intrinsic artistic quality of course. Nonya ware is now quite scarce in both Malaysia and Singapore shops.

In the past decades, I had travelled to many countries, both on business and holiday. As mentioned in my postings from March to May 2008, I would take the opportunities to drop in at the antique shops and antique markets to buy ceramics and, perchance, to acquire a piece or two of spoons that attracted me. More often than not, I was not disappointed. I did quite well in London, in the South and West English counties as well as in Scotland and Ireland. Even in countries like France, Netherlands, Spain, Portugal and Germany, some Chinese spoons would come my way. The quality of the pieces in Europe and Britain was generally higher than the average pieces available in Southeast Asia. Across the Atlantic, I also have happy memories of my  spoon chasing trips in California, New York and some other states. My best buys were in San Francisco’s Chinatown and in the posh Palm Springs, at the fringe of California’s Death Valley, where the famed Hollywood star, Bob Hope, lived. In San Francisco, I was thrilled beyond words to be shown an array of Chines porcelain spoons of high quality. My excitement grew when I saw an unusual   piece with Iranian script “God is great” written on it. It is of 18th century origin, and was exported by China to the Middle East market. After several cups of fine Chinese tea, I bought all the spoons at reasonable prices. I returned to the shop in subsequent years but they had no more spoons in stock. In Palm Springs, I bought one of the finest pieces in my collection at a surprisingly cheap price. I guess the shopkeeper had hardly any knowledge of Chinese ceramics and the odd spoon was incidental to his trade. My most successful spoon buying trips were, understandably, in China, Macao and Hong Kong. I remember vividly roaming the antique markets in Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, Chengdu and Kunming searching for the seemingly elusive spoons. My enthusiasm and efforts were not in vain. I came away with no less than sixty pieces of spoons that I liked, and a number of these were probably made for the imperial court officials and the rich merchants. Across the border in Macao and Hong Kong, I managed, over the years, to add more pieces to my spoon collection. The small antique shops in Hong Kong’s Hollywood Rd and its vicinity had always excited me with their spoon collections as they had regular customers looking for them. In a family run shop there, I bought a set of eight exquisitely crafted and thinly potted blue and white spoons, of 18th century provenance, which I paid a high but not excessive price for them. As if to allay my doubt of its intrinsic value, the kindly looking lady unhesitatingly gave me a written certificate of authenticity and assured me that I could at any time after one year resell them back to her at no less than ten per cent profit should I decide to do so. They are easily the best pieces in my entire spoon collection and they deservedly occupy a central place in my display cabinets.

In the course of three decades, I had left my footprints in three continents in hot pursuit of the common Chinese ceramic spoons and these experiences have greatly enriched my life. More importantly, they have given me countless hours of  delightful pleasure and will continue to do so in the years to come. When I first started collecting them there were very few spoon collectors in Singapore. Three decades later, as far as I know, the number has swelled and is still growing. After years of collecting them, I now have about 600 pieces of spoons, of various categories, colours, shapes, sizes, motifs and differing qualities. The marvel is that all have a theme or story to tell within such a tiny space. As I  have said earlier, these spoons, crafted and individually painted by human hands, have a beauty which is more than skin deep. They were produced by master craftsmen at a time when there was hardly any time pressure to meet commercial demands. It was also a labour of pride and love for them. It is a miracle that, despite their constant usage over such a prolonged period of time, these fragile dining tools have managed to survive in good condition, save for some wear and tear, to be admired and deeply valued by keen collectors of spoons everywhere. Hurray and long live the Chinese spoons!

Lam Pin Foo

China’s Immense Wealth of Buried Cultural Treasures

The December 2009 discovery of the mausoleum of the celebrated Cao Cao in Henan province’s Anyang City excited everyone in China and created a stir among foreign historians and archaeologists too. This is hardly surprising because Cao, one of China’s most controversial statesmen and brilliant military strategists of the Three-Kingdom era (184-280 AD), is reputed to have constructed 72 decoy tombs in order to thwart any future attempts by any grave raiders to desecrate his final resting place and to steal the treasures buried with him for his needs in the afterlife. His very colourful life and famous exploits have been vividly captured and romanticised in one of  China’s best known classical novels, the 14th century Romance of the Three Kingdoms, and he became a household name in China. This discovery has been proclaimed by the media and some cultural experts as the greatest archaeological find since the unearthing of the terracotta  army in 1974 in Xian, which protects the yet to be excavated burial chamber of the First Emperor, who built China’s Great Wall more than 2200 years ago. Even before Cao’s 740 sq. m mausoleum, with an assortment of 250 artifacts found therein, has been officially authenticated and opened to the public, the province’s government officials and tourism authorities are optimistic that his tomb will soon become a cash-tree, as it were, and will generate up to an annual windfall of 420 million yuan, in close competition with the revenue created by the terracotta army in Xian.

Despite the national rejoicing over the discovery of the elusive Cao burial chamber, many well-known historians, scholars, archaeologists and anthropologists have cast doubts as to its genuineness. Their main dissenting views can be summed up as follows:

The tomb was earlier raided by tomb robbers before the archaeologists found it, and some of the artifacts in it had already been removed by them. It is possible that some of the remaining artifacts could have been tampered with, including the stone tablets bearing Cao’s posthumous title, King Wu of Wei,  which could have been forged ingeniously so as to deceive even the experts as had happened in some disturbed tombs of other prominent people. These stone tablets are said to offer the strongest evidence that the tomb must belong to Cao himself.

The discovered burial chamber does not correspond with the descriptions of Cao’s in historical records. Also, none of the stone tablets mentions his name and no memorial mourning album was found, which would have been the practice for such an important figure of that period.

While one of the skeletons in the tomb is claimed to be of Cao’s age and of the period, experts believe that as the remains are not in good condition because of long burial, it would be extremely difficult to extract DNA samples from them. Furthermore, it is not known that there are living lineal descendants of his who could undergo DNA tests to either confirm or reject the authenticity of this discovery. To trace any possible descendants that Cao might still have will be an uphill, if not impossible, task.

These experts also have reasons to believe that Cao was not buried in Anyang, but in Bozhou in Anhui province, where he was born. Some experts are convinced that the discovery has been hyped up prematurely by sensational media publicity and by the opportunistic local government authorities in order to promote the expected increased tourism and the revenue windfall this will bring.

Finally, it is significant that China’s authoritative Institute of Archaeology has maintained a guarded stand that it is too early to confirm that the unearthed tomb is truly Cao’s until all the available evidence have been exhaustively analysed and firmly established.

Despite China having the longest continuous civilisation in the world dating back to 5000 years, there are not that many truly ancient monuments and other historical edifices in their original state of preservation left in this vast country. This is because most of these were either destroyed by ravages of nature, frequent wars or due to human neglect in the course of time. Be that as it may, the saving grace for China and that of mankind is that its immense wealth of historical cultural heritage has been largely preserved beneath the ground awaiting discovery to see the light of day again. For the record, the most extravagant mausoleums are those of its numerous reigning monarchs and others belonging to lesser royalties and prominent personages throughout the ages. All of these would have contained valuable funerary items. However, not that many of these prominent tombs have, to date, been found  and for  those that have already been located, the Chinese government is in no hurry to excavate them until the state of technology has become sufficiently advanced for them to undertake such a task so as to ensure the safe preservation of the artifacts in these tombs for the benefit of all.

Take the tombs of the emperors and various kings as an example. China’s First Emperor’s burial place, with its inestimable wealth of funerary treasures, has not yet been opened up. Neither have those of the rulers of the Han Dynasty (202 BC – 220 AD), when China was at its peak of prosperity and was probably the richest and most powerful nation on earth. The experts are of the view that, based on the grandeur and artifacts-rich tombs of minor royalties that surround the not yet excavated mausoleum of the 6th Han emperor Jindi, his mausoleum, and that of his successor, Emperor Wudi, could well match the First Emperor’s in scale and extravagance. Of the emperors’ tombs of the nation’s last two dynasties, namely Ming (1368-1644) and Qing (1644-1911), only that of the 13th Ming Emperor Wanli’s has already been dug up and has since become one of the top tourist attractions in China. The array of high quality and rare artifacts in this tomb had long ago been removed to a museum for display, but the replicas of these can still be seen on site. Situated in the outskirts of Beijing, it is one of the thirteen royal mausoleums crisscrossing a vast expanse of land, all with grand structures surrounding each of these tombs. Needless to say, they were all constructed strictly in accordance with the best fengshui principles, China’s art of geomancy.

The worldwide interest created by the discovery of the tomb of Cao reminds me of a related article that I wrote in 2002, which was published in Singapore’s Sunday Times, under the caption, “What lies beneath”, and I should like to share it with my readers. It is posted immediately after this article.

Lam Pin Foo

What Lies Beneath

This article first appeared in the Singapore Sunday Times on 2 June 2002.

Five thousand years of  civilisation is a powerful magnet that draws visitors from across the world to China.

As the oldest continuous civilisation on earth, the attraction is undeniable. Yet a discerning visitor seeking a profound cultural experience in China may well leave disappointed. Why? The ancient monuments in the Middle East and Europe have survived well because they were built of stone. But in China, palaces, temples and other major buildings were generally constructed of timber. Most had succumbed to the ravages of nature and human conflict. Examples include the historic Buddhist temples that are spread in Chinese cities and sacred mountains. Hordes of devotees flocked there in their heyday.

Your Chinese guide would recite with eloquence their illustrious history dating back to Tang Dynasty or earlier, regaling you with stories about the long-gone relics and exquisite woodwork of the original buildings. But what greets you would likely be less refined buildings and art works of a much later dynasty, rebuilt on the same site. Some are recent replicas of the ancient works.

Brick-and-mortar structures like pagodas, watch-towers, city walls and bridges have fared better. However, most are dilapidated, or have been so extensively renovated over the centuries that they no longer resemble the original.

Aside from the ravages of time, the preservation of China’s historic monuments and artifacts suffered a further blow during the Cultural Revolution. Much of the country’s cultural heritage built up over the centuries were reduced to ruins in a few months of madness by fanatical Red Guards on the rampage. Fortunately, China’s foremost national treasures, including the sculptures and wall frescoes at the Dunhuang grottoes and the peerless imperial art collection at Beijing’s Gukung (Forbidden City) escaped the fury of the Red Guards, thanks to the timely intervention of the late Premier Zhou Enlai.

Even so, many of the choicest of these national treasures were long ago looted by rapacious foreigners and removed to their home museums.

Despite the scarcity of ancient monuments above ground, the real saving grace is the immense cultural wealth that lies hidden beneath China’s soil. In ancient times, it was the custom to bury precious, ornamental and household items with the departed for their use in the hereafter. This has resulted in major discoveries, the most widely publicised was the discovery in Xian in 1974 of some 8000 life-sized terracotta warriors. These earthen warriors guarded the outer tomb of the 2200-year old  mausoleum of Emperor Qin Shihuang, a man who unified China and built its Great Wall but who feared being harmed, even in death.

As the technology of archaeological excavation advances, more of China’s national heritage will again see the light of day.

Chinese cultural experts, including the Director of the renowned Shaanxi History museum, Mr Zhou Tian You, are convinced that what had been dug up so far constitute only a small portion of the nation’s heritage. For example, recent digs have thrown up evidence that verified the existence of the Xia Dynasty, which was founded in 2200 BC.

The tombs that have been unearthed so far have generally been those of minor royalties and high officials. Far grander in terms of construction and funerary contents would be the tombs of China’s monarchs. But most of the burial sites of China’s early rulers are not known, while those of later periods remain largely unexcavated.

How do the Chinese experts ascertain the identity of a tomb’s occupant? They rely mainly on the Muzhimin (inscribed stone memorial tablet), normally erected at the entrance to a burial chamber.

Usually written by someone of standing who was close to the deceased, it would set out his biography, highlighting his achievements and contributions to society. A copy of this written eulogy would be kept by his family. Only royalty and privileged people could afford one.

The formidable Han Emperor Wudi and the egotistical Empress Wu Zetian insisted that the inscriptions on their memorial tablets be different from the standard formulation. His invited posterity to judge whether his contributions outweighed his shortcomings. Hers was deliberately left blank, confident of history as her scribe.

Visitors to China looking for a profound cultural experience should tour selected excavation sites, especially those with quality museums nearby showcasing the artifacts recovered from the pits.

Many of these sites are scattered in the provinces of Shandong, Shaanxi, Shanxi, Hubei, Henan, Hebei, Sichuan and along the Silk Road. Some are accessible from the cities of Xian, Loyang, Beijing, Zibo, Qingzhou, Chengdu, Turpan and Yinchuan, to name a few.

As is said about true beauty, one has to look deeper to find the glory of China’s cultural heritage.

Lam Pin Foo

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