The implications of increasing interdependence

The scholars of international relations Joseph Nye and Robert Keohane brought forward the idea that the fortunes of states are inextricably tied together. They argue that the increase in economic and other forms of interdependence will lead to an increase in the probability of cooperation among states. In such an international community of fate, as much as it is desirable to decrease the possibility of armed conflicts, interdependence also means high responsibility and accountability.

As most interdependencies nowadays are of an economic nature, they usually follow economic logic (it can be seen as symptomatic that cultural aspects in this context are mostly being reduced to the term of soft power, instead of having their rightful place at the center of all debates). Thus, the system created by those interdependencies appears to be rather fragile, as the underlying foundation is determined by economies of scale and scope as well as locational advantages due to differing standards of working conditions, environmental protection and civil rights. We can already observe the first cracks in this fragile construction of national and economic interest, and the financial crisis of 2008 served as a warning that not all kinds of interdependence are per se desirable. Meanwhile, the institutions we rely on for solving disputes and maintaining accountability are subject to the burden of increasing complexity and interrelation.

Maybe we should reconsider the underlying logic. Shouldn't we at least strive to work towards a world, where the living and working conditions of the common people are not subordinated to economic and politic considerations? From my own time as a student in China, I recall very clearly what many of my Chinese classmates would call this opinion: naive. However, Chinese culture is known for its long-term thinking, wisdom and focus on sustainability. And most Chinese bear the conflict between pragmatism and romanticism in their hearts, with one side prevailing over the other – as it is with most people – depending on the novels they read in their youth and the demands of the times they live in.

If there is a lesson, which can be drawn from China’s development, it would be that progress never comes without disruption. In this respect, Napoleon’s famous quote “China is a sleeping giant. Let her sleep, for when she wakes she will move the world”, which has been excessively used by advocates of the China-threat theory during the last decades, is more facetted than one would suspect. The horrifying air pollution in many Chinese cities, which is causing deaths every year and filling the waiting halls of Chinese hospitals, and other environmental as well as social problems, including rising cost of living, reveal the shadow side of China’s economic rise. While not all parts of society have benefitted equally from this wealth, everybody living in China, Chinese as well as foreigners, share the cost.

Contrary to Western countries, Chinese philosophy puts much more responsibility to the individual. In many Western countries, the moral sphere of individuals is determined by the Christian concept of guilt and atonement, while on a social level they hold the role of the citizen, with its implied duties and rights. Contrary to that, the Chinese concept of xiushen, qijia, zhiguo, pingtianxia (a concept from the Book of Rites, Great Learning, which describes how the peaceful order of the country derives from the self-improvement of its people) is an unequivocal appeal to the moral individual, combining moral and social roles to a comprehensive concept of moral conduct. In China, Aristotle’s political animal becomes a moral animal. But how can a country that stresses the moral conduct, or the dao, be filled with suspicion and the unbounded fear of missing an opportunity, which any observant and sensible traveler will easily realize when coming to China? One grotesque example is a recent newspaper article on a toilet-paper machine installed in Beijing’s Temple of Heaven as an attempt to tackle toilet paper theft. The machine is equipped with a face scanner to ensure that no more than 60 cm of toilet paper can be allocated to a person within a certain period of time. It seems absurd and at the same time is substantial to raise the issue of the dao in this context. To the foreign observer as well as to the Chinese themselves, there is a widening gap between the ideal of the Chinese way of life and reality. In his Letter to a Chinese Gentleman, Tolstoy writes the following lines:

“Individuals and societies are always in a transitory state from one age to another, but there are times when these transitions are especially apparent and vividly realized, both for individuals and for societies. As is happens with a man who has suddenly come to feel that he can no longer continue a childish life, so also in the life of nations there come periods when societies can no longer continue to live as they did, and they realize the necessity of changing their habits, organization, and activity.”

Of course, it would be ridiculous to compare China – one of the most ancient civilizations – to an adolescent. However, there is truth in Tolstoy’s statement and when a country undergoes dramatic changes, a certain degree of confusion is unavoidable. Will China, when expanding its current model of economic growth into other regions, also expand the confusion resulting from this model?

The nature of China’s 21st century Silk Road

As mentioned above, the historic connotation of the OBOR initiative is particular. It is often stated that Eastern philosophy focuses on concentric structures, while Western thinking focuses on linear conceptions of history. But in both the East and West alike we can observe historic backward-orientation, with President Trump’s “Make America Great Again” probably serving as the most recent example. In Europe, such historic references are generally mentioned with care. There is hardly a European nation, which had not been involved in hostile conflict with its neighboring countries. The book, in which the bloody history of Europe is written, consists of closed chapters and hardly anyone would want to reopen them (with the exception of Great Britain, maybe).

But the historical connotation of the OBOR leads us to travel back in our minds into the times when China was at its economic peak. Among the tangible Chinese products, for which the Europeans were striving, were exquisite silk brocade, fragrant tealeaves and finest chinaware. Their delicate nature revealed the sophistication of the Chinese civilisation and the desire of foreigners for those items can be seen to a high extent as acknowledgement of this sophistication. The rise of China since the beginning of the Reform and Opening Policy in 1978 has without doubt been a materialistic one as well. And as this rise is usually being reduced to economic figures such as GDP growth, we are inclined to draw historical connections and forget to see tangible products as results of a mode of social organisation and activity. In this respect, the products which filled the shipping containers of the first direct train from China’s Zhejiang province to Spain’s Madrid in 2015 were of a very different nature compared to the items Made in China from the heyday of the ancient Silk Road.

Let us go one step further. In the preface to The Spirit of The Chinese People, the Chinese intellectual Gu Hongming writes:

“Now in order to estimate the value of a civilization, it seems to me, the question we must finally ask is not what great cities, what magnificent houses, what fine roads it has built and is able to build; what beautiful and comfortable furniture, what clever and useful implements, tools and instruments it has made and is able to make; no, not even what institutions, what arts and sciences it has invented: the question we must ask, in order to estimate the value of a civilization, is, what type of humanity, what kind of men and women it has been able to produce.”

When I think of the term humanity within the Chinese context, I cannot help but think of the Chinese idiom yingge yanwu, which literally means, “orioles sing and swallows dart” and describes a scene of spring and prosperity. This is the Chinese way of life, which I learnt living among Chinese in Beijing’s Xiaojingchang hutong. I shared a public toilet with several other households and my living conditions were by far below the general standard. But when I came home from university, my neighbours greeted me with a smile on their face. The door of my apartment was often unlocked. I was surrounded by children’s laughter and a walk around the neighbourhood, passing by chess playing men and couples dancing in the park, allayed whatever worries I could have possibly had. Unfortunately, these oases of content are decreasing in space and number as city planners rebuild China according to a concept of modernity, which in my view has not been contested enough.

Conclusion

The aim of the OBOR initiative to provide a platform for regional cooperation between China, Central Asia and Europe is without doubt positive and desirable. However, this essay attempted to search for the base of such a cooperation considering three aspects – the inseparability of the material and the spiritual spheres, the implications of increasing interdependence and the nature of China’s 21st century Silk Road. I believe the base will be a materialistic as well as a spiritual one, with the latter being of higher importance in the long run. The reflections of this essay on the ancient Silk Road show that ideas proofed to be much more powerful than tangible goods. Thus, it is abstruse that many debates about the OBOR initiative leave cultural aspects aside or reduce them to their function as soft power. Whether the OBOR will indeed create a platform for cooperation rather than igniting competition will to a large extend depend on the ability of the participating countries to respond to this truth by promoting mutual understanding and acceptance towards people’s natural curiosity for foreign cultures and ideas.

Close to Berlin lies the city of Potsdam, home to the summer palace of Frederick the Great. Located in the palace park is the so-called Chinese House, a garden pavilion designed in the then- popular style of chinoiserie. On the outside, the pavilion is decorated with sculptures of eating, drinking and music-making Chinese figures. I recall how a Chinese classmate of mine, after visiting the Chinese House in Potsdam, expressed his astonishment. To him, the Chinese sculptures did not look genuinely Chinese. The clothes were not authentic, the features were not Asian, etc. It shows how distorted European perceptions of China were back then. European visitors laugh at this fact as well and find it entertaining. However, I wonder whether they would be able to draw a more accurate picture of the Chinese people today if asked to.

Sources:

Stefan Zweig, “The Monotonization of the World” (1925), in The Weimar Republic Sourcebook, edited by Anton Kaes, Martin Jay, and Edward Dimendberg. © 1994 Regents of the University of California. Published by the University of California Press, pp. 397-400.

Leo Tolstoy, “Letter to a Chinese Gentleman” (1906)

Gu Hongming, “The Spirit of the Chinese People” (1915)