Changing Dynamics and Mechanisms of Maritime Asia in Comparative Perspectives (Palgrave Studies in Comparative Global History) [1st ed. 2021] 9789811625534, 9811625530

Table of contents :
Acknowledgments
About This Book
Praise for Changing Dynamics and Mechanisms of Maritime Asia in Comparative Perspectives
Contents
Notes on Contributors
List of Figures
List of Tables
Introduction
References
Maritime History during the Late Early-Modern and Modern Eras
Surveying and Mapping the Japanese Archipelago in the 19th Century
1 Introduction
2 Surveys and the “National Ban”: The 1840s
3 Conflict Between the “National Ban” and the “Perfect Right”: The 1850s
3.1 US Naval Surveying in Japan
3.2 A Dilemma for the Bakufu
4 From the “External Conflict” to the “Internal Conflict”: The 1860s
4.1 The HMS Actaeon and the Sea of East Asia
4.2 The Actaeon’s Surveys from Yokohama to Nagasaki
5 Conclusion
References
The Rise of Silver Dollars: Changing Pattern of Silver Use in Nineteenth-Century Vietnam
1 Introduction
2 State’s Effort to Control Silver Circulation
3 Taxation and the Regional Diversity of the Use of Silver
3.1 Expansion of Silver Tax Under the Nguyễn Fiscal Regime
3.2 Encounters with “Local Silver”
3.3 Rising Silver Price and Its Influence on the Taxation System
4 The Rise of the Silver Dollar
4.1 Early Penetration of the Silver Dollar
4.2 Creating Vietnamese Silver Dollar
4.3 Increasing Silver Dollar Usage in Late Nineteenth-Century Vietnam
5 Conclusion
Sources
The Link Between Global Market Change and Local Strategy: The Case of Vietnamese Cinnamon in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century
1 Introduction
2 The Change in Global Trade Patterns and the Circulation of Cinnamon in East Asia
3 Tonkin Cinnamon and Overseas/Overland Circulation
4 Extensive Cultivation in Cochinchina for Maritime Export
5 Government involvement’s Reliance on Chinese Merchants: Cinnamon for Official Business
6 Conclusions
References
Revisiting Corruption Theory on the Indian Ocean World: A Case Study of Slave Trade in the 19th Century Western Indian Ocean
1 Introduction
2 Shipment of Slaves from Coastal Eastern Africa to the Oman–Persian Gulf Region
3 Who Were the Slave Transporters?
4 Britain’s Activity Against the Slave Trade in the Western Indian Ocean
5 Resistance by the Transporters
6 Conclusion
References
Bilbao Merchant and Their Trade in the Eighteenth Century: The View of the Private Company and the Privileged Company
1 Beyond Local History and National History
2 Importance of the Basque Provinces in the Eighteenth Century
3 Bilbao and North Atlantic—The Case of the Gardoqui Family
3.1 Gardoqui Family as a Big and Local Merchant
3.2 European Trade: Wool and Iron
3.3 American Trade: Cod Fish
3.4 Why Did the Gardoqui Family Trade with the British Colonies?
4 Guipúzcoa and South Atlantic: The Case of Caracas Company
4.1 The Construction of the Caracas Company
4.2 The Relationship Between Stock and Guipúzcoa
4.3 Decline of the Company
4.4 Toward to Asia—The Diversion to the Philippine Company
4.5 Why Did Guipúzcoan Merchants Participate in Trade Within the Empire?
5 Conclusion
References
Maritime Asia in Contemporary Eras
Modern China’s Imagining of the Nanyang and the Construction of Transnational Asia
1 Introduction: Reflecting on the Nanyang (Southeast Asia)
2 Li Wenquan and the Nanyang Commercial Study Association
3 The Journal and the Imagining of Asia
4 Concluding Remarks: Modern China’s New Perceptions of the Nanyang and Embryonic Transnationalism
References
Sergei Witte and the Shipping Associations: Rethinking the Russian Empire from a Maritime Viewpoint
1 Introduction
2 Launch of the Volunteer Fleet
3 Witte’s Reform Plan of the Volunteer Fleet
4 The Volunteer Fleet and Tea Trade After the Russo-Japanese War
5 Conclusion
References
Itinerary, Revolution, and Port Cities: Comparative Study on Maritime Port Cities as Arenas for Asian Revolutionary Movements
1 Introduction
2 Revolutionaries in Exile
3 Maritime Port Cities as “Arenas”
4 Conclusion
References
ASPAC or ASEAN? Institutional Evolution and Survival in Contemporary Maritime Asia
1 Introduction
2 ASEAN’s Establishment and Development: 1967–1970
3 ASPAC’s Establishment and Development: 1966–1970
4 Conditions for Institutional Survival and Collapse: ASEAN and ASPAC in 1970–1973
5 Conclusion
References

Citation preview

PALGRAVE STUDIES IN COMPARATIVE GLOBAL HISTORY

Changing Dynamics and Mechanisms of Maritime Asia in Comparative Perspectives

Edited by Shigeru Akita Hong Liu · Shiro Momoki

Palgrave Studies in Comparative Global History

Series Editors Manuel Perez-Garcia, Shanghai Jiao Tong University, Shanghai, China Lucio De Sousa, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, Tokyo, Japan

This series proposes a new geography of Global History research using Asian and Western sources, welcoming quality research and engaging outstanding scholarship from China, Europe and the Americas. Promoting academic excellence and critical intellectual analysis, it offers a rich source of global history research in sub-continental areas of Europe, Asia (notably China, Japan and the Philippines) and the Americas and aims to help understand the divergences and convergences between East and West. Advisory Board Patrick O’Brien (London School of Economics) Anne McCants (Massachusetts Institute of Technology) Joe McDermott (University of Cambridge) Pat Manning (Pittsburgh University) Mihoko Oka (University of Tokyo) Richard Von Glahn (University of California, Los Angeles) Bartolomé Yun-Casalilla (Universidad Pablo de Olavide de Sevilla) Shigeru Akita (Osaka University) François Gipouloux (CNRS/FMSH) Carlos Marichal (Colegio de Mexico) Leonard Blusse (Leiden University) Antonio Ibarra Romero (Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Mexico, UNAM) Giorgio Riello (University of Warwick) Nakajima Gakusho (Kyushu University) Liu Beicheng (Tsinghua University) Li Qingxin (Guangdong Academy of Social Sciences) Dennis O. Flynn (University of the Pacific) J. B. Owens (Idaho State University)

More information about this series at http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/15711

Shigeru Akita · Hong Liu · Shiro Momoki Editors

Changing Dynamics and Mechanisms of Maritime Asia in Comparative Perspectives

Editors Shigeru Akita Osaka University Osaka, Japan

Hong Liu Nanyang Technological University Singapore, Singapore

Shiro Momoki Osaka University Osaka, Japan

ISSN 2662-7965 ISSN 2662-7973 (electronic) Palgrave Studies in Comparative Global History ISBN 978-981-16-2553-4 ISBN 978-981-16-2554-1 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-2554-1 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2021 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Cover illustration: Contributor: Antiqua Print Gallery/Alamy Stock Photo This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. The registered company address is: 152 Beach Road, #21-01/04 Gateway East, Singapore 189721, Singapore

Acknowledgments

This volume is the result of joint-research project between Osaka University, Japan and Nanyang Technological University (NTU), Singapore, through four international conferences: (1) The Third Conference of Asian Association of World Historians (AAWH), “Migration in Global History: Peoples, Plants, Plagues, and Ports,” held at Nanyang Technological University, Singapore, in May 2015; (2) The Second Global History Consortium Conference on “Globalization from East Asian Perspectives ” at Osaka University, Japan in March 2016; (3) Special Osaka-NTU Workshop on “Changing Dynamics and Mechanisms of Maritime Asia in comparative perspectives ” at Osaka University in January 2018, and (4) The Fourth Conference of Asian Association of World Historians (AAWH), “Creating World Histories from Asian Perspectives,” at Osaka University in January 2019. These four conferences received financial support from two university research funds: Global History Studies Division, Institute for Open and Transdisciplinary Research Initiatives (OTRI), Osaka University, and the School of Humanities and Social Sciences, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore (grant number: 04INS000103C430). In addition, we got financial subsidies of the Japan Society for the Promotion of Sciences (JSPS): Scientific Research (A) to Osaka University, and the Leverhulme Trust with Centre for Global History, University of Oxford, the United Kingdom.

v

vi

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Two big conferences in 2015 and 2019 were co-organized by the Asian Association of World Historians (AAWH), an international organization for the promotion of global/world history studies in the AsiaPacific region. Since May 2015, Akita acts as the President of AAWH, and Hong Liu as the Vice-President. We would like to express our appreciation for the collaboration and the warm support from the Executive Board members of AAWH, to broaden our perspectives. We are also grateful for the participation of the members of the Kaiiki Ajiashi Kenkyukai (The Research Group of Maritime Asian History). This volume is published as part of Palgrave Studies in Comparative Global History, and we greatly appreciate academic support by two series editors, Manuel Perez Garcia, Shanghai Jiao Tong University, China, and Lucio De Sousa, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, Japan. At the final editing process, we received useful and helpful supports and suggestions from Prof. George Bryan Souza, Visiting Professor of OTRI, Osaka University and Adjunct Associate Professor, the Department of History at the University of Texas, San Antonio, USA, during his stay in Osaka. Without his help and energetic encouragements, this volume would not have been published. We are grateful for all the contributors to this volume for their tremendous efforts which made this collaborative project possible. Needless to say, the views and interpretations are those of the individual chapters’ authors. Osaka and Singapore January 2021

Shigeru Akita Hong Liu Shiro Momoki

About This Book

This book attempts to reveal historical dynamism of transforming contemporary Maritime Asia and to identify key driving forces or agencies for the evolution and transformation of Maritime Asia in the context of global history studies. It seeks to accomplish these goals by connecting different experiences in Maritime Asia both historically from the late early-modern to the present and spatially covering both East and Southeast Asia. Focusing on interactions on and through oceans, seas, and islands, Maritime Asia can deal with any aspects of human society and the nature, including diplomacy, maritime trade, cultural exchange, identity, and others. Its interest in supra-regional interactions and networks, migration and diaspora, combined with its microscopic concern with local and transborder affairs, will surely contribute to the common task of contemporary social sciences and humanities, to relativize the conventional framework based on the nation-state. In this regard, research in Maritime Asia claims to be an integral part of global studies. Maritime History during the Late Early-Modern and Modern Eras deals with long-distance trade and diplomatic relations during the late early modern era and its transition to the modern era, mainly in the nineteenth century. Maritime Asia in Contemporary Eras focuses on the emergence of transregional and transoceanic Asian networks and the original institution-building efforts in the Asia-Pacific region in the twentieth century.

vii

Praise for Changing Dynamics and Mechanisms of Maritime Asia in Comparative Perspectives

“It would be impossible to understand today’s maritime Asia if we lack in-depth and multi- angle knowledge of the long past of this area. This book provides us with a very good window to look at Maritime Asia in a global context, from which everyone will benefit greatly.” —Li Bozhong, Chair Professor of Humanities, Peking University, China

ix

Contents

Introduction Shigeru Akita, Hong Liu, and Shiro Momoki

1

Maritime History during the Late Early-Modern and Modern Eras Surveying and Mapping the Japanese Archipelago in the 19th Century Atsushi Goto

17

The Rise of Silver Dollars: Changing Pattern of Silver Use in Nineteenth-Century Vietnam Yoshihiro Taga

43

The Link Between Global Market Change and Local Strategy: The Case of Vietnamese Cinnamon in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century Masashi Okada Revisiting Corruption Theory on the Indian Ocean World: A Case Study of Slave Trade in the 19th Century Western Indian Ocean Hideaki Suzuki

75

101

xi

xii

CONTENTS

Bilbao Merchant and Their Trade in the Eighteenth Century: The View of the Private Company and the Privileged Company Rie Takagaki

131

Maritime Asia in Contemporary Eras Modern China’s Imagining of the Nanyang and the Construction of Transnational Asia Hong Liu

165

Sergei Witte and the Shipping Associations: Rethinking the Russian Empire from a Maritime Viewpoint Yukimura Sakon

195

Itinerary, Revolution, and Port Cities: Comparative Study on Maritime Port Cities as Arenas for Asian Revolutionary Movements Takeshi Onimaru ASPAC or ASEAN? Institutional Evolution and Survival in Contemporary Maritime Asia Kei Koga

213

235

Notes on Contributors

Shigeru Akita is Professor of British Imperial History and Global History, Department of World History, Graduate School of Letters, Osaka University, Japan. He is also the Head of Division of Global History Studies, Institute for Open and Transdisciplinary Research Initiatives, Osaka University. His major publications include (1) From Empires to Development Aid (Nagoya U.P., 2017, in Japanese); (2) (ed. with G. Krozewski) The Transformation of the International Order of Asia: Decolonization, the Cold War, and the Colombo Plan (Routledge, 2015); (3) The History of the British Empire from Asian Perspectives (Chuo-KoronShinsha, 2012, in Japanese); and (4) The British Empire and the International Order of Asia (Nagoya U.P, 2003, in Japanese). He got the 20th Ohira Memorial Prize in June 2004, and the 14th Yomiuri-Yoshino Sakuzo Prize in July 2013. Atsushi Goto is Associate Professor of Japanese History at the Faculty of Humanities, Kyoto Tachibana University, Japan. His research focuses on Tokugawa bakufu (shogunate) diplomacy in the mid-nineteenth century, also called the bakumatsu era. He has published the following books in Japanese: Politics and Diplomacy of the Tokugawa Shogunate during the Opening of Japan (Tokyo: Yushisha, 2015), The Forgotten Black Ships: American North Pacific Strategy and the Opening of Japan (Tokyo: Kodansha, 2017), and Batteries in Osaka Bay in the Last Days of the Tokugawa Shogunate (Tokyo: Ebisukosho Publication, 2018), co-edited with Tomohiro Takaku and Yuki Nakanishi. xiii

xiv

NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

Kei Koga is Assistant Professor at the Public Policy and Global Affairs Programme, School of Social Sciences, Nanyang Technological University (NTU) in Singapore. His publication includes a book, Reinventing Regional Security Institutions in Asia and Africa (Routledge, 2017); “Japan’s ‘Indo-Pacific’ question” (International Affairs, 2020); “The Concept of “Hedging” Revisited” (International Studies Review, 2018); and “ASEAN’s Evolving Institutional Strategy: Managing Great Power Politics in South China Sea Disputes” (Chinese Journal of International Politics, 2018). His current book project is “Managing Great Power Politics: ASEAN, Institutional Strategy, and South China Sea.” Hong Liu is Tan Lark Sye Chair Professor of Public Policy and Global Affairs, School of Social Sciences, Nanyang Technological University in Singapore. His main areas of research are Sino-Southeast Asian interactions, Chinese international migration, and the political economy of Southeast Asia. He has published 20 books and more than 100 articles, including Dear China: Emigrant Letters and Remittances, 1820–1980 (co-authored with Gregor Benton; University of California Press, 2018); The Qiaopi Trade and Transnational Networks in the Chinese Diaspora (co-edited with Gregor Benton and Huimei Zhang; Routledge, 2018), An Emerging Asian Model of Governance and Transnational Knowledge Transfer (co-edited with Ting-Yan Wang; Routledge, 2020), and The Political Economy of Transnational Governance: China and Southeast Asia in the 21st Century (Routledge, 2022). Shiro Momoki is Professor in the Department of World History, Graduate School of Letters at Osaka University, Japan, where he specializes in the history of Vietnam, Southeast Asia and maritime Asia. He is also involved in the reform of history education both in the high school and in the university. His publication includes: Introduction to Maritime Asian Studies (ed., in Japanese, Iwanami-publisher, 2008) and Offshore Asia, Maritime Interactions in Eastern Asia before Steamships (coed. with Fujita Kayoko and Anthony Reid, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2013). Masashi Okada is Associate Professor of History at the National Defense Academy of Japan. He has long-term field research experience in Vietnam, Thailand, and Laos and has conducted multilingual document research. His research covers the early modern history of the Southeast Asian Massif as well as Tai migrant identity. His publications include Transbordering

NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

xv

Identities: Concerning Memories of Black Tai Migration (Fukyosha, 2014) as well as various articles in Japanese, Thai, and Vietnamese on issues of Tai polity models (namely, Muong ), forest products, firearms, and Sino-Vietnamese border area economics. Takeshi Onimaru is Professor of Comparative Area Studies at the Faculty of Social and Cultural Studies, Kyushu University, Japan. He works on the colonial state formation in East and Southeast Asia, mainly focusing on state surveillance for political movements and public health issues from the late nineteenth to the early twentieth century. He has published in Japanese: The Noulens Affair in Shanghai: The Network of Political Underground and the British Political Police Activities in the 1920s and 30s (Syoseki Koybou Hayama, 2014). He edited with Khoo Boo Teik: Political Networks in Asia (Special Issue, Southeast Asian Studies, Vol.5, No.1, 2016). Yukimura Sakon is Associate Professor in the Faculty of Economic Sciences, Niigata University, Japan. His work focuses on the Russian economy in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. He earned his doctorate at Hokkaido University in 2012 for a dissertation on the Dobroflot (Russian Volunteer Fleet), a revised version of which he published in 2020 in his book The Maritime History of Russia: Marine Transport of the Eurasian Empire and World Economy (University of Nagoya Press; in Japanese). He is also one of the co-editors of The Historiography of Framing: Conceptual Framework in History (University of Tokyo Press, 2020; in Japanese). Hideaki Suzuki is Associate Professor at National Museum of Ethnology, Osaka, Japan. He specializes in the Indian Ocean world history as well as history of slavery and slave trade. He is the author of Slave Trade Profiteers in the Western Indian Ocean: Suppression and Resistance in the Nineteenth Century (Palgrave, 2017) and A Global History of Abolition of Slavery and Slave Trade (University of Tokyo Press, 2020 in Japanese) and his edited Abolitions as A Global Experience (NUS Press, 2016) and World History viewed from East Asian Kaiiki: Network and Kaiiki (Akashi Shuppan, 2019 in Japanese). Yoshihiro Taga is JSPS Overseas Research Fellow at the Research Institute for Asian Studies, Aix—Marseille University, France. His research interest lies in the economic history of Vietnam. His published works in Japanese and English include “Reexamining the Nguy˜ên Dynasty’s Rule

xvi

NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

of Vietnam in the Second Half of 19th Century through the Study of its Fiscal Administration” Toyoshi kenkyu 79-1 (2020), “Economic Aspects of Court Rituals and Ceremonies in Nineteenth Century Hue” in A History of the Social Integration of Visitors, Migrants, and Colonizers in Southeast Asia (Masashi Hirosue ed., Toyo Bunko, 2020). Rie Takagaki is Assistant Professor at Graduate School of Letters, Osaka University, Japan. She is majoring in history of the Spanish Empire and Atlantic History. She published “Basque Politics and Economic Independence in the Bourbon Reform Era: The Caracas Company’s Trade between Guipúzcoa and Caracas” (in Japanese, Public History, 2016), and “Bilbao Merchant Trade during the Seven Year’s War: A Case of the Gardoqui Family in the North Atlantic” (in Japanese, The Studies in Western History, 2021).

List of Figures

Surveying and Mapping the Japanese Archipelago in the 19th Century Fig. 1 Fig. 2 Fig. 3

Map of East Asia (cited from Robert S. G. Fletcher, The Ghost of Namamugi, Folkestone: Renaissance Books, 2019) A manuscript chart of Shimnoda produced by the US Surveying Squadron (RG37, 451. 36, #34a, NARA) The HMS Actaeon, at Shang Hai, 1860 (Blakeney 1902: 221)

19 27 32

The Link Between Global Market Change and Local Strategy: The Case of Vietnamese Cinnamon in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century Fig. 1

Map 1 Map 2 Map 3

Cinnamon imports to Japan by Chinese junks (based on T¯ osen yushutsuny¯ uhin s¯ ury¯ o ichiran, 1637–1833-nen: Fukugen t¯ osen kamotsu aratamech¯ o, kihan nimotsu 1637 ~ 1833 kaiwatashich¯ o , edited by Y¯ oko Nagatsumi (Tokyo: Sobunsha, 1987)

80

The two main collection areas of cinnamon in Vietnam during the seventeenth to nineteenth centuries Tonkin Cochinchina

79 85 88

xvii

xviii

LIST OF FIGURES

Revisiting Corruption Theory on the Indian Ocean World: A Case Study of Slave Trade in the 19th Century Western Indian Ocean Map 1 Map 2

Western Indian Ocean Coastal Eastern Africa

103 104

Bilbao Merchant and Their Trade in the Eighteenth Century: The View of the Private Company and the Privileged Company Fig. 1

Fig. 2

Fig. 3

Fig. 4 Fig. 5

Fig. 6

Fig. 7

Map 1

Graph of the total transaction of wool (※ 2 bundles of wool were imported from London in 1760 [Libro de avería, 1756–1765]) Graph of the total transaction of iron (Quintal) (※ In 1758, they imported the one box iron [Libro de avería, 1756–1765]) Graph of the comparison of the import of cod between the Gardoqui family and whole of Bilbao port (Quintal) (Libro de avería, 1756–1765) Salt imported from Bilbao to New England (Hogshead) (Naval office shipping lists for Massachusetts) The Volume of Cacao Import by the Caracas Company 1731–1785 (fanega) (Made by the author from the date of Hussey, op. cit., pp. 305–318) Volume of Tabaco import by the Caracas Company 1731–1785 (Arroba) (Made by the author from the date of Hussey, op. cit., pp. 305–318) Ports of returns 1731–1785 (Ships) (Made by the author from the date of Hussey, op. cit., pp. 305–318) The mainly network of Guipuzcoan merchant. This figure was created by the author

138

139

140 142

147

147 148

155

Sergei Witte and the Shipping Associations: Rethinking the Russian Empire from a Maritime Viewpoint Fig. 1

Tea Transported to European Russia (Source: G. E. Grum-Gruzhimailo “Chainaia torgovlia v Rossii,” V. I. Kovalevskii ed. Proizvoditel’nye cily Rossii (Saint-Petersburg, 1896), p. 124; M. Poggenpol’, Ocherk vozniknovenniia i deiatel’nosti Dobrovol’nogo flota za vremia 25-letnego ego sushchestvovaniia (St. Petersburg, 1903), p. 238)

199

LIST OF FIGURES

Fig. 2

Map 1

xix

Amount of tea exported to Russia from India & Ceylon and China (Source: Materialy po chainoi torgovle v sviazi s proektom vvedeniia v Rossii chainoi monopolii (Petrograd, 1915). Table No. 6 & 10 (units = 1000 lb))

206

The regular lines of two Russian shipping associations

197

List of Tables

The Rise of Silver Dollars: Changing Pattern of Silver Use in Nineteenth-Century Vietnam Table 1

Market price of silver in nineteenth-century Vietnam

54

The Link Between Global Market Change and Local Strategy: The Case of Vietnamese Cinnamon in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century Table 1 Table 2

Export item list of official business to Canton in 1846 Cassia exports from Canton to Western markets

89 91

Revisiting Corruption Theory on the Indian Ocean World: A Case Study of Slave Trade in the 19th Century Western Indian Ocean Table 1

The number of slaves manumitted by British patrol in the Oman-Persian Gulf Region from the beginning of 1852 until the end of June 1858

118

Bilbao Merchant and Their Trade in the Eighteenth Century: The View of the Private Company and the Privileged Company Table 1 Table 2

Trading port and wool trade 1758–1765 (Sacks) Trading port of iron trade 1758–1765 (Quintal)

137 139 xxi

xxii

LIST OF TABLES

Table 3 Table Table Table Table

4 5 6 7

The volume of codfish imports in each port in North America 1758–1765 Financial Statement of the First and the Second Voyages The stock dividend ratio The list of names of the register 1734 Balance sheet

141 145 146 150 152

Sergei Witte and the Shipping Associations: Rethinking the Russian Empire from a Maritime Viewpoint Table 1

Russian export to and import from China and India

197

ASPAC or ASEAN? Institutional Evolution and Survival in Contemporary Maritime Asia Table 1 Table 2

AMM from 1967 to 1976 ASPAC Ministerial Meetings from 1966 to 1972

240 240

Introduction Shigeru Akita, Hong Liu, and Shiro Momoki

This book attempts to reveal historical dynamism of transforming contemporary Maritime Asia and to identify key driving forces and agencies for the evolution and transformation of Maritime Asia in the context of global history studies. It seeks to accomplish these goals by connecting different experiences in Maritime Asia both historically from the late early modern to the present and spatially covering both East and Southeast Asia. With the term “Maritime Asia (kaiiki Ajia in Japanese or Haiyang yazhou in Chinese),” this book does not simply intend to study marine affairs such as hydrographical survey and chart making, shipbuilding and navigation, naval warfare and piracy, and so forth. Rather, the research in “Maritime Asia” tries to reconsider the conventional image, mainly

S. Akita (B) · S. Momoki Osaka University, Osaka, Japan e-mail: [email protected] S. Momoki e-mail: [email protected] H. Liu Nanyang Technological University, Singapore, Singapore e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. Akita et al. (eds.), Changing Dynamics and Mechanisms of Maritime Asia in Comparative Perspectives, Palgrave Studies in Comparative Global History, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-2554-1_1

1

2

S. AKITA ET AL.

constructed from the viewpoint of continent, of historic and contemporary Asia as a whole from the maritime point of view. Focusing on interactions on and through oceans, seas, and islands, it can deal with any aspects of human society and the nature, including diplomacy, maritime trade, cultural exchange, identity, and others. While it does not claim a unilateral superior academic significance to the research in things continental/inland, it pays attention to multi-lateral interactions between maritime regions and inland (agrarian, pastoral, mountainous…) societies. Its interest in supra-regional interactions and networks, migration and diaspora, and so forth, combined with its microscopic concern with local and trans-border affairs, will surely contribute to the common task of contemporary social sciences and humanities, that is, to relativize the conventional framework based on the nation-state. In this regard, research in Maritime Asia claims to be an integral part of global studies. This book is organized into two sections, covering respectively both historical periods of late early modern and modern to the contemporary eras. Part I: Maritime History during the Late Early Modern and Modern Eras deals with long-distance trade and diplomatic relations during the late early modern era and its transition to the modern era, mainly in the nineteenth century. Traditionally, the nineteenth-century has been characterized as the “European Century,” or the century of European-centered globalization. It is no coincidence that E. J. Hobsbawm wrote three influential volumes on “the Long Nineteenth Century.” Moreover, recent two important books on the nineteenth century, C. A. Bayly (2004), The Birth of Modern World 1780–1914, and Jürgen Osterhammel (2009, English version, 2014), The Transformation of the World: A Global History of the Nineteenth Century, offer stimulating European interpretations on the nineteenth century, and it is a truism that Western Europe occupied a dominant position at the core of the Modern World System. Nonetheless, Asian initiatives in economic development during the second half of the nineteenth century still need to be fully explored. Several evidences suggest connections between increasing agricultural production in Asia, population growth, and migrations within and beyond Asia. These phenomena have usually been interpreted within the framework of European-led economic globalization or the incorporation of Asia into the world economy (the Modern World System). These interpretations take the perspective of the formation of Western colonial empires

INTRODUCTION

3

and an imperialistic world order. Accordingly it was assumed that the nineteenth century Asia had faced with the so-called “Western Impact” and was forced to accept “Open Door” policies or the “Enforced Free Trade” of “unequal treaties” through gunboat diplomacies of Western powers, especially those of the British Empire. However, recent studies of global history in Japan have emphasized evidence for Asian initiatives for economic development and the impact of indigenous agencies. These studies stress the influence of the activities of Asian merchants (Indian and Chinese) and local peasants for the production of agricultural commodities, such as rice, sugar, and natural rubber, cinnamon among others. We explore the dynamic role played by these Asian agencies for economic development and the formation of protonation state in Maritime Asia world. In this region, indigenous rulers or states could utilize and take advantage of the “international public goods” offered by the hegemonic state, the UK (the British Empire) for their own economic development or political modernization. We can identify a unique relationship between Western powers and Asian local agencies, and their relatively independent positions and active roles within the Modern World system. Maritime Asian world, of course, had been connected with other oceanic maritime zones or regions, such as the Indian Ocean and the Pacific, as well as even with the Atlantic World through the evolution and development of long distance transregional or transcontinental trade. We can make comparisons with these Maritime worlds and should reveal a similar commonality in the fields of indigenous active responses— resistance against and collaborations with, or appropriations to external impacts, and the formation of complimentary relationship among several agencies. Part I consists of five chapters on maritime history during the late early modern and modern eras. The first three chapters are concerned with those of East Asia and Southeast Asia, but extended their coverage to the North Pacific and the coastal and inland regions of Northern Vietnam, which had intimate regional and trans-regional links with “Maritime Asia.” The “Western Impact” historiography has over emphasized the stagnant socio-economic nature and inward-looking politico-cultural attitudes of East Asian countries in the “Long Eighteenth Century” or “Late Early Modern” era. Even in the context of Southeast Asian historical research, which has since long paid considerable attention to such

4

S. AKITA ET AL.

topics as maritime trade and port polities, the Sinicized/Confucianized Vietnam was often treated as an exception. The image of despotic state and self-sufficient village society dominated the research of “Traditional Vietnam” up until 1980s that concentrated on politico-cultural or socio-economic backgrounds of Vietnamese nationalism, communism, and anti-colonial/anti-imperial wars. As a result, Vietnam continued to be a blank in the research in Intra-Asian trade and global economy until recently. Exploiting new materials that had seldom used in the twentieth century such as châuban (the Nguy˜ên Dynasty’s court documents) and local sources, essays of Taga and Okada reveal the mutual interactions between the spread of silver currency (monetary economy) in Northern Vietnam since the latter-half of the eighteenth century and the linkages with wider regional economy beyond the Sino-Vietnamese border. Especially Taga analyzed an attempt by the Nguy˜ên Dynasty to mint and circulate its own silver currency, “Flying Dragon Silver coins” in 1832, modeled after Western (Spanish-Mexican) silver dollars. This was the earliest attempts in Asia to create an indigenous silver currency in the early nineteenth century. To extend his argument, it can be said that the Nguy˜ên Dynasty tried to create a “national economy” alongside the unified territory from the north to the south. If these attempts had been successful, situation of Indochina during 1945–1975 must have taken a totally different shape. For the spread and penetration of silver currency in Vietnam, the role of foreign merchants was crucial and important from the early modern periods. Overland trade between Southern Chinese provinces and upland area of Northern Vietnam developed toward the early nineteenth century, and especially Chinese merchants were deeply involved in the circulation of local silver in the early nineteenth century. Therefore the essays of Taga and Okada can be related to the famous debate among Lin Man-huong, A Iligoin, R. von Glahn and Kishimoto Mio regarding when and why the outflow of silver in early nineteenth century China occurred.1 Vietnam had much in common with coastal China and the Southeast Asian archipelago for the usage of foreign silver coins. The lower Yangzi region in Qing China became so dependent on Spanish silver dollars that they functioned as a unit of currency. In Dutch East Indies and British Malaya, colonial authorities recognized Spanish silver dollars as de facto legal tender. These regional-global connections through silver-coin circulation ij

INTRODUCTION

5

were symbolized as an integrated economic order between Maritime Asia and hinterland areas (inland mountainous Northeast Vietnam). Along with overland Chinese, as Okada reveals, mountainous chiefs and peoples in Northern Vietnam also acted as important agencies in the connection between inland regions and Maritime Asia. Not only metal resources such as silver and copper, but also forest products such as cinnamon (a great amount of it was exported as far as Nagasaki under the Tokugawa seclusion system) provided their economic basis. Such active agencies in northern Indochina (and southwestern China) appear to question three large-scale pictures related to these regions. First is the “Chinese Century” of Anthony Reid (Reid 1996, second edition, 2001; Reid 1997) in eighteenth century Southeast Asia. Second is the one-sided politico-ethnic integration by lowland polities in mainland Southeast Asia described by Victor Lieberman (2003, 2009). Both tend to describe mountainous people as passive. The third picture “Zomia” drawn by James Scott (2009), on the contrary, emphasized autonomous and deliberate choice by mountainous people to keep themselves away from lowland political powers. Okada is trying to draw a new picture in which mountainous people is neither passive nor unrelated with lowlanders. The scope and coverage of “Maritime Asia” are not confined to East Asia and Southeast Asia, and might be extended to or linked with the Pacific Ocean and the Indian Ocean, as an unique feature of maritime history. Goto’s chapter deals with the trans-regional links between East Asian waters, Japanese coast, and the North Pacific in the 1850s and 1860s, at the crucial formation-periods of the “Open-Port system” in East Asia. Goto pays attention to the surveying activities of little known the North Pacific Surveying Expedition of the US Navy, commanded by John Rodgers in 1855–1856. This Expedition dispatched just six months after Perry’s famous Squadron left from Norfolk. For the Western Powers, once forced to “open ports” in China and Japan by so-called gun-boat diplomacy, to make an exact chart by hydrography was an essential step for establishing safe sea-routes and securing port facilities. The outbreak of the Crimean War and the Second Opium War gave a great advantage to the US Navy, as a neutral country. However, in the 1860s, the British survey squadron, HMS Actaeon, received more friendly treatment, or the first real “cooperation” from Japanese Shogunate government (Tokugawa Bakufu), by change of the internal political atmosphere. The

6

S. AKITA ET AL.

history of Western-implemented surveys of East Asian seas, more specifically Japanese coastal areas, was closely related to domestic politics and influenced by internal political conflict. Even such complicated political situations, Japanese-side could take advantage of British friendly relation for their own benefits, by acquiring latest technique and know-how of hydrography and surveying, through the technical cooperation of British nautical charts and Japanese land maps. This is another example of Asian initiative. The subsequent two chapters are concerned with the Indian Ocean and the Atlantic Worlds, from a comparative perspective of the Asia–Pacific. It is necessary to locate “Maritime Asia” into the context of global history, by comparisons and connection. The developments of the Atlantic World were closely related to those of the Indian Ocean and similar characteristics, especially independent and self-autonomous activities of local (vernacular) merchants’ activities and leadership were also reflected upon Maritime Asian world as well. Suzuki’s chapter deals with the so-called “slave-trade” activities in western part of Indian Ocean in the 1850s–1860s. Traditionally it assumed that from the mid-nineteenth century, the Indian Maritime World incorporated into the British-centered world economy, and that the “slave trade” in this single integrated region (=the Oman-Persian Gulf Region and Coastal Eastern Africa) was monitored and suppressed by the British navy, as followed the typical case of the slave trade in the Atlantic. However, by using Zanzibar records and Alabic sources as well as several oral interviews with related merchant families, Suzuki reveals the continuation and resilience of “slave trade,” or activities of “middleman” and emphasizes that their “slave trade” has been only aspect of their wider trading activities which had historically connected two regions and brought critical resources to each region. Based on the new findings by Suzuki’s work, slave traffickers quickly adapted to slave trade abolition pressures, and resisted by carefully monitoring British policies in various regions and by flexibly manipulating the treaty system to their own benefit. One specific example was to circumscribe British naval monitor-actions, by using Zanzibar-Bombay-Muscat triangle-routes. By renting Bombay’s merchant-ship, whose certificate was completely British (=British Imperial subjects) and was exempted from British regulations, “slave traders” were able to find and exploit a loophole in the slavery abolition treaties, and self-strengthened their commercial

INTRODUCTION

7

activities. These examples supports the validity and usefulness of key arguments of this volume that the traditional structure of the Maritime Asian World and its integrated networks persisted and had a strong resilience against the “Western Impact” or European economic penetration into non-European regions, even in the middle of the nineteenth century. Takagaki’s chapter attempted to clarify how local merchants engaged in the cross-national or cross-imperial trade in the Atlantic World in the late eighteenth century, at the times of the American Revolution and the French-Napoleonic Wars. She analyzed two contrasting case-studies of Basque’s local merchant communities, in Bilbao and in Guipuzcoa. Even though these two port-cities in Northern Spain located adjunct each other faced with the North Atlantic, their trading achievements and relationship with the Spanish royal-court and the Spanish Empire were quite different and contrasting each other. On the one hand, Bilbao merchants, represented by the most famous Gardoqui family, had autonomously engaged in the North Atlantic trade of cod, especially with the British New England (later, independent the United States) even during the mercantilistic wars (the Seven Years War and the American Independence War). Their trading goods were the necessities of ordinary life for the ordinary people in Spain—the cod— which was difficult to replace by other commodities. In this sense, they were quite independent of the Spanish colonial empire and actively traded in the trans-empire networks. On the other hand, Guipuzcoan merchants took advantage of an intimate friendly relationship with Spain’s royal court in Madrid for the development of their own trading activities. They had formed monopolistic royal-chartered companies, such as the Caracas Company with Venezuela and later the Royal Philippine Company with Manila. They could establish a complementary relationship with the royal court’s support, mainly dealing with so-called luxurious goods like cacao and several spices. Their activities had spread around the globe into the Southeast Asian Philippine islands within the wider framework of the Spanish Empire. The different characters of trading goods finally led to their distinct trading patterns, even though among local Basque mercantile communities. Part II: Maritime Asia in the Contemporary Era focuses on the emergence of transregional and trans-oceanic Asian networks and the original institution-building efforts in the Asia–Pacific region in the twentieth century.

8

S. AKITA ET AL.

As a result of external pressures presented by the inroads of Western colonialism/imperialism and internal dynamics from within the region, Maritime Asia, both as the “geo-bodies” of the different Asian political and cultural entities and the thalassic and oceanic spaces and networks created through the movement of people, commodities, and ideas, underwent significant transformations in the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries. How were these forces intertwined in the reshaping of Maritime Asia? What were the main mechanisms and who were the key players (agencies) in the process of this transformation? What was the role of national, regional, and transnational networks in connecting and sustaining Maritime Asia? The chapters in Part II critically and comparatively address these questions from both temporal and spatial perspectives. This section is composed of four chapters that are concerned with transformations of maritime Asia in the modern and contemporary eras after the end of the nineteenth century, which have witnessed the onset of high imperialism, the decline of dynasties, the emergence of nationalism, the formation of the nation-states, and the growing impact of globalization and transnationalism. It is against these complex sets of forces from within and without the region that new dynamics and patterns of maritime Asia’s transformations took place, while some of the long-existing dynamics have been modified and continue to the present time. Increasing connectivity among Asian maritime port cities, which emerged as trading, cultural, and political centers in the region, form one of the main foci of this section. Port cities also constituted centers of “international public goods” and overseas Chinese networks for the rise of Asian nationalism and communist movements (such as the Comintern) (Belogurova 2019). Furthermore, transnational flows of ideas were carried out extensively across different countries in Asia that had facilitated the formation of maritime Asia both as a concept and a practice. In the meantime, economic networks and flowering of ideas served as one of the driving forces leading to the formation of the ASEAN in 1967, a major step in the institutionalization of maritime Asia in the contemporary era at the height of the global Cold War. Last but not least, it is important to pay close attention to the fact that external forces have also played a part in shaping the trajectories of maritime Asia. One of the key elements behind the rise of modern maritime Asia was intra-regional economic and business connection, driven in part by

INTRODUCTION

9

growing trade activities, intra-Asian migrations, and movements of people across national boundaries (such as merchants and students). This connectivity was further bolstered by modern transportation and the spread of what Benedict Anderson calls “print capitalism” and “imagined communities.” The chapter by Liu is concerned with the transnational flows of ideas about the Nanyang (Southeast Asia) in the early twentieth century. Southeast Asia has long constituted a core component of maritime Asia. While the region, termed as the Nanyang (namely, the Southern Ocean) by the Chinese since the Ming Dynasty, it had largely been regarded by imperial China as its peripheral and tributary states while the Middle Kingdom remained as “the center of the universal.” The dramatic changes after the mid-nineteenth century, which led to the decline of imperial China and the subjugation of Southeast Asia under the western rule (with the partial exception of Thailand), put the relationship between China and the region in a fundamentally different light. It was against this backdrop that new notions about maritime Asia emerged among some Chinese intellectuals and officials, partly by way of Japan, through Tokyo (and by association, the port city of Yokohama). This new awareness of Asia was closely related to Japan’s notion of Asianism. By examining the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association, its magazine, and its founder Li Wenquan, Liu unveils the role of the Nanyang, Overseas Chinese in China’s development, especially on the commercial front, in China’s and Asia’s modern transformations. He argues that the concept embodied by the Society’s journal (which was produced in Tokyo in 1910 and circulated widely in Japan, China, and Southeast Asia) represented, in an embryonic form, modern China’s new view of the Nanyang and transnational maritime Asia. This chapter also explores the ways in which this process was influenced by Japan’s political and economic development and its diplomacy, and through it the fluidity of and reciprocal linkages with modern concept of Asia. Late-Qing intellectuals’ imagining of Asia was largely produced by the Sino-Japanese, Sino-Western, or Sino-Nanyang binary, but Li Wenquan and his associates transcended this binary and constructed their imagining of maritime Asia chiefly on multi-faceted and fluid grounds, re-examining regional relationships in Asia from the angle of the East–West conflict and maritime connectivity. While Liu’s chapter focuses on the commercial fronts of the maritime Asia in the early twentieth century through the propagation of the idea and practice of business networks (both among ethnic Chinese in Asia

10

S. AKITA ET AL.

and between China and Japan), there was a much more significant development in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century maritime Asia, namely, the emergence of nationalism and struggle for political independence. In the political dimension of maritime Asia, port cities played a crucial role in the formation, dissemination, and operations of political movements, their leadership as well as their radical ideas. Onimaru’s chapter examines how the Asian maritime port cities utilized by Sun Yat´ (late under a much more well known name, Ho Chi sen, Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc Minh), and Tan Malaka during their “peregrinations” abroad included Yokohama, Shanghai, Manila, Amoy, Guangzhou [Canton], Hong Kong, Hanoi, Bangkok, Singapore, Rangoon, and Penang. It was in those port cities that they established their respective political alliances, formed organizational mechanisms, obtained financial and popular backing (including from diaspora Chinese and locals), which were all indispensible for their revolutionary causes in China, Vietnam, and Indonesia, respectively. Onimaru also comparatively analyzes features and factors in each maritime port city in East and Southeast Asia (especially Yokohama, Guangzhou, and Shanghai) in becoming sites for Asian revolutionary movements from the late nineteenth century to the early twentieth century. “They were also important sites for revolutionary movements in Asia, not only because they shared common features of connectivity and modernity,” he concludes, “but also because, at the same time, they had different factors suitable for and required by each specific political movement and activist. And the features that made maritime port cities sites for revolutionary movements in Asia were formed much more by these different and specific characteristics produced by geographical locations, and political, historical, and social backgrounds in each city than by the commonalities they shared.” Indeed, this network was cemented by not only political faith, but also by ethnic ties and economic connections across both East and Southeast Asia. (Hamashita 2008; Hau and Shiraishi 2009; Benton and Liu 2018). Maritime Asia was and continues to be defined by its strategic positioning in linking the East and the West in trade, goods, ideas, and people. No studies of maritime Asia, therefore, could ignore how the region has interacted with the external forces, ranging from Western colonial powers to the only superpower of the world, the United States. The chapter by Sakon on imperial Russia’s effort in connecting with Asia demonstrates that this external dimension that should not be overlooked. Noting that little attention has been paid to the Russian Empire’s engagement in

INTRODUCTION

11

Asia, Sakon reconsiders the relationship between the Russian Empire and Maritime Asia through Russian commercial shipping. Arguing that Russia was “half-hearted about participating in developing intra-Asian trade in the second half of the nineteenth century,” Sakon discusses the economic policy of Sergei Witte (1849–1915), the Russian Minister of Finance in the closing decade of the nineteenth century and early twentieth century, and a key architect of the country’s industrialization, and its ramifications, particularly with regard to how he used Russian commercial fleets effectively to find markets for Russian goods in Asia. His strategy for engaging Asia served as a part and parcel of imperial Russia’s grand strategy. Witte considered that after the completion of the Trans-Siberian railway, Russia could compete with other Great Powers including the British Empire in the Asian market, as it was essential to strength shipping liners between European Russia and Asian ports. The plan of reforming the Volunteer Fleet in 1901 demonstrated his expectations for shipping trade and the possibility for Russia to enter inter-Asian trade, though the plan met resistance by other Russian ministers. “If his plan had been accomplished,” Sakon suggested, “the Russian Empire would have closer relations with Maritime Asia perhaps.” Fast forward to the mid-1960s, two decades after the end of the Second World War and emergence of independent nation-states in most Asian countries, it was also at the height of the global Cold War evidenced by the Sino-American confrontations (against a domestic backdrop of the chaotic “Cultural Revolution” in China), and the escalation of the Vietnam War, all these developments, both within and without Asia, put maritime Asia’s trajectories in jeopardy. It was in this context that new regional groupings emerged and disappeared. Koga examines the transition of the Asia Pacific Council (ASPAC) established in 1966 to the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) formed in 1967. ASPAC was consisted of Australia, Japan, Malaysia, New Zealand, the Philippines, the Republic of Vietnam (ROV), Thailand, the Republic of Korea (ROK), and the Republic of China (ROC). Koga’s chapter analyzes why ASEAN survived while ASPAC collapsed by comparing their institutional evolution during the 1960s and 1970s. He argues that a structural factor—a change in the regional distribution of power caused by the withdrawal of the United States and the United Kingdom and the intensification of Sino-Soviet rivalry—created a condition under which both ASEAN and ASPAC required institutional changes for their survival. However, it is ultimately an agent factor, namely Malaysia, that

12

S. AKITA ET AL.

played a decisive role in both ASEAN’s institutional survival and ASPAC’s collapse by promoting the idea of “regional neutrality” in ASEAN and withdrawing from ASPAC. While this case illustrates the importance of ideas to sustain regional institutions, from this book’s perspective, it also highlights the continued relevance of maritime Asia and historical legacy. ASEAN’s five founding nations—Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore, Thailand, and the Philippines—are all maritime countries whose capitals are also major port cities that had been well connected through trade, business networks, and flows of people and had been sites of intellectual and political exchanges in a transnational Asia. (Liu 2018). This historical linkage might have contributed, in a small way, to the institutionalization of maritime Asia in the contemporary era through ASEAN’s formation and its successful journey so far (Mahbubani and Sng 2017).2 Taken collectively, all the chapters in this book, which is a product of institutional collaboration between Osaka University in Japan and Nanyang Technological University in Singapore,3 have shown the importance of approaching maritime Asia from two interlinked angles, namely, an internal dynamics from within the region and systemic connections with the external forces. The intertwining of these forces shaped the social, economic, and political trajectories of Maritime Asia. These chapters, furthermore, are supported by a variety of primary sources including English, Japanese, Chinese, Indonesian, and Russian, etc., thus presenting and unveiling the diverse perspectives of local, national, and regional forces that were all indispensible for an understanding of Maritime Asia. We hope, in the final analysis, the engaging and comparative insights from these chapters can contribute to the on-going debates pertaining to the significant role of modern and contemporary Asia in shaping global history. Acknowledgements Hong Liu would like to acknowledge Nanyang Technological University’s Strategic Initiative Grant “Plural Co-Existence and Asian Sustainability: Interdisciplinary and Comparative Perspectives” (04INS000C103430), which provided partial funding for the workshop.

Notes 1. The debates since the third congress of ENIUGH in 2011 was reviewed in Toyooka and Ohashi (2019).

INTRODUCTION

13

2. For a recent study on the ASEAN story, see Kishore Mahbubani and Jeffery Sng (2017). 3. Earlier versions of the papers were presented at the international workshop held at Osaka University in January 2018, and the editors are grateful for the instrumental support of the two universities as well as other participants to the workshop whose contributions in the form of presentations and discussions have enriched our understanding on the subject under examination.

References Bayly, Christopher Alan. 2004. The Birth of the Modern World 1780–1914: Global Connections and Comparisons. Oxford: Blackwell. Belogurova, Anna. 2019. The Nanyang Revolution: The Comintern and Chinese Networks in Southeast Asia, 1890–1957 . Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Benton, Gregor, and Hong Liu. 2018. Dear China: Emigrant Letters and Remittances, 1820–1980. Berkeley: University of California Press. Hamashita, Takeshi. 2008. China, East Asia and the Global Economy: Regional and Historical Perspectives, ed. L. Grove and M. Selden. London: Routledge. Hau, Caroline, and Takashi Shiraishi. 2009. Daydreaming about Rizal and Tetcho: On Asianism as Network and Fantasy. Philippine Studies: Historical and Ethnographic Viewpoints 57 (3): 329–388. Lieberman, Victor. 2003. Strange Parallels: Southeast Asia in Global Context, C.800–1830, vol. 1. New York: Cambridge University Press. ———. 2009. Strange Parallels: Southeast Asia in Global Context, C.800–1830, vol. 2. New York: Cambridge University Press. Liu, Hong. 2018. Transnational Asia and Regional Networks: Toward a New Political Economy of East Asia. East Asian Community Review 1 (1): 33–47. Mahbubani, Kishore, and Jeffrey Sng. 2017. The ASEAN Miracle: A Catalyst for Peace. Singapore: National University of Singapore Press. Momoki, Shiro (ed.). 2008. Kaiiki Ajiashi Kenkyu Nyumon [Introduction to Asian Maritime History]. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten. Osterhammel, Jürgen. 2009. Die Verwandlung Der Welt: Eine Geschichte Des 19. Jahrhunderts. M¯ unchen: C.H. Beck. Osterhammel, Jürgen. 2014. The Transformation of the World: A Global History of the Nineteenth Century. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Reid, Anthony (ed.). 1996. Sojourners and Settlers: Histories of Southeast Asia and the Chinese. St Leonards, NSW: Allen & Unwin. ———. 1997. The Last Stand of Asian Autonomies: Responses to Modernity in the Diverse States of Southeast Asia and Korea, 1750–1900. New York: St. Martin’s Press.

14

S. AKITA ET AL.

———. 2011. Sojourners and Settlers: Histories of Southeast Asia and the Chinese, 2nd ed. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. Scott, James C. 2009. The Art of Not Being Governed: An Anarchist History of Upland Southeast Asia. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Toyooka, Yasufumi, and Atsuko Ohashi (eds.). 2019. Gin No Ry¯ uts¯ u to Ch¯ ugoku T¯ onan Ajia [The Circulation of Silver in China and Southeast Asia]. Tokyo: Yamakawa Shuppansya.

Maritime History during the Late Early-Modern and Modern Eras

Surveying and Mapping the Japanese Archipelago in the 19th Century Atsushi Goto

1

Introduction

In July 1859, the ports of Yokohama, Nagasaki, and Hakodate were opened for foreign trade through the Treaties of Amity and Commerce concluded in 1858 between Japan and the United States of America, the Netherlands, Russia, Britain, and France. In Japanese history, this incident is commonly known as Kaiko (port opening).1 Referring to this incident, Sir Rutherford Alcock, the first British Consul General in Japan, described in his famous book The Capital of the Tycoon that “one of the first steps toward the opening of a direct trade with Great Britain would seem to be a good survey of the Japanese coasts, and the erection of light-houses or beacons” (Alcock 1863, vol. 1: 65). Expanding on an element of Alcock’s description, this essay focuses on the “good survey.” Generally speaking, surveying and producing nautical charts are necessary to guarantee safe navigation, together with port development, encompassing the charts, lighthouses, and beacons that facilitate smooth trade. When Japanese ports were opened in the middle

A. Goto (B) Kyoto Tachibana University, Kyoto, Japan © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. Akita et al. (eds.), Changing Dynamics and Mechanisms of Maritime Asia in Comparative Perspectives, Palgrave Studies in Comparative Global History, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-2554-1_2

17

18

A. GOTO

of the nineteenth century, the ports had to be surveyed. This was vital because the long-standing foreign policy of Sakoku (the seclusion policy) by the Tokugawa Bakufu (Shogunate) meant that hydrographic information on Japanese waters was little known to Western states in those days. This was “the age of port openings.” Five ports of the Chinese Qing Dynasty were opened in 1842 as a consequence of the Opium War and at the same time, Western states began to conclude treaties with East Asian states. Therefore, as Alcock’s description indicates, surveys of the East Asia seas became essential to guarantee safe navigation for Western states including Britain, and it can be assumed that a significant number of surveying vessels sailed the East Asian seas during the nineteenth century. In describing an overview of the history of the British Navy’s survey of Japanese waters from the 1840s to the 1870s, W. G. Beasley, one of the pioneer researchers who focused on the characteristics of surveys, insisted that the Tokugawa Bakufu had initially rejected proposals for this work. However, following the Meiji Restoration (1868), the new government began sharing nautical charts with the British Navy (Beasley 2000). As the title of his paper indicates, Anglo-Japanese relationship in the middle of the nineteenth century was characterized by a movement “from conflict to co-operation” (Fig. 1). However, there is still room for further consideration of Beasley’s view. His study focused only on Britain and Japan, and the domestic history of Japan was not sufficiently examined in his study. As a result, it is not very clear why Japan came to accept the British Navy’s survey activities without any armed conflict. To consider these points, this essay examines the history of Westernimplemented surveys of the East Asian seas, with a focus on Japan. The simultaneous influence of these surveys on Japanese domestic history is also considered in this essay, revealing key characteristics of Japan’s Kaiko in the nineteenth century.

2

Surveys and the “National Ban”: The 1840s

In the eighteenth century, Western ships advanced into the Pacific Ocean and began to gather geographical knowledge of the area. Vitus Behring’s (Russia) three voyages, James Cook’s (Britain) three voyages, and La Perouse’s (France) voyage are famous examples of historical explorations of the Pacific Ocean. From the latter half of the eighteenth century,

SURVEYING AND MAPPING THE JAPANESE …

19

Fig. 1 Map of East Asia (cited from Robert S. G. Fletcher, The Ghost of Namamugi, Folkestone: Renaissance Books, 2019)

20

A. GOTO

diplomatic missions to East Asia were generally accompanied by naval surveying officers. George Macartney, the first envoy of Britain to China, made an initial attempt to survey on his first diplomatic mission to China. Macartney’s duty to expand trade with China ultimately failed, but some of the charts produced through this mission were published, and these missions helped develop geographical knowledge of China (Kobayashi 2015). Little of Japan’s hydrographic information was known by Western states at the time, though several navigators, including La Perous (France), William Broughton (Britain), and von Krusenstern (Russia), surveyed Japanese waters from the end of the eighteenth through to the beginning of the nineteenth century. By the middle of the nineteenth century, the shape of the Japanese Archipelago in Western charts was still incomplete (Akizuki 1999: 2–6). The situation began to change after the breakout of the Opium War (1840–1842). British vessels acquired access to newly opened ports based on the Treaty of Nanking (1842), which resulted in an expansion of their activities in Chinese waters and the seas of East Asia. As a result, more accurate charts of the ports and their adjacent seas were expected, and the British Hydrographic Office of the Admiralty began to collect hydrographic information accordingly. The HMS Samarang headed the first instance of the British surveying enterprises. Captain Edward Belcher, the commander of the Samarang, departed for the China seas in February 1843. However, when he arrived in Hong Kong in 1844, Belcher was ordered to survey islands off the Chinese coastline, evidence of anti-British feeling in the aftermath of the war. Under these circumstances, if British ships had surveyed without discretion, new conflicts with the Qing dynasty would have arisen (Beasley 2000: 90–91). The Japanese Archipelago was among those “islands that were a little apart from Chinese coasts.” In May 1845, Belcher sailed for Ryukyu (Okinawa), Korea, and Japan. While surveying the route, the Samarang entered the port of Nagasaki on August 6, 1845. However, Belcher’s decision to visit Japan did not correspond to the demands of the Hydrographic Office, which did not expect that any troubles would occur with the Japanese government. Having understood that Belcher would visit Japan, Francis Beaufort, Hydrographer of the Navy, sent Belcher a letter saying, “I am sorry to see the name Japan” (Ritchie 1995: 257).

SURVEYING AND MAPPING THE JAPANESE …

21

During his stay in Nagasaki from August 6 to 10, Belcher felt he could carry out the survey more smoothly than he had expected. In his voyage record published in 1848, he said that the officers of Nagasaki gave him food, water, and fuel and permitted the crew of the Samarang to dock at Io island (the west side of the port of Nagasaki). From this island, necessary astronomical observations could be made for accurate charts (Belcher 1848: 5). However, in examining the Bakufu’s documents, it is impossible to confirm that Bakufu officials permitted the ship to dock at Io Island. Rather, the documents testify that the officials of Nagasaki notified Belcher of the strict prohibition on survey taking and ordered him to leave Japan (“Eikoku sokuryou-sen nagasaki ni torai ikken”). Although there were some discrepancy between Belcher’s voyage and Bakufu’s documents in regard to the details of the incidents that occurred, it is certain that the Bakufu had formally forbidden surveys by foreign ships in Japanese waters since 1843. Moreover, the issue of the prohibition was related to the Samarang. In August 1843, the Kapitan (the curator of the Dutch Trading House of Nagasaki) informed the Governor of Nagasaki that British ships had been dispatched to China to survey and would also come to Japan. He additionally informed the governor that the British ship would bring with it some Japanese castaways, which turned out to be false. The British ship in question was the Samarang. In September 1843, the Bakufu issued an order to prohibit foreign ships from entering the ports of Japan to escort castaways and survey Japanese waters. At the same time, the Bakufu told the Kapitan to inform Western states of this prohibition order (Mizuno Tadakuni Tempo kaikaku Roju nikki, vol. 17: 332). When Belcher arrived in Nagasaki, the officer of Nagasaki asked him whether he was aware of the prohibition, to which he replied that he was not aware (“Eikoku sokuryou-sen nagasaki ni torai ikken”). However, even after the order was explained to him, Belcher did not heed its dictates. According to details of his voyage, he estimated that “as they had expressly informed me ‘that it was forbidden to measure the land in Japan,’ this mandate did not extend to the ship or the sea” (Belcher 1848: 10). In this way he interpreted the prohibition in a manner that accommodated his intent to carry out the surveys. However, it was not only his self-serving interpretation that made the Samarang ’s surveys possible. Despite the prohibition of surveys, officials of Nagasaki did not actively stop the ship from surveying. Moreover, it

22

A. GOTO

seemed that they had cooperated with it, not through idleness in refusing to implement the prohibition, but rather because of the Bakufu’s foreign policy at that time. The Bakufu had changed its foreign policy drastically during the Opium War, upon comprehending that the Qing was overwhelmed by British forces. Since 1825, the Bakufu had enforced a strong diplomatic policy that included issuing orders to repel foreign ships. However, faced with information on the status of the Opium War in 1842, the Bakufu issued a new policy that permitted providing foreign ships with fuel and water. The Bakufu thereby chose a moderate policy to avoid an unnecessary war against Western states (Goto 2015). The moderate outlook that enabled the officials of Nagasaki to tolerate Samarang ’s crew landing at Io Island was likely based on this 1842 order. On the one hand, surveys by foreign ships were subject to “a national ban” in 1843, and on the other hand officials charged with enforcing the ban did not possess the means to stop foreign ships from surveying. For those officials, it was more important to avoid the same fate as the Qing than to observe the prohibition order. Criticism against the Bakufu was leveled by some Daimyo (feudal lords), after the Bakufu abolished the order to repel foreign ships. They insisted that the number of foreign ships coming to Japan had been increasing since 1842 as a result of the moderate policy. Although the actual reason for the increase in foreign ships in Japanese waters was the general context of the East Asia seas following the Opium War, the Bakufu reconsidered whether the order repelling foreign ships should be restored in 1846, 1848, and again in 1849 (Mitani 2006). Ultimately the order was not restored because officials advocated maintaining the moderate foreign policy though the problematic situation caused by the HMS Mariner prompted the third discussion in 1849. In May 1849, Captain Matheson, who commanded the Mariner, was instructed to survey Edo Bay (Tokyo Bay). This was not the result of an instruction at the imperial level, but rather a judgment made by officers and based on the opinions of naval officers and citizens based in China who were more interested in Japan than before (Beasley 2000: 93). On May 29, 1849 the Mariner arrived at the entrance of Edo Bay, and anchored off the town of Uraga. Despite Japanese officials strictly ordering the Mariner to leave Japan, Matheson overtly ignored these and carried out surveying the port of Uraga (Tsuko Ichiran Zokushu, vol. 3: 20–34). Furthermore, he proceeded to Shimoda, at the southern tip of the Izu Peninsula, and surveyed the surrounding area. Uraga was an

SURVEYING AND MAPPING THE JAPANESE …

23

important port entering Edo bay, and Shimoda was located at an important point on the route to the capital city, Edo. Four years later, in 1853 Perry’s American squadron came to the port of Uraga, and Shimoda was opened by the Treaty of Kanagawa in 1854. Matheson was enormously proud that he was the first to have accessed Edo Bay (Bonham to Addington, 26/7/1849, FO17/156). Many Bakufu officials regarded the Mariner’s conduct as an insult to Japan. However, they could not implement the “national ban” against surveys by foreign ships. Due to the changing context of East Asia during the 1840s, the Bakufu could not help but give priority to avoiding armed conflicts. On the other hand, the geography of Japan was little known by the West, and to correct this, some British naval ships visited Japan to survey. It is certain that Japan was only one of a range of areas surveyed in East Asia, and the surveys produced were not the result of national enterprises but rather individual efforts made as surveyors judged them necessary on the spot. Therefore, the shape of Japanese archipelago was still incomplete on Western maps during the 1840s.

3 Conflict Between the “National Ban” and the “Perfect Right”: The 1850s 3.1

US Naval Surveying in Japan

The 1840s brought many changes for the United States of America, as well as East Asia. During this time, the frontier of the US reached the coastline of the Pacific Ocean, the result of the Westward Movement. Moreover, the US government concluded the Treaty of Wanghia with the Qing in 1844, which gave Americans similar privileges to the British. Consequently, not a few Americans began to discuss a grand plan whereby the steamship route could be established between China and towns on the coastline of the Pacific Ocean such as San Francisco. It was expected that through this route American trade ships could reach Chinese markets earlier than any other Western nation, enabling the US to compete with the hegemony of Britain in East Asia (Schroeder 1985). Matthew F. Maury, one of the most famous oceanographers in America, was among the pioneers of this plan. His grand design was presented at the House of Representative in May 1848. The map attached to the congressional document indicated plural routes, but his ideal was a great circular route

24

A. GOTO

from San Francisco to Shanghai, via the Aleutian Islands and the Tsugaru straight of Japan (30-1, HR, 596). For Western states, Japan was merely an island isolated from the main route between the West and the East. Russia had sent envoys and tried to negotiate with the Bakufu for trade in 1792 and 1804 but failed both times. After the second attempt, Russia became less interested in Japan and turned its principal attention to Europe. In a sense, the US was only the second among the Western states to pay attention to the opening of Japan. During the development of the plan for the steamship route from the North Pacific Ocean, the US government, Navy, and citizens who were interested in trade with Eastern states considered Japan as a depot where steamships could be supplied with coals and as a potential new market. In addition, Japan was expected to act as a refugee for whaling ships, an active industry in Japanese waters in those days. As a consequence of these movements Matthew C. Perry, Commanderin-Chief of the East India Squadron, visited the port of Uraga in July 1853, and the Treaty of Kanagawa was concluded between US and Japan in March 1854. However, it is necessary to emphasize that the squadron dispatched by the US Navy was not just Perry’s Squadron. To accomplish the establishment of the steamship route on the North Pacific Ocean, it was not sufficient to secure depots in Japan; the whole route had to be examined. The US Navy therefore dispatched the North Pacific Surveying Expedition, commanded by Cadwalader Ringgold, in June 1853, six months after Perry’s Squadron left from Norfolk (Cole 1947). The duty of this squadron was to explore and survey the North Pacific Ocean for the promotion of science and the expansion of trade (Kennedy to Ringgold, 23/9/1852, RRUSSE, Roll. 1). Although not as famous as Perry’s, this squadron visited Shimoda and Hakodate, which were opened by the Treaty of Kanagawa, to acquire hydrographic information on Japanese waters including these newly opened ports in May and June 1855. Ringgold was replaced by John Rodgers as the commander of this squadron because of the former’s illness in Hong Kong in August 1854. As Perry had already carried out survey activities in Edo Bay and the ports of Shimoda and Hakodate, Rodgers’ work in Japan was mostly verifying Perry’s results. The surveys of Kagoshima bay, the North East coast between Shimoda and Hakodate, and the Noto peninsula to the west of the Japanese Archipelago produced unprecedented results. It was

SURVEYING AND MAPPING THE JAPANESE …

25

significant that Rodgers’ squadron located opened ports of Japan on the line that would act as the steamship route (Goto 2017). In considering the history of US Naval survey activities in Japanese waters, the larger context of East Asia and the North Pacific Ocean in the 1850s cannot be ignored. Particularly, these key incidents created favorable conditions for the US to successfully survey Japanese waters. In September 1853, the Crimean War broke out. During the war, Russia was hostile to both Britain and France. Although the main stage of this war was the Crimea Peninsula, it impacted East Asia and the North Pacific Ocean. Indeed, the Russian force fought the Anglo-French alliance at Petropavlovsk Kamchatsky in August and September 1854 (Stephan 1969). The next war broke out in October 1856 as a consequence of the capture of the cargo ship Arrow by Chinese marines. Britain began fighting against the Qing as a result, with France also participating in what became known as the Second Opium War (1856–1860). During these two wars in East Asia and the North Pacific Ocean, Britain, France, and Russia could scarcely turn their eyes toward Japan. For example, before the outbreak of the Crimean War, Russian ambassador Yevfimiy Putyatin arrived at Nagasaki in July 1853, aiming to conclude a treaty with Japan. However, after the breakout of the war, negotiations were affected and it took a year and a half for the treaty to be concluded because the ambassador had to leave Japan often to acquire accurate information on the war (Wada 1991). British, French, and Russian ships also engaged in surveys in the East Asian seas during these wars. In the breakout of the Crimean War, Sir James Starling, commander of the British squadron in the China Sea, dispatched a surveying schooner, the HMS Saracen, to acquire hydrographical information on waters that could act as battlefield locations. During 1855, the Saracen surveyed the Tsugaru Straight, Hakodate, the Tushima Straight, the Goto Islands, and more. At almost the same time, the Fenimore Cooper, one of ships of the US North Pacific Surveying Squadron, was surveying the Sea of Japan. In addition, a manuscript chart possessed by the US National Archives indicates that Rodgers and Richards, who commanded the Saracen, exchanged the results of their surveys.2 Putyatin was also accompanied by surveying officers on his ship. During their stay in Japan, Russian officers conducted surveys at Nagasaki, Shimoda, Heda (western port of the Izu peninsula), and Osaka bay. However, the written record of one surveying officer testifies that part of

26

A. GOTO

those results were abandoned lest the enemy captured them as trophies, indicating the influence of the ongoing Crimean War on the surveys of Japanese waters by Western states (Kitazawa 2004). However, Rodgers exchanged survey results on the ports of Shimoda and Heda with Putyatin, and conducted a similar exchange with Richards.3 During the Crimean War, as a neutral nation the US could share and use the survey results of all belligerent parties to the war, allowing Rodgers to survey much of Japan easily. 3.2

A Dilemma for the Bakufu

As mentioned above, during the 1850s, some Western states carried out surveys in Japanese waters. Of those states, however, it was clear that the US caused diplomatic problems in Japan. While other states, that is, Britain and Russia conducted surveys without Japan’s permission, John Rodgers, the Commander of the US surveying squadron, submitted his letter to the Bakufu when he arrived at Shimoda in May 1855 (Cole 1947: 49–52). According to his letter “a very extensive trade is now carried on between our possessions on the Pacific and China. A glance at the map shows that since your Kingdom lies between those countries, our ships must necessarily pass by it.” He insisted “no commerce can be secured until the dangers in the route it takes are explored and placed on charts” (Fig. 2). Moreover, he regarded the surveying and making charts of Japan as a “right” based on the Treaty of Kanagawa. In the same document, he said that “by the 10th Article of the treaty with the United States of America our vessels in case of absolute distress have a right to enter Japanese ports.” Article 10 stated that American ships should be permitted to resort to no other ports but Shimoda and Hakodate, “unless in distress or forced by stress of weather” (BGKM, vol. 5: appendix. 5). However, Rodgers interpreted this article as permitting American ships to enter into any port when weather was bad. Indeed, Rodgers insisted to the Secretary of the Navy that “the trade is desirable, but the survey is a necessity. Under these circumstances it appears to me a ‘perfect right’” (Rodgers to Dobbin, 15/2/1855, cited from Cole 1947: 45). The Bakufu had forbidden foreign ships from surveying through a “national ban” in place since 1843, and Bakufu officials considered that the ban still applied even after the treaty was concluded. As such, they

SURVEYING AND MAPPING THE JAPANESE …

27

Fig. 2 A manuscript chart of Shimnoda produced by the US Surveying Squadron (RG37, 451. 36, #34a, NARA)

never agreed with Rodgers’ interpretation. For them, Article 10 of the treaty clearly meant that American ships could not enter ports other than Shimoda and Hakodate, except in case of emergency. According to a document of the Bakufu, Rodgers stated orally that he would return to Japan in five months to receive a formal answer to

28

A. GOTO

his request (BGKM, vol. 10: 317). Perry had concluded his treaty in the same way. He visited Uraga in 1853 bringing the official letter of the President and returned to Edo Bay to receive a formal answer and negotiate a treaty with the Bakufu. Rodgers met with Perry in Hong Kong in the summer of 1854 and was probably aware of Perry’s situation when he visited Shimoda in 1855 (Goto 2017: 222). After receiving Rodgers’ letter in May 1855, Bakufu officials discussed whether surveys should be permitted. Rodgers implied in his letter that armed conflict may occur if permission to survey was rejected. These threatening words affected discussions at Edo Castle. According to the diary of Norimasa Muragaki, a Kanjo-ginmiyaku official (a post to support the Commissioners of Finance [Kanjo-bugyo]), there were various opinions and discussions were complicated (‘Muragaki Awaji-no-kami nikki’: 261). One of main reasons discussions were divided was that Rodgers’ request involved not a just few domains of the Daimyo. During the Edo period, while the Shogun of the Tokugawa Bakufu exerted strong power over the Japanese Archipelago, the Daimyo held a right of autonomy over their domains [Han]. Some researchers characterize Japan in the Edo period as “a composite state,” which implies a decentralization of powers (Sugimoto 2018: 34). Although the reality of the situation was likely more complicated than this, observations by some of the foreign visitors to Japan in those days captured the essential nature of this system. For example, Alcock said that based on his experience, the Daimyo claimed their “independence”; nevertheless, they often seemed to exist in a “sort of real subjection” to the Bakufu (Alcock 1863, vol. 2: 79). Therefore, Rodgers’ request brought the Bakufu a complicated problem: a contradiction between the sovereignty of the Shogun and the autonomy of Daimyo. On the one hand, the Shogun had the responsibility as a sovereign power to deal with the request for surveys. On the other hand, based on judgments of some Bakufu officials, they could not permit foreign ships to survey the surrounding Japanese waters. As some parts of the national coastlines belonged to domains of the Daimyo, granting permission would interfere with their autonomy. However, if the Bakufu rejected the surveys, armed conflict would follow, according to Rodgers’ threat. The following opinion submitted under the joint signatures of members of the Supreme Court of the Bakufu [Hyojosho-ichiza], Kanjo-bukyo, and Kanjo-ginmiyaku expressed the dilemma the Bakufu faced (Dai nihonishinshiryokohon, 13/4/Ansei 2 [1855] entry).

SURVEYING AND MAPPING THE JAPANESE …

29

On the problem of this time, we must prepare for everything with the determination to carry out the war, if we finally reject. On the other hand, if we avoid it and permit their surveys without consideration, foreign ships will survey all Japanese waters. (…) If Daimyo are faced with the situation that those ships act freely and ramble about their domains, they, involved in Daimyo who govern remote regions, will not be able to endure their indignation because of essential customs of this Empire, even if spirits of soldiers have recently become weak. We cannot predict how much controversy will occur among Daimyo. (…) The decision at this time is so really important that we are faced with a domestic disturbance if we avoid a foreign conflict.

In other words, if they avoided a domestic disturbance, it would result in a foreign conflict. Because of this serious dilemma, signatories of this document could not conclude whether the Bakufu should grant permission or not, and instead they proposed that the Bakufu should consult with some Daimyo on the issue and draw a conclusion after sounding out the “circumstances on people’s hearts.” This expedient was one of the most effective ways to avoid the immediate crisis, but it was obviously a postponement of the problem. Furthermore, it would mean the Bakufu had abandoned its authority in decision making and had become a mere puppet of the Daimyo. In the meantime, there also were officials who strictly insisted that permission for the surveys be refused and criticized Rodgers’ interpretation of the treaty as selfish. However, it is important to point out that some officials recognized the necessity to permit the surveys. For example, Kindo Koga, a Confucian scholar, stated that the Bakufu should permit the Americans to survey, because Japanese diplomatic policy had already changed dramatically after the treaty of 1854. He also emphasized that the Bakufu should adopt a wholly new diplomatic policy that was appropriate to the altered global context. Moreover, Koga thought Rodgers’ request was a good opportunity for Japan to obtain knowledge of modern science, including hydrography (Tanabe 1966: 29–35). However, the ultimate decision of the Bakufu was to reject the request. In September 1855, Masahiro Abe, the prime Roju (Shogun’s Council of Elders), ordered the Governor of Shimoda to politely explain the reasons for the rejection and persuade Rodgers not to survey when the US surveying squadron came again (BGKM, vol. 12: 292). The decision was not based on “determination to carry out the war.” Abe additionally stated that the Bakufu had intended to send diplomatic representatives to

30

A. GOTO

the US if Rodgers complained and decided to protest against the Bakufu’s answer. Persuading politely was a final measure to avoid the dilemma between “a domestic disturbance” and “a foreign conflict.” Following the Bakufu’s decision, no Japanese official saw Rodgers again. Five months later, the US surveying squadron never arrived. It is difficult to pinpoint the precise reason why Rodgers announced his return in five months, as he did not refer to this intention in his correspondences. In any case, he had carried out surveys of the east coast of Japan from Shimoda to Hakodate, and the coast of Ezo (Hokkaido), without permission from the Bakufu. It is estimable that he could not waste time on negotiations with Japan because of the scope of his duty, which was to survey not only Japanese waters but also the North Pacific Ocean. Further, he had to proceed to the northernmost part of the ocean before the arrival of the severe winter. It is likely that he had intended to conduct the surveys even if the Bakufu’s answer did not arrive or was delayed (Goto 2017: 205–206). To conclude, it is necessary to point out that the meaning of surveys by foreign ships changed throughout the 1850s. Originally, not only surveying activities but also the presence of foreign ships in Japan had signified an “external pressure” that would threaten the national policy of seclusion (Sakoku). However, after the conclusion of the Treaty of Kanagawa in 1854, the circumstances of the Bakufu’s diplomacy became to change. Against a background of deepening relationships between Japan and Western states as well as the US, the Bakufu had to deal with not only external problems but also domestic issues. In other words, there were a few Daimyo who expected the Bakufu to carry out a strong foreign policy toward Western states even after the treaty, and they believed that the treaty would have an impact only on the regions under the Bakufu’s direct control. For example, Satsuma Han, the coasts of which were surveyed by the US surveying squadron in December 1854, reported this fact to the Bakufu, and asked it to forbid foreign ships from entering their domain again because the treaty did not permit entry, except to the newly opened ports (BGKM, vol. 9: 309). It was under such circumstances that Rodgers requested permission to survey Japanese waters. Although the two open ports, Shimoda and Hakodate, were under the Bakufu’s direct control, routes to these ports included coastline within the Daimyo’s domains. Thus, the problem of surveys began to show characteristics of a domestic problem, as well as a foreign one.

SURVEYING AND MAPPING THE JAPANESE …

31

4 From the “External Conflict” to the “Internal Conflict”: The 1860s 4.1

The HMS Actaeon and the Sea of East Asia

Despite the vast areas surveyed by the US North Pacific Surveying Expedition, the name of this squadron is not very well known. Additionally, the charts published as a result of the surveying work of the squadron are difficult to access. Fittingly, Allan B. Cole described this expedition as “the major but undeservedly forgotten” squadron (Cole 1947: 4). Truthfully, because of the American Civil War (1861–1865) and for other reasons (e.g., a feud between Rodgers and his predecessor Ringgold), most results of this squadron’s surveys were never published at all (Goto 2017: 248). Meanwhile, demands for accurate charts of Japan steadily increased after the Kaiko in 1859. Trade ships needed hydrographical information to enter the newly open ports. While Dutch and Russian survey vessels initiated survey ports and the main routes between ports, it was the British survey squadron and its flagship the HMS Actaeon that met foreign traders at first. The dispatch of the Actaeon originated in the Crimean War of 1853– 1856. As mentioned above, this war deeply affected the context of East Asia and the North Pacific Ocean. While Russia surrendered after the fall of the Sebastopol fortress, Britain and France repeated failures in the Eastern Hemisphere. During fighting on land at Petropavlovsk, soldiers from the Anglo-French allied force could not finally help withdrawing because of Russian soldiers’ intense gunfire. Furthermore, in May 1855, vessels of the British squadron in the China Sea committed an enormous blunder as they failed to catch Russian ships in De Castries Bay. The greatest cause of this failure was the very “misconception of the area’s geography,” according to John Stephan (Stephan 1969: 270). British officers misidentified Sakhalin Island as a peninsula and believed that they could establish a line of blockade to prevent the Russians from running away. However, Russian officers, who knew that Sakhalin was an island, advanced easily to the north. This failure impacted the British Admiralty so strongly that they recognized the urgent necessity to collect information on the geography of East Asia and the North Pacific Ocean (Blakeney 1902: ix). Hence, the Admiralty promptly decided to dispatch the surveying squadron to those areas. In August 1856, the HMS Actaeon and the HMS Dove were ordered to

32

A. GOTO

the “special field of survey, the coast and the Gulf of Tartary” (ibid., 1). Two vessels were expected to survey the north–east coasts of China and coasts of Siberia, which included the opposite coasts of Sakhalin (Fig. 3). These surveying enterprises, however, never proceeded in accordance with the initial plan. After careful preparation, the Actaeon set sail from Portsmouth in November 1856 and arrived in Hong Kong in August 1857 (ibid., 5). It was an untimely context for surveying, taking into consideration that the Second Opium War of 1856–1860 was ongoing. Because of these circumstances, the Actaeon and the Dove had to suspend their duties and take part in the war. In December 1857, William T. Bate, the Captain of the Actaeon, died in battle. Robert Jenkins succeeded him immediately, but in September 1858, John Ward was ordered to command the Actaeon. Ward subsequently conducted the surveys in Japan. Relieved of war-related duties in May 1859, the Actaeon and the Dove resumed their original duties, surveying north–east China and Eurasian coasts (ibid., 160). However, the circumstances of those areas were different than in 1857. At first, the Treaty of Aigun, concluded in May 1858 between the Qing and Russia, guaranteed the latter to possess the left side of the Amur River. This treaty inevitably affected the Actaeon’s surveys. In November 1858, in the midst of her engagement in the Second Opium War, the Hydrographic Office ordered Ward not to survey

Fig. 3 The HMS Actaeon, at Shang Hai, 1860 (Blakeney 1902: 221)

SURVEYING AND MAPPING THE JAPANESE …

33

the northern waters starting at 49° latitude and in areas where Russian flags were flying high, in order to avoid conflict with Russia (Washington to Ward, 25/11/1858, ADM125/4). However, the fact that ports of Japan were open was not insignificant for Ward’s plan. Perhaps he cherished the competitive spirit when he knew that the Dutch and Russian ships had begun to survey Japanese waters earlier than the British. In his correspondence to James Hope, the Commander-in-chief of the East India and China Station, dated July 18, 1859, from the port of Hakodate, he reported that the Dutch surveying ship Bali had already carried out surveys in the Seto Inland Sea, and Russian gun boats had also been to Nigata to survey. Therefore, he insisted “I think that knowledge of the approaches to our new opened ports in Japan, and China, is of much more importance than any work, I can do in the North” (Ward to Hope, 18/7/1859, ADM125/4). Based on this judgment, the Actaeon passed from Hong Kong to the Sea of Japan throughout 1859, surveying, for example, Komun Island, Tsushima Island, and Nigata, which would be opened on June 1, 1860. However, Ward was compelled to stay in Chinese waters and again suspended his original duty as the Actaeon and the Dove were requisitioned for the Anglo-French Allied force’s punitive attack against the Qing in 1860 (Blakeney 1902: 221–222). In the meantime, in October 1860, Alcock, the British minister to Japan, asked the Bakufu to give British ships permission to survey Japanese waters (Yokoyama 2001: 299). While his request was in accordance with Ward’s wishes, he himself thought it was highly necessary to survey Japanese waters. For the Bakufu, Alcock’s request raised a significant problem related to surveys for the second time since 1855. 4.2

The Actaeon’s Surveys from Yokohama to Nagasaki

Compared with discussions in 1855, most Bakufu officials no longer regarded the survey by foreign ships as under the “national ban.” Rather, they recognized the necessity of surveying for safe voyage. For example, officials of the Commissioners of Foreign Affairs [Gaikokubugyo], established in 1858, said that the surveys were “necessary duties for navigation” and argued “it was impossible to tell them not to survey” (BGKM, vol. 42: 6–8). Similarly, Ometsuke and Metsuke (inspectors of Daimyo and retainers of Shogun) insisted there was no reason to reject the request, because the relationship was based on “amity” (ibid., 10–11).

34

A. GOTO

This radical change compared with 1855 likely resulted from trainings at the Nagasaki Naval Training Center. After Perry’s squadron visited Uraga in 1853, the Bakufu planned to construct western-style ships and requested aid from the Netherlands to do so. The Dutch Navy dispatched the steamship, Soembing, and Captain G. Fabius recommended the Bakufu to establish a modern navy. Consequently, the Naval Training Center was established at Nagasaki, and training began in October 1855 with the support of the Dutch Navy (Fujii 1991). Dutch Naval officers taught the comprehensive knowledge and techniques of a modern navy to Japanese students who were ordered to study there by the Bakufu and some Daimyo. It is presumed that as a result of those trainings, the number of Japanese who recognized the necessity of surveys for safe navigation increased gradually from 1855 onward. Nevertheless, the conclusion of discussions did not result in permission for British ships to survey. After all, and as with the discussions of 1855, it was concern for the Daimyo that Bakufu officials hesitated to grant permission to survey. According to the document of Ometsuke and Metuske, they insisted that “as most families (of Daimyo) even now observe their families’ long-standing institution and they consider the coasts of their domains the same as their own castle, they would express their disaffection in a solid body, if surveying were permitted” (BGKM, vol. 42: 10). For Bakufu officials, it was now a clear internal problem as to whether surveys should be permitted or not. They were extremely anxious to avoid a domestic disturbance. On the other hand, most recognized the necessity for accurate charts and there were few reliable charts of Japanese waters sought by Western states. Under these circumstances, the simplest conceivable solution was that the Bakufu itself survey and produce charts that Western ships could use. In fact, the Bakufu decided to order the Gunkan-bugyo (the Bakufu’s naval magistrate) to prepare the surveys and charts (ibid., 5). However, the British, including Alcock, never accepted the de facto refusal of their request. To begin with, they doubted whether the Bakufu could produce charts by itself. In June 1861, Francis G. Myburgh, the Secretary of the British legation, had a conversation with Nobumasa Ando, one of the Roju (Shogun’s Council of Elders), at his residence in Edo. According to documentation of this dialogue, Myburgh stated that it would be impossible for the Japanese government to conduct surveys because it required special knowledge of astronomy, advanced

SURVEYING AND MAPPING THE JAPANESE …

35

mathematics etc., implying the Japanese lack of such knowledge (Osetsu kudarimonodome, Bunkyu Gan-nen). In the end, it was British military pressure on Japan that changed the situation. On July 5, 1861, a group of Roshi (masterless samurai) of Mito Han attacked the Tozenji temple, the British legation in Edo, and injured some of the staff there. The British response was to assemble three warships, including the Actaeon, off the Yokohama port. This external pressure changed the attitude of the Bakufu, and it communicated permission to survey to Alcock on August 6 (Yokoyama 2001: 303). As a result, the Actaeon and four consorts, including the Dove, began to survey a route from Yokohama to Nagasaki on August 14 which concluded in November of that year. The three months of surveying was marked by issues which reflected the Bakufu’s distress (Goto 2016: 80–81). In the first case, Bakufu officials accompanied Ward’s surveying ships. The main purpose of this accompaniment was to avoid any trouble at the areas visited by the British officers, with the Bakufu explaining the purpose of the surveys to local people and in particular to officials of the Daimyo’s domains. Second, the Bakufu asked British ships to hoist the Japanese flag, as well as the British flag in order to imply, or camouflage, that the surveys were being conducted under the Bakufu’s official supervision. Third, the Bakufu officials accompanying the surveying ships entreated Ward to refrain from surveying the coasts of the Daimyo’s domains as much as possible. In particular, they strongly requested Ward not to survey the coasts of the feudal domains of the west of the Japanese Archipelago, including the Shikoku and Kyushu islands. Surrounding those areas were many Daimyo and their subjects who advocated the principle of excluding foreigners and had complained about the Bakufu’s diplomacy since the conclusion of treaties in 1858. Additionally, they asked Ward not to approach the shore of the Ise Bay, the location of the important Ise-jingu Shrine enshrining the Imperial ancestor. If British ships had entered into that bay and gotten close to the shrine, the authority of the Bakufu would crumble. At first glance it seemed strange, but Ward accepted these requests and carried out the surveys briefly to the west of Japan and worked conscientiously from Yokohama to Osaka, the east coastline of the Japanese Archipelago. At first, Alcock also repeatedly asked Ward to take deliberate and careful action to avoid any issues with Japan. However, Ward had already surveyed the coast of Shimonoseki, and the Tsushima Island just before

36

A. GOTO

the Bakufu permitted the taking of surveys. Ward himself thought that British ships should conduct surveys regardless of permission, but Alcock objected (Ward to James Hope, 17/7/1861, ADM125/116). In his letter, Alcock said “as the survey of the coast is not a treaty right and could only have been undertaken with the consent of the government of the country” (Alcock to Lord J. Hay, 24/9/1861, FO262/36). Unlike US naval officer, John Rodgers, who regarded surveys as a “perfect right,” Alcock believed that surveys were not a right and therefore British ships should take the domestic situation of Japan into consideration. In the end, Ward also came to the conclusion that he should avoid anything that caused national issues in Japan, and he put a higher priority on surveying generally than doing so thoroughly. He also communicated to Araki Seizaburo, one of the officials accompanying British ships, that he had no intention of surveying the coasts of Daimyo’s domains in the west side of Japan (“Eikoku sokuryosen norikumi-chu nikki”). As a result of this surveying activity, the British Hydrographic Office published charts that described some ports and waters of the Japanese Archipelago and the Korean Peninsula in 1863 (Pascoe 1972). As the Actaeon’s route implied, those charts could not be regarded as complete. Generally speaking, however, charts are completed by results through multiple surveys. The Actaeon’s results certainly deserved special attention in that those charts comprehensively described the Japanese Archipelago based on modern surveying techniques. Furthermore, those charts were, in a sense, the results of the first real “cooperation” between Britain and Japan. Ward was provided “the copy of a map of Japan prepared from a land survey carried out under the direction of Ino Chukei” by a Bakufu official on board the Actaeon (Beasley 2000: 99). The original map was made in the beginning of the nineteenth century and was the most accurate one available in those days. Sharing the map with the Actaeon was not an act of grace by the Bakufu, but rather was a convenient way to tell the British officers the names of areas they should avoid. However, thanks to the Ino Chukei’s map, the British surveying ships could accurately recognize the shape of the Japanese Archipelago through the technical cooperation of British nautical charts and Japanese land charts. Additionally, political cooperation was important. While the Bakufu hoped that the Actaeon would refrain from surveying specific fields to avoid any trouble, Ward decided to cooperate with the Bakufu’s request. Of course, this was due to political and diplomatic judgment to enable

SURVEYING AND MAPPING THE JAPANESE …

37

the surveys be carried out as smoothly as possible. As a result of technical and political “cooperation,” Britain obtained the honor of being the first of Western states to succeed in accurately describing the shape of the Japanese Archipelago. Although multiple surveys were necessary for the British Admiralty to make more accurate charts, “no further surveys of Japan were undertaken before the end of 1867” (ibid., 101). From the viewpoint of the international context of East Asia at the time, the British Admiralty could have carried out the surveys if it had wanted to do so. Intermittent war in East Asia since the 1850s gradually stabilized in the first half of the 1860s, the second Opium war finished in 1860, and the Taiping Rebellion ended in 1864. These changes enabled Britain to concentrate its attention on Japan more than before, and the British army increased the number of soldiers stationed in Yokohama after the end of the Taiping Rebellion, in order to deal with the increasing incidents of foreigners being killed or injured (Hoya 2010: 24–25). However, the British Admiralty did not go on to conduct more surveys. Although the real reason cannot be fully known, it is possible to assume that the British Admiralty, similarly to Ward and Alcock, considered assuaging the domestic situation of Japan as critical and the Bakufu lost its authority to control political disorder in the 1860s.

5

Conclusion

The problem of surveying and of making detailed charts was consequently carried over to the next government, the new Meiji government established after the Meiji Restoration in 1868. The HMS Sylvia, which was ordered to survey Japanese waters, arrived at Osaka Bay at the end of 1867. Although the Bakufu collapsed after her arrival, the Sylvia was engaged in surveys in Japanese waters until 1880 (Beasley 2000: 104). In the meantime, the Meiji government cooperated with the Sylvia’s surveying activities, and in 1871 some Japanese officials accompanied the Sylvia in order to learn hydrographic techniques. Moreover, the Hydrographic Office was established in 1871 through the Ministry of War [Hyobu-sho] and the office shared Japanese charts with other states (Ishibashi 2015). After the Meiji Restoration, surveys by foreign ships represented neither external pressure, nor were the inducers of domestic disturbance, but were rather viewed necessary work for both Japan and the world.

38

A. GOTO

Through the examination described above, pertinent changes in the characteristics of surveys by foreign ships from the 1840s to 1860s are revealed. During the international conflicts in East Asia after the Opium War, in 1843 the Bakufu forbade foreign ships to survey Japanese waters. Since then, carrying out surveys was under the “national ban” and strictly prohibited by the Bakufu. However, during the 1850s, the Bakufu concluded treaties with the US and other Western states, which increased the necessity of surveys for safe navigation. In 1855, John Rodgers, the commander of the US North Pacific Surveying Expedition, requested permission to survey all coasts of Japan. Faced with this request, Bakufu officials recognized that surveys by foreign vessels started to assume the characteristic of both an external and an internal problem. From the Kaiko in 1859 to the early 1860s, the importance of the latter had increased. Although many Bakufu officials acknowledged the necessity to survey, they could not help but hesitate to permit such survey activities, taking into consideration that some Daimyo would complain and criticize the Bakufu’s decision. The process of granting and producing surveys was not so simple as to be expressed as “from conflict to cooperation,” though the outline itself is accurate. This essay has also paid attention to the context of international relations and conflicts in East Asia and the Pacific Ocean. Most surveying ships which visited Japan also had duties to survey the vast seas of East Asia or the Pacific Ocean in addition to Japanese waters. This meant that surveys in Japanese waters were inevitably affected by external circumstances occurring in those extensive seas. Rodgers’ surveying activities could take advantage of neutrality during the Crimea War, while Ward’s surveying work was forced into suspension because of the Second Opium War. Therefore, it can be said that researching the history of surveying makes it possible to also examine multilateral political relations, or the extensive regional history beyond the limits of national or nautical history. Moreover, as the examination here of the case of East Asia in the nineteenth century demonstrates, future work comparing the reactions and responses of each of the states surveyed, for example Japan, the Qing, etc. may lead to a radically different description of regional history. This essay has contributed to such research, illustrating what can be revealed through the history of surveys.

SURVEYING AND MAPPING THE JAPANESE …

39

Notes 1. This essay is based on my body of work, and adds new research findings to the following works: Goto (2016, 2017, 2018). 2. The chart is owned by the U.S. National Archives and Records Administration (NARA):West Coast of Nippon, RG37, 451. 36, #23. 3. The chart is owned by NARA: Harbor of Heda in the Principality of Idsu, RG37, 451. 36, #16.

References Published/Unpublished Primary Sources 30-1, HR, 596: 30th Congress, 1st Session, House of Representative, Report No. 596. United States Congressional Serial Set, USA. ADM: Admiralty Papers, the National Archives, UK. BGKM: Historiographical Institute The University of Tokyo, ed. 1984. Bakumatsu gaikoku kankei monjo 幕末外国関係文書, vol. 1. Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai. FO: Foreign Office Papers, the National Archives, UK. RRUSSE: Records relating to the United States Surveying Expedition to the North Pacific Ocean, 1852–1863, RG45, Microfilm No. 88, The US National Archives and Record Administration (NARA), USA. Alcock, Rutherford. 1863. The Capital of the Tycoon, vols. 1–2. London. Belcher, Edward. 1848. Narrative of the Voyage of H. M. S. Samarang, During the Years 1843–46, vol. 2. London. Dai nihon ishin shiryo kohon 大日本維新史料稿本. Historiographical Institute The Tokyo University, cited from the Summary Database of the Ishin Shiryo (http://wwwap.hi.u-tokyo.ac.jp/ships/shipscontroller-e). ‘Eikoku sokuryou-sen nagasaki ni torai ikken’ 英国測量船長崎ニ渡来一件. Zoku tsushin zenran 続通信全覧. Japan Center for Asian Historical Records (JACAR), Ref. B13090588700. ‘Eikoku sokuryosen norikumichu nikki’ 英国測量船乗組中日記. Zoku tsushin zenran 続通信全覧. JACAR, Ref. B13090590100. ‘Muragaki Awaji-no-kami nikki’ 村垣淡路守日記. Historiographical Institute The University of Tokyo. 1986. Bakumatsu gaikoku kankei monjo 幕末外国関係 文書 vol. appendix 3. Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai. Mizuno Tadakuni Tempo kaikaku Roju nikki 水野忠邦天保改革老中日記 Vol. 17. 2001. Tokyo: Yumani Shobo. Osetsu kudarimonodome, Bunkyu gan-nen 応接下物留 文久元年. Hakodate City Central Library, cited from the Library’s Digital Archives (http://archives.c. fun.ac.jp/). Tsuko ichiran zokushu 通航一覧続輯 Vol. 3. 1973. Osaka: Seibundo.

40

A. GOTO

Secondary Sources Akizuki, Toshiyuki. 1999. Nihon hokuhen no tanken to chizu no rekishi [A History of the Exploration and Cartography of the Northwest Pacific]. Sapporo: Hokkaido Daigaku Shuppankai. Beasley, W.G. 2000. From Conflict to Co-operation: British Naval Surveying in Japanese Waters, 1845–82. In The History of Anglo-Japanese Relations, vol. 1: The Political-Diplomatic Dimension, 1600–1930, ed. Ian Nish and Yoichi Kibata. London: Macmillan Press. Cole, Allan B. 1947. Yankee Surveyors in the Shogun’s Seas: Records of the United States Surveying Expedition to the North Pacific Ocean, 1853–1856. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Fujii, Tetsuhiro. 1991. Nagasaki kaigun denshujo [The Nagasaki Naval Training Center]. Tokyo: Chuo Koronsha. Goto, Atsushi. 2015. Kaikokuki Tokugawa Bakufu no seiji to gaiko [Politics and Diplomacy of Tokugawa Shogunate during the Opening of Japan]. Tokyo: Yushisha. ———. 2016. Bakumatsu gaiko to nihon kinkai sokuryo (The Tokugawa Diplomacy and Surveying in the Japanese Waters). Rekishigaku Kenkyu 950. ———. 2017. Wasurerareta kurofune: Amerika kita-taiheiyo senryaku to nihon kaikoku [Forgotten Black Ships: American North Pacific Strategy and the Opening of Japan]. Tokyo: Kodansha. ———. 2018. Ikokusen wa naze nihon ni kitaka: Igirisu sokuryosen Akutaiongo wo jirei ni [Why did Foreign Ships Come to Japan?: A Case of the British Surveying Ship ‘Actaeon’]. Rekishigaku Kenkyu 973. Hoya, Toru. 2010. Bakumatsu nihon to taigai seenso no kiki: Shinonoseki senso no butai-ura [Japan in the Late Edo Era and the Crisis of the War]. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kobunkan. Ishibashi, Yuto. 2015. 19 seiki kohan no nihon kinaki sokuryo wo meguru nichiei kankei [Surveying in the Japanese Waters and Anglo-Japanese Relations in the Later Part of the 19th Century]. Nihonshi Kenkyu 634. Kitazawa, Noritaka. 2004. Bakumatsu raiko Puchachin kantai no nihon engan suiro chosa, 2 [The Hydrographic Reconnaissance by the Putyatin’s Squadron, part. 2]. Suiro 132. Kobayashi, Shigeru. 2015. Imperial Cartography in East Asia from the Late 18th Century to the Early 20th Century: An Overview. Japanese Journal of Human Geography 67 (6). Mitani, Hiroshi. 2006. Escape from Impasse: The Decision to Open Japan. Tokyo: I-House Press. Pascoe, L.N. 1972. The British Contribution to the Hydrographic Survey and Charting of Japan. In Researched in Hydrography and Oceanography. Tokyo: Hydrographic Department of Japan.

SURVEYING AND MAPPING THE JAPANESE …

41

Ritchie, G.S. 1995. The Admiralty Chart: British Naval Hydrography in the Nineteenth Century, 2nd ed. Edinburgh: The Pentland Press. Schroeder, John H. 1985. Shaping a Maritime Empire: The Commercial and Diplomatic Role of the American Navy, 1829–1861. Westport: Greenwood Press. Stephan, John J. 1969. The Crimean War in the Far East. Modern Asian Studies 3 (3). Sugimoto, Fumiko. 2018. Kinsei seiji kukan ron: sabaki, oyake, “nihon” [Early Modern Political History in Terms of Spatial Theory: Judgements, Public Sphere, and “Japan”]. Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai. Tanabe, Taichi. 1966. Bakumatsu gaiko-dan [The Storytelling on the Diplomacy in the Last Days of the Tokugawa Shogunate], vol. 1. Tokyo: Heibonsha. Wada, Haruki. 1991. Kaikoku: Nichiro kokkyo kosho [The Opening of Japan: The Negotiations between Japan and Russia]. Tokyo: NHK Books. Yokoyama, Yoshinori. 2001. 19 seiki nihon kinkai sokuryo ni tsuite [Surveying in the Japanese Waters in the 19th Century]. In Chizu to ezu no seiji bunka shi [Mapping and Politics in Premodern Japan], ed. Hideo Kuroda, Mary Elizabeth Berry, and Fumiko Sugimoto. Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai.

The Rise of Silver Dollars: Changing Pattern of Silver Use in Nineteenth-Century Vietnam Yoshihiro Taga

1

Introduction

The preeminent role of silver in the regional economy has distinguished Asian monetary history from other parts of the world. Historically, at the end of the thirteenth century under the far-reaching influence of the Mongol empire, the monetary use of silver expanded simultaneously in different regions of Eurasia (Kuroda 2009). After the dissolution of the Mongol empire, a second silver expansion came between the late sixteenth and mid-seventeenth centuries alongside the prolific production of silver in Spanish America and Japan. Until the Western powers introduced the gold standard system, silver continued to be the most important international currency in the Asian regional markets.

This essay is partly based on my previous works published in Japanese of Taga (2014, 2017, 2019). Research for this essay had been supported by JSPS Grants-in-Aid for Scientific Research, number 17J03202 and JSPS Oversea Research Fellowships. Y. Taga (B) Research Institute for Asian Studies, Aix-Marseille University, Aix-en-Provence, France © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. Akita et al. (eds.), Changing Dynamics and Mechanisms of Maritime Asia in Comparative Perspectives, Palgrave Studies in Comparative Global History, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-2554-1_3

43

44

Y. TAGA

Located at the crossroads of international commerce in Asia, the early modern Vietnamese economy was inextricably entangled in the regional and global flow of silver.1 Amidst an unprecedented trade boom in the late sixteenth to mid-seventeenth centuries, a large amount of silver was brought into Vietnam by foreign merchants.2 Building on previous studies on silver exports by Dutch, Portuguese, Japanese, and Chinese ships, Li Tana estimated that between the years 1600 and 1680, approximately six to seven tons of silver flowed into Tongking, in Northern Vietnam, yearly (Li 2012b: 247). She also maintained that the silver influx provided an impetus for the socio-economy of Tongking and this created a construction boom, an extension of the markets, and a proliferation of communal halls (ibid.: 252–259). While the impact of the silver inflow on the local economy has yet to be fully examined, it is incontestable that silver was the driving force behind trade expansion in seventeenth-century Vietnam.3 The seventeenth-century trade boom was followed by a mining boom ´ in northern Vietnam, including the exploitation of the Tông Tinh 送星 silver mine that was renowned for its rich silver output. In the heyday of the mining boom of the mid-eighteenth century, tens of thousands of Chinese miners rushed to the Vietnamese mining sites. Consequently, northern Vietnam emerged as a significant silver exporter for the insa´ Tinh silver mine decreased tiable Chinese market.4 The prominent Tông its output toward the end of the eighteenth century, but this did not engender the demise of mining enterprises in northern Vietnam. In the early nineteenth century, numerous mines were exploited under the initiative of the Nguy˜ên dynasty, and Chinese miners continued to play a significant role in the mining industry in Vietnam.5 While previous studies have paid much attention to the vicissitude of the silver trade and silver mining, the monetary use of silver in early modern Vietnamese society has remained unclear. Research on the seventeenth and eighteenth century has revealed that silver and gold ingots were used by the Vietnamese population along with copper coins (Baron 2006: 211; Nguyen Thanh Nha 1970: 166–170). In the mid-eighteenth century, the Lê-Tri.nh government of northern Vietnam had already made an effort to control silver circulation in the market (Thierry 2014: 19– 20). However, contemporary Vietnamese sources provide limited information on the use of silver during this period. It is not until nineteenth century that we can figure out how silver functioned in market exchange

THE RISE OF SILVER DOLLARS: CHANGING PATTERN OF SILVER …

45

and fiscal administration of Vietnam thanks to the rich source materials of Nguy˜ên dynasty. In addition to documental records, surviving silver ingots and coins issued by the Nguy˜ên court have been studied by numismatists since the early French colonial period (Silvestre 1883; Schroeder ˜ V˘an Ninh 1992; Yunnan Sheng qian bi yanjiu hui and Guangxi 1905; Ðô ´ Ky 2009). qian bi xue hui 1993; Lu.c Ðu´,c Thuâ.n and Võ Quôc Based on extensive research of the Nguy˜ên court records, this essay seeks to delineate the changing patterns of the use of silver in nineteenthcentury Vietnam. In Vietnamese history, the Nguy˜ên dynasty accounts for a significant position as it successfully unified the territory into an area that almost corresponds to what is now Vietnam. Among the different policies that the Nguy˜ên court implemented for the unprecedented program of state integration, issuing official silver currency and promoting the use of silver in fiscal administration stands out as innovative. The monetary policy of the court and use of silver in the market influenced each other and provided the Vietnamese economy with renewed dynamism. Furthermore, to consider the Vietnamese case in a wider context, I attempt to discern the common changing patterns in the use of silver in Vietnam and other Asian countries during the nineteenth century. One of the most important changes in the monetary history of nineteenthcentury Asia was the rise of foreign silver dollars. Unlike in Europe where silver circulated in coin form, Asian countries traditionally used uncoined silver ingots, the value of which was determined by weight and quality. It was not until the sixteenth century that European merchants participated in Asian markets with Western-style silver coins, among which, the most prominent was the “Spanish dollar (peso)” minted in Spanish America. By the early nineteenth century, the circulation of various silver dollars further accelerated, culminating in the creation of the modern currency regime in Asia that was more or less based on these coins; nineteenthcentury Vietnam was no exception to this broader trend. This essay consists of three sections. The first section delves into the efforts of the Nguy˜ên court to control the use of silver, of which, minting official silver ingots played an integral part. In the second section, the implications of the expanding tax payments in silver and regional diversity of the use of silver are addressed, concentrating on the silver currency called “local silver.” Last, the third section discusses the process in which the silver dollar became prevalent in nineteenth-century Vietnam.

46

2

Y. TAGA

State’s Effort to Control Silver Circulation

Following the victory over the Tây So,n, Nguy˜ên Phúc Ánh founded a new dynasty in 1802 and proclaimed himself Emperor Gia Long (reign: 1802– 1820). In addition to Chinese-style copper and zinc cash, the Nguy˜ên court issued silver ingots to control the hitherto unregulated silver circulation and promote the use of silver in fiscal administration (Fujiwara 1986b). The Nguy˜ên court’s endeavor to expand the use of silver ushered in a new era in the monetary history of Vietnam. According to the annals of Nguy˜ên court, the necessity of official silver ingots was first articulated by Nguy˜ên V˘an Khiêm 阮文謙, who managed the Board of Finance in Northern Citadel (Ba˘´ c Thành 北城)6 at that time. Having an audience with Gia Long, Khiêm pointed out that the silver currency during the Tây So,n era was adulterated with lead or tin, and did not fulfill a prescribed weight. Against the deterioration of the circulating silver, Khiêm proposed issuing silver ingots with official stamps to guarantee their quality. Convinced by Khiêm’s opinion, Gia Long entrusted ` Bình Ng˜ Trân u 陳平五 with an official stamp bearing the inscription of “trung bình 中平,” which means “equivalent.” Henceforth, only after receiving official stamps could silver and gold ingots be circulated legally (ÐNTLCB I, vol. 21, 9b). With the introduction of the trung bình stamp, a series of silver ingots were produced by the government. This move began with the issuance of the trung bình silver ingot, which weighed ten la.ng 兩, and this was followed by the issuance of a smaller ingot of one la.ng in 1812, and a ` 錢 in 1815 for convesilver piece (ngân phiê.n 銀片) weighing five tiên 7 nience (Fujiwara 1986b: 327). Succeeding his father in 1820, in 1822 Emperor Minh Ma.ng (reign: 1820–1841) introduced another smaller ` (ÐNTLCB II, type of silver ingot, weighing between one and four tiên ` ingots that vol. 16, 20a–b). Together with the one la.ng and five tiên had existed since the Gia Long era, these silver ingots were called “six type silver ingots (lu.c ha.ng ngân d-˜ınh 六項銀錠).” On the surface of these ingots, the reign title and term “fine silver (tinh ngân 精銀)” were inscribed as well as the trung bình stamp. The state’s official silver ingots ` indicated that the use of of small denomination, such as the 1–4 tiên, silver was not limited to wealthy merchants (Thierry 2006: 167). Nguy˜ên’s official silver ingots were mainly produced in Hà Nô.i and ´ The fact that Hà Nô.i initially subsequently in the imperial capital Huê.

47

THE RISE OF SILVER DOLLARS: CHANGING PATTERN OF SILVER …

became the center of silver minting can be explained by its proximity to the silver production area and the availability of skillful silversmiths. As a ,, center for official silver minting, the Silver Mint (chú ngân truo` ng 鑄銀場) was established inside the office of Ba˘´ c Thành d-`ô gia 北城圖家, which was later reorganized into the Manufacturing Bureau of the Northern Citadel (Ba˘´ c Thành ta.o tác cu.c 北城造作局) in 1821 (ÐNTLCB II, vol.11, 2b). The Silver Mint purchased a large amount of local silver from which official silver ingots were made. Ordinary people were also allowed to bring their silver into the Silver Mint to have them recast with the official inscription. Along with the Silver Mint, silversmiths in the Gold and Silver Market (kim ngân thi. 金銀市) in Hà Nô.i were also engaged in the state control of silver. In close coordination with the Silver Mint, silversmiths certificated the content of silver brought in by customers ´ pha.m 鐵範) and conferred by using official stamps made of iron (thiêt 8 the government. While the Silver Mint produced the bulk of the official silver ingots in the northern region, the Imperial Household Department (nô.i vu. phu 内 務府) functioned as another silver minting center in the imperial capital, ´ Established in 1820, the Imperial Household Department was Huê. charged with preserving precious items including gold, silver, and gems stone as well as various types of textiles such as Chinese silk. Along with the warehouse to store these goods, the Imperial Household Department had its own manufacturing establishments, where many skilled artisans from around the country worked.9 Under the Nguy˜ên fiscal regime, a large part of the silver collected as tax from the outer provinces were forwarded to Huê´ and amassed at the Imperial Household Department. Using these silver reserves, the Imperial Household Department minted silver ingots bearing the inscription of the “inner treasure (nô.i nô 内帑).” The Vietnamese state’s effort to control silver circulation and create its silver ingots stands in sharp contrast to late imperial China. In late imperial China, while minting copper cash was regarded as a state prerogative and counterfeiting copper cash was subject to capital punishment, the issuance of silver ingots and examination of the quality of the circulating silver was left to private silversmiths and merchants. In contrast, in Vietnam, the Nguy˜ên court inscribed the reign title on their silver ingots, which signified the notion that silver minting was closely related to state affairs.10 ij

48

Y. TAGA

The regime of silver minting under the Nguy˜ên altered dramatically with the abolition of the Silver Mint in 1831. The decision to abolish the Silver Mint was the immediate outcome of dismantling the large administrative unit of the Northern Citadel and introducing a Chinese style provincial system, which was an integral part of the centralization policies that Emperor Minh Ma.ng aggressively pursued. Following the abolition of the Silver Mint, the prerogative of minting silver ingot was delegated to provincial authorities and independent silversmiths.11 It is not surprising that with state control diminished, silversmiths were inclined to adulterate silver content for their profit. Some reportedly went so far as to counterfeit the ingots by plating lead or iron with the silver. Shortly after the abolition of the Silver Mint, the circulation of silver deteriorated markedly, causing a destructive effect on market transactions and tax payments in silver (CBTN, TT, vol. 6, 276a–277b, Memorial from the Board of Finance, 28/9/TT1). Enthroned in 1841, the third Emperor Thiê.u Tri. made deliberate efforts to reestablish the order of silver usage. In 1845, it was proclaimed that privately minted silver and old silver ingots without an official inscription were all prohibited from circulation by the year 1847. At the same time, to facilitate the recasting of the silver ingots, the construction of new minting furnaces was implemented in prominent cities such as Gia ´ Nghê. An, and Hà Nô.i (ÐNTLCB III, vol. 40, Ði.nh, Bình Ði.nh, Huê, 13b–15a).These furnaces were maintained until the 1870s, although their outputs were far lower than had been expected. In 1878, in its memorial to Emperor Tu., Ðu´,c, the Board of Finance described that people refrained from recasting silver at the state furnaces because it took too much time to complete the demanded procedure, and as such, they preferred casting their silver in the private market. In the provinces without state ` ngân furnaces, privately minted silver ingots called “string silver (d-iêu 條銀)” were openly used for commercial transactions and tax payments (CBTN, TÐ, vol. 311, 270a–274b, Memorial from the Board of Finance, 10/11/TÐ31).

THE RISE OF SILVER DOLLARS: CHANGING PATTERN OF SILVER …

49

3 Taxation and the Regional Diversity of the Use of Silver 3.1

˜ Fiscal Regime Expansion of Silver Tax Under the Nguyên

For the development of the silver economy in nineteenth-century Vietnam, the adoption of silver as the means for tax payments was no less epochal than the minting of official silver ingots. These two policies were pursued simultaneously to expand the use of silver. Although the overall examination of the Nguy˜ên taxation system is far beyond the scope of this essay, its basic structure should be described to clarify the extent to which tax payments in silver prevailed. According to , Khâm d-.inh Ða.i Nam hô.i d-iên su. lê. [Official compendium of institutions and usages of Ða.i Nam, KÐÐNHÐSL], the variety of tax payments that existed in the early nineteenth century could fall into the two categories of “Regular Tax (chính phú 正賦)” and “Miscellaneous Tax (ta.p phú 雜 賦).” Regular Tax comprised land and poll taxes, the former of which was collected in rice and the latter was collected in money. As an appellation of the “Regular Tax” indicates, land and poll taxes were regarded by the court as the foundation of the taxation system. However, this did not mean that revenue from the Miscellaneous Tax was insignificant. During the Nguy˜ên period, taxation other than land and poll taxes were all classified into the category of Miscellaneous Tax. This included a tax on mines, head taxes levied on non-Kinh ethnic populations such as Chinese people and highlanders, in-kind taxes for local products, port duties, and inland customs as well as a tax on inland water, some of which were auctioned to tax farmers.12 From 1807, Gia Long introduced silver payments for land and poll taxes as well as inland customs gradually (Fujiwara 1986b: 328). For these taxes, a new payment method was devised that was often described as ` 半銀半錢).” Under this method, “half-silver, half cash (bán ngân bán tiên the tax amount was indicated in cash, and then the taxpayer had to pay one half of the tax bill in cash coins and the other half in silver based on the exchange ratio determined by the court. Despite lacking records in the official documents, it is highly possible that the “half-silver, half cash” payment was also introduced for port duties in the Gia Long era. Although the use of silver in land and poll taxes was suspended in the early Minh Ma.ng period due to the increase in the price of silver (Fujiwara 1986b: 337), payments in silver for inland customs and port duties ij

50

Y. TAGA

was maintained throughout the nineteenth century. In the heyday of the dynasty, the annual silver revenue obtained from port duty was 5,000– 6,600 la.ng, and from inland customs duty was around 77,000 la.ng (Taga 2017: 96–97). In the Minh Ma.ng era, the usage of silver for tax payments was accelerated by the reform of the taxation base for ethnic minority groups, especially Chinese people and highlanders residing in the northern region. Sporadic records from the Lê-Tri.nh period suggest that as early as the eighteenth century, tax collection in silver was implemented among highlanders in the Tuyên Quang and Hu,ng Hóa regions. During this period, levying a silver tax on Chinese people was also envisaged. As mentioned above, eighteenth-century northern Vietnam witnessed a massive inflow of Chinese miners who were attracted to the rich silver mines. Observing thousands of Chinese miners working in his jurisdiction, Ngô Thì S˜ı 呉時 仕, a prominent scholar-official serving the Lê-Tri.nh government in the late eighteenth century, proposed that a central authority should impose a “queue tax (biê.n phát thuê´ 辮髪税)” of two la.ng of silver per annum on Chinese workers, in return for allowing them to maintain their homeland customs. He also estimated that the queue tax could yield 20,000 la.ng of silver revenue, which was three times as much revenue from the mining tax hitherto collected.13 By the beginning of the nineteenth century, paying poll tax in silver became rather prevalent among highlanders and Chinese people in northern Vietnam. According to the tax records purported to be written in the late Gia Long period, in northern Vietnam, a large number of Chinese people and highlanders were paying tax in silver.14 At the same time, this record also showed diversity in the tax payments, as some groups made their payment in cash coins or white cloth instead of silver. The unit of taxation was also not unified; in some cases, the tax quota was assessed on an individual adult male, but in other cases, it was assessed on a household or “furnace.” From the mid-1820s, Emperor Minh Ma.ng sought to unify the taxation base for Chinese people and highlanders, which culminated in sweeping tax reforms in 1831. As a result of this reform, Chinese people and highlanders in northern Vietnam were uniformly levied taxes based on an individual adult male and the hitherto differing payment systems were integrated into a payments system based on silver (ÐNTLCB II, vol. 70, 24a–b). The court’s effort to rationalize the taxation system continued. By the end of the Minh Ma.ng era, the poll tax on Chinese people was unified as two la.ng of silver per annum in the whole country

THE RISE OF SILVER DOLLARS: CHANGING PATTERN OF SILVER …

51

(Fujiwara 1986a: 278–279). Even in the newly established administra´ Ma.n, Trân ´ Ninh, Trân ´ Ði.nh, Trân ´ tive units in what is today Laos (Trân Biên), a poll tax was levied in silver from 1829 (ÐNTLCB II, vol. 60, 26b–27b). In 1832, paying the poll tax in silver was also enforced in the Cam Lô. prefecture of Quang Tri. province, where the population liable for the tax amounted to 9,134 people (ÐNTLCB II, vol. 78, 8a–b). These tax reforms arguably contributed to an increase in silver revenue, and by the mid-nineteenth century, silver revenue from the poll tax on Chinese people and northern highlanders was estimated to be 30,000 la.ng annually (Taga 2017: 95). ij

3.2

Encounters with “Local Silver”

The minting of official silver ingots by the Nguy˜ên dynasty was intended not only for promoting the use of silver on the market but also for providing a reliable means for paying tax in silver. Therefore, it is not surprising that the Huê´ court initially enforced the use of official silver ingots for tax payments. However, facing the diversity of the use of silver on the market and the limited circulation of official silver ingots, the court had to compromise its initial attitude and gradually accepted tax payment in non-official silver currency. Among them, indigenous silver ingots called “thô ngân 土銀” gathered much attention from the court. The Sino-Vietnamese term of “thô ngân,” which can be translated literally as “local silver,” frequently appeared in the official documents in the first half of the nineteenth century. Usage of this kind of silver extended to the outer fringes of the Red River plain, especially the mountain areas that boasted rich mineral resources including silver.15 The population of the northern mountain region was dominated by ethnic highlanders, on whom the Nguyen court imposed a poll tax in silver as noted above. As tax payments in silver became prevalent in the northern mountain region from the 1820s, the Huê´ authority recognized the extensive usage of this silver in the region. One of the earliest mentions of local silver was found in an entry of the KÐÐNHÐSL, in which taxpayers residing ´ Ninh, Trân ´ Ði.nh, and Trân ´ Biên in Nghê. in the three districts of Trân An province were allowed to make their payment in local silver in 1828. In this time, the government established an exchange ratio between local silver and fine silver as ten la.ng of local silver equals eight la.ng of fine silver (KÐÐNHÐSL, vol. 44, 30a–b). In 1832, another step was taken ij

ij

52

Y. TAGA

to incorporate local silver into tax payments. Concerning this, the annals of Nguy˜ên court explained as follows: … Establishing a renewed prescription of tax payments in local silver in Cao Ba˘` ng and La.ng So,n. In two provinces trung bình silver ingot did not exist, so previously when paying tax in silver, (the residents of Cao Ba˘` ng and La.ng So,n) invariably went all the way to Ba˘´ c Ninh or Hà Nô.i to exchange their local silver (for official silver ingot), which was quite burdensome and costly… (ÐNTLCB II, vol. 79, 18b–19a)

This time, to alleviate the financial burden of taxpayers residing in areas where official silver ingots were not available, the Huê´ court allowed the use of local silver in Cao Ba˘` ng and La.ng So,n as well as other provinces if ´ necessary. Having verified the quality of the local silver forwarded to Huê, ten la.ng of local silver was set as equal to eight la.ng of fine silver. At the same time, the Board of Finance proposed that local silver ingots should be reminted into thin pieces of silver on the part of the taxpayer because the quality of crude and thick local silver was difficult to verify and was susceptible to adulteration (ibid.).This proposal was initially approved by the Emperor, but it was suspended in 1833 because the reminting process caused silver losses and increased the burden on the taxpayers (ÐNTLCB II, vol. 89, 2a–b). A careful reading of the court records indicates that a variety of silver differing in quality and appearance were included in the category of local silver. For example, in Thái Nguyên province, local silver emanating from ´ Nu,o,ng 叫娘 mines took the form of a bracelet Cam La.c 感樂 and Khiêu ´ da.ng 釧樣) and its content was 10% below the content of fine (xuyên silver. In contrast, local silver originating from Nhân So,n 仁山 and Phúc ´ da.ng 塊樣) So,n 福山 mines in the same province were a lump type (khôi of silver, whose content was 15% below the content of fine silver (KÐÐNHÐSL, vol. 43, 7a). Corresponding to the differences in the silver content or appearance, various appellations were given to local silver. In a memorial submitted to the Emperor in 1832, the Board of Finance reported that silver and gold were mainly produced in Tuyên Quang, La.ng So,n, and Cao Ba˘` ng provinces, where the local population had customarily used ` lãnh 紅嶺, local silver bearing appellations such as hàm bang 咸邦, hông ´ and mân ngân 蚊銀 as well as thoa xuyên 釵釧, sa khoáng 砂礦, and qua ij

THE RISE OF SILVER DOLLARS: CHANGING PATTERN OF SILVER …

53

,

` or tu kim 瓜子金, all of which were too small to be measured by phân 16 la.ng units and did not fulfill the prescribed silver content. Through the circulation of local silver, the population of the mountain region was also connected to the wider regional economy expanding beyond the Sino-Vietnamese border. As Li Tana emphasized, overland trade between southern Chinese provinces and the upland area of northern Vietnam developed markedly toward the early nineteenth century (Li 2012a). Local silver in bracelet form used in the Thái Nguyên region is reminiscent of the description of Zhao Yi 趙翼 that bracelet formed silver was used in trade conducted along the Sino-Vietnamese border.17 The fact that Chinese merchants were deeply involved in the circulation of local silver in the early nineteenth century was demonstrated in the annals of Nguy˜ên court. In 1847, a provincial official from Cao Ba˘` ng sent a memorial reporting that local silver circulating in his jurisdiction was originally not produced in the province, but was brought there by Qing merchants. For tax payments, the indigenous population purchased local silver from Qing merchants in exchange for their goods. According to the provincial authority, detailed examinations revealed that the content of the circulating local silver became debased and it was only 70% silver. Considering the report from the Cao Ba˘` ng official, the Board of Revenue maintained that the debased silver content of local silver was due to fraud by the Qing merchants (ÐNTLCB III, vol. 70, 20a– 21a). Although no other evidence sustains the assertion of the Board of Revenue, it is highly possible that Chinese merchants took control of the local silver circulation in Cao Ba˘` ng province. ij

3.3

Rising Silver Price and Its Influence on the Taxation System

In nineteenth-century Vietnam, the price of silver denominated in cash coins continued to appreciate from the 1820s. Table 1 illustrates the fluctuation of the market silver price from the 1828 to 1879 based on the data gleaned from the records of Nguy˜ên court. As Table 1 illustrates, from the end of the 1820s through the 1830s, the market price of silver denominated in cash fluctuated at around 3,000 v˘an per 1 la.ng. In light of the description that the market silver price during the Gia Long era was lower than the official price of 1,680 v˘an per 1 la.ng (Fujiwara 1986b: 330), it is highly possible that the market silver price began to appreciate from the 1820s under the reign of Minh

54

Y. TAGA

Table 1

Market price of silver in nineteenth-century Vietnam

Year

Silver price per 1 la.ng denominated in cash (Unit: v˘an 文)

Province

Sources

1828

2,820

–

1829

3,000

Northern Citadel

1829

3,036

Northern Citadel

1838

3,000

Tuyên Quang

1846

5,400

Hà Tiên

1854

5,100

Thái Nguyên

1855

5,400–7,200

Southern Provinces

1857

5,400–5,580

–

1859

5,100–5,400

Quaij ng Nam

1862

5,700

1869

5,580 5,400 5,700 5,580 5,880 5,700 5,760 6,000

Thanh Hóa, Nam Ði.nh, Hu,ng Yên So,n Tây Hà Nô.i Hà T˜ınh Nghê. An Ninh Bình Nam Ði.nh Haij i Du,o,ng Bình Ði.nh, Thu`,a Thiên

ÐNTLCB II, vol. 54, 24a CBTN, MM, vol. 36, 368a–369b CBTN, MM, vol. 36, 425a–433a CBTN, MM, vol. 67, 37a–38b ÐNTLCB III, vol. 56, 18a CBTN, TÐ, vol. 47, 217a–220b CBTN, TÐ, vol. 49, 221a–222a CBTN, TÐ, vol. 57, 21a–24b CBTN, TÐ, vol. 101, 180a–182b CBTN, TÐ, vol. 146, 25a–26b

1869

5,700

Quaij ng Yên

1869

6,300–6,600

Bình Thuâ.n, Khánh Hòa

1870

6,300

Bình Thuâ.n, Khánh Hòa

1869

CBTN, TÐ, vol. 200, 267a–280b

CBTN, TÐ, 104a–107b CBTN, TÐ, 120a–123b CBTN, TÐ, 212a–213b CBTN, TÐ, 104a–107b

vol. 223, vol. 207, vol. 207, vol. 223,

(continued)

THE RISE OF SILVER DOLLARS: CHANGING PATTERN OF SILVER …

Table 1

55

(continued)

Year

Silver price per 1 la.ng denominated in cash (Unit: v˘an 文)

Province

Sources

1878

5,076

Hu,ng Hóa

CBTN, TÐ, vol. 294, 76a–78b CBTN, TÐ, vol. 294, 130a–134b CBTN, TÐ, vol. 308, 29a–31b

,,

1878

4,800

Haij i Duong

1878

5,160 5,100 5,040–5,100 4,980–5,250 5,220 5,160 4,770 5,160–5,400 5,700

Thu`,a Thiên Nam Ði.nh Hà Nô.i Nghê. An Thanh Hóa Ninh Bình Haij i Du,o,ng So,n Tây Thu`,a Thiên

1879

CBTN, TÐ, vol. 318, 242a–243b

Ma.ng. From this period, officials of the Nguy˜ên court begun to report the appreciation of the silver price (ngân quí 銀貴) repeatedly, and this was blamed on the hoarding and draining of silver by the Qing merchants. The appreciation of the price of silver in Vietnam beginning in the 1820s was arguably related to the silver crisis in China, where silver outflows and the increasing silver price became a serious problem under the reign of the Daoguang Emperor (Fujiwara 1986b: 346; Woodside 1988: 277–279). Once alerted to the silver appreciation in their homeland, Chinese merchants could make a profit by exporting Vietnamese silver to China. Against the outflow of silver, Minh Ma.ng renewed the prohibition of silver exports. In 1838, the export of gold and silver was strictly banned except in the form of foreign coins (ÐNTLCB II, vol. 193, 12a–13a). Another ban on silver exports was promulgated in 1839, which targeted Chinese merchants and miners who took Vietnamese silver overland to China (KÐÐNHÐSL, vol. 43, 56a–b). The massive outflow of silver from Vietnam to China was also observed by Westerners. John Crawfurd, who visited Vietnam as an embassy of the Governor-General of India in 1821, reported that silver mines in northern Vietnam were estimated to produce about 213,600 ounces yearly, a large portion of

56

Y. TAGA

which was smuggled into the neighboring Chinese provinces of Yunnan and Guangxi (Crawfurd 1987: 473). In Vietnam, the market silver price skyrocketed once more in the late 1840s, amounting to over 5,000 v˘an per 1 la.ng of silver. After that, the silver price remained high until 1879, with regional variation. During this period, the silver price in China had already begun to decline to the prices before the 1820s (Lin 2006: 79, 86–87). Considering the movement in the price of silver in China, silver appreciation in Vietnam after the 1840s was probably caused by domestic factors. One possibility was the Nguy˜ên court decision to establish an exchange ratio between the price of copper and zinc cash. These two different types of cash coins had circulated concurrently since 1816, but their exchange rates had not been determined for more than 20 years. It was not until 1839 that Minh Ma.ng proclaimed that one big copper piece was equal to three zinc pieces and one small copper piece was equal to two zinc pieces (ÐNTLCB II, vol. 206, 5a–b). Before this proclamation, it was unclear whether a piece of cash as a unit (v˘an 文) signified a zinc or copper piece. However, after the exchange ratio was established in 1839, the content of a piece of cash was defined as a piece of zinc. This change presumably influenced the overall price denominated in cash, including silver. The rise in the price of silver from the 1820s devastated taxpayers and undermined the financial base of the court. Except for a limited population who had direct access to the silver-producing areas, the majority of taxpayers had to buy silver on the market to pay their taxes. Accordingly, increasing the price of silver on the market exacerbated the financial burden on the taxpayers. As mentioned above, under the Nguy˜ên fiscal regime, the population liable for silver tax mainly consisted of groups such as ethnic Chinese people and highlanders in the northern mountain areas. In the reign of Minh Ma.ng, the taxation base on these groups was unified by silver in the 1830s at the very moment when the silver price appreciated. It was not long before tax collection in silver faltered. In 1841, arrears of silver tax became so chronic that Thiê.u Tri. made a proclamation to provide relief from the silver tax that had been unpaid (ÐNTLCB III, vol. 14, 22b–23a). Being far from the silver producing area, ethnic Chinese people residing in southern Vietnam especially suffered from rising silver prices. A petition for tax commutation from silver to cash was made repeatedly by Chinese congregations from the 1840s to the 1850s.18

THE RISE OF SILVER DOLLARS: CHANGING PATTERN OF SILVER …

57

As a result of the arrears in silver tax and commutation to cash payments, the annual silver revenue of the Nguy˜ên dynasty reduced from 121,114 la.ng in 1840 to 70,456 la.ng in early the Tu., Ðu´,c period (from the late 1840s to the early 1850s).19 The stability of the silver price was indispensable for maintaining tax collection in silver, but it was quite difficult for the Nguy˜ên court to achieve this goal.

4 4.1

The Rise of the Silver Dollar Early Penetration of the Silver Dollar

The predominance of uncoined silver characterized the use of silver in the Asian markets, into which, from the sixteenth century, European countries brought their silver coins. Among them, silver dollars minted in Spanish America overwhelmed other coins because of their abundant supply and highly standardized quality. Foreign silver coins brought by European ships were readily accepted in the commercial centers of coastal China and Southeast Asia where they began to circulate concurrently with hitherto used local uncoined silver. The influx of foreign silver coins into Asia grew markedly from the late eighteenth to early nineteenth centuries. During this period, Qing China imported a great number of silver coins initially from British, and then later, American merchants. Different silver dollars were brought to Vietnam from the seventeenth century by European merchants. However, the circulation of these coins in the domestic market was quite limited at first. According to Vietnamese scholar Hoang Anh Tuan, in the period following the 1670s, the Dutch East Indian Company (VOC) exported tons of silver coins to Vietnam, including Indian silver rupees and Spanish silver dollars. However, once they entered the Vietnamese market, nearly all of these coins were melted down into silver ingots (Hoang Anh Tuan 2007: 132). The unsuccessful enterprise of the French merchant Pierre Poivre provided another example to illustrate the limited acceptance of foreign silver coins in eighteenthcentury Vietnam. During his trip to central Vietnam under the rule of the Nguy˜ên lords, Poivre tried to persuade the Lord Nguy˜ên Phúc Khoát 阮 福濶 (Võ vu,o,ng 武王, reign: 1738–1765) to adopt the Spanish dollar as legal tender. Convinced by the French merchants, he allowed the use of this coin in 1749, on the condition that it should be stamped with two Chinese characters “thông du.ng 通用,” the term traditionally inscribed on copper money meaning “current use.” Nevertheless, immediately after

58

Y. TAGA

this declaration was issued, the legitimate circulation of silver dollars was thwarted by opposition from influential officials (Thierry 2014: 20–21). Following the Tây So,n uprising in 1771, Vietnam was plunged into political turmoil for the next three decades. From this period, the term ,, “barbarian coin (phiên ngân 番銀)” or “Western silver (duong ngân 洋 銀)” appeared in the Sino-Vietnamese sources, both of which were widely used terms in the Sinicized world for designating foreign silver coins. In the war against Tây So,n, Nguy˜ên Phúc Ánh effectively used foreign silver coins to finance his campaign. He procured foreign silver coins through tax payments from ethnic Chinese people. For example, when ` circuit was established in V˜ınh Thanh (today’s Ðông ` the Kiên Ðôn Nai province) in 1789, a poll tax in silver dollars was imposed on Chinese residents (ÐNTLCB I, vol. 4, 17a). These coins were partly disbursed as a reward for military service. In 1799, Nguy˜ên V˘an Thu.y 阮文瑞, who was appointed to the embassy in Vientiane, received 1,000 silver dollars (ÐNTLCB I, vol. 10, 34a–35a). In another case, officers were rewarded with 3,000 dollars for their outstanding military merit (ÐNTLCB I, vol. 14, 18b). Foreign silver coins were also used in procuring advanced Western weapons. In 1807, a British merchant visited Ðà Na˘˜ ng to request payment for firearms that he had previously sold in Gia Ði.nh. Gia Long ordered to pay for the firearms with 24,800 silver dollars (ÐNTLCB I, vol. 33, 6b–7a). In the early nineteenth century, Western ships calling on Vietnam were allowed to pay their tax in foreign silver coins. For instance, ships from Macao were allowed to pay their port taxes and charges for trade cargos ` ngân 鬼頭銀),” the term signifying the in “ghost head silver (quý d-âu Spanish Carlos dollar. To facilitate the collection of the taxes, the court established an exchange ratio that set the Carlos dollar as equivalent to 1,680 v˘an of cash (KÐÐNHÐSL, vol. 48, 35b). For the tax payment made by European ships in foreign silver coins, further information can be found in the archival sources of Nguy˜ên court. In 1830, one French ship calling on Ðà Na˘˜ ng paid 1,120 pieces of silver dollars for their taxes (CBTN, MM, vol. 40, 21a–b, Memorial from the provincial officials of Quang Nam, 10/1/MM11), and another French ship contributed 1,008 pieces in the same year (CBTN, MM, vol. 43, 36a–b, Memorial from the provincial officials of Quang Nam, 20/6/MM11). The use of silver dollars gradually expanded from the coastal regions. A memorial submitted in 1830 was quite instructive for understanding ij

ij

THE RISE OF SILVER DOLLARS: CHANGING PATTERN OF SILVER …

59

the extent to which these coins were prevalent in the northern coastal provinces. According to the memorial, when government rice was ` disbursed at a discounted price in the Vân Ninh and Vân Ðôn districts of the Quang Yên region as famine relief, Spanish silver dollars (hoa viên ngân 花圓銀) accounted for more than 80% of the silver collected as payment in both districts (CBTN, MM, vol. 36, 496a–498b, Communication from the lieutenant governor of Northern Citadel, 29/12/MM10). Using foreign silver coins was so prevalent that in 1840, these coins were partly introduced into the payment of inland customs along with local silver. During this time, while full-fledged coins were valued at 90% of a silver ingot of the same weight, fragmented coins were valued at 80% (KÐÐNHÐSL, vol. 49, 30a–b). By the mid-nineteenth century, different kinds of Western silver coins had accumulated in the coffers of the Huê´ court. In 1837, it was ordered that hereafter various types of foreign silver coins preserved in the Department of the Imperial Household be referred to as “Western silver cash ,, ` 西洋銀錢).” They included coins called by the (tây duong ngân tiên , ´ ` all of names of lu˜ tông 呂宋, hoa biên 花邊, song chúc 双燭 and quý d-âu, which denoted Spanish Carlos dollars (ÐNTLCB II, vol. 182, 22b). Silver dollars stored in the state coffers were dispersed as payment for foreign products or salaries for officials dispatched to the surrounding Southeast Asian regions (ÐNTLCB II, vol. 196, 11b–13a). As for the distinction between silver ingots and silver coins, an intriguing reference was found in a royal edict issued in 1838 when the Nguy˜ên court suffered from silver outflows and the appreciation of the silver price vis-à-vis cash coins. The edict decreed that while exports ` of silver ingots were strictly banned, barbarian coins such as quý d-âu, ´ hoa biên, and mã kiêm 馬劍 could be taken back home by foreign merchants (ÐNTLCB II, vol. 193, 12a–13a).20 A similar distinction between domestic ingots and foreign coins could be discerned in the trade policies of Qing China (Momose 1980: 114–116). Vietnam had much in common with coastal China and the Southeast Asian archipelago in that the usage of foreign silver coins expanded from the late eighteenth to the early nineteenth century. The economic center of the lower Yangzi region became so dependent on Spanish silver dollars that they functioned as a monetary standard.21 In Dutch Indonesia and British settlements on the Malay Peninsula, colonial authorities recognized Spanish silver dollars as de facto legal tender. Unlike these ij

60

Y. TAGA

three regions, silver dollars had hardly penetrated the Japanese market. Although various kinds of silver dollars were imported by Chinese merchants and VOC in the eighteenth century through Nagasaki trade, these coins were melted down and reminted into government silver currency.22 Even after the country was opened to foreign trade in the late nineteenth century under pressure from Western powers, the Mexican silver dollars were rarely accepted in the domestic market, except in a few treaty ports (Ono 2000: chapter 1). The limited acceptance of the silver dollar in the Japanese market stood in sharp contrast to the Southeast Asian and Chinese counterparts. 4.2

Creating Vietnamese Silver Dollar

The most tangible effect that the silver dollar had on the Nguy˜ên monetary system can be recognized in the court’s effort to mint its own ` 飛龍銀錢).” silver coin; the “flying dragon silver coin (phi long ngân tiên Considering the trajectory in which the modern currency system of Asian countries was taking shape, the advent of this coin had significant meaning not only in Vietnamese history but also in the broader context of Asian monetary history. The minting of the flying silver coin commenced in 1832 under the reign of Minh Ma.ng. In the initial minting, 20,000 pieces of flying dragon silver coin were produced (ÐNTLCB II, vol. 81, 3b). The weight of the ` (26.6 grams), which was nearly the same new coins was fixed at seven tiên weight as the Spanish silver dollar. Even after the death of Minh Ma.ng in 1841, the minting of silver coins was continued by successive emperors who altered the coins’ name and inscription. Some contemporary foreigners also paid attention to Vietnamese silver coins. In his book A Chinese Commercial Guide published in 1856, Samuel Wells Williams referred to the silver coins of the Nguy˜ên dynasty as follows: …Besides these more strictly native coins, the late king Minh-Menh (sic) issued a coinage of dollars, the pieces of which were intended to be of the same weight as the Spanish dollar; but in general it is not worth more than 1 35 of a rupee (4 francs) or about 70 cents, from the great adulteration of the metal, one third of it being copper. His successor Thieu-fri (sic) coined both gold and silver dollars, having a dragon on one side and his name on the reverse…. (Williams 1856: 305–306)

THE RISE OF SILVER DOLLARS: CHANGING PATTERN OF SILVER …

61

As Samuel Wells Williams emphasized, although silver coins of the Nguy˜ên dynasty had nearly the same weight as Spanish dollars, the content of the former was inferior to the latter due to adulteration with the base metal. At the time of the initial minting, the quality of the flying dragon silver coin was fixed at 700‰, which is far below that of the official silver ingot (990‰) and Spanish silver dollar (935‰) (Thierry 2006: 167). The low silver content was chosen for the flying dragon silver coin because the Nguy˜ên court thought this coin should be used in the same way as copper or zinc cash, both of which circulated irrespective of their intrinsic metal value (ÐNTLCB II, vol. 181, 8b–10b). Shortly after its issuance, the court fixed the exchange ratio between flying dragon silver coins and zinc cash to facilitate their circulation (ÐNTLCB II, vol. 110, 3a–b). Silver coins were mainly disbursed as a reward for meritorious deeds or granted on various auspicious occasions such as the enthronement or birthday of the Emperor and Empress Dowager (Taga 2020: 101–103). However, once entered into circulation, flying dragon silver coins were not welcomed by the market as the government had expected. The annals of Nguy˜ên court disclosed that flying dragon silver coins were devalued or rejected in the market as early as the mid-1830s due to their lower silver content (ÐNTLCB II, vol. 124, 5b–6b). Despite their limited circulation, the minting of flying dragon silver coins had significant meaning in Asian monetary history, for it was the earliest attempt in Asia to mint silver coins modeled after the Spanish silver dollar.23 Following the minting of flying dragon silver coins, attempts to produce silver coins based on the Spanish silver dollar ensued in other Asian countries in the late nineteenth century. In Japan, the Meiji government issued its trade dollar beginning in 1871. Qing China also inaugurated the production of silver coins in 1889 under the initiative of Zhang Zhidong, who was known for advocating for the SelfStrengthening Movement. European colonial authorities also produced their own trade dollars, including the piastre de commerce minted by the French colonial authority in Indochina. From the end of the nineteenth century to the early twentieth century, different silver coins that all derived from the Spanish or Mexican silver dollar competed against each other on the Asian market (Andrew 1904; Ono 2000: chapter 3). It should be noted that the Nguy˜ên court’s minting of flying dragon silver coins occupies a pioneering position in this movement.

62

Y. TAGA

4.3

Increasing Silver Dollar Usage in Late Nineteenth-Century Vietnam

In the late nineteenth century, Asian countries saw unprecedented upheavals because of challenges from Western countries. In this period, the circulation of the Mexican silver dollars, which gradually substituted Spanish predecessors, became more prevalent for international commerce and fiscal administration. Asian countries undertook the creation of modern monetary regimes under the heavy influence of the Mexican silver dollar. Vietnam was no exception to this trend. In the following section, I glimpse into the development of silver dollar used in late nineteenthcentury Vietnam in two distinctive regions: Southern Vietnam under embryonic French colonial rule, and northern and central Vietnam under the authority of the Nguy˜ên dynasty. With the attack on the port of Ðà Na˘˜ ng by Franco-Spanish naval forces, Vietnam was entangled in a prolonged conflict with Western colonial powers. Plunged into a stalemate in Ðà Na˘˜ ng, the Franco-Spanish expedition turned to Gia Ði.nh, the rice bowl of the Nguy˜ên dynasty. With superior artillery, the Franco-Spanish forces overwhelmed the Nguy˜ên army and subdued the Saigon citadel. With the 1862 treaty, the French annexed the eastern part of Southern Vietnam and established French Cochin-China. Being far from their homeland, the French expedition army had to procure rations and munitions in the field where they had difficulty coping with unfamiliar monetary usage. The Vietnamese only accepted zinc cash, which the French criticized as being cumbersome and fragile. Chinese merchants, who were the leading suppliers of the French expedition, only accepted the Mexican silver dollar, the most prevalent currency on the Asian market at the time. To finance their expedition in the Far East, the French army drew bills in Hong Kong and Singapore to secure Mexican dollars for local military expenses. As a result of the French military expenditures, a large number of silver dollars were distributed in Southern Vietnam (Détieux 1907: 35). The early construction of the colonial monetary and fiscal system in Southern Vietnam was predicated on the prevalence of the Mexican dollar. The French colonial authority did not hesitate to adopt Mexican dollar as the legal tender in its fledgling colony. The problem was that the

THE RISE OF SILVER DOLLARS: CHANGING PATTERN OF SILVER …

63

movement of the Mexican dollar was far beyond the control of the colonial authority, especially due to speculation by Asian merchants. This speculation was mainly caused by the existence of “chopped dollars,” a term derived from the idiosyncratic commercial customs of Chinese merchants. In trading silver dollars, Chinese merchants customary inscribed their own stamp on the surface of the coins as a certification of the silver content, which sometimes led to the blemished appearance of the coins. Therefore, Western merchants called silver coins with merchants’ stamps “chopped dollars” to differentiate them from “clean dollars,” or those without a stamp. At first, without fully understanding these local customs, the French colonial authority evaluated chopped and clean dollar at the same value, which immediately gave rise to rampant speculation by astute Chinese and Indian merchants (ibid.: 36–39). Eventually, the colonial authority was forced to cease legal circulation of chopped dollars. In addition, the price of silver dollars was quite volatile on the international market, preventing a stable supply of silver pieces necessary for the colony. All of these difficulties combined led to the decision of the metropole to create its own colonial silver currency, the piastre de commerce. The decision to mint piastre was made in 1878, although it was not until 1885 when the minting plan was put into practice (ibid.: 60–65). In the sense that both coins were modeled after the predominant foreign silver dollar, the French piastre can be regarded as the successor to the flying dragon silver coins issued by the Nguy˜ên court. When the French colonial authority struggled to create a viable monetary system in Southern Vietnam, Northern Vietnam under Nguy˜ên rule witnessed a rapid influx of silver dollars from 1870s. After the Garnier affair, the Nguy˜ên court signed a treaty with the French in 1874, which brought about the opening of three ports in 1875; Hà Nô.i, Hai Phòng, and Thi. Na.i (Qui Nho,n). At these ports, maritime customs jointly managed by Vietnamese officials and French officers were established.24 The establishment of maritime customs had a significant meaning for the Nguy˜ên fiscal system as it generated a staple tax revenue in the form of silver dollars. ` Nguy˜ên According to the records gleaned from Châu ban triêu ˜ [Vermilion records of Nguyên dynasty], from October 27 to November 27 of the 30th year of Tu., Ðu´,c (1877), revenue from Hai Phòng maritime customs was approximately 17,424 yuân (元) (CBTN, TÐ, vol. 294, 249a–250b, Memorial from the Board of Finance, 30/1/TÐ31). From January 28 to February 28 of the 31st year of Tu., Ðu´,c (1878), this ij

ij

ij

64

Y. TAGA

number increased to approximately 21,834 yuân (CBTN, TÐ, vol. 300, 146a–147b, Memorial from the Board of Finance, 18/5/TÐ31) and Hà Nô.i’s custom collected about 6,303 yuân silver from August 25 to September 25 of the 30th year of Tu., Ðu´,c (CBTN, TÐ, vol. 290, 221a–222b, Memorial from the Board of Finance, 6/11/TÐ30). Apart from the set amount deducted as war indemnity and the salary of French staff working at the maritime ports, a large portion of the silver dollars collected in Hai Phòng and Hà Nô.i from customs were forwarded to the northern upland area to cover the burgeoning military expenses. From the 1860s, Northern Vietnam fell into severe disorder due to the influx of Chinese bandit groups.25 To suppress these bandits, the Nguy˜ên dynasty deployed joint military campaigns with the Qing troops that had been stationed in Northern Vietnam since the late 1860s. The Huê´ court had to cover the enormous military expense not only for its own royal troops but also for the Qing army in Vietnamese territory. To finance the growing military expenditure, an enormous amount of goods and money were transported from the royal coffers in Huê´ to the northern battlefields.26 It was only a matter of time before the royal Huê´ funds dried up. As a result, soon after maritime customs were established in Hai Phòng and Hà Nô.i, the court sought to finance military expenses in the north by sending silver dollars collected through maritime customs to the military mountain outposts. A memorial submitted by the Board of Finance in 1878 delineated the initial attempt to transfer silver dollars from maritime customs to the military outpost as follows (CBTN, TÐ, vol. 299, 61a–64b, 6/4/TÐ31). In November 1877, silver dollars were transferred from Hai Du,o,ng27 to outer provinces such as Tuyên Quang, Hu,ng Hóa, Cao Ba˘` ng, Thái Nguyên, La.ng So,n, and Quang Yên. In the three provinces of Tuyên Quang, Thái Nguyên, and Cao Ba˘` ng, silver dollars could be spent at the prescribed price, so additional silver dollars were transferred from Hai Du,o,ng and Hà Nô.i. Unlike these three provinces, silver dollars had difficulty gaining local acceptance in Quang Yên and Hu,ng Hóa provinces. In Quang Yên, the market evaluation for silver dollars was below the official price because of low demand. The situation was worse in Hu,ng Hóa province where silver dollars could not be spent at all because the population was not accustomed to the transactions of these coins. To facilitate the disbursement of silver dollars in the Hu,ng Hóa region, the Board of Finance proposed the sale of silver dollars in Lào Cai, where foreign ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

THE RISE OF SILVER DOLLARS: CHANGING PATTERN OF SILVER …

65

merchants gathered for trade and the Black Flag army led by Liu Yongfu was stationed, for whom silver dollars could be paid as salaries. In the late nineteenth century, the Vietnamese territory was made up of French Cochin-China in the south and the remaining Nguy˜ên territory in the north. Although the political situation was fairly different, in terms of monetary history, these two regions experienced the same phenomena: the distribution of a large number of silver dollars through military expenditure. The simultaneous circulation of the silver dollar in southern and northern Vietnam toward the end of the nineteenth century paved the way for the formation of a colonial monetary regime based on the French piastre, a colonial silver currency modeled on the Mexican silver dollar.

5

Conclusion

Under the initiative of the Nguy˜ên court, nineteenth-century Vietnam witnessed an unprecedented expansion of the use of silver. The court’s contribution lay in the issue of official silver ingots stamped with the reign titles. Although the abolishment of the Silver Mint disrupted the circulation of silver, the issuance of official silver continued through the nineteenth century. The great number of Nguy˜ên’s silver ingots found today demonstrates how official silver ingots became prevalent at that time. In tandem with the issuance of official silver ingots, the Nguy˜ên court developed tax collection using silver toward the first half of the nineteenth century. Through the introduction of silver into the fiscal administration, more of the population became involved in the expanding silver economy. Ethnic Chinese people and highlanders in the northern region were the groups most affected by this policy because they were liable for the poll tax, which had to be paid in silver. When collecting tax in silver, the Huê´ court faced a regional diversity of silver usage. This diversity was well manifested in the extensive circulation of local silver in the northern region. Through the circulation of local silver, the northern population was connected not only to the state’s fiscal administration but also to a wider regional economy beyond the Sino-Vietnamese border. Although expanding taxation in silver was a crucial step for the development of the silver economy in Vietnam, this enterprise faltered due to the appreciation of the silver price in the mid-nineteenth century.

66

Y. TAGA

From the late eighteenth century, Vietnam and other Asian countries had similar changing patterns in the use of silver that was characterized by an expanding circulation of the silver dollar. The prevalence of the silver dollar in the Asian markets led the Nguy˜ên dynasty to mint flying dragon silver coins, one of the earliest attempts in Asia to create a silver currency modeled after Western silver coins. In the late nineteenth century, dispersed widely through military expenditure, the silver dollar was circulated further both in French Cochin-China and the remaining territory of the Nguy˜ên dynasty. It was this long-standing expansion of the silver dollar use from the late eighteenth century that enabled the establishment of the colonial monetary regime based on the French piastre, in modern Vietnam. Map of the nineteenth-century Vietnam *Based on free map on the internet (https://d-maps.com/), the author added the place names.

THE RISE OF SILVER DOLLARS: CHANGING PATTERN OF SILVER …

67

68

Y. TAGA

Notes 1. Whitmore (1983) provides an overall picture of the interaction between the premodern Vietnamese economy and international monetary flow, including silver. 2. For silver exports by Japanese Red Seal Ships, the authoritative work of Iwao Seiichi should be consulted (Iwao 1985). The silver and silk trade conducted by Dutch traders in the seventeenth century Vietnam was meticulously researched by Hoang Anh Tuan drawing on Western records (Hoang Anh Tuan 2007). 3. While Li Tana argued that the silver inflow induced increasing investment in the Vietnamese domestic economy, contemporary observers have explained that a large amount of the silver that foreign merchants brought in Vietnam was re-exported to China (Baron 2006: 211). Wu Sangui, who helped the Qing army establish their dynasty in 1644 and later rebelled against it based on his stronghold of Yunnan and Guizhou provinces, cast his own coins using Yunnan copper to exchange them with Vietnamese silver (Yoshikawa 2017: 57). 4. On the increasing importance of mainland Southeast Asia as a silver exporter to the Chinese market from the eighteenth century, see Wada (1961) and Lin (2006: 57–58). 5. For a study on the mining policy of the Nguy˜ên dynasty, a significant contribution was made by Phan Huy Lê (2014). 6. Northern Citadel was the larger administrative unit controlling northern Vietnam existed in early Nguy˜ên period. 7. La.ng, which corresponded to the Chinese tael, was a unit of weight used in pre-modern Vietnam. One la.ng was approximately equivalent to ` 38 grams, one tenth of which was called a tiên. 8. The description of the Silver Mint and the Gold and Silver Market was ´ nghi. [Collection of memorials in Minh based on the Minh Ma.ng tâu Ma.ng era, hereafter MMTN ], manuscript kept in Viê.n nghiên cu´,u Hán Nôm, VHv. 96/4, Memorial from the Board of Finance, 13/6/Minh Ma.ng13. 9. For the working of state manufacturers in Huê´ including those attached to the Imperial Household Department, see Nguy˜ên V˘an Ð˘ang (2001). 10. This intriguing contrast between China and Vietnam was also referred to by Thierry (2006: 166). 11. MMTN , VHv. 96/4, Memorial from the Board of Finance, 13/6/Minh Ma.ng13. 12. A general description of the taxation system can be found in KÐÐNHÐSL, vol. 37–52.

THE RISE OF SILVER DOLLARS: CHANGING PATTERN OF SILVER …

69

13. Memorial by Ngô Thì S˜ı submitted to Tri.nh lord, included in Ngô gia v˘an phái [Ngô family literary group], unpublished manuscript kept at Viê.n nghiên cu´,u Hán Nôm, VHv. 1743/12. 14. Thuê´ lê. [Tax regulation], unpublished manuscript preserved at Viê.n nghiên cu´,u Hán Nôm, A. 480, chapter of Miscellaneous Tax in Northern Citadel. For a more detailed analysis of this document, see Taga (2017: 100–101). 15. Zhang Leiping noticed the extensive circulation of thô ngân silver in northern Vietnam and argued that this silver was introduced there by itinerant merchants from China via the Sino-Vietnamese borderlands (Zhang 2008: 204). It is true that Chinese merchants were deeply involved in the circulation of thô ngân silver in the bordering provinces, such as Cao Ba˘` ng. However, as will be explained below, locally produced silver in Vietnamese mining areas were also referred to as thô ngân in the Nguy˜ên records. Therefore, the thô ngân silver in northern Vietnam included silver of both Chinese and Vietnamese origin. 16. MMTN , VHv. 96/4, Memorial from the Board of Finance, 13/6/Minh Ma.ng13. 17. Zhao Yi was an eminent official scholar during the Qing dynasty in China and lived in the eighteenth century. He served as a magistrate of a prefect in Guanxi province. For his discussion on silver bracelets circulating in the Sino-Vietnamese boarder region, see Sun (2006: 165). 18. For example, a petition by Chinese people residing in Hà Tiên province in 1851 was found in CBTN, TÐ, vol. 26, 86a–b, Memorial from the Board of Finance, 21/4/TÐ4. 19. Silver revenue in 1840 is based on ÐNTLCB III, vol. 72, 9a–10a. For the early Tu., Ðu´,c period, I summed the silver revenue of each province ´ thông ´ chí [Unified gazetteer of Ða.i Nam]. recorded in the Ða.i Nam nhât ´ referred to the Dutch trade dollar. 20. Here, mã kiêm 21. Usage of foreign silver coins in late imperial China is closely examined by Momose (1980) and von Glahn (2007). 22. For Japanese silver imports in the late eighteenth to early nineteenth century, see Shimada (2015). 23. This point was also made by Thierry (2006: 167). 24. On the management of maritime customs, see Burel (1997: 253–256). This pioneering study extensively explored unpublished French documents preserved in the Archives Nationales d’Outre Mer. 25. The activity of Chinese bandit groups in northern Vietnam and the policies of the Nguy˜ên Court to deal with them are described at great length in Davis (2017). 26. The amount of silver and gold sent from Huê´ to the northern region from the end of 1867 to early 1870 were as follows: 300 la.ng of gold, 60,000 ij

ij

ij

ij

70

Y. TAGA

la.ng of silver bar and ingot, 19,100 pieces of silver ingot whose value were denominated in cash, 382 pieces of gold coin and 27,659 pieces of silver coin, 30 gold tablets, and 1,500 silver tablets (CBTN, TÐ, vol. 211, 270a–276b, Memorial from the Board of Finance, 15/2/TÐ23). 27. At the time, the maritime customs of Hai Phòng were part of the jurisdiction of Hai Du,o,ng province. ij

ij

Sources Unpublished Sources ` Nguy˜ên, triêu ` Minh Ma.ng 阮朝硃本明命朝 CBTN, MM: Châu ban triêu ˜ [Vermilion records of Nguyên dynasty, reign of Minh Ma.ng], manuscript kept ´ gia 1 [National Archives No. 1], Hà Nô.i. in Trung tâm lu,u tru˜, quôc ` ` Thiê.u Tri. 阮朝硃本紹治朝 [Vermilion CBTN, TT: Châu ban triêu Nguy˜ên, triêu ˜ records of Nguyên dynasty, reign of Thiê.u Tri.], manuscript kept in Trung tâm ´ gia 1. lu,u tru˜, quôc ` Nguy˜ên, triêu ` Tu., Ðu´,c 阮朝硃本嗣德朝 [Vermilion CBTN, TÐ: Châu ban triêu records of Nguy˜ên dynasty, reign of Tu., Ðu´,c], manuscript kept in Trung tâm ´ gia 1. lu,u tru˜, quôc ´ nghi. 明命奏議 [Collection of memorials in Minh Ma.ng MMTN : Minh Ma.ng tâu era], manuscript kept in Viê.n nghiên cu´,u Hán Nôm [Hán Nôm research institute], Hà Nô.i, requesting number VHv. 96/1–7, b1, b2. Ngô gia v˘an phái 呉家文派 [Ngô family literary group], manuscript kept in Viê.n nghiên cu´,u Hán Nôm, requesting number VHv.1743/1–36. Thuê´ lê. 税例 [Tax regulation], manuscript kept in Viê.n nghiên cu´,u Hán Nôm, requesting number A. 480. ij

ij

ij

Published Sources ´ thông ´ Ða.i Nam nhât chí 大南一統志 [Unified gazetteer of Ða.i Nam]. Chongqing, Beijing: Southwest China Normal University Press, People’s Publishing House, 2015. , ´ ky 大南寔錄正編第一紀 ÐNTLCB I: Ða.i Nam thu. c lu.c chính biên d-ê. nhât [Primary compilation of the veritable record of Ða.i Nam, first reign]. Tokyo: The Institute of Cultural and Linguistic Studies, Keio University, 1963, 1968. , ÐNTLCB II: Ða.i Nam thu. c lu.c chính biên d-ê. nhi. ky 大南寔錄正編第二紀 [Primary compilation of the veritable record of Ða.i Nam, second reign]. Tokyo: The Institute of Cultural and Linguistic Studies, Keio University, 1971–1976. ij

ij

THE RISE OF SILVER DOLLARS: CHANGING PATTERN OF SILVER …

71

, ÐNTLCB III: Ða.i Nam thu. c lu.c chính biên d-ê. tam ky 大南寔錄正編第三紀 [Primary compilation of the veritable record of Ða.i Nam, third reign]. Tokyo: The Institute of Cultural and Linguistic Studies, Keio University, 1977. , KÐÐNHÐSL: Khâm d-.inh Ða.i Nam hô.i d-iên su. lê. 欽定大南會典事例 [Official compendium of institution and usages of Ða.i Nam]. Chongqing, Beijing: Southwest China Normal University Press, People’s Publishing House, 2015. ij

ij

References Andrew, A.P. 1904. The End of the Mexican Dollar. The Quarterly Journal of Economics 18 (3): 321–356. Baron, Samuel. 2006. A Description of the Kingdom of Tonqueen. In Views of Seventeenth-Century Vietnam: Christoforo Borri on Cochinchina & Samuel Baron on Tonkin, introduced and annotated by Olga Dror and K.W. Taylor, 187–282. Ithaca, NY: Southeast Asia Program Publications, Cornell University. Burel, Laurent. 1997. Le contact protocolonial franco-vietnamienen Centre et Nord Vietnam, 1856–1883. Thèse Paris VII. Crawfurd, John. 1987. Journal of an Embassy to the Courts of Siam and Cochin China. Singapore and New York: Oxford University Press (Reprint. Originally published: London: Henry Colburn, 1828). Davis, Bradley Camp. 2017. Imperial Bandits: Outlaws and Rebels in the ChinaVietnam Borderlands. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Détieux, Marcel. 1907. La question monétaire en Indo-Chine. Paris: Emile Larose. ˜ V˘an Ninh. 1992. Tiên ` cô Viê.t Nam [Ancient coins of Vietnam]. Hà Ðô, ´ ban Khoa ho.c xã hô.i. Nô.i: Nhà xuât Fujiwara, Riichiro 藤原利一郎. 1986a. Gencho chika no Minh-hu,o,ng no mondai 阮朝治下の明郷の問題 [The problem of Minh-hu,o,ng under the Nguy˜ên dynasty]. In Tonan Ajiia shi no kenkyu 東南アジア史の研究 [Historical studies of South East Asia], Fujiwara Riichiro, 274–282. Kyoto: Hozokan. ———. 1986b. Gencho chika ni okeru kin gin ka no mondai 阮朝治下における 金銀価の問題 [The value of gold and silver under the Nguy˜ên dynasty]. In Tonan Ajiia shi no kenkyu, Fujiwara Riichiro, 325–353. Kyoto: Hozokan. Hoang, Anh Tuan. 2007. Silk for Silver: Dutch-Vietnamese Relations, 1637–1700. Leiden: Brill. Iwao, Seiichi 岩生成一. 1985. Shinpan Shuinsen boeki shi no kenkyu 新版朱印船 貿易史の研究 [Studies in the history of trade under the Vermilion-seal licenses of the Tokugawa shogunate: Revised and enlarged edition]. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kobunkan. Kuroda, Akinobu. 2009. The Eurasian Silver Century, 1276–1359: Commensurability and Multiplicity. Journal of Global History 4: 245–269. ij

ij

72

Y. TAGA

Li, Tana. 2012a. Between Mountains and the Sea: Trades in Early NineteenthCentury Northern Vietnam. Journal of Vietnamese Studies 7 (2): 67–86. ———. 2012b. Tongking in the Age of Commerce. In Anthony Reid and the Study of the Southeast Asian Past, edited by Geoff Wade and Li Tana, 246– 268. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. Lin, Man-houng. 2006. China Upside Down: Currency, Society, and Ideologies, 1808–1856. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center. ´ Ky. 2009. Tiên ` cô Viê.t Nam [Ancient coins of Lu.c, Ðu´,c Thuâ.n, and Võ Quôc ´ ban Giáo du.c Viê.t Nam. Vietnam]. Hà Nô.i: Nhà xuât Momose, Hiromu 百瀬弘. 1980. Shindai ni okeru Supein doru no ryutsu 清 代に於ける西班牙弗の流通 [A study of the circulation of Spanish dollars in China during the Qing dynasty]. In Min Shin shakai keizai shi kenkyu 明清 社会経済史研究 [Studies in socio-economic history of China under the Ming and Qing dynasties], Momose Hiromu, 71–129. Tokyo: Kenbun Shuppan. Nguyen, Thanh Nha. 1970. Tableau économique du Viet Nam aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles. Paris: Éditions Cujas. ` Nguy˜ên Nguy˜ên, V˘an Ð˘ang. 2001. Tô chu´,c tu,o.,ng cu.c o, kinh d-ô Huê´ du,o´,i triêu ,, ´ ˜ [Organization of the tuo. ng cu.c in the capital Huê under Nguyên dynasty]. , Huê´ xua và nay [Huê´ past and present] 44: 55–66. Ono, Kazuichiro 小野一一郎. 2000. Kindai Nihon heisei to Higashi Ajia ginka ken 近代日本幣制と東アジア銀貨圏 [Monetary system of modern Japan and silver currency zone in East Asia]. Tokyo: Minerva Shobo. ` Nguy˜ên [The situation of Phan, Huy Lê. 2014. Tình hình khai mo du,o´,i triêu ˜ ´ ` Nguyên ˜ [Huê´ and the mining under the Nguyên dynasty]. In Huê và triêu ˜ ´ ban Chính tri. Nguyên dynasty], Phan Huy Lê, 193–271. Hà Nô.i: Nhà xuât ´ quôc gia. Schroeder, Albert. 1905. Annam: Études numismatiques: Ða.i Nam hóa tê. d-`ô lu.c. Saigon: Imprimerie Nationale. Shimada, Ryuto. 2015. Import Trade in Precious Metal and the Economy of Japan, 1763–c.1850. In Money in Asia (1200–1900): Small Currencies in Social and Political Contexts, edited by Jane Kate Leonard and Ulrich Theobald, 443–463. Leiden; Boston: Brill. Silvestre, Jules. 1883. Notes pour servir à la recherche et au classement des monnaies et médailles de l’Annam et de la Cochinchine française. Saigon: Imprimerie Nationale. Sun, Hongnian 孫宏年. 2006. Qingdai zhongyue zongfan guanxi yanjiu 清代中 越宗藩関係研究 [The Sino-Vietnamese lord-vassal relationship during Qing dynasty]. Ha’erbin: Heilongjiang jiaoyu chubanshe. ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

THE RISE OF SILVER DOLLARS: CHANGING PATTERN OF SILVER …

73

Taga, Yoshihiro 多賀良寛. 2014. Gencho chika Betonamu ni okeru gin ryutsu no kozo 阮朝治下ベトナムにおける銀流通の構造 [The structure of silver circulation in Vietnam under the Nguy˜ên dynasty]. Shigaku zasshi 史学雑 誌 [Journal of historical science] 123 (2): 1–34. ———. 2017. Jukyuseiki Betonamu ni okeru sozei ginnoka no mondai 19世紀ベ トナムにおける租税銀納化の問題 [Introduction of silver for tax payment in 19th century Vietnam]. Shakai keizai shigaku 社会経済史学 [Socio-Economic history] 83 (1): 91–114. ———. 2019. Kinsei Betonamu no keizai to gin 近世ベトナムの経済と銀 [Silver and economy in early modern Vietnam]. In Gin no ryutsu to Chugoku Tonan Ajia 銀の流通と中国・東南アジア [The circulation of silver in China and Southeast Asia], edited by Toyooka Yasufumi 豊岡康史 and Ohashi Atsuko 大橋厚子, 205–236. Tokyo: Yamakawa Shuppan-sha. ———. 2020. Economic Aspects of Court Rituals and Ceremonies in Nineteenth Century Hue. In A History of the Social Integration of Visitors, Migrants, and Colonizers in Southeast Asia, edited by Hirosue Masashi, 77–107. Tokyo: Toyo Bunko. Thierry, François. 2006. La monnaie vietnamienne, entre tradition Viê.t et culture Han. Arts Asiatiques 61: 165–180. ———. 2014. La monnaie vietnamienne, entre fiduciarité théorique et métalisme réel, des origines à la fin du XVIIIe siècle. Péninsule 69: 5–36. von Glahn, Richard. 2007. Foreign Silver Coin in the Market Culture of Nineteenth Century China. International Journal of Asian Studies 4 (1): 51–78. Wada, Hironori 和田博徳. 1961. Shindai no Vetonamu Biruma gin 清代のヴェ トナム・ビルマ銀 [Vietnamese and Burmese silver in Qing dynasty]. Shigaku 史学 [The historical science] 33 (3/4): 119–138. Whitmore, J.K. 1983. Vietnam and Monetary Flow of Eastern Asia, Thirteenth to Eighteenth Centuries. In Precious Metals in the Later Medieval and Early Modern Worlds, edited by J.F. Richards, 363–393. Durham, NC: Carolina Academic Press. Williams, Samuel Wells. 1856. A Chinese Commercial Guide. Canton: Printed at the Office of the Chinese Repository. Woodside, A.B. 1988. Vietnam and the Chinese Model: A Comparative Study of Vietnamese and Chinese Government in the First Half of the Nineteenth Century. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Yoshikawa, Kazuki 吉川和希. 2017. Junanaseiki kohan ni okeru hokubu Betonamu no nairiku koeki 17世紀後半における北部ベトナムの内陸交易 [Inland trade in Northern Vietnam during the latter half of the seventeenth century]. Tohogaku 東方学 [Eastern studies] 134: 45–60.

74

Y. TAGA

Yunnan Sheng qian bi yan jiu hui and Guangxi qian bi xue hui 雲南省銭幣研究会 ・広西銭幣学会 (eds.). 1993. Yuenan li shi huo bi 越南歴史貨幣 [Historical money of Vietnam]. Beijing: Zhongguo jin rong chu ban she. Zhang, Leiping. 2008. Trade and Security Issues in Sino-Vietnamese Relations 1802–1874. Ph.D. dissertation, National University of Singapore.

The Link Between Global Market Change and Local Strategy: The Case of Vietnamese Cinnamon in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century Masashi Okada

1

Introduction

This chapter attempts to show a new dynamic aspect of local societies and statecraft in Vietnam toward the transformation of maritime trade in the late stages of the early modern period via a case study of the cinnamon commodity. We will focus on the distribution of forest products in the eastern part of Southeast Asia after the crisis of the seventeenth century, specifically after a ban on private overseas trade (the Great Clearance, the Qianhai Decree) was lifted in 1685, reinvigorating trade between South China and Southeast Asia and the effect this had on the lowlands and uplands. Research on the relationship between port polities and inland riverine transport in Southeast Asian history began with Bronson’s seminal work and has been vigorously cited since it was published in the late 1970s (Bronson 1978). In the eastern portion of Southeast Asia, there has been a great deal of research on central and southern

M. Okada (B) Department of Humanities, National Defense Academy of Japan, Yokosuka, Japan © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. Akita et al. (eds.), Changing Dynamics and Mechanisms of Maritime Asia in Comparative Perspectives, Palgrave Studies in Comparative Global History, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-2554-1_4

75

76

M. OKADA

Vietnam (Cochinchina), where many of the more powerful coastal ports of the South China Sea were since the Champa period. Salemink reviewed research on the history of relations between the lowlands and uplands in Cochinchina. The port polities that depend on the rise and fall of the port indicate that it was dependent on the relation with the mountain world supplying forest products such as agilawood. Therefore, he suggests a view that the mountain world was a zone of trade and contact such as the South China Sea. On the other hand, Salemink (2011) notes that, unlike Cochinchina, the relationship between the mountain world and international trade in Tonkin had been limited because products from the lowland, such as raw silk, had become the mainstay of exported goods and since the withdrawal of the Dutch East India Company (VOC) at the end of the seventeenth century, the influence of international trade appears to have diminished in the region. However, in reality, in the following century, cinnamon as well as copper from the uplands revitalized international trade in Tonkin. These were supported by the expansion of the Chinese market in the eighteenth century, the expansion of the Chinese commercial network, and the frontier development that connected Chinese commercial capital and the Chinese labor force (Reid 1997, 2011). The characteristics of this era, or “Century of the Chinese”, such as the birth of an emerging regional government based on China’s market-oriented trade, were also prominent in the mountainous realms of the eastern part of Southeast Asia. Frontier polities linked to the Chinese commercial network emerged along the Sino-Vietnamese borders and the massive influx of overland immigrants brought environmental destruction and instability to the local societies. These topics have been studied in detail by Japanese scholars over the last dozen years or so (Takeuchi 2003; Nomoto and Nishikawa 2008; Okada 2012). It can be said that the expansion of the overall Chinese commercial sphere occurs not only at sea but also on land, and that this is characteristic of mainland Southeast Asia as opposed to the island areas of the region, that caused a significant difference in the correspondence of each community and each nation. Li Tana pointed out that Tonkin formed its own economic zone by strengthening direct ties with Canton through the Chinese commercial network, rather than the connection with Cochinchina which established mutual economic exchange with Canton and maritime Southeast Asian realms. There is also a claim that land-based trade with China played an important role for Tonkin (Li 2012). The establishment of a strong commercial zone that directly

THE LINK BETWEEN GLOBAL MARKET CHANGE AND LOCAL …

77

connected the Chinese market with the mountains in Tonkin in this way had undoubtedly had a significant impact on the relationship between the lowlands and the mountains, especially in the first half of the nine˜ dynasty integrated Tonkin and teenth century, in which the Nguyên Cochinchina. How then does the lowland state’s relationship with the mountains affect the two, and what kind of implications do they have in the commercial order of the time? Furthermore, we remind that France and Britain, which had by this time expanded into the Southeast Asian continent, acquired access to Yunnan via an overland route through the mountains by the end of the nineteenth century, these problems became not only a problem for Vietnam, but also to whole mainland Southeast Asia. In this chapter, we would like to shine a light on the above problems with the cinnamon produced by both Tonkin and Cochinchina. There are two groups of cinnamon species, both being the bark of the cinnamomum, an evergreen tree of the laurel family, and are each harvested for different uses. Cinnamomum zeylanicum, commonly referred to as Ceylonese cinnamon, is native to Sri Lanka, the Malabar Coast, Burma, and the Indonesian archipelago. This variety of cinnamon is sweet and less spicy, and thus suitable for flavoring and was used for embalming in ancient Egypt and later for flavoring in medieval Europe. Another group is cinnamomum cassia, also called Chinese cinnamon. It is native to South China, Vietnam, Laos, and the Indonesian archipelago (both groups of cinnamon grow in the last area mentioned). This cinnamon’s flavor is sweet, spicy, and bitter and is therefore unsuitable for flavoring, but can be used for medicine due to its rich oil containing cinnamaldehyde. In traditional Chinese medicine, cinnamon is used in various ways such as a stomach tonic and as a medicine for anemia or to promote sweating and urination. This useful forest product has been known as an important commodity via long-distance trade. However, little is known about how the flow of cinnamon as a medical herb influenced the societies that produced it.1 In the field of East Asian traditional medicine, Vietnamese cinnamon, especially quê´ Thanh (Thanh Hoa cinnamon), had been esteemed as being of the highest grade. The transition, therefore, of the medicinal herbal markets in the early modern period which saw social changes in East Asia also influenced the local societies in Vietnam, supplying cinnamon for the market. For example, while under national seclusion, or sakoku, Tokugawa Japan continuously imported Vietnamese cinnamon in great quantities

78

M. OKADA

to satisfy the demands of the domestic herbal market. Moreover, an increase in cinnamon demand among East Asian consumers caused the Vietnamese state to start to control the production and distribution of cinnamon. Furthermore, by the first half of the nineteenth century, a cinnamon oil market for aromatic use emerged in the Western World and took in a large amount of Chinese and Vietnamese cinnamon. As for Ceylonese cinnamon, Souza (2008) showed its history as a global commodity with agents involved by applying supply/commodity chain analysis. In his study, Chinese cinnamon is depicted as an alternative source to Ceylonese cinnamon, which was successful in its acceptance by European consumers through the efforts of Portuguese merchants by the late eighteenth century, but the study ignores the fact that the former had its own markets, which were herbal markets in East Asia. This chapter focuses on cinnamon as a herb, which not only fills a blank in cinnamon history but also illuminates the local initiatives in the mountains in its global context. Cinnamon, however, was not a resource the state could control easily as it was grown deep in inland mountain ranges. This characteristic of cinnamon as a forest product enables us to consider how the relationship between local societies in mountain regions and lowland states transformed in connection with maritime and overland trade, considering a variety of agents, e.g., local producers, local lords, state governments, and trans-border merchants. For the first, this chapter gives an overview of the history of the cinnamon trade for herbal markets in early modern Asia. It next examines and compares case studies of local societies collecting cinnamon in the two regions, Thanh Hóa–Nghê. An and Quang Nam–Quang Ngãi in terms of its relationship with the government. Thanh Hóa–Nghê. An in the north of Vietnam, also known as Tonkin, and Quang Nam–Quang Ngãi in central Vietnam, also known as Cochinchina2 (see Map 1). In doing so, this survey reveals how the trends of international trade impacted both regions in different ways depending on their geopolitical location and how they generated different local reactions. ij

ij

ij

ij

2 The Change in Global Trade Patterns and the Circulation of Cinnamon in East Asia Cinnamon was one of the main commodities shipped by the VOC from Asia to Europe in the Age of Commerce (from the fifteenth to

THE LINK BETWEEN GLOBAL MARKET CHANGE AND LOCAL …

79

Map 1 The two main collection areas of cinnamon in Vietnam during the seventeenth to nineteenth centuries

the seventeenth centuries), along with clove and nutmeg. However, by the late seventeenth century, we see a change in the trade patterns of cinnamon. As Reid points out, long-distance trade between Asia and Europe decreased, therefore the VOC and local merchants turned their eyes toward the Asian market (Reid 1997). In addition to this trend, the cinnamon monopoly established by the Dutch in Ceylon drove the flow of cinnamon in Southeast Asia toward the medicinal herb market in East Asia.3 The Dutch government and the VOC sent envoys to Qing China, which still had a ban on private overseas trade (the Great Clearance), to tribute cinnamon and cinnamon oil.4 This allows us to speculate that the VOC exported a quantity of cinnamon to the Chinese market. In addition, a country which the VOC regarded as a more favorable market for cinnamon was apparently Japan. The Japanese medicinal herb market appeared in documents by the mid-seventeenth century. As Fig. 1 shows, imports of cinnamon to Japan were high from the seventeenth to

Fig. 1 Cinnamon imports to Japan by Chinese junks (based on T¯ osen yushutsuny¯ uhin s¯ ury¯ o ichiran, 1637– 1637 ~ 1833 1833-nen: Fukugen t¯ osen kamotsu aratamech¯ o, kihan nimotsu kaiwatashich¯ o , edited by Y¯ oko Nagatsumi (Tokyo: Sobunsha, 1987)

80 M. OKADA

THE LINK BETWEEN GLOBAL MARKET CHANGE AND LOCAL …

81

the early nineteenth century, though it is virtually unknown between the 1690s and 1720s. At least since the 1740s, Japan steadily imported a large amount. Why did Japan import a rapidly increasing amount of cinnamon in the eighteenth century? Economic and medical science factors played a part. Firstly, the Edo period witnessed a dramatic population growth. The estimated population of Japan in the early eighteenth century is around 30 millions: nearly twice the size it had been at the beginning of the seventeenth century.5 This demographic change set a huge market for herbal medicine. The unstable climate in the eighteenth century also helped the demand growth of medicine. The later eighteenth century especially seems to have been the climax of the Little Ice Age, which caused several great famines in the Edo period.6 From an epidemiologic point of view, the Edo period had less risk of global epidemic thanks to national seclusion. These situations might favor for use of orthodox medicinal herb like cinnamon.7 As for cinnamon, the more important factor is that it had little competition in Japan, unlike raw silk and sugar, for which comparable products produced in Japan could be substituted. High-quality cinnamon requires a monsoon climate and a special kind of soil with adequate drainage and sterility. It was difficult to find suitable land in Japan to grow high-quality cinnamon. Exceptionally, a few areas within the Satsuma (present Kagoshima) region supplied cinnamon, but were less qualitative and not enough to fill the demand.8 This factor ensured a continued demand for cinnamon imports during the whole of the Edo period. The second major factor was changes in the medical field. Since the beginning of the Edo period, Tokugawa Japan imported a high quantity of medical books from China and reprinted them (Mayanagi 1998). This fervent desire for medical knowledge was supported by the secularization and popularization of medical culture. Before the Muromachi period, medical knowledge had been concentrated in the hands of Buddhist monks, some of whom had a chance to study medicine in China. By the eighteenth century, a variety of secular doctors in social levels from the Oku-i 奥医 (doctor in the shogun’s seraglio) to the Ch¯ o-i 町医 (town doctor) and Zaison-i 在村医 (village doctor) appeared along with a large number of medical schools. Moreover, as Yamawaki points out, local doctors tended to learn the Classical School Kohou-ha 古方派 of Chinese medicine. This school re-evaluates classical medical texts, like the Sh¯ anghán-lùn 傷寒論 (Treatise on Injuries from the Cold), which

82

M. OKADA

frequently refers to the use of cinnamon (Yamawaki 1995). Kagawa Sh¯utoku 香川修徳, one of the most famous doctors of the Classical School, referred to cinnamon first out of the 135 items in his work Ippondo Yakusen 一本堂薬選, published in 1731. An examination of the reprinted titles of medical book imports also shows that titles with simple content and fewer volumes, like the Sh¯ anghán-lùn, were preferred (Mayanagi 1998). It is argued that the popularization of medicine and the demand for simple manuals led to a large amount of cinnamon imports in Tokugawa Japan. Cinnamon imports to Japan became rare by the turn of the nineteenth century. In an annotated edition of the Bˇencao ˇ G¯ angmu 本草綱 目 (Compendium of Materia Medica) titled Honz¯ o K¯ omoku Keim¯ o 本 草綱目啓蒙 (1806), a noted Japanese scholar of herbalism wrote about cinnamon in the Japanese market: At present, there is no true Tonkin cinnamon. So they regard Cochin China cinnamon as the best quality, but this one as well has not actually been imported for some time. Pieces that were previously imported are very rare. So pharmacies choose pieces that look like Cochin China cinnamon with bitter flavor, among them Guangnan (広南) cinnamon, and sell them as Cochin China cinnamon.

Guangnan is one of the more well-known places for cultivating Chinese cinnamon (cassia), located in the western part of Guangdong province. This indicates that Chinese cinnamon replaced Vietnamese cinnamon in the Japanese herbal market during the eighteenth century.9 Why then, did Vietnamese cinnamon disappear from the Japanese market? The most likely explanation seems to be that the overwhelmingly large market in China drained it. As Qing dynasty China lifted the ban on private overseas trade in 1685 after the surrender of the Zheng family in Taiwan, large numbers of Chinese merchants setting sail overseas, along with the mass Chinese migration that followed, formed extensive economic circulation between China and Southeast Asia. Vietnamese cinnamon was also drawn into this phenomenon.

THE LINK BETWEEN GLOBAL MARKET CHANGE AND LOCAL …

83

3 Tonkin Cinnamon and Overseas/Overland Circulation ˜ dynasty unified the area (including Tonkin and When the Nguyên Cochinchina) by 1802, both centers of cinnamon fell under the control of the Huê´ court (Huê´ was originally the capital of Cochinchina). The Huê´ court turned to monopolize cinnamon in a different way. First, we look at the situation in Tonkin. Tonkin is connected with China by land, so Chinese merchants already gained ground in Tonkin before lifting the ban on private overseas trade.10 By the beginning of the eighteenth century, Tonkin was covered with Chinese merchants and laborers who had traveled by land and sea. They were engaged in exploiting mining and forest products, including cinnamon. Tonkin’s Lê–Tri.nh regime tried hard to monopolize cinnamon in Tonkin (the first evident edict was declared in 1720) but was unsuccessful as it was difficult to tackle production smuggling prevalent in the mountains.11 Although the government in Hanoi banned Chinese merchants from entering the mountain areas, it was also frequently reported that Chinese merchants smuggled cinnamon, in some ´ 黄 cases likely using the inland route to Yunnan. The Hoàng Công Chât 公質’s regime (1754–1769) in Muong Thanh (present Ðiê.n Biên Phu) was also seemingly empowered by cinnamon smuggling.12 Through the turbulent time of the Tay Son uprising, which overthrew the Lê–Tri.nh regime, Hà Công Thái showed interest in the cinnamon forest of Thanh Hóa. Being a Tai lord in the Câm Thuy district allowed him easy access to cinnamon forests in the borderlands with Laos. He ˜ Phúc Ánh in attacking Tay Son in Tonkin via the mounhelped Nguyên tain roads, or Thuong dao 上道. During the early period of Gia Long’s reign, the Huê´ court approved Hà Công Thái’s autonomy over inland areas of Thanh Hóa and Nghê. An with the concession of cinnamon in the areas.13 A report by provincial officials to Huê´ details the collecting of cinnamon in Thanh Hóa during this period: ij

ij

ij

´ Chính thông l˜ınh (Commandant) and the Director of the Quê´ hô. (cinnamon households) Hà Công Thái has reported that our Quê´ hô. troops sought14 and found cinnamon trees in the forests in Tri.nh Va.n and Quân Thiên of Tho. Xuân district already, and now the harvesting season has come. He requested the authority to send official(s) to supervise and grant permission for the Quê´ hô. troops to peel cinnamon bark at the same

84

M. OKADA

location as the harvest, which was granted… After we collected cinnamon bark from 10 trees in Tri.nh Va.n and 9 trees in Quân Thiên and sent them to the provincial office, we gave the order to classify them into 3 classes. The amount of the 1st class is 1000 pieces and half of them (500 pieces) ´ 7 cân 6 la.ng. Apart from that, levied to the court, with a weight of 1 yên we collected 100 pieces, 20 percent of the remaining pieces for the Quê´ ` The amount of hô. troops’ wages, its weight being 3 cân 8 la.ng 6 tiên. the 2nd class is 1834 pieces and half of them (919 pieces) levied to the ´ 8 cân 12 la.ng. The amount of the 3rd class court, with a weight of 2 yên is 1761 pieces, and half of them (882 pieces) levied to the court, with a ´ 2 cân 3 la.ng. Also, the scrap bark weighs 1 cân 11 la.ng 2 weight of 3 yên ` ` tiên and we levied half of it (13 la.ng 6 tiên). We have sealed them in two boxes and sent them to the court with two copies of a list which shows the length and size in diameter of each of the 19 trees and the number and weight of each class.15

This report shows how the Huê´ court began to show interest in collecting cinnamon, especially with regards to its quality. After delivery to the court, Thái Y Viê.n 太医院 (Imperial Institute of Medicine) checked its quality again and stamped certifications on the bark. The Huê´ court prohibited the sale of the best-quality Tonkin cinnamon and kept it for use as royal medicine, diplomatic gifts (to China, Siam, and Japan), and imperial gifts to special subjects favored by the Emperor.16 Although the medicinal use of cinnamon was less ubiquitous in Vietnam than in Japan due to Vietnam’s climate (cinnamon is noticeably more effective in cold climates), the court doctors often prescribed Tonkin cinnamon for the Emperor.17 By monopolizing this rare Tonkin cinnamon, the Huê´ court seemed to have used it as a mark of prestige, adding to its value and fame. On the other hand, through the above document, we can also see the more concrete motives Hà Công Thái had in collecting cinnamon. The authorities were only able to carry out checks when harvesting requests were put forward by Hà Công Thái himself, and the Quê´ hô. troops were his men as well. He might transact with contraband merchants, yet still cooperate with the court to receive privileged rights in the region. Furthermore, special demand and monopolizing in the court would prop up the value of cinnamon from Thanh Hóa. In Crawfurd’s report, one picul of the highest-quality cinnamon (clearly Tonkin cinnamon) was valued at 600 quán, 50 times the price of the lowest-quality cinnamon on

THE LINK BETWEEN GLOBAL MARKET CHANGE AND LOCAL …

Map 2

85

Tonkin

the market (Crawfurd 1828). Eventually it came to be called “royal cinnamon” and was believed to preserve youth and increase longevity. After Hà Công Thái’s assassination, the Huê´ court under Emperor Minh Ma.ng (r. 1820–1841) tried to dissolve the autonomous power the overthrown Hà Công Tháihad held and impose smaller Tai lords to control the Quê´ hô. and reinforce its control by imposing a quota and more careful checks on quality. As a result, local lords lost any incentive in collecting cinnamon as they had heretofore. On the other hand, the court made no evident changes in the way they harvested and still continued to rely on the local lords’ cooperation18 (Map 2).

4 Extensive Cultivation in Cochinchina for Maritime Export Now we turn to see another cinnamon center in Cochinchina. The situation was different here in that the cinnamon-producing areas were more

86

M. OKADA

exposed to the overseas Chinese merchant networks. From the eighteenth century to the early nineteenth century, the maritime world (“the Water Frontier”) intensively connected Chinese markets emerged along the South China Sea from littoral Vietnam to the Malay peninsula. The impact of the China trade is underlined by the fact that the number of Chinese junks visiting Cochinchina increased fourfold between 1750 and 1820 (Reid 1997). In this situation, the most powerful rival of ˜ Vietnam and Chakkri Cochinchina for maritime trade was Siam. Nguyên Siam fought fiercely in the 1830s and 1840s to control the trading routes, networks, and resources of the Water Frontier hinterland. By the beginning of the nineteenth century, the Bangkok court had successfully consolidated Thai political power throughout the trans-Mekong region. As a result, although the Minh Ma.ng reign saw Vietnamese win an upper hand in the trading zone from the middle Mekong basin to its coastal delta, by the mid-nineteenth century tribute and tax were flowing to Bangkok from the trans-Mekong region, rather than to Saigon. This political control, then, consequently generated more trade. For instance, the Siamese sugar industry, supplying a lucrative nineteenth-century export trade, relied largely on Khmer producers who had been forcibly resettled to the sugar cultivation areas in central Siam in the late eighteenth century (Li 2004). Within this competitive framework, Cochinchina exported nearly the same goods as Siam. One of the most important export items being sugar, whose quality was decidedly lesser than Siam’s, where Chinese immigrants broadly produced sugar by utilizing the latest technology from their home country. Some trade data in Singapore also shows that Siam achieved more success in intra-region trade in the South China Sea, making Cochinchina more dependent on the Chinese market (Milburn 1825). Furthermore, the trade had laterally suffered some depression (as was Siam) likely owing to the rivalry of the Americans, who had recently been pushing their commercial interests in this region and to the disturbed state of the country (Newbold 1839). However, as for cinnamon, Cochinchinese was exceptionally compet˜ Vietnam to recognize itive on the market. This prompted Nguyên cinnamon as an important commodity. Cinnamon had special significance as an export commodity for the Huê´ court as they competed with Siam in attracting Chinese junks. The Huê´ court, under the rule of Gia Long, ˜ Dynasty, categorized cinnamon as “prethe first emperor of the Nguyên cious commodities (貴貨),” like ivory, pepper, or sapan-wood and levied

THE LINK BETWEEN GLOBAL MARKET CHANGE AND LOCAL …

87

a special tax (5% of price) on junks from Hà Tiên, Siam, and Singapore.19 ` river which The cinnamon-producing area is located along the Thu Bôn flows into the South China Sea at the port of Hô.i An, an international trade center. Before the eighteenth century, Hô.i An had been a base of settled Chinese merchants (Minh hu,o,ng) in Cochinchina. They formed a ˜ lords while engaged in the transacguild under the patronage of Nguyên tion of commodities with foreign merchants, mainly Chinese. They had ˜ taken an important role in the gold trade along the river under Nguyên 20 Cochinchina. The situation would be the same for cinnamon. Following the observation of Crawfurd, cinnamon cultivation prevailed along the ` river until the beginning of the nineteenth century. Seemingly, Thu Bôn this was brought about by Chinese merchants from South China, where cultivation of cinnamon started previously. Also, the growing demand of herbal markets in East Asia also drove local villagers to intensively cultivate cinnamon on their lands. As for the involvement of the government ˜ lords in harvesting cinnamon in Cochinchina, it seems that the Nguyên granted the interest of cinnamon to the royals and high-ranked officials.21 ˜ Dynasty in 1802, the Huê´ court sought After the founding of the Nguyên to incorporate interests from natural resources into the treasury directly (Map 3).

5 Government involvement’s Reliance on Chinese Merchants: Cinnamon for Official Business It has been said that the second Emperor, Minh Ma.ng established centralization on the Chinese model of bureaucracy and launched the , ,, policy of Tro.ng nông u´c thuong 重農抑商政策, which considered agriculture as the major economic issue and oppressed commerce based on Confucianism. This policy was seen to be steering in the direction of a self-sufficient economy as well as showing factors which actually hindered economic development in Vietnam and led to colonization (Woodside 1971). However, he seems to have been deeply interested in utilizing Chinese merchants. This brings us back to the trade system under the ˜ dynasty. It was a system to control and gain more profit from the Nguyên Chinese junks. The Huê´ court under the reign of Minh Ma.ng was not only receptive to trade, waiting for Chinese junks to come to Vietnam,

88

M. OKADA

Map 3

Cochinchina

but also sent out overseas trading missions.22 Their destinations listed place names such as Penang, Singapore, Manila, Batavia, and sometimes as far as India (The missions to these destinations were called Ha. Châu Công vu. (Official Business to the Lower Islands). In addition, the Huê´ court also sent missions to Canton and on rarer occasions to other ports , like Suzhou and Hangzhou, which were called Nhu Ðông Công vu. 如東 公務 or Quang Ðông Công vu. 広東公務 (Official business to the East or Canton). Although more literature mentions the former, the latter one was actually conducted more frequently and on a larger scale. The purpose for sending these missions was for the most part trading articles and gathering information. The Cantonese missions tended more to focus on Chinese goods. According to Zhang (2008), while traditional tribute , trade with Qing China was still limited, since the Gia Long period, Nhu ij

THE LINK BETWEEN GLOBAL MARKET CHANGE AND LOCAL …

89

Ðông Công Vu. increasingly became a way for the Vietnamese govern˜ court needed ment to directly engage in maritime trade. The Nguyên this kind of trade to meet their demands for luxury items. She also said , that on most occasions, the purpose of this Nhu Ðông Công Vu. label was to disguise their trade in Qing since the latter never approved of Vietnam paying tribute to China by sea. Her argument still ignored some significant changes in the character of these missions, which appeared during the Minh Ma.ng period. Firstly, before the Minh Ma.ng period, those appointed for the missions were eunuchs and Chinese merchants, but during the Minh Ma.ng period itself, civil and military officers were appointed. Secondly, while the mission carried a considerable amount of money to purchase the Chinese commodities at Canton in the Gia Long period, Minh Ma.ng began to demand that the missions carry Vietnamese products instead of money. Why were the missions altered in this way? Was it due to his despotic and anachronistic way of thinking?23 One probable reason which the later document explains for the changes is to save money for military expenditures.24 However, it would become clear that it had further global and local contexts when we pay closer attention to , what the main products for the Nhu Ðông Công Vu.. As Table 1 shows, only the cinnamon and sugar amounts are large rounded numbers as the two items were collected for this official business project by the court.25 The Huê´ court purchased the products with government funds (Công ban 公本), called Quan mãi 官買 (government purchase) to load the hold of the vessels to Canton every year. ij

Table 1 Export item list of official business to Canton in 1846

Commodity

Amount (catty)

Commodity

Amount (catty)

Sugar Betel nuts Dried fish Cinnamon Dried shrimp Pepper Sea cucumber Cardamom

600,000 141,990 34,230 18,000 11,810 9896 2052 1398

Ivory Shark fin Lotus seed Deer bone Rino skin Bird nest Others Total

850 729 600 132 120 103 67 872,535

` Nguyên, ˜ Reign of Thiê.u Tri., part 34, no. 5 Source: Châu baij n triêu

90

M. OKADA

There are some noteworthy facts concerning government purchases. First, the government did not conduct this directly nor in a compulsory manner. It was nothing like the monopoly system which the French diplomat above described. Minh Ma.ng issued an edict to order the provincial officers to conduct government purchases at the market or ,, through licensed merchants called Thuong hô. 商戸 or Nghiê.p hô. 業戸 and to prohibit any assigning of tasks to the local communes whose headmen might exploit the people as a result.26 In particular, there was a complicated situation in harvesting cinnamon as most of the major cinnamon growing was located in mountains, and those who cultivated and collected cinnamon were not Vietnamese but people like the Katu. These local communes at trade posts therefore consisted mainly of Vietnamese soldiers and settlers who had made a living from trade with highlanders. Since the Champa Kingdom, lowlanders and highlanders had exchanged items like ivory, gold, and eaglewood at trading posts along the rivers. After Vietnamese people began to settle in by the sixteenth ` 源) century, they installed subdistricts at these trading posts (called nguôn as the Ða.i Viê.t kingdom expanded southward (Hickey 1982: 155; Hardy 2009). On occasion, these settlers brought with them troubles with the highlanders and saw frequent attacks from them. This would have been an obvious cause for the Emperor Minh Ma.ng to distrust the local social system over the merchants, although he realized that some wily merchants would also bother his subjects no matter what the situation was. Another reason for the tendency to rely on merchants is related with the aim of government purchasing itself. Minh Ma.ng clearly declared that the purpose of government purchase was to fulfill government demand on goods and to save the starving population.27 The Minh Ma.ng period ˜ 1967). The court faced a chronic increase in the price of rice (Nguyên often allowed the opening of the court granaries and lent the merchants the rice in place of cash to purchase goods. It was expected that the increase in traded rice volume would have an effect on the fall in rice prices. It was also supposed to diminish attacks from the highlanders, which tended to occur during the pre-harvest months. In this way, the government purchase of cinnamon and sugar was designed not only for , the Nhu Ðông Công vu. but also to reinforce the political and social order ´ In other words, the emperor of the region around the capital city of Huê. Minh Ma.ng would try to manipulate the relationship between local societies surrounding Huê´ and Canton using the Chinese merchants, and to

THE LINK BETWEEN GLOBAL MARKET CHANGE AND LOCAL …

91

step up the involvement of the government (apart from the mere levying of tax). This means that the court had to rely on Chinese merchants to maintain this new system. It would also make locals cultivating cinnamon more dependent both on the lowland state and Chinese merchants.28 , Another point concerning the export of cinnamon in the Nhu Ðông Công vu. is that it was reacting toward a global market change Canton played a key role in. By the nineteenth century, a large number of useful trees, whose wood, bark, buds, seeds, pods, and leaves could all be extracted into oil, had fallen into high demand for various purposes in carpentry, medicine, perfumery, and cookery in the markets of the West. After the factories system functioned, Canton became a redistribution center for Asian plants and their oils to Western markets. As Table 2 indicates, the other Western vessels, especially British and American, also increasingly shipped cassia from Canton to the American and European markets, especially in the 1830s.29 This period matched the reign , of Minh Ma.ng, and cinnamon harvested for the Nhu Ðông Công vu. was independent in quality. The cinnamon would also come to play a part in this new market. Furthermore, a recent volume edited by Ohashi Atsuko, a Japanese scholar on the economic history of Southeast Asia, revealed that the period between 1820 and 1830s in maritime Asia experienced underwent qualitative changes of trade environment caused by multiple factors as cool weather, falls in commodity prices in the Europe, steep Table 2 Cassia exports from Canton to Western markets

Year

Amount (picul)

1792 1825 1827 1828 1830 1834 1836 1846 1849 * 1840s

480+ 807+ 1100+ 4703 2463 12,864+ 11,356+ 12,461+ 10,416+ 35,000 (maximum)

Source: Canton Register; Chinese Repository; Hosea Ballou Morse, The Chronicles of the East India Company trading to China 1635–1834 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1926–1929); Samuel Wells Williams. A Chinese commercial guide (Canton: Office of the Chinese Repository, 1856)

92

M. OKADA

rises in the values of silver (Ohashi 2018, 2019). She also argued that the governments in the areas which was deeply influenced by this turmoil took measures, mainly by collecting exports items as taxes in kind or at low cost by making wage payments in advance to and to establish their own currency systems (The Cultivation System by the Dutch government ˜ dynasty also suffered from rising was a typical example). The Nguyên price of silver and its outflow to China. And Taga examined, in the same volume and another article, the policies of Minh Ma.ng which aimed to control silver flow and establish a currency system under state control (Taga 2017, 2019). As based on that point of view, a set of the poli, cies, Quan mãi and Nhu Ðông Công vu. was also regarded as a reaction of the new situation. It helped to decrease outflow of silver to China and might revitalize the downsized foreign trade. At the same time, the Emperor, Minh Ma.ng also realized the matured tie between the upland societies and the Chinese commercial network much enough to collect cinnamon through the medium of Chinese settled merchants. It could be supposed to be a project to rearrange the relationship between global market, financial distribution, and local market to be more governmentinvolved in order to ensure its finance and political economy against the turmoil in this period. And cinnamon might be a favorable commodity for the unstable market at that time because it had two kinds of markets in different use.

6

Conclusions

The story of Vietnamese cinnamon reveals the dynamics of local communities in the mountains with the global trade patterns as well as the expansion of the Chinese commercial sphere. From the viewpoint of Japan, demand for cinnamon grew due to changes in Japan’s medical culture. A nearly two-fold population increase in the seventeenth century and the popularization of the medicine culture in the latter half of Tokugawa Japan led to a massive demand for cinnamon in East Asian herbal markets and led Vietnamese cinnamon into the realm of high-quality commodities. However, expansion in Chinese circulations from the late seventeenth century offered different economic paths to two regions supplying Vietnamese cinnamon. The region close to the international maritime port in Cochinchina started to cultivate cinnamon and would keep receiving the effects of the influence of changing maritime trade

THE LINK BETWEEN GLOBAL MARKET CHANGE AND LOCAL …

93

patterns directly as the government in Huê´ also utilized the situation to expand the economic sphere toward the inland frontier. This likely made the local society more dependent on Chinese merchants as well as the government. On the other hand, in Tonkin, the cultivation of cinnamon cannot be seen until the French colonial period. The cinnamon-growing areas in Tonkin were not close to any international ports like Hô.i An but had access to South China by overland routes. High-quality cinnamon was literally worth its weight in gold to the decimal. These commodities were suitable for overland trade via mountain routes where it is difficult to transfer bulky goods but easy to smuggle. Cultivation of cinnamon, then, might have been less profitable for both local people and merchants in Tonkin. At the same time, from the standpoint of the local society, cinnamon could serve not only as an economic resource but as a political ˜ one for local powers to compete with the lowland kingdom, the Nguyên dynasty. Even by the end of the nineteenth century, local Tai lords in ` Bá Thu,o´,c were still able to fight against French the region like Câm colonization. The above discussion suggests further conclusions. First, development of the Chinese merchant network and Chinese market as well as newly emerging Western Markets strongly promoted exploitation of natural resources besides mineral resources alone, but also forest products in the first half of the nineteenth century. Trade of forest products from Southeast Asia continued to be important not only in intra-Asian trade but also in global trade. Second, the complex of Chinese networks, state control and local power differentiated the patterns of resource use and distribution of cinnamon in the two regions. This situation seems to have continued until the early twentieth century.

Notes 1. As for cinnamon as a medicinal herb, Yamawaki Teijiro, an eminent Japanese history scholar, surveyed the importation of cinnamon in the Edo period and its background, but only examined importation within the context of Sino-Japanese trade (Yamawaki 1995). 2. Beyond the two centers, Vietnam still has other smaller-scale cinnamon growing areas, such as Yên Bái, Quang Yên in Tonkin and Quy Nho,n in Cochinchina, but we do not find government involvement to control ij

94

M. OKADA

3.

4. 5.

6.

7.

8. 9.

10.

11.

cinnamon in these areas, and documents mentioning cinnamon in the early modern period are scarce. In 1643, the VOC factory in Tonkin bought 635 catties of cinnamon at 5 tael per picul for export to the Netherlands. However, Batavia found its quality and price did not profit well, and decided to export to Japan, where cinnamon could be sold at 17 tael per picul (Hoang 2007: 32–33). Yue-hai-guan-zhi (粤海関志) recorded Dutch envoy’s tribute cinnamon and cinnamon oil in 1656 and 1686. The estimated number of at the beginning of the seventeenth century varies from 12 million up to 18 million. The number of 17 million in Saito’s theory would be the most influential (Saito 2015). Recent works of paleoclimatology shows the early modern East Asia saw the big cold troughs at around 1670s, 1700s, 1740s, 1780s, 1820s and 1840s. Nakatsuka proposed that such climatic cycles at multidecadal time scales made disaster risk management more difficult rather than prolonged situation (Cook et al. 2013; Nakatsuka 2016). Exceptional case was smilacis rhizoma, called Sankirai (山帰来), which had been used for medicine of syphilosis. It had marked the largest proportion of imported herbs during the Edo period. In Satsuma, they still use local cinnamon called Keshin. It is unclear whether this is a domesticated species or a local one. Wakan Sansai Zue 和漢三才図会 (1712) wrote that contemporary Chinese junks brought less quality cinnamon. This seems to refer Chinese cinnamon (Vol. 82). When general Wu Sangui (呉三桂), who helped the Manchus establish the Qing dynasty, ruled Yunnan as Prince Bingxi (平西王, 1644–1678), Yunnanese merchants came to Tonkin to purchase raw silk. The Zheng family in Taiwan also sent merchants to Tonkin for raw silk at that time (Iioka 2011). , As for an edict in 1720, see Ða.i Viê.t su ký tu.c biên (大越史記全書続編), ,, ` ´ ´ November 1720, Li.ch triêu hiên chuong loa.i chí (歴朝憲章類誌), Quôc du.ng chí国用誌, Vol.31. Actually, The Lê–Tri.nh regime seems to have ` ta.p ky [歴朝襍 launched a monoply on cinnamon before 1715 (Li.ch triêu , 紀], Vol. 2, l.20). In terms of the ban on the Chinese, see Ða.i Viê.t su ký tu.c biên, June 1737. Muong Thanh is located at a junction of the Ma, Da and U Rivers. The Ma runs through cinnamon growing areas and flows to the sea. The Da ´ escaped River allows Muong Thanh access to Yunnan. Hoàng Công Chât from Lê–Tri.nh forces and established a base at Muong Thanh, which was previously under control of the Luang Phrabang kingdom with support from some Tai lords and Chinese merchants. Local people worshiped him even after his death as he was believed to have made Muong Thanh flourish as an inland trade emporium (Okada 2010). ij

ij

ij

12.

THE LINK BETWEEN GLOBAL MARKET CHANGE AND LOCAL …

95

´ thông ´ chí (大南一統志), vol. 17, Thanh Hóa, Nhân vâ.t. 13. Ða.i Nam nhât 14. According to sources during the period of French rule, they prepared food supplies for as many as 2 months to find good quality cinnamon trees (Pho 1936). We then see that Tonkin cinnamon came to be highly prized due to its rarity. ` Nguyên ˜ (阮朝硃本, Imperial Archives of Nguyên ˜ 15. Châu ban triêu Dynasty), Reign of Minh Ma.ng, part 4, no. 43, June 3, 1821. 16. In 1829, the court revised the regulations and levied all 1st class cinnamon bark. As a result, the Quê´ hô. could not legally receive any 1st class , cinnamon bark (Khâm d-.inh Ða.i Nam hô.i d-iên su. lê. [欽定大南会典事 例], vol. 45, l.10b). ` Nguyên, ˜ Reign of Gia Long, part 5. 17. Châu ban triêu 18. When no one was responsible for collecting cinnamon in a district, the authorities recruited Chinese merchants to organize the Quê´ hô. (Châu ` Nguyên, ˜ Reign of Minh Ma.ng, part 4, no.25, June 23, 1821). ban triêu , 19. Ða.i Nam thu. c lu.c chính biên (大南寔録正編), I, v.39, l.5-, Gia Long 8, 8th month; Milburn 1825: 443. 20. Phu biên ta.p lu.c (撫邊雜録), vol. 4. 21. Ibid. 22. Through the eyes of foreigners at that time, this project looked like a monopoly system. Isidore Hedde, a French woman who visited Cochinchina as a member of the French mission to China in 1843 wrote below. “The king has taken to himself all the monopoly of trade. He buys goods from his subjects at the price he appoints and sends his ships to sell them at foreign ports. He employs in trade five square rigged ships and steamers which have been constructed in the country. He sends them to Canton, to Singapore, to Batavia, and sometimes to Calcutta…To give an idea of the manner in which the trade is carried on, we may mention, that last year the king sent to Canton two ships and twelve officers to sell his goods and to buy others in exchange. On their return, not being satisfied with their success, he degraded them, putting them in prison and in fetters and confiscating all their property” (Chinese Repository, vol. 15, p. 119). , 23. First example appeared in 1822. see Ða.i Nam thu. c lu.c chính biên, II, 16:1. , 24. Khâm d-.inh Ða.i Nam hô.i d-iên su. lê., 64:8, Tu., Ðu´,c 1st (1848). “Sugar and cinnamon are products from Quang Nam and Quang Ngãi provinces. The vessels in official foreign business used to load the products in the form of ballast and they were traded to finance funds and provisions for the troops. From the point of this time, every winter provincial officers are to go to survey the situation. If anyone wants to participate in the bidding, the provinces should proceed the bidding for the government purchase. ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

96

M. OKADA

25.

26. 27. 28.

29.

It doesn’t matter if the amount to collect is achieved anymore. If no one wants to contract, the purchase should be cancelled.” As for the amount of cinnamon, it shared under 10% of total exports when the author made an estimate based on Crawfurd’s observation (Crawfurd 1828: 262). These figures of Table 1 in the 6th year of reign of Thiê.u Tri., in which the court did not stop to send official missions yet, still reflects the situation in the reign of Minh Ma.ng approximately. Though, the amount of exported cinnamon seems to have decreased gradually when we see the amounts of collecting cinnamon. , Khâm d-.inh Ða.i Nam hô.i d-iên su. lê., 36:5. , Ða.i Nam thu. c lu.c chính biên, II, 94:21. After Minh Ma.ng reign, this official mission turned to be committed to Chinese merchants. If any Chinese junk which had been commissioned by the court to import such Chinese goods defaulted or failed to return to Vietnam by the deadline of its commission, the “congregation” headmen and Minh hu,o,ng, who had formally guaranteed it, were forced to indemnify the court (Woodside 1971). It mainly aimed to procure Chinese goods and government purchase of cinnamon and sugar was also not regular more. See note 24. The Spanish tried to export cassia from Mindanao as cinnamon in the sixteenth century, but the market in Europe did not accept it but since 1770s, the Portuguese in Macao started to export cassia in South China (Souza 2008: 158). ij

References Bronson, Benneth. 1978. Exchange at the Upstream and Downstream Ends: Notes Toward a Functional Model of the Coastal State in Souteast Asia. In Economic Exchange and Social Interaction in Southeast Asia: Perspectives from Prehistory, History, and Ethnography, ed. Karl L. Hutterer. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan. Cook, Edward R., Paul J. Krusic, Kevin J. Anchukaitis, Brendan M. Buckley, Takeshi Nakatsuka, and Masaki Sano. 2013. Tree-Ring Reconstructed Summer Temperature Anomalies for Temperate East Asia Since 800 C.E. Climate Dynamics 41 (11–12): 2957–2972. Crawfurd, John. 1828. Journal of an Embassy from the Governor-General of India to the Courts of Siam and Cochin China Exhibiting a View of the Actual State of those Kingdoms, 2 vols. London: Henry Colburn. Hardy, Andrew. 2009. Eaglewood and the Economic History of Champa and , Central Vietnam. In Champa and the Archeology of M˜y Son (Vietnam), ed. Andrew Hardy et al. Singapore: NUS Press.

THE LINK BETWEEN GLOBAL MARKET CHANGE AND LOCAL …

97

Hickey, Gerald Cannon. 1982. Sons of the Mountains: Ethnohistory of the Vietnamese Central Highlands to 1954. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Hoang, Anh Tuan. 2007. Silk for silver: Dutch-Vietnamese relations, 1637–1700. Leiden: Brill. Iioka, Naoko. 2011. The Trading Environment and the Failure of Tongking’s Mid-Seventeenth-Century Commercial Resurgence. In The Tongking Gulf Through History, ed. Nola Cooke, Li Tana, and James Anderson. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Li, Tana. 2004. The Water Frontier: An Introduction. In Water Frontier: Commerce and the Chinese in the Lower Mekong Region, 1750–1880, ed. Nola Cooke and Tana Li. Singapore: Singapore University Press. ———. 2012. Between Mountains and the Sea: Trades in Early NineteenthCentury Northern Vietnam. Journal of Vietnamese Studies 7 (2): 67–86. Mayanagi, Makoto. 1998. The Import and Reprinting of Chinese Medical Books During the Edo Period. An unpublished paper presented at The International Institute for Asian Studies, Leiden University, March. http://square.umin.ac. jp/mayanagi/paper02/netherlandsEng.htm. Milburn, William (comp.). 1825. Oriental Commerce, or, The East India Trader’s Complete Guide. London: Printed for Kingsbury, Parbury and Allen. Nakatsuka, Takeshi. 2016. K¯ obunkain¯ o Kokik¯ o D¯eta kara Hajimaru Atarashii Saigaishi Kenky¯ u no H¯ ok¯ osei [Directions in New Historical Disaster Studies. Based on High Resolution Paleoclimate Data]. Kokuritsurekishiminzokuhakubutsukan Kenky¯ uh¯ okoku [Bulletin of the National Museum of Japanese History] 203: 9–26. Newbold, T.J. 1839.Political and Statistical Account of the British Settlements in the Straits of Malacca, vol. 1. London: John Murray (Reprint, Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1971). ` bán thê´ ky XIX. ˜ Thê´ Anh. 1967. Vân ´ d-ê` lúa ga.o o, Viê.t Nam trong tiên Nguyên, , Tâ.p san Su Ði.a 6 (in Vietnamese). Nomoto, Takashi, and Nishikawa Kazutaka. 2008. Kanzokuimin no Katsud¯ o to Seitaikanky¯ o no kaihen [The Activities of Han Migrants and Changes to the Ecological Environment]. In Ronsh¯ u Mons¯ un-ajia no Seitaishi Chiiki to Chiky¯ u wo Tsunagu, dai 2 kan: Chiiki no Seitaishi [Articles on the Ecological History of Monsoon Asia, Vol.2: Regional Ecological History], ed. Chiristian Daniels. Tokyo: Kobundo. ´ d-ôi trong li.ch su, Mu,o`,ng Then vào thê´ ky Okada, Masashi. 2010. Nhu˜,ng biên ,, ` môi ´ giao lu,u vê` kinh tê´ o, miên ` núi và Hoàng Công 18: Muo` ng Then d-âu ´ hô.i ´ - mô.t thu l˜ınh cuô.c kho,i ngh˜ıa nông dân. In Viê.t Nam ho.c - Ky yêu Chât ´ tê´ lân ` thu´, ba -- Viê.t Nam: Hô.i nhâ.p và phát triên. tâ.p 6. Hà Nô.i: thao quôc ´ gia Hà Nô.i (in Vietnamese). ´ ban Ða.i ho.c Quôc Nhà xuât ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

ij

98

M. OKADA

———. 2012. Taizoku Muon K¯ oz¯ o Saik¯ o 18-19 Seikizenhan no Betonamu Muonr¯ o Bonchishakai no Shiten kara [Rethinking the Tai Muong Structure Model: A View from a Valley Society of Muong Lo, Vietnam in the 18th and the Early 19th Century]. T¯ onan-ajia Kenky¯ u [Southeast Asian Studies] 50 (1): 3–38. Ohashi, Atsuko. 2018. An Era of Deflation and Southeast Asia: The First Half of the Nineteenth Century. GSID Discussion Paper 207: 1–25. ———. 2019. Gin no ry¯uts¯ u ni Manabu J¯ uky¯ useikizenhan no T¯onan-ajia Shokokka no D¯ ok¯ o [Studying the Trends in the Governments’ Policies of Southeast Asia in the First Half of the Nineteenth Century Through Silver Flow]. In Gin no Ry¯ uts¯ u to Ch¯ ugoku T¯ onan-ajia [The Circulation of Silver in China and Southeast Asia], ed. Toyooka Yasufumi and Ohashi Atsuko. Tokyo: Yamakawa Shuppansha. Pho, Duc Thanh. 1936. La cannelle d’Annam. Bulletin économique de l’IndoChine (novembre–décembre): 1010–1026. Saito, Osamu. 2015. Climate, Famine, and Population in Japanese History: A Long-term Perspective. In Environment and Society in the Japanese Islands: From Prehistory to the Present, ed. Bruce L. Batten and Philip C. Brown. Corvallis: Oregon State University Press. Salemink, Oscar. 2011. A View from the Mountains: A Critical History of Lowlander-Highlander Relations in Vietnam. In Upland Transformations in Vietnam, ed. Thomas Sikor, Nghiem Phuong Tuyen, Jennifer Sowerwine, and Jeff Romm. Singapore: NUS Press. Souza, Bryan. 2008. Global Commodities and Commerce in the Early Modern World: The Case of Sri Lankan Cinnamon. Cross-regional Chains in Global History: Europe-Asia Interface Through Commodity and Information Flows, Global History Workshop, Osaka, Japan, 14–16 December 2007, Working Paper 6: 147–164. Taga, Yoshihiro. 2017. 19 Seiki Betonamu niokeru Sozei Ginn¯ oka no Mondai [Introduction of Silver for Tax Payment in 19th-Century Vietnam]. Shakaikeizai Shigaku [Socio-Economic History] 83 (1): 91–114. ———. 2019. Kinsei Betonamu no Keizai to Gin [The Economy of the Early Modern Vietnam and Silver]. In Gin no Ry¯ uts¯ u to Ch¯ ugoku T¯ onan-ajia [The Circulation of Silver in China and Southeast Asia], ed. Toyooka Yasufumi and Ohashi Atsuko. Tokyo: Yamakawa Shuppansha. Takeuchi, Fusaji. 2003. Deovanchi tosono Sh¯ uhen Shipusonchautai Taizoku Ry¯ oshus¯ o to Shinfutsusens¯ o [On and Around of Deo Van Tri: Studies on Thai Chief’s Leadership in Sip Song Chau Thai in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth centuries]. In Minzoku no Id¯ o to Bunka no D¯ otai Ch¯ ugoku Sh¯ uenchiiki no Rekishi to Genzai [Migration and Cultural Change Among Ehinic Groups in Marginal China], ed. Tsukada Shigeyuki. Tokyo: Fukyosha.

THE LINK BETWEEN GLOBAL MARKET CHANGE AND LOCAL …

99

Reid, Anthony. 1997. A New Phase of Commercial Expansion is Southeast Asia, 1760–1840. In The Last Stand of Asian Autonomies: Responses to Modernity in the Diverse States of Southeast Asia and Korea, 1750–1900, ed. Anthony Reid. London: Macmillan Press. ———. 2011. Chinese on the Mining Frontier in Southeast Asia. In Chinese Circulations: Capital, Commodities, and Networks in Southeast Asia, ed. Eric Tagliacozzo and Wen-chin Chang. Durham and London: Duke University Press. Woodside, Alexander B. 1971. Vietnam and the Chinese Model: A Comparative Study of Vietnamese and Chinese Government in the First Half of the Nineteenth Century. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Yamawaki, Teijiro. 1995. Kinsei Nihon no Iyakubunka Miira Ahen K¯ oh¯ı [The Medical Culture of the Early Modern Japan: Mummy, Opium and Coffee]. Tokyo: Heibonsha. Zhang, Leiping. 2008. Trade and Security Issues in Sino-Vietnamese Relations 1802–1874. Ph.D. dissertation. National University of Singapore.

Revisiting Corruption Theory on the Indian Ocean World: A Case Study of Slave Trade in the 19th Century Western Indian Ocean Hideaki Suzuki

1

Introduction

Among historians of the Indian Ocean, the nineteenth century is widely understood as a period when the area was overwhelmed by Western influence. For example, Kirti N. Chaudhuri considers the loss of economic agency in the Indonesian archipelago at the hands of the Dutch East India Company in the 1650s to be the starting point for the Western colonialism and economic imperialism that developed from the nineteenth century onwards. Bolstered by the European technological revolution that came in the second half of the eighteenth century, the British military might on land and sea would go on to redraw the cultural map of the Indian Ocean (Chaudhuri 1990: 387). Hikoichi Yajima’s interpretation is that the new naval dominance and economic order brought by the British and the Dutch from the late seventeenth to the eighteenth centuries marked the beginning of the dismantling of the traditional structure of the Indian Ocean as a historical unit (Yajima 1993: 53). André Wink

H. Suzuki (B) Department of Globalization and Humanity, National Ethnology Museum, Osaka, Japan © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. Akita et al. (eds.), Changing Dynamics and Mechanisms of Maritime Asia in Comparative Perspectives, Palgrave Studies in Comparative Global History, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-2554-1_5

101

102

H. SUZUKI

divides the history of the Indian Ocean from the 7th to the eighteenth century into five stages, postulating that the final stage came as the Indian subcontinent, formerly the ocean region’s central power, was brought under British control in the eighteenth century and it triggered the dismantling of various Islamic nations surrounding the ocean. Wink points out that British dominance meant that the traditional networks of the Indian Ocean were destroyed (Wink 1996: 3). Kenneth McPherson meanwhile, going into more detail than the historians mentioned above, lays out a theory of his own (McPherson 1993: 198–252). According to McPherson, at the end of the seventeenth century, the Europeans moved from acquiring luxuries such as spices and seeking profit from trade in the Indian Ocean to acquiring goods for mass consumption on the European market, such as tea and textiles. That shift in the aims of Indian Ocean trade had the effect of rapidly integrating the Indian Ocean into the global capitalist economy, and the area’s unique economic development in turn contributed to the ultimate economic and political dominance of European nations in the nineteenth century. These views overlap with that of August Toussaint who was a pioneer of the study of Indian Ocean history (Toussaint 1961: 152, 167–168, 192), and their views were accepted by other historians like Milo Kearney (2004: 6–7, 103–135). However, all those studies typically neglect the era after the mid-eighteenth century, because they considered that the Indian Ocean had already disintegrated by then, losing its uniqueness so that it could no longer be described as a single historical world (see Map 1 and 2). Many of those works dealing with world systems are associated with this view. Immanuel Wallerstein for example considers that during the sixteenth century, the “European world-economy” which had been established between 1450 and 1550 reached a level of equilibrium with the Indian Ocean and other world-systems. After weathering the crises of the seventeenth century, from the late eighteenth century onwards the Europeans began to incorporate other world-systems during the age of industrial capitalism.1 Fernand Braudel, referring to the Indian Ocean region as the “extrême-orient”, also conceives of the region as constituting a single unitary “world economy” until the eighteenth century. During the nineteenth century the Indian Ocean area had been placed

1 For India as one example of the integration process, see Wallerstein (1989: 129–184).

REVISITING CORRUPTION THEORY ON THE INDIAN OCEAN WORLD …

Map 1

103

Western Indian Ocean

under the influence of a different world economy, one that Europeans had first begun participating in at the very end of the fifteenth century (Braudel 1979: 607–669). In contrast to those scholars, Andre G. Frank attempts to revisit the early modern economy from a more comprehensive, global perspective. In doing so, he criticizes the Eurocentric descriptions and societal theories underpinning Wallerstein and Braudel’s research, instead emphasizing the centrality of Asia. Still, Frank too thought that the superiority of the Asian economy had been gradually collapsing since 1400 and that the nineteenth century was a time when a new European hegemonic order was established (Frank 1998: 258–320). More recent works which try to envision the Indian Ocean as a single

104

H. SUZUKI

Map 2 Africa

Coastal Eastern

REVISITING CORRUPTION THEORY ON THE INDIAN OCEAN WORLD …

105

historical world provide a more holistic blueprint and have addressed the nineteenth and even the twentieth century. However, they do not form a clear counter-argument to the above mentioned claims that the unity of the Indian Ocean as a historical unit was dismantled, and it is more accurate to say that they take the Indian Ocean as a given space of historical analysis and continue until they reach the twentieth century (Suzuki 2016). It may be acknowledged that from the macro perspective the nineteenth century was a time of major and unprecedented change for the Indian Ocean region, in that it had been politically and economically subordinated. Nonetheless, even on reflection it is still difficult to agree that the so-called “traditional structure of the Indian Ocean” and “integrated networks” were completely dismantled or even destroyed by the time of the nineteenth century. To take just one example, it is generally agreed that dhows by which the traditional form of sea voyages operated has continued to exist to the present day–even if it is permanently considered to be in process of disappearing and a somewhat changed form (eg. Villiers 1969; Prins 1965; McMaster 1966; Yajima 1976; Martin and Martin 1978; Kamioka and Yajima 1979; Gilbert 2004). It would be better not to assume that the Indian Ocean world had ended just because changes came at the macro level. Equally, we should not ignore claims that the Indian Ocean world disintegrated. As Sugata Bose suggests (Bose 2002: 376), the claim that there was disintegration of the Indian Ocean world caused by Western influence is based on binary notions such as west versus east, modern versus pre-modern, progress versus stagnation. Otherwise, why should the historical unity of the Indian Ocean have disintegrated so readily as soon as it faced the so-called western impact? Such easy assumptions that the traditional structure of the Indian Ocean as a historical unit easily disintegrated when it faced to European modernity reveals the fact that these notions are not simply binary but solid Eurocentrism and stubborn belief in the supremacy of the modernity, both are coexisting, underlie such notions. In other words, the conventional claim of disintegration of the Indian Ocean world is corrupted by these Eurocentric and progressive recognition and belief which are often embedded in our conventional thought in general. In that regard this chapter will refer to such easy assumptions as the “corruption theory”. To overcome such perspectives is not to claim the supremacy of traditional structures over European-led regimes, nor that of the pre-modern

106

H. SUZUKI

over the modern. Rather, the proper approach is to dissolve binary understanding. Here it is worth recalling what Ned Bertz has said on the subject. Here marked that “[…] instead of being ‘destroyed’ by colonial power, indigenous residents of the Indian Ocean adapted to the new political structures and continued to travel, trade and interact across the sea in altered relationships mediated, but not dominated, by Europeans” (Bertz 2008: 28). With that in mind, one may ask, “How did the people involved in those structures and networks, particularly individuals who had come to engage in trade in the Indian Ocean, confront and adapt to the changes which seem undeniable from our modern macro perspective?” and “How did the traders transform themselves in order to adapt?”. The slave transporters provide a good example to explore these questions. There had long been buying and selling of slaves in the western Indian Ocean. In addition, increasing demand for global commodities such as cloves, dates and pearls encouraged slave demand further and eventually slaves became one of the most important goods traded in the western Indian Ocean during the nineteenth century. However, at the same time, the nineteenth century was the period when the abolition of slave trading and slavery itself became a global concern (Suzuki (ed). 2016). The British in particular began in the early nineteenth century to monitor the slave trade across the Atlantic Ocean, and later in the Indian Ocean too. Beginning with the General Maritime Treaty among the Persian Gulf chiefs led by Britain and concluded in 1820, various further treaties were concluded in order that British patrol could oppose any idea of legitimacy of the East African slave trade to the north. It is of course true that there had been other trade controls in the history of the western Indian Ocean, such as the Portuguese cartas or navigation controls on the major straits. However a form of trade control anything like that of the British over slave trade, which was sufficiently extreme to make a whole form of trade disappear, was unprecedented in that maritime world. While cartas and navigation control in the straits were an attempt to exploit profit from maritime trade, British activities against slave trade did not have any strong intention of exploitation for economic profit, for it was rather something they did on their own moral grounds. Another advantage of making slave transporters the focus of our inquiry is that, as discussed below in this chapter, slave trade was not carried out in isolation from other trade. Dhows transporting slaves always carried other trade goods too. Slave transporters were therefore the

REVISITING CORRUPTION THEORY ON THE INDIAN OCEAN WORLD …

107

ones most directly confronted by Western political influence and furthermore, their simultaneous role as transporters of other items implies that they remained an important engine for the maintenance of the maritime exchange which had enabled the western Indian Ocean to play its role as a historical sphere. These are reasons why the slave transporters provide a good example to explore the questions above mentioned. Accordingly, this chapter focuses on the period from the 1850s to the early 1860s, in which British naval patrols started to act fully in earnest. First, it will identify those responsible for conducting slave transport from the area between Kilwa and the Lamu Archipelago (hereinafter referred to as “Coastal Eastern Africa”) to an area encompassing both the Gulf of Oman and the Persian Gulf (hereinafter referred to as the “Oman–Persian Gulf Region”). Then, it will seek to explain how the transporters reacted to the increasing British maritime pressure against slave trade.

2

Shipment of Slaves from Coastal Eastern Africa to the Oman–Persian Gulf Region

It is not difficult to find references to the slave trade from Coastal Eastern Africa to Oman–Persian Gulf Region in European and American documents, in both official and unofficial sources. For example, in the diary of C. P. Rigby, the British Consul in Zanzibar, the entry for 6 May 1859 notes that the streets were filled with “wild Arabs of the piratical tribes from Oman and the Persian Gulf”. Rigby was describing the streets of Stone Town, the main commercial area on Zanzibar Island and he went on to explain that they “have come with the expectation of joining in the plunder and are day and night stealing slaves and free people with impunity” (Russell 1935: 80).2 The visitors from Oman and the Persian Gulf he described were also frequently referred to by specific place names and group names as “Sooree” or “Qawasim”, or by the more general appellation, “Northern Arabs” (e.g. Bennett and Brooks 1965: 531 [Hines to Seward, Zanzibar, 25 October 1864]; Burton 1872: Vol.

2 Rigby’s predecessor A. Hamerton occasionally made similar observations in his letters. For example, ZANAAA/12/29/52 [Hamerton to Secret Committee, Indian Government, Zanzibar, 2 July 1842]; ZANA AA/12/29/60 [Hamerton to Secretary of Bombay Government (hereinafter abbreviated as “SBG”), Zanzibar, 23 January 1843].

108

H. SUZUKI

1, 373–374; New 1971: 35).3 The link in the mind of contemporary observers between visitors from the Oman–Persian Gulf Region, however they were referred to, and the slave trade in Coastal Eastern Africa should be understood in relation to the fact that Zanzibar exported more slaves to the Oman–Persian Gulf region than did any of the regions to the north. The regions of the western Indian Ocean where African slaves were in demand can be broadly divided into four—(a) Southern Arabia and the Red Sea Coast, (b) the Oman–Persian Gulf, (c) the western coast of the Indian subcontinent, and (d) the Mascarene Islands and Madagascar. In this chapter, (d) will not be discussed, since that destination outside the traditional Indian Ocean trading network. The first region was closer to Ethiopia and Somalia, other important slave providing regions in the western Indian Ocean, thus, demand for East African slaves was not high. On the western coast of the Indian subcontinent most slaves were used for domestic service or as concubines, although they also met a more limited demand for military purposes. R. N. Colomb, a Royal Navy Captain who had been on naval patrols against the slave trade in the western Indian Ocean, remarked that because the local populations were already quite numerous, demand for imported slaves there was not high (Colomb1873: 100; Sheriff 1987: 40). A recent estimate by Pedro Machado suggests that between 1770 and 1830 8,534 slaves were imported into Portuguese India notably Diu, Daman and Goa. That would amount to an annual average of 142 slaves most of whom were exported from Mozambique (Machado 2014: 247–254). By contrast, in the Oman–Persian Gulf Region, especially at its Arabian side, the major demand for slaves was met by exports from East Africa. Slaves were used for fishing-related labour and maritime activities, in addition to domestic slavery, concubinage and military slavery (eg. Heude 1819: 22; Buckingham 1829: 94; Mignan 1839: Vol. 2, 240; Miles 1919: 401). Furthermore, a chronic rainfall shortage meant that an enormous amount of manpower was needed in the region for the construction and maintenance of irrigation systems as well as for two industries that had become critically important in the gulf region from the middle of the nineteenth

3 Rigby himself, in a journal entry from 8 March 1861, referred to “northern piratical Arabs” and “the Soorees and the Yoasmis” interchangeably within the same journal entry (Russell 1935: 90). Numerous examples can be sited in addition to the above.

REVISITING CORRUPTION THEORY ON THE INDIAN OCEAN WORLD …

109

century—date palm plantations and pearl fishing (Hopper 2015).4 One report from the early twentieth century states that approximately one in three pearl divers was of African ethnicity (Sheriff 1987: 37). It is worth pointing out here that apart from the nomadic people who regularly came to the coastal region for the seasonal labour, there was no supply of labour nearby to meet the region’s labour demand. In addition to the high demand for labour actually within the OmanPersian Gulf region, slaves were carried onto the Iranian Plateau and also to Isatanbul to a lesser extent, notably through Bandar-e Bushehr and Basra. Historically, possessing slaves had been the usual custom among all of the various classes of wealthy urban administrators and merchants, with the well-known harems of the Ottoman court being a good example.5 Further, there were frequent reports that pilgrims travelling to and from Mecca and Karbala purchased slaves from the region along the way (eg. HCPP 1843 [485] LIX. 337, 373–374 [Kemball to Robertson, Karrak, 8 July 1842]; IORR/15/1/143/353–354 [Kemball to Anderson, Bushire, 12 April 1854], 355 [AbdoolNubbee to Kemball, r. n. p., 9 April 1854]), while a smaller number were brought towards India too (HCPP 1843 [485] LIX. 337, 419–420 [Memorandum explanatory of the cases cited by the Right Honourable the Earl of Aberdeen, in his Note to Ali Bin Nasir, 6 August 1842]; Banaji 1933: 74–76). Throughout the nineteenth century the shipment of slaves from Coastal Eastern Africa for sale in the Oman–Persian Gulf Region was consistently and highly profitable. For example, according to occasional reports from the 1830s and 1840s, slaves sold in Muscat commanded prices twenty per cent higher than those in Zanzibar and were traded in Basra and Bandar-e Busehr for no less than fifty per cent more (eg. HCPP 1843 [485] LIX. 337, 380 [Extract of a Letter from Major Wilson, Resident in the Persian Gulf, to Government, dated January 28, 1831]; HCPP 1844 [573] XLVIII. 1, 387 [The Acting Resident in the Persian Gulf to SBG, Karrac, 6 October 1840]; HCPP 1843 [485] LIX. 337,

4 Concerning the use of slaves in the Persian Gulf mentioned above, see also Ricks (1989: 65). 5 For example, according to Toledano in his examination of the slavery system and its abolition in the territory of the Ottoman Middle East during the nineteenth century, most slaves carried from Eastern Africa were female and were generally considered to have reputations lower than that of female slaves taken from Georgia, the Caucasus, and Ethiopia (Toledano 1998: 13).

110

H. SUZUKI

373–374 [Kemball to Robertson, Karrak, 8 July 1842]. For similar statements, see also Burton 1872: Vol. 1, 462. From a later time, see also: HCPP 1867–68 [4000-I] LXIV. 657, 795 [Pelly to Anderson, Bandar Lenge, 5 December 1863]. See also Colomb 1873: 55–59). References to actual slave prices reported in Zanzibar and Bandar-e Busehr in 1842 indicate that in Zanzibar prices ranged from 14 Maria Theresa Thalers (hereinafter “MT$”) to 25 MT$, while in Bandar-e Busehr the price was 35 MT$ (a note by Richard P. Waters, October 18, 1842 in Bennett & Brooks, Jr. 1965: 253; HCPP 1843 [485] LIX. 337, 379 [Edwards to Kemball, Bushire, 9 July 1842]).

3

Who Were the Slave Transporters?

In the trade between Coastal Eastern Africa and the Oman–Persian Gulf Region, slaves were highly profitable merchandise. However, as for the trade that actually linked the two, it would be a mistake to imagine fleets of “slavers” or “slave ships” packed only with large numbers of slaves. According to the explanation provided by Herbert Disbrowe, whose responsibilities placed him at the forefront of the anti-slave trade patrols, the actual state of slave transport was as follows: In fact the term “slaver” is scarcely one applicable to these vessels in its full sense, for assumedly in proportion to the general cargo, pertaining, perhaps to a variety of owners, the slaves brought in their form but a small part. They are in short quite a distinct class of vessels from those expressly fitted slavers dealing so largely in the inhuman traffic on the west coast of Africa. (IOR/R/15/1/171/22-23 [Report on the Slave Trade in the Persian Gulf extending from January 1, 1852 to June 30, 1858 compiled by H. Disbrowe])

There is a similar statement in another report: The term “slaver”, it is not unworthy of remark, is scarcely applicable to vessels that engage in slave trade between Zanzibar and the Persian Gulf. No such thing as a slaver, that is, a ship specially rigged for, or solely occupied in, the transport of human flesh, is to be found in these tracts. The slaves that may be on board constitute but a minimum part of the cargo in the vessel. (IOR/R/15/1/157/208 [Jones to Anderson, Bushire, 28 August 1856])

REVISITING CORRUPTION THEORY ON THE INDIAN OCEAN WORLD …

111

It is clear from such reports that slaves were highly profitable trade goods but even so, transporters did not deal exclusively in slaves nor did they simply travel back and forth between the Oman–Persian Gulf Region and Coastal Eastern Africa. As Koji Kamioka and Hikoichi Yajima reported in the 1970s, with respect to trading dhows in general, simple round trips between the destination and home port carrying only a single type of cargo area was relatively recent trend “of the last two to three years” (Kamioka and Yajima 1979: 45) and it became a mode of trade carried on in dhows only after they had been motorized. During the era when dhows were dependent on seasonal monsoon winds, as reported by James R. Wellsted and Alan Villiers, the seasonal shift in monsoon winds had to be exploited as fully as possible (Wellsted 1838: Vol. 1, 23–24; Villiers 1948). Accordingly, the dhows typically sailed with the wind to various ports of call, taking in and selling all kinds of goods as they saw opportunities occurring at any and all points along the journey between their ports of departure and their destinations. The shipment of slaves in fact followed that rule, as attested in a letter from B. W. Montrion in Bandar-e Busehr to A. Clarke, British Consul General in Aden. The letter was dated 3 May 1854 and stated that in addition to slaves, ships returning from Zanzibar to the Persian Gulf typically carried cargoes of coffee, grains and timber for rafters (IOR/R/15/1/143/319).6 These contemporary observations caution not to look at the slave trade in isolation from its role in the transport of other trade goods. In September 2005 I conducted a survey at Sur, Oman and Balad al-Sur located in its hinterland. Sur is frequently mentioned in nineteenthcentury British reports as a nexus of the slave trade and my oral survey inquired as to the historical trading activities of the people of Sur. One interviewee, Mr A, stated that when people from Sur travelled south towards Coastal Eastern Africa they would take with them dried salted

6 As to the mangrove trade and evidence for its use in architecture, see Suzuki (2013).

112

H. SUZUKI

fish they had caught and sell it in Coastal Eastern Africa.7 Another respondent, Mr B,8 said that apart from the dried salted fish, the people of Sur would procure other resources along the journey, such as dates and cloth from the villages they visited along the coast of Oman. They would also use the funds generated to purchase grains, rafters and spices to carry with them on the return journey. The most noteworthy of all the items mentioned to me in the interviews is the dried salted fish. In Sur, dried salted fish is referred to as “malih” (literally “salted stuff”) a preserved foodstuff made from surplus catches of shark and kingfish; in fact it is still procured in abundance to this day. In Zanzibar and port towns of Coastal Eastern Africa it is referred to as “ngonda” and is a very common foodstuff which is said to be imported from Somalia today. These dried salted fishes are rich in animal protein but are also cheap, and so were commonly given to slaves in the nineteenth century (ZANA/AA/12/29/15 [Hamerton to SBG, Zanzibar, 2 January 1842]). Visiting Muscat in the early 1830s, E. Roberts listed salt and dried fish among the port’s exports to Coastal Eastern Africa (Roberts 1837: 361). Additionally, according to Charles Guillain, who surveyed Coastal Eastern Africa in the later 1840s, boats departing from the Gulf of Oman coast would fish along their journey as far south as the Banaadir Coast and Coastal Eastern Africa, where they would sell their catches after dried and salted. The salt they carried was also traded in Mogadishu and Mombasa (Guillain 1856: Vol. 2, Part 1, 537, Vol. 2, Part 2, 335; Burton 1872: Vol. 2, 415; Nicholls 1971: 78). Furthermore, detailed records kept by Samuel B. Miles, a former British consul general in Muscat and extensive traveller along the coasts of the Oman-Persian Gulf Region, indicate that dried salted fish was carried to Coastal Eastern Africa too, from the Hikman Peninsula and Masihra

7 The interview was conducted in Sur on 20 September 2005. Mr A was a man in his late 60s, whose father and grandfather had both conducted trade with Eastern Africa and India. The information presented in this paper was acquired in response to the author’s asking him what sort of trade was conducted with East Africa by his grandfather and the generations before him. 8 The interview was conducted in Bilad al-Sur on 21 September 2005. Mr B too was a man in his mid-60s whose grandfather, just like Mr A’s grandfather, had traded far and wide, he said. People nearby attested that he was someone whose reputation lives on in local history. The information presented in this paper was acquired in response to the author’s asking him to confirm the authenticity of the information received from Mr A.

REVISITING CORRUPTION THEORY ON THE INDIAN OCEAN WORLD …

113

Island (Miles 1919: 489, 542). William H. Ingrams, colonial administrator of Zanzibar from 1919 to 1927, reflecting on his experiences there wrote that the local residents, while having knowledge of salt-making, were almost entirely dependent on imports for salt, barring rare cases of emergency if the trade was halted (Ingrams 1967: 285). In examining the items carried from Coastal Eastern Africa to the Oman–Persian Gulf Region, one thing that stands out is the “rafters” mentioned in both my own oral survey and the nineteenth century documents. It is thought that they consisted primarily of mangrove poles, and indeed in a number of deserted houses in the old districts of Sur, constructed between the mid- nineteenth and early twentieth century according to the locals, joists and window sills made from mangrove pole are still visible to this day. During my own research I was unable to discover precisely where the building materials came from, but there exist texts of medieval Arab geography which state that the houses in the prosperous tenth-century international commercial port of Siraf were constructed using timber from Eastern Africa (al-Istakhri 1889: 127). Further, as reports from archaeological surveys conducted by David Whitehouse in Siraf and H. Neville Chittick in Manda in the Coastal Eastern Africa have revealed (Whitehouse 1969: 51–52; Chittick 1984: 218),9 its many varieties and suitability for various uses have meant that Eastern African mangrove pole10 has long been used in the Oman–Persian Gulf Region,11 where suitable local timber is scarce (Miles 1919: 391; Kamioka and Yajima1979: 45).12 To consider one specific example, a report on trade at the port of Zanzibar for

9 Mangrove cultivation can also be observed along the Persian Gulf coast, but, according

to Miles (1919: 393), there the timber is used only as fuel. Indeed, I collected the same information during my interviews in Sur in 2010. An informant told me that mangrove in that region is “weak” for construction purposes. 10 For accounts of mangroves in the Lamu Archipelago, see Horton (1996: 27–32). 11 Kamioka and Yajima (1979: 44–45) taking the ecosystem into account and pointing

out the importance of the mangrove poles exported to the Middle East from Eastern Africa via the Persian Gulf. Also Kamioka and Yajima (1979: 46–52), for a detailed description of the types of mangrove timber sold, and the mangrove trade during the 1970s. For the uses of Mangrove timber and the demand for it in the Persian Gulf and Southern Arabia, see also Gilbert (2004: 110–133). 12 In this way, they became dependent on imports of timber for shipbuilding. (Fontanier (1844: Vol. 1, Part 2, 6–7); Miles (1919: 412)).

114

H. SUZUKI

the year 1859 reveals that 12,000 “rafters” were exported from Zanzibar to “Arabia” (Muscat, Aden, al-Mukalla) for a price of 3,800 MT$ (MAHA/PD/1860/159/319 [Return of the Exports at the Port of Zanzibar in the Year 1859]). That estimated value was no more than 3.6% of the total value of exports from Zanzibar to Arabia, but here we should take note of an article written by Richard F. Burton to the effect that the dhows from Arabia negotiated directly with local notables to procure labour for logging operations that they personally directed (Burton 2001: Vol. 2, 358–359).13 From what Burton wrote it becomes apparent that the transactions seen in Zanzibar do not fully capture the scale of the entire mangrove trade from Coastal Eastern Africa. The fact mentioned by my respondent Mr B, that grains from Coastal Eastern Africa were carried to Oman, was also noted by Guillain (Guillain 1856: Vol. 2, Part 2, 336–337),14 while according to Fred J. Berg trade between Mombasa and India was focused primarily on luxury goods. By contrast, trade between Mombasa and Arabia was fundamentally in dietary staples (Berg 1971, 197). William E. Taylor, a missionary of the Church Missionary Society in Eastern Africa during the latter half of the nineteenth century, gathered a collection of Swahili proverbs, aphorisms and well-known idioms. In his collection there is the saying, “Kasikazi, comes with the fish; Kusi, comes with the grain Kasikazi mja na swi, Kusi mja na matama” (Taylor 1891: 26). According to Taylor, kasikazi is the north-eastern monsoon, the wind that brings the dhows from the Oman–Persian Gulf Region and Southern Arabia to the ports of Coastal Eastern Africa. Almost all the dhows carried the previously described dried salted fish to exchange for grains and other produce (Taylor 1891: 26). At the end of the kasikazi season, fields are ploughed and grain is sown to be harvested during the kusi season, when the south-eastern monsoon winds blow. The grain is loaded onto the dhows which then sail northwards on the favourable winds beginning during the latter half of the kusi season, called demani and running from August to September, and continue into the tanga 13 Timber for shipbuilding was also cut further inland and sold to Arab shipbuilders (Krapf 1860: 138). 14 Also, documents relating to Zanzibar’s export trade thought to be reports from the 1840s to the early 1850s indicate that a number of varieties of grain were carried to the Oman-Persian Gulf Region (ANOM/FM/SG/OIND/5/23/n. p. [N. 3 Commerce d’Exportation]).

REVISITING CORRUPTION THEORY ON THE INDIAN OCEAN WORLD …

115

mbili season from late September to November (Taylor 1891: 27–28). In this way, kusi, meaning the south-eastern monsoon, was a harbinger of not only the harvest but also the wind that bore the harvested grain from various places to the cities of Coastal Eastern Africa and thence to the Oman–Persian Gulf Region and Southern Arabia. As described above, the goods traded on the voyages to and from the Oman–Persian Gulf Region were indispensable to the orderly running of both societies, and the mangrove poles from Coastal Eastern Africa which the Oman–Persian Gulf region could not adequately supply from its own resources was an important part of that. Also, as shown by the story of the salt imported by the cities of Coastal Eastern Africa, although it was possible for them to be self-sufficient in salt, the local people nevertheless remained dependent on trade. The transporters who connected the two maritime regions were also regular short-term residents of the ports of Coastal Eastern Africa. For example, Burton, visiting Zanzibar in 1850, reported that its ordinary population was 25,000, but that during the north-eastern monsoon season swelled dramatically to between 40,000 and 50,000 people (Burton 1872: Vol. 1, 81). Needless to say, those from Oman-Persian Gulf Region did not occupy the entire floating population, but their significance was strongly remarked. Rigby gave a similar account (Russell 1935: 328) to Burton’s description of the Arabs from Sur who, while waiting for the south-eastern monsoon assiduously sold their goods in the Salt Bazaar near the fort (Burton 1858: 206). The visitors also traded in the markets and loaded cargo in the harbours, even engaging in intraregional trade carrying people and goods. What was regularly carried between the Oman–Persian Gulf Region and Coastal Eastern Africa regulated by the monsoons was critically important to the societies in both regions to maintain daily lives. Furthermore, the economic contributions made by the transporters to the cities of Coastal Eastern Africa while waiting for the winds to change should never be underestimated. Certainly they shipped slaves, but that aspect of their function is not the only one that should be examined and certainly should not be over-emphasized. Rather, we must understand that for the transporters, shipping slaves was just one of the many activities they engaged in on their journeys back and forth. If instead we give more attention to the symbiotic relationship explained in this chapter, the two maritime regions will more readily be understood as a single integrated whole. In other words, the occasional slave transporters travelling

116

H. SUZUKI

between the Oman–Persian Gulf Region and Coastal Eastern Africa were the means by which the two maritime regions became integrated.

4

Britain’s Activity Against the Slave Trade in the Western Indian Ocean

Article 9 of the General Maritime Treaty of 1820 (Aitchison 1909: Vol. 13,172–176), which was promoted by the British and signed by almost all the major rulers of the Arabian Peninsula portion of the Oman–Persian Gulf Region except for Muscat and Kuwait, contains the following provision: “the carrying off of slaves, men, women or children, from the coasts of Africa or elsewhere, and the transporting of them in vessels, is plunder and piracy, and the friendly Arabs shall do nothing of this nature”. That was the opening shot fired in the “war” to regulate the slave trade from Coastal Eastern Africa to the Oman–Persian Gulf Region. In 1822 a treaty was signed by the British and the House of Al Bu Sa‘id in Muscat, which had not signed the General Maritime Treaty (Aitchison 1909: Vol. 13, 211–215). The second treaty between the British and the House of Al Bu Sa‘id, commonly known as the “Moresby Treaty”, has been evaluated as “a startling achievement amidst the slow 19th-century developments towards the abolition of the slave trade” (Beachey 1976: 44). According to the treaty’s terms all ships were obliged to carry documents certifying their ports of both departure and destination. The captain of any ship discovered carrying slaves within the triangle zone joining Madagascar, Zanzibar and Lamu Island, was to be taken to Muscat and executed by the House of Al Bu Sa‘id. Furthermore, the treaty conferred upon the British the right to seize ships even outside the designated triangle (Article 6). Furthermore, five days after the treaty was signed, an additional provision was added expanding the scope of Britain’s right to inspect and seize ships (Aitchison 1909:Vol.13,212). When the treaty was renewed in 1839, that scope was expanded yet again (Aitchison 1909: Vol. 13, 220–221). However, as we shall see, insufficient manpower meant that between 1820 and 1842 the task force charged with enforcing the provisions of the treaty was unable to seize so much as a single vessel (HCPP 1843 [485] LIX. 337, 373–374 [Kemball to Robertson, Karrak, 8 July 1842]). In search of a breakthrough, in 1845 the British signed a new treaty with the House of Al Bu Sa‘id to regulate the slave trade (Aitchison 1909: Vol. 13, 221–223). Known as the Hamerton Treaty, it formally

REVISITING CORRUPTION THEORY ON THE INDIAN OCEAN WORLD …

117

banned the shipment of slaves from Africa to Asia. In order to give effect to this treaty the British Royal Navy sent squadrons from the Cape of Good Hope and other bases on the East African Coast to patrol the area between the Cape of Good Hope and south of the fourth southern parallel, while the Indian Navy sent squadrons to patrol the area to the north of it (Lyne 1969: 41). By 1848, treaties aiming at controlling the slave trade had been signed with almost all the other powers in the Oman–Persian Gulf Region.15 Although Qatar and Kuwait had not yet concluded similar treaties, the British had almost completed the legal foundation for its campaign to abolish slave-trading activities between Coastal Eastern Africa and the Oman–Persian Gulf Regions. However, the Indian Navy was not of sufficient strength to force an effective crackdown on the slave trade (Low 1985: Vol. 2, 137; Kelly 1968: 237–282). According to the “Indian Navy List of 1858”, written by Captain G. G. Wellesley in 1857, the Indian Navy could muster a total of only 252 officers and 31 ships to patrol the vast area of sea between Coastal Eastern Africa and the coast of China (Low 1985: Vol. 2, 577–584). As Charles R. Low’s comprehensive study shows in detail, those forces were needed for previous commitments to frontline military operations around the Indian Ocean. In fact, the British were fighting two wars in the region at the time, one in Burma (1824– 1826, 1852) and the Opium War in China (1840–1842) (Low 1985: Vol. 1, 410–473, Vol. 2, 140–160, 238–294). As another example of how stretched the Indian Navy was, when in 1856 the Qajar Dynasty invaded Herat, in its role as Britain’s bulwark against Russian incursion into India the Indian Navy concentrated its forces in the Persian Gulf in response (Kelly 1968: 452–499). For the British, the Oman–Persian Gulf Region was important too for trade and mail routes, and the Indian Navy had also been battling Qaw¯asim piracy there since the final years of the eighteenth century (Suzuki 2018). Even after a stop was put to piracy with the general treaties of 1820 described above, British records show that sporadic acts of piracy continued (e.g., IOR/R/15/1/130/129– 130 [Hamerton to Malet, Muscat, 1 June 1852]; IOR/R/15/1/168/5 [Mahomed Busheer to Jones, n. p., 24 Zilkaada 1275/26 June 1859]). Frequent tribal conflicts further stretched such British naval forces as could be dispatched to keep the peace (IOR/R/15/1/171/175–176 15 Regarding treaties for the restriction and abolition of the slave trade between Coastal Eastern Africa and the Oman-Persian Gulf Region, see Lorimer (1986: 2476–2278).

118

H. SUZUKI

[Fendall to Jones, Bushire Road, 10 November 1859]; Low 1985: Vol. 1, 367–388). Given such problems, the forces available to monitor the slave trade were perennially weak. Delays to the arrival of patrolling ships of the Indian navy meant that many returning dhows reached their destinations without being monitored at all (eg. IOR/R/15/1/127/40 [Hennell to Porter, Camp near Bushire, 26 June 1851]; IOR/R/15/1/157/227 [Ethersey to Jones, Bassadore, 24 July 1854]; IOR/R/15/1/168/34– 35 [Jones to Anderson, Bushire, 25 April 1857). The Indian naval officers charged with the task repeatedly petitioned the Bombay government for reinforcements, which did begin to arrive but only slowly (IOR/R/15/1/143/367 [Extract Para 4 from a Despatch from the Honorable the Court of Directors dated the 1st March No 1 of 1854]; IOR/R/15/1/157/193–197 [Jones to Anderson, Bushire, 26 May 1856]; IOR/R/15/1/168/46–47 [Jones to Jenkins, Amulgavine Roads, 30 April 1859]; IOR/15/1/171/63–65 [Extract paras: 28 @ 31 from a letter, from Brigadier W. M. Coghlan, In charge of Muscat, Zanzibar Commission, dated 1 November 1860, No. 14]). That in turn strengthened the diplomatic pressure placed on the regional powers in the area so that beginning in the early 1850s, Britain’s slave trade patrols included the seizure of what they referred to as “slave ships” as well as manumission of the enslaved people on board. Although such action was taken only very gradually (Table 1), it began to have a telling effect as British policy shifted to direct intervention as the patrols went from “monitoring” to “seizing”. Table 1 The number of slaves manumitted by British patrol in the Oman-Persian Gulf Region from the beginning of 1852 until the end of June 1858

Year

The Number of slaves manumitted

1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857

3 63 12 0 72 26

Source IOR/R15/1/171/30–33 (Report on the Slave Trade in the Persian Gulf extending from 1 January 1852 to 30 June 1858 compiled by H. Disbrowe)

REVISITING CORRUPTION THEORY ON THE INDIAN OCEAN WORLD …

5

119

Resistance by the Transporters

A glance at Table 1 might well prompt a question about the effectiveness of British naval efforts in their campaign against the slave trade. However, we must not overlook the reason for the low numbers, which is that the transporters responded adroitly to the British naval presence and continued to ship their highly profitable cargoes of slaves along with other items to the Oman–Persian Gulf Region. One common method of resistance involved disguising slaves as sailors or sailors’ wives, a trick used all over the western Indian Ocean and not just in the trade from Coastal Eastern Africa (Colomb 1873: 59– 60; Sulivan 2003: 32–33; Beachey 1976: 54, 58). For example, when the British patrols were still in their “monitoring” phase in 1837, there was a report of one Nakhoda of the Qawasim and seven of his crewmen. They were said to have lured 233 young girls from Berbera, dressed them as brides and taken them to Basra and Bandar-e Busehr where they immediately sold them (MAHA/PD/1837/78/854/393–400 [Hennell to Willoughby, Bushire, 24 September 1837]). Similarly, it was not unusual to find African sailors on board the dhows in the Oman– Persian Gulf Region and on voyages between there and Coastal Eastern Africa. Unaware of what was going on and unable to speak the local languages, the British officers in command of the naval patrols were naturally almost completely unable to determine whether or not any African men they saw on board the dhows were really sailors or were in fact slaves being carried from Coastal Eastern Africa for eventual sale. Such confusion is in fact consistently attested to by almost everyone who was involved in the anti-slave trade patrols (eg. IOR/R/15/1/127/59–60 [Hennell to Malet, Bushire, 30 October 1851]; BPP, Class A, Vol. 44, 151 [Trotter to the Secretary to the Admiralty, Simon’s Bay, 5 April 1857]; IOR/15/1/171/64–65 [Extract paras: 28 @ 31 from a letter, from Brigadier W. M. Coghlan, In charge Muscat, Zanzibar Commission, dated 1 November 1860, No. 14]). In the circumstances then, many local interpreters were employed on board the patrol vessels, but there too, British officers sometimes suspected them of being in the pay of the transporters so did not fully trust them (IOR/15/1/171/64 [Extract paras: 28 @ 31 from a letter, from Brigadier W. M. Coghlan, In charge Muscat, Zanzibar Commission, dated 1 November 1860, No. 14]). Further troubles to the patrols were the high speed of the dhows and the seamanship and seafaring expertise and local knowledge of those who sailed them.

120

H. SUZUKI

Under the proper conditions, the dhows could reach speeds of up to 11 knots, often to the surprise and consternation of the captains of the patrol vessels (Burton 1872: Vol.1, 74; Colomb 1873: 44–45). The people of the Oman–Persian Gulf Region were renowned for their skill as seamen and navigators (eg. ZANA/AA/12/29/85 [Hamerton to the Chief SBG, 25 October 1849]) and sometimes pioneered new sea routes that had not been taken before. For example, Johann L. Krapf, who conducted a survey from Mombasa to Cape Delgado in 1850, reported that slave-carrying ships departing from Kilwa would sail eastwards before circling the island of Zanzibar and heading northward (Krapf 1860: 424). They could therefore avoid being seen by other ships, including patrol ships, near the island’s port of Stone Town, which is on the western side of the island facing the African mainland. Other methods of avoidance included changing course to pass by Lamu Archipelago, where the House of Al Bu Sa‘id’s writ did not run, or they might load slaves at Mkokotoni, a northern settlement in Zanzibar Island or Pemba Island, a long way from Stone Town (MAHA/PD/1860/159/194–195 [Ribgy to Anderson, Zanzibar, 28 March 1860]; IOR/R/15/1/171/101–102 [Rigby to Anderson, Zanzibar, 13 September 1858]; Beachey 1976: 59). The same sort of things were done when finally putting the slaves ashore in the Oman-Persian Gulf Region, often at places where British agents could not monitor them. Slaves would then be taken further inland via byways or transferred to smaller boats (IOR/R/15/1/123/41, 42 [Moollah Houssein to Hennell, n. p., 25 Rujub/ 6 June 1850]; IOR/R/15/1/143/304 [Kemball to Thomson, Bushire, 12 January 1854]; IOR/R/15/1/171/150 [Hajee Yacoob to Jones, n. p., 2 Moohurrum 1276].).16 Small boats were used so that if they were spotted by patrolling ships they could escape into smaller inlets where the larger British ships could not pursue them (IOR/R/15/1/127/56 [Taylor to Hennell, Basra, 16 September 1851]; IOR/R/15/1/130/292 [Kemball to Malet, Bushire, 12 November 1852]; IOR/R/15/1/168/109 [Jones to Forbes, Bushire, 2 September 1861]; Miles 1919: 490). Dhows returning with slaves from Coastal Eastern Africa would temporarily unload their slaves on the Batinah coast before returning with empty 16 Also, IOR/R/15/1/127/45 [Mollah Houssein to Hennell, n. p., 13 June 1851] for a record of the Sultan of Ras al Khayma, who instructed his subjects to avoid sea routes and use land routes instead when transporting slaves within his territory.

REVISITING CORRUPTION THEORY ON THE INDIAN OCEAN WORLD …

121

holds to their home ports, only to return secretly later for the slaves (IOR/R/15/1/127/25–26 [Moollah Houssein to Hennell, n.p., 17 May 1851]). Another noteworthy fact is that while the British were trying to monitor all these activities, the transporters too were doing their own close monitoring and were acutely sensitive to British actions. For instance, if a slave-bearing dhow was seized in the Oman–Persian Gulf Region, other dhows in the region would be sure to stop at Sur as the entrance to the Oman-Persian Gulf Region for information on the British presence before setting sail for their homeports (IOR/R/15/1/127/25 [Moollah Houssein to Hennell, n. p., 17 May 1851]). There is also the following case. In 1847, the year the Hamerton Treaty was enforced, the price of slaves at the slave market on Kilwa fell by 25% from 1845–1846 prices, as recorded by Loarer during his investigation of Coastal Eastern Africa at that time (ANOM/FM/SG/OIND/2/10(2)/n. p. [Travaux de M. Guillain, 1850s, Ports au Sud de Zanguebar]). That was because associated with the new treaty a new regulation was enforced to forbid ships from the Oman–Persian Gulf Region from entering Stone Town, where slaves used to be gathered. The prohibition was obeyed at this port so that when the north-eastern monsoon ended in April 1847 the British Consul General in Zanzibar reported that almost no slave trading was being conducted by those visiting from the Oman–Persian Gulf Region (ZANA/AA/12/29/77 [Hamerton to SBG, Zanzibar, 3 April 1847]). However, once it was widely understood that actual British enforcement would remain at its previous levels, by 1849 the slave trade was bustling again (ZANA/AA/12/29/85 [Hamerton to the Chief SBG, Zanzibar, 4 May 1849]; HCPP 1850 [1291] LV. 435, 647 [The Resident in the Persian Gulf to Malet, Bushire, 9 October 1849]). Information on the movements of the British campaign spread rapidly among traders and transporters, to the point that their efforts became transparent. The British decision to criminalise what was in fact only one item of commerce–namely slaves–and thereby affect the whole of a local trading system, stimulated the traders and transporters to collect and exchange information in order to ensure the safe continuance of their trade and transport work. There is yet another aspect which should not be ignored. In a letter dated 10 February 1848 the British Consul General in Zanzibar described the following situation. He wrote, “Here word has spread that the king

122

H. SUZUKI

of Persia has refused a prohibition against importing slaves in his ports. Several Persian merchants are currently present, and they are purchasing slaves” (HCPP 1849 [1128] LV. 317, 508 [Hamerton to Palmerston, Zanzibar, 10 February 1848]; and also, ZANA/AA/12/29/81 [Hamerton to SBG, Zanzibar, 7 March 1848]; Ibidem, 10 May 1848). From February to May of that year, ships hoisting the Qajarid flag were the subject of much attention because of their role in transporting slaves. The reason is explained in the following letter, sent from an agent at Sharjah named Molla Hussein to Hennel (dated 6 January 1848): If complete abolition of slavery is brought about by Britain, the Arabs in these countries (i.e. Oman and Batinah coast – author) will have suffered. However, from the people of Bandar Lingah and the subjects of Mohammed Shah, for the reason that the order from the British government has no effect on him, one hears that he maintains exemption (i.e. from prohibition – author) and is truly pleased that the Arabs discovered this method (i.e. using ships from Bandar Lingah to carry slaves – author) and that this method was opened to them so that (i.e. slave transport – author) could be carried out. (HCPP 1849 [1128] LV. 317, 197)

Although at that time treaties to prohibit slave trading had been signed with the various states in the Oman–Persian Gulf Region such as the House of Al Bu Sa‘id, no such treaty existed with the Qajar Dynasty. Accordingly, only ships registered to them could carry slaves free from any treaty restrictions. Therefore, by borrowing Qajarid ships in order to trade slaves, traders and transporters could avoid British intervention even if found carrying slaves. Astute traders and transporters therefore took steps to gather information on the foreign policies of the various countries in the region so that they could circumvent treaty restrictions. The early 1860s saw more harsh action by the British, which only led to more complex countermeasures, as attested in the following report from Zanzibar: A is an Indian British subject, the owner of a Dhow ship. B is an Arab who wants to run a cargo of slaves to Muscat but fears to fall in with a Cruiser if he runs coastwise. So, B comes to A and says, ‘I hear you want a crew to take your Dhow to Bombay; you have lent me money on occasion. It would now be a pleasure to me to lend you a crew, with one of my Arab Nakhodas in command. I should not ask any remuneration; only when the Dhow arrives at Bombay, just give the Nakhoda his discharge.

REVISITING CORRUPTION THEORY ON THE INDIAN OCEAN WORLD …

123

A thus gets his Dhow run for nothing. B puts a crew and slaves, to the number of fifty, on board, in charge of his Nakhoda. The Dhow arrives at Bombay… Presently the firm to whom the Dhow is consigned is about to run a bugalow to Muscat. ‘Very well’, says B, ‘I must return to Zanzibar in any event. You have fed my people while in Bombay. I will run your bugalow to Muscat, en route, no charge; only a ‘Bukshis’ for myself, if you are content with me and my crew, on discharge at Muscat’. … In point of fact, a cargo of slaves is run from Zanzibar to Muscat through Bombay. (Colomb 1873: 97–98)

To summarize, the following three points are remarkable. First of all, an Arab (named as “B” in the report) trying to transport slaves borrowed a ship owned by an Indian (also a British subject, and named as “A”) and sailed to Bombay with own slaves and ship owner’s trading goods. Second, the Arab was shipping slaves to Muscat via Bombay and third, the result was that the slaves sold in Muscat and were used as sailors along the way. That scenario may be understood as indicating the following. First, when departing from Zanzibar, that dhow was actually carrying legal trade items to Bombay, and the owner of the ship was an Indian and a British subject. That meant that the dhow could benefit from easy embarkation and travel. However, that was not the only benefit of going via Bombay. For import of slaves to British India had been prohibited since 1805 and in 1843 the Bombay government abolished slavery itself (Banaji 1933: 403; Beachey 1976: 43). By the mid-nineteenth century, therefore, the Indian Navy detailed to patrol the ports and coastal waters of British India against the slave trade had become a much weaker force, which meant that dhows could enter ports relatively easily even when crewed by slaves (Colomb 1873: 99–101; Lyne 1969: 41–42). In addition, the following point is even more noteworthy. Ordinarily, ships bound for the ports of Coastal Eastern Africa departed from the Oman–Persian Gulf Region with the north-eastern monsoon and returned with the south-western monsoon. British patrols were organized according to the same seasonal scheme and the trading of slaves was monitored accordingly in both Coastal Eastern Africa and in the Oman–Persian Gulf Region with scrutiny especially increased during the south-western monsoon season. However, when sailing from Bombay to Muscat the dhows sailed with the north-eastern monsoon winds rather than the

124

H. SUZUKI

south-western ones, so that vessels from Bombay arrived in the Oman– Persian Gulf Region at the exact opposite time from when vessels from Coastal Eastern Africa typically returned to the region. The ruse, then, completely overturned the commonly accepted monsoon trading pattern and the British patrols were completely out-smarted. The stratagem was in fact made possible by the extreme breadth of the sphere of the traders and transporters’ maritime reach and trading connections. In fact, the British would not make serious efforts to investigate the branch of the slave trade from Coastal Eastern Africa to the Oman-Persian Gulf Region via Bombay until the very end of the 1860s (HCPP 1867–68 [4000-I] LXIV. 657, 134 [Bedingfeld to the Commodore commanding the Indian Division of the Royal Navy (hereinafter abbreviated as “CCIDRN”), Zanzibar, 1 December 1866]; Ibidem, 133–134 [CCIDRN to the Governor of Bombay, Bombay, 6 February 1867]; Ibidem, 135 [Wedderburn to the Commissioner of Police, Bombay & the Commissioner of Customs, Bombay, Bombay Castle, 25 February 1867]).17 Transporters did not rely only on their seamanship and simple tricks like disguising slaves. Another way they adapted to abolitionist pressure was by close mutual communication and sharing information. They along with traders showed their determination to resist by themselves carefully monitoring slave-trade-related developments in various countries and flexibly manipulating the treaty system to their own advantage. They manipulated their situation strategically to enable their trade to survive. Rather than resorting to immediate violence, they tried to bring their new environment under their own control.

6

Conclusion

In the maritime transport between Coastal Eastern Africa and the OmanPersian Gulf Region, hardly any such thing as a “slaver” can be seen such as is familiar from the Atlantic slave trade. Transporters travelling from the Oman–Persian Gulf Region to Coastal Eastern Africa were occasionally referred to as “slave traders” in travelogues of the time, or in diaries and reports by Europeans. However, to think of them as such is to see 17 However, the result of the inspection was that the Bombay police inspector concluded that the crews of the dhows arriving in Bombay harbour were not slaves. (HCPP 1867–68 [4000-I] LXIV. 657, 135–136 [The Commissioner of Police, Bombay to SBG, Bombay, 6 March 1867]).

REVISITING CORRUPTION THEORY ON THE INDIAN OCEAN WORLD …

125

only one aspect of their trading activity as oceanic travellers. In fact, their efforts brought critical resources to each region that could not be supplied locally, establishing a mutually beneficial exchange between two regions. The relationships enabled by the transporters maybe considered to have taken place in an integrated world rather than in two separate regions. While it is true that there was political domination and economic invasion in the Indian Ocean world, neither would have lastingly or even directly affected what was in fact an age-old symbiotic relationship. Nonetheless, the British activities aimed at abolishing the slave trade were potentially a critical blow to such a well-integrated historical system, at least as far as Coastal Eastern Africa and the Oman-Persian Gulf Region were concerned. However, as pointed out in this chapter, the transporters connecting the Oman–Persian Gulf Region with Coastal Eastern Africa, in the face of increasing pressure from Britain’s slave trade abolition activities, developed various methods of adapting to it in order to continue their commercial activity––including the lucrative slave trading part of it. It is remarkable for us now to see how their methods were not limited to their clever seamanship and aptitude for trickery but also included staying abreast of the latest news of what the British were up to politically. The carriers who brought the two regions together were originally not merely slave transporters. However, in order to react to British anti-slave trade activities, they became keen to learn the latest news about the slave trade and collaborated in sharing information, largely because British activities were the major obstacle for their transport and trade. If in that sense and as a result of their actions we must consider them to have become nascent dedicated slave transporters, then we must also recognize Britain’s share of the responsibility for that, for it was their measures intended to abolish the slave trade that drove the transporters to their response. Certainly, the transporters’ self-transformation occurred in direct reaction to British activity. Furthermore, by monitoring diplomatic developments relating to the slave trade in other countries, the transporters were able to find and exploit any loopholes in the various treaties against the slave trade. At first glance, it would appear that acquiescence to those treaties perfectly confirms the standard subordination narrative espoused by corruption theorists. However, the transporters’ persistent efforts to continue shipping slaves demonstrate that their apparent treaty compliance must be considered as tactical and strategic measures adopted by them. Put another way, the Indian Ocean world was not unilaterally forced into

126

H. SUZUKI

submission by Western influence. In fact, the examples provided in this chapter suggest that by its own resourceful efforts the Indian Ocean world transformed itself and managed effectively to domesticate Western influence. The entanglements transformed and continued the Indian Ocean world.

References Abbreviations for Archival and Official Records ANOM (les Archives nationales d’outre-mer, Aix-en-Province, France). HCPP (Parliamentary Papers, House of Commons). IOR (India Office Records, British Library, London, UK). ZANA (Zanzibar National Archives, Zanzibar, Tanzania). MAHA (Maharashtra State Archives, Mumbai, India).

Published Works Aitchison, Charles U. 1909. A Collection of Treaties, Engagements and Sanads: Relating to India and Neighbouring Countries. 13 vols. Calcutta: Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing (1st ed., 1862–1866, Calcutta: O.T. Cutter, in 8 vols.). Banaji, Dady R. 1933. Slavery in British India. Bombay: D.B. Taraporevala Sons & Co. Beachey, Ray W. 1976. The Slave Trade of Eastern Africa. London: Rex Collings. Bennett, Norman, R., and George E. Brooks, Jr. (eds.). 1965. New England Merchants in Africa: A History Through Documents 1802 to 1865. Boston: Boston University Press. Berg, Fred J. 1971. Mombasa Under the Busaidi Sultanate: The City and Its Hinterlands in the Nineteenth Century. Ph. D. Dissertation, University of Wisconsin. Bertz, Ned. 2008. Indian Ocean World Travellers: Moving Models in Multi-sited Research. In Journeys and Dwellings: Indian Ocean Themes in South Asia, ed. Helen Basu, 21–60. Hyderabad: Orient Longman. Bose, Sugata. 2002. Space and Time on the Indian Ocean Rim: Theory and History. In Modernity and Culture: From the Mediterranean to the Indian Ocean, ed. Leila Tarazi Fawaz and C. A. Bayly, 365–388. New York: Columbia University Press. Braudel, Fernand. 1979. Civilisation matérielle, économie et capitalisme: XVeXVIIIe siècle, vol. 3. Paris: A. Colin. Buckingham, James S. 1829. Voyage from Bushire to Muscat, in the Persian Gulf, and from thence to Bombay. Oriental Herald 67: 79–103.

REVISITING CORRUPTION THEORY ON THE INDIAN OCEAN WORLD …

127

Burton, Richard F. 1858. Zanzibar, and Two Months in East Africa. Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine 83: 200–224. ———. 1872. Zanzibar: City, Island, and Coast, 2 vols. London: Tinsley Brothers. ———. 2001. The Lake Regions of Central Africa: from Zanzibar to Lake Tanganyika, 2 vols. Santa Barbara: Narrative Press (1st ed., 1860, New York: Harper & Brothers). Chaudhuri, Kirti N. 1990. Asia Before Europe: Economy and Civilisation of the Indian Ocean from the Rise of Islam to 1750. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Chittick, H. Neville. 1984. Manda: Excavations at an Island Port on the Kenya Coast. Nairobi: British Institute in Eastern Africa. Colomb, John C.R.. 1873. Slave-Catching in the Indian Ocean: A Record of Naval Experiences. London: Longmans, Green and Co. Fontanier, Victor. 1844. Voyage dans l’Inde et dans le Golfe Persique par l’Égypte et la Mer Rouge, 2 vols. Paris: Paulin. Frank, Andre G. 1998. ReORIENT: Global Economy in the Asian Age. Berkeley: University of California Press. Gilbert, Erik. 2004. Dhows & the Colonial Economy of Zanzibar, 1860–1970. Oxford, Zanzibar, Athens, and Nairobi: James Currey. Guillain, Charles. 1856. Documents sur l’histoire, la géographie et le commerce de l’Afrique orientale, 3 vols. Paris: A. Bertrand. Heude, William. 1819. A Voyage Up the Persian Gulf and a Journey Overland from India to England in 1817 . London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown. Hopper, Matthew S. 2015. Slaves of One Master: Globalization and Slavery in Arabia in the Age of Empire. New Haven: Yale University Press. Horton, Mark. 1996. Shanga: The Archaeology of a Muslim Trading Community on the Coast of East Africa. London: British Institute in Eastern Africa. Ingrams, William H. 1967. Zanzibar: Its History and Its People. London: Frank Cass (1st ed., 1931, London: H.F. & G. Witherby). al-Istakhri. 1889. Kitab al-masalik wa al-mamalik. ed. M.J. de Goeje. Leiden: Brill. Kamioka, Koji, and Hikoichi Yajima. 1979. The Structure and Function of Regional Exchange in the Western Indian Ocean Maritime Region: Dhow Investigation Report 2. Tokyo: Research Institute for African Language and Culture. Kearney, Milo. 2004. The Indian Ocean in World History. New York and London: Routledge. Kelly, John B. 1968. Great Britain and the Persian Gulf 1795–1880. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

128

H. SUZUKI

Krapf, Johann L. 1860. Travels, Researches and Missionary Labours During an Eighteen Years’ Residence in Eastern Africa. London: Trubner. Lorimer, John G. 1986. Gazetteer of the Persian Gulf, Oman and Central Arabia. Buckinghamshire: Archive Editions (1st ed., 1908 & 1915, Calcutta: Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing). Low, Charles R. 1985. History of the Indian Navy 1613–1863, 2 vols. New Delhi: Manas (1st ed., 1877, London: R. Bentley and Son). Lyne, Robert N. 1969. Zanzibar in Contemporary Times: A Short History of the Southern East in the Nineteenth Century. New York: Negro University Press (1st ed., 1905, London: Hurst & Blackett). Machado, Pedro. 2014. Ocean of Trade: South Asian Merchants, Africa and the Indian Ocean, c. 1750–1850. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Martin, Esmond B., and Chryssee P. Martin. 1978. Cargoes of the East: The Ports, Trade, and Culture of the Arabian Seas and Western Indian Ocean. London: Elm Tree Books. McMaster, D.N. 1966. The Ocean-Going Dhow Trade to East Africa. East African Geographical Review 4: 13–24. McPherson, Kenneth. 1993. The Indian Ocean: A History of People and the Sea. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. Mignan, Robert. 1839. Winter Journey through Russia, the Caucasian Alps, and Georgia; Thence Across Mount Zagros, by the Pass of Xenophon and the Ten Thousand Greeks, into Koordistaun, 2 vols. London: Richard Bentley. Miles, Samuel B. 1919. The Countries and Tribes in the Persian Gulf . London: Harrison and Sons. New, Charles. 1971. Life, Wanderings, and Labours in Eastern Africa: With an Account of the First Successful Ascent of the Equatorial Snow Mountain, Kilima Njaro and Remarks Upon East African Slavery. London: Frank Cass (1st ed., 1873, London: Hodder & Stroughton). Nicholls, Christine S. 1971. The Swahili Coast: Politics, Diplomacy and Trade on the East African Littoral, 1798–1856. London: George Allen & Unwin. Prins, A. H. J. 1965. Sailing from Lamu. Assen: Van Gorkum, J. Prakke & H.M.G. Prakke. Ricks, Thomas M. 1989. Slaves and Slave Traders in the Persian Gulf, 18th and 19th Centuries: An Assessment. In The Economics of The Indian Ocean Slave Trade, ed. William G. Clarence-Smith. London: Frank Cass. Roberts, Edmund. 1837. Embassy to the Eastern Courts of Cochin-China, Siam, and Muscat; In the U.S. Sloop-of-War Peacock, David Geisinger, Commander, During the Years 1832-3-4. New York: Harper & Brothers. Russell, C.E.B. 1935. General Rigby, Zanzibar and the Slave Trade: With Journals, Dispatches, etc. London: George Allen & Unwin.

REVISITING CORRUPTION THEORY ON THE INDIAN OCEAN WORLD …

129

Sheriff, Abdul. 1987. Slaves, Spices & Ivory: Integration of an East African Commercial Empire into the World Economy, 1770–1873. London: James Currey. Sulivan, George L. 2003. Dhow Chasing in Zanzibar Waters and on the Eastern Coast of Africa. Narrative of Five Years’ Experiences in the Suppression of the Slave Trade. Zanzibar: Gallery Publications (1st ed., 1873, London: Sampson Low, Marston, Low & Searle). Suzuki, Hideaki. 2013. Arabia hantou Oman wan/Perusia wan enganbu to mangurovu: Indo-yo kaiiki ni okeru koukan ga sasaeru arabu shakai no jyuukuukan [Arabian Side of the Gulf of Oman and the Persian Gulf and Mangrove: Dwelling Space in Arab Society Created by the Indian Ocean Exchanges]. In Mangurovu [Mangrove], ed. Ryo Nakamura and Hiroshi Nawata, 151–168. Kyoto: Rinsenshobo. ———. (ed). 2016. Abolitions as A Global Experience. Singapore: NUS Press. ———. 2016. Indo-yo: Umi kara atarashii sekaishi ha katariurunoka [The Indian Ocean: Can New World History be created with Oceanic Perspective?]. In Chiikishi to sekaishi [Regional Histories and World History], ed. Masashi Haneda. Kyoto: Minerva Shobo. ———. 2018. The Making of the ‘Joasmee’ Pirates: A Relativist Reconsideration of the Qaw¯asimi Piracy in the Persian Gulf. In In the Name of the Battle Against Piracy, ed. Atsushi Ota, 69–96. Leiden: Brill. Taylor, William E. 1891. African Aphorisms; Of Saws from Swahili-Land. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. Toledano, Ehud R. 1998. Slavery and Abolition in the Ottoman Middle East. Seattle and London: University of Washington Press. Toussaint, Auguste. 1961. Histoire de l’Océan indien. Paris: Presses de France. Villiers, Alan. 1948. Some Aspects of the Arab Dhow Trade. The Middle East Journal 2 (4): 399–416. ———. 1969. Sons of Sinbad; An Account of Sailing with the Arabs in Their Dhows, in the Red Sea, Around the Coasts of Arabia, and to Zanzibar and Tanganyika; Pearling in the Persian Gulf; and the Life of the Shipmasters, the Mariners, and Merchants of Kuwait, New York: Scribner. Wallerstein, Immanuel. 1989. The Modern World-System III: The Second Era of Great Expansion of the Capitalist World-Economy, 1730–1840s. San Diego: Academic Press. Wellsted, James R. 1838. Travels in Arabia, 2 vols. London: John Murray. Whitehouse, David. 1969. Excavation at S¯ır¯af: Second Interim Report. Iran: Journal of the British Institute of Persian Studies 7: 39–62. Wink, André. 1996. Al-Hind: The Making of the Indo-Islamic World, vol. 1. Leiden: Brill.

130

H. SUZUKI

Yajima, Hikoichi. 1976. The Arab Dhow Trade in the Indian Ocean: Preliminary Report. Tokyo: Institute for the Study of Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa. ———. 1993. Umi ga tsukuru bunmei [A Civilization Created by the Ocean]. Osaka: Asahi Shimbun Sha.

Bilbao Merchant and Their Trade in the Eighteenth Century: The View of the Private Company and the Privileged Company Rie Takagaki

1

Beyond Local History and National History

In the early modern period, Spain established an extensive empire spanning America and the Philippines. Seville and Cádiz in southern Spain were the ports held a monopoly on the trade routes connecting the Spanish colonies. Seville was the monopoly port until 1714, when mud began to accumulate in the Guadalquivir River. After, Cádiz began to play a role by declaration of King Phillipe V. In effect, colonial trade brought massive wealth to Spain through the early modern period. Spain’s royal family had been of the House of Bourbon, a Frenchoriginated lineage, since the War of Spanish Succession (1701–1714). After the Bourbon dynasty was established, Phillip V (1700–1724, 1724– 1746) began reforming the Atlantic trade, which had been plagued by smuggling and the privateer. Phillip and his court thought that reforming colonial trade would rejuvenate the Spanish economy and empire. Spain

R. Takagaki (B) Graduate School of Letters, Osaka University, Toyonaka, Japan © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. Akita et al. (eds.), Changing Dynamics and Mechanisms of Maritime Asia in Comparative Perspectives, Palgrave Studies in Comparative Global History, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-2554-1_6

131

132

R. TAKAGAKI

allied with France and turned against Britain in the many wars in the Atlantic World from the beginning of eighteenth century. Continuous war damaged Spanish commerce, triggering increased stringency over royal treasury. In particular, the War of Spanish Succession and the Seven Years’ War (1756–1765) were the apparent turning points not only of Spanish history but also of Atlantic history. During the Seven Year’s War, Spain became an ally of France from 1762. With Spain and France’s defeat and the newly consolidated hegemony of Britain in the Atlantic, King Charles III resurrected the issue of trade reform, declaring “the regulation of free trade between Spain and South America” (El reglamento de libre comercio) in 1765, 1770, 1774, and 1778.1 Thus, the Seven Years’ War took a toll on the Spanish economy and promoted further reform. These reforms of colonial trade initiated by Phillip and continued by Charles constituted the “Bourbon reform.” This reform also included the centralization of power within Spain2 because the Spanish political system was fragmented through the early modern period. The reorganized trade system and centralized domestic power were the two wheels of Bourbon reform. However, this historical perspective is the general view of the nation, that is, of Castilla. It seems, however, that this interpretation overlooks the presence of local merchants, especially those from the Spanish northern coast. northern Spanish peoples, especially Basque peoples prospered by sailing long distances and whale fishing. They also enjoyed local privileges (fueros ) granted them in the Middle Ages up until the nineteenth century. They were local merchants but their activity had spread outside Spain. By paying attention to local merchants, this chapter attempts to understand the circumstances of the Atlantic world and Spanish commerce in the eighteenth century. They were the local merchants but their activity had spread the outside (Akita and Momoki 2008).3 For that purpose, this study is more a work of Atlantic history rather than of Spanish history. This narrative of Atlantic History is fundamentally the Anglosphere or empire history view. In this point, Games (2006) and Lamikiz (2010) have already been criticized. Gould proposed the idea of entangled history in the field of Atlantic history (Gould 2007). According to Gould, the Atlantic world can be defined as a “zone of interconnection.” Elliott studied the cases of the Spanish and British empires in the Atlantic world (Elliott 2006). Another work in Japanese, Satsuma focuses on the Caribbean Sea, where crossed over the European power (Satsuma 2017). However, these studies also focus on the connection between two countries or two empires—for example, the contact between Britain and

BILBAO MERCHANT AND THEIR TRADE …

133

France or Britain and Spain. It is questionable whether the subject is not only the country, the court, the government, or the empire because the local that not incorporated in the central existed in the early modern period. To resolve this issue, this chapter explores the commercial activities of merchants from the Basque Provinces in northern Spain during the eighteenth century in the context of Atlantic and Global history. This chapter discusses the commercial network of two port cities in the Basque Province—Bilbao and San Sebastian—and the significance of the difference between commercial networks. In the context of the commercial history of these cities, these were individual activities. As the study of relationships or comparison between Bilbao and San Sebastián, Anglo Morales analyzed the contraband of Tobacco from the seventeenth century to the nineteenth century in the Basque Provinces (Angulo Morales 2001). Likewise, Valentín de Prada mentioned trade activity in the eighteenth century. However, he only focused on the colonial trade through Cádiz (Vázquez de Prada 1968). Lamikiz described competition between northern Spanish ports about exporting wool during the crisis of seventeenth century and presented the transformation of institutions, Consulado 4 and Huésped at Bilbao (Lamikiz 2017: 283–314). Moreover, Luis María Bilbao presented how people of these cities adapted to the General Crisis of seventeenth century (Bilbao 2003). However, this chapter focuses on the eighteenth century. Certainly, the crisis of seventeenth century brought heavy damage throughout Europe. However, the eighteenth century also was a turning point in the context of Spanish History, Atlantic History, and Global History. Many wars caused the central—king, court, and parliament—manage this situation by accumulating money and centralizing the state. Therefore, this chapter discusses how merchants of two port cities in the Basque Provinces deal with the economic pressure from central by considering two case studies from the eighteenth century. This study contributes to the clarification of the cross-border activity of local merchants in the Atlantic World during the wartime. Also, this study will help to elucidate the autonomy of local merchant in the reform era. This chapter is divided into two parts. The first part focuses on the trade networks of Bilbao merchants.5 Among them, it clarifies to the trade of Gardoqui family as the case of a private company in Bilbao. This family was both a local merchant family and a powerful merchant family in Bilbao and Spain. In the next part, this chapter reviews the trade of

134

R. TAKAGAKI

routes of Guipúzcoa merchants, focusing upon with the Royal Guipzcoan Company of Caracas (hereinafter referred to as the Caracas Company) as a privileged company in San Sebastián. This company imported cacao and tobacco from Venezuela to Spain. However, in 1785, it was incorporated with the Royal Philippine Company and traded with Manila, which was the base port of the Spanish Empire in Asia. These port cities are contiguous but engaged in slightly different trade in the early modern period.

2 Importance of the Basque Provinces in the Eighteenth Century The Basque Provinces are adjacent to the ocean, and inhabitants are trained in fishing and whaling. In the early modern period, their fishing grounds extended from Iceland to Svalbard and even to Newfoundland. The Basque Provinces of Spain indicate four provinces: Álava, Vizcaya (Bizkaia), Guipúzcoa, and Navarre. Álava and Guipúzcoa were annexed to the Kingdom of Castilla between 1200 and the 1330s, whereas Vizcaya also was connoted in 1379. The king of Castilla gave privileges of political and economic in each province in exchange for allegiance to the king. This privilege system continued until the nineteenth century. This situation did not change in the eighteenth century, although other provinces lost theirs. As the most crucial point, the custom system of the Basque Provinces was outside the Spanish custom through the eighteenth century. According to Ruano, this system and its liberty from Castilla continued until 1841 (Aragón Ruano 2015: 52). At the beginning of the eighteenth century, the people of Bilbao rose in rebellion when King Phillip V and his court sought to centralize the custom houses throughout Spain. This rebellion called “Matxinada” in 1718 was successful, and the port of Bilbao kept its original customhouse and system. This also occurred in Guípuzcoa.6 First, Bilbao was historically the most significant port in the Spanish Northern area and the Basque Provinces. Constructed around 1300, Bilbao flourished through northwest European trade. Bilbao merchants exported wool in Central Spain. At the same time, European products were imported and sent to Madrid. For this trade, Bilbao was called “Port of Entry of Old Castilla” (Ringrose 1998: 218–219), and a commerce route between Madrid to Bilbao had been established. Hence, many

BILBAO MERCHANT AND THEIR TRADE …

135

foreign merchants, especially English and Dutch merchants, did the business in Bilbao through the seventeenth century and the first half of the eighteenth century by using the system of huésped 7 (Lamikiz 2010: 40). However, when war occurred in 1739, English merchants were exiled (Larrañaga 1983: 154), and Catholic Irish merchants emerged as the leading player. Many Irish merchants continued business and were naturalised as Spanish citizens. In contrast, San Sebastián and Pasajes in Guipúzcoa were less prosperous than Bilbao. However, San Sebastián was constructed in 1181, and Pasajes emerged around the thirteenth century; both ports are located next to France. According to Ringrose, two trading routes existed in the Basque Provinces. One from Portugal to France and one from Bilbao to Castilla (Ringrose 1998: 225–226). Ruano and Morales refer to three type routes. First, there was the regional network, including Álava, Burgos, Rioja, Navarra, Aragón, Catalonia, and the French Basque Region; second, the coastal circuit, spread across the Bay of Biscay and Cantabrian sea and comprising Bordeaux, Bayonne, San Juan de Luz, San Sebástian, Bilbao, Santander, Gijón, and A Coruña. Finally, international trade involved the Spanish colonies of Peru, Mexico, and the Philippines; the French colonies Guadalupe and Martinique; and the Thirteen British Colonies in North America by way of Bordeaux, London, and Amsterdam (Aragón Ruano and Angulo Morales 2013: 149–172). The concept of an article by Ruano and Morales had a stronger effect on this chapter regarding the international network of Basque merchants. It is significant that their work advocates the presence of Basque merchants in the eighteenth-century world. The classical studies of the commerce of Basque merchants, Larrañaga (1983: 154) and Uriarte (Zabala Uriarte 1994), demonstrate the activity of Bilbao merchants from the micro points. Ruano and Morales provide highly detailed dates allowing understanding of specific merchant actions in Bilbao. However, while respecting their works, this chapter argues for the necessity of a more comprehensive view. Thus, this chapter proposes that connections were more extensive than the national area by considering the micro points. This chapter deals with two case studies. One is the case of the Gardoqui family company in Bilbao. The other is the case of the Caracas Company as a joint-stock company in Guipúzcoa. In the next, this chapter centers on the Gardoqui family as the case of local merchants.

136

R. TAKAGAKI

3 3.1

Bilbao and North Atlantic---The Case of the Gardoqui Family Gardoqui Family as a Big and Local Merchant

The Gardoqui family was a prosperous merchant house in the second half of eighteenth centuries. The head of the family, Joseph Ignacio de Gardoqui y Mezeta, was born in Guernica (the province of Bizkaia) in 1695, started his business in Bilbao from 1726, and founded his company in 1756.8 It was called “Joseph de Gardoqui and Sons” (Joseph de Gardoqui e Hijos ). His wife, María Simona de Arriquibar, was also from one of Bilbao’s merchant families (Basurto Larrañaga 2003: 343–356). They had three sons—Joseph Joaquin, Diego María, and Juan Ignacio— who were educated in London as merchant during childhood (Calderón Cuadrado 2004: 22). They used English for trading.9 It indicates that Joseph was interested in trade with England, and the Gardoqui family was deeply involved with England. Joseph de Gardoqui and Sons operated until 1798. This chapter concentrates on the years from 1756 to 1765, when Joseph ran the company. The Seven Years’ War occurred at this time. Also, Bilbao merchant regained the initiative of commerce in the mid-eighteenth century from foreigners. By focusing on this particular period, this study can describe the local merchant activity during wartime. As the point of the goods, the Gardoquis imported wool products and codfish, Bordeaux wine, sugar, salmon, leather goods, cinnamon, cacao, herring, sardines, Paubrasilia, spirits, and candles. Meanwhile, they exported Basque iron and Castilla wool. They particularly specialized in wool, iron, and codfish. Table 1 shows the quantities of main three goods by the Gardoqui family between 1756 and 1765. The principal trading product was codfish, particularly salted and dried cod, which was a staple in Catholic Spain and Portugal. The next two most important goods were iron and wool. As the graph shows, the Gardoqui family engaged in mainly the codfish trade. Moreover, the codfish played a significant role in establishing the Spanish market (Grafe 2011). Therefore, the codfish was meaningful, although wool and iron also were important products for merchants at that time. Also, they traded more with North America than with Europe. In the eighteenth century, cod was mainly imported into Bilbao. According to Grafe, Spain imported 32,000 tons of codfish annually until 1785. Out of them, the ports of Bilbao imported 7,987 tons, and the greatest

BILBAO MERCHANT AND THEIR TRADE …

Table 1 Trading port and wool trade 1758–1765 (Sacks)

Export London Amsterdam Amsterdam Bristol Nantes Le Havre Edinburgh

137

Import 867 666 97 sacones 385 119 47 31

Amsterdam (London)

60 (2 bundles)

※ The transaction occurred with Bristol about 40 sacks, but it is not written neither import nor export (Libro de avería, 1758–1765)

amount of import in the Spanish ports (Grafe 2011: 67). Codfish was the primary staple of Newfoundland and New England, and the Gardoqui family imported most of the cod from there. However, two questions remain. First is how did trade occur? Another is why did the Gardoqui family trade with New England despite the Seven Years’ War? Moreover, Diego de Gardoqui, son of Joseph, was selected as the first ambassador to the United States in 1785. In the following, this chapter endeavors to clarify the trade patterns of the local merchant family in the second half of the eighteenth century, who continued to trade during the wartime of the mid- and lateeighteenth decades. Firstly, focus on the European trade of the Gardoqui family which was more typical for Bilbao merchants. After, it analyzes the trade network between Bilbao and New England through the Gardoqui family. Although they were in the wartime, they frequently traded during the late eighteenth century. Because of this, this case is an example of the transnational network during the wartime. 3.2

European Trade: Wool and Iron

First of all, this section focuses on European trade by the Gardoqui family demonstrates the typical trade of Bilbao merchants of the time. This section discusses trade of wool and iron, which were produced in central Spain and the mountainous Basque area. Bilbao was the commercial districts of iron and wool. Wool export based on transhumance of a critical industry in Mezeta in Central Spain. Tateishi analyzes that transhumance flourished in the

138

R. TAKAGAKI

late eighteenth century. Specifically, about 2,000,000 sheep were in the Mezeta in the first half of eighteenth century; afterwards, this number increased around 3,000,000 or 3,500,000 between 1740 and 1780s (Tateishi 1984: 205). This wool was exported from Bilbao by shipowners and merchants (Ringrose 1998: 221; Lydon 2008: 95). Figure 1 shows that the amount of transactions of wool, whereas Table 1 shows that trading port. The total volume of import during ten years was 2,736 sacas (sacks) and 28 sacones.10 Moreover, their wool trade increased in 1759, 1761, and 1762. The amount of export exceeded that of import. Within ten years, they exported wool to London most frequently, while importing it from Amsterdam. As a reason for this, raw wool was shipped from Spain, whereas wool products were imported from other countries.11 The reason is that Spaniards at that time preferred Dutch and England wool goods to Spanish wool goods (Satou 1969: 60–66). Figure 2 shows that the volume of the transaction of iron. The Gardoqui family dealt iron usually through all ten years of the war period except 1757 and 1758. Table 2 shows the trading ports for iron between 1758 and 1765. Within ten years, the amount of exports constituted 10,375 quintals, and that of imports constituted 2,267 quintals and one box.12

Fig. 1 Graph of the total transaction of wool (※ 2 bundles of wool were imported from London in 1760 [Libro de avería, 1756–1765])

BILBAO MERCHANT AND THEIR TRADE …

139

Fig. 2 Graph of the total transaction of iron (Quintal) (※ In 1758, they imported the one box iron [Libro de avería, 1756–1765])

Table 2 Trading port of iron trade 1758–1765 (Quintal)

Export Porto Cadiz Gibraltar London Bristol Edinburgh Exceter Bayonne Amsterdam Jersey

Import 3,150 2,869 2,590 1,602.5 1,400 425 411 400 240.5 200

(London)

(1 box)

(Libro de avería, 1758–1765)

3.3

American Trade: Cod Fish

Along with this trade, the Gardoqui specialized in one other trade, with North America. Indeed, they traded with European ports as Nantes, Amsterdam, and London, as well, like other Bilbao merchants. Nevertheless, this family had the features at this point. This chapter attempts to illuminate the codfish trade with North America between 1756 and

140

R. TAKAGAKI

1765. Figure 3 shows the import volume of cod. The solid line shows import volume in Bilbao Port. The dashed line is the volume of imported by the Gardoqui. The cod trade was stuck in 1762 because Spain was participated in commemorating the Seven Years’ War in this year. As noted above, Newfoundland and New England were two primary cod fishing areas in the Atlantic. Newfoundland had fertile fishing grounds, such as Grand Bank (Grandes Bancos ). Cod was the primary product exchanged among Newfoundland, New England, and Spain. In the eighteenth century, when France and England fought over territory, England rule the northern part of Newfoundland, while France dominated the south. According to the source, the Gardoqui family did not trade as much with Newfoundland: 11 interactions occurred over nine years. They imported 15,227 quintals from Newfoundland and Canada. Instead, New England was the primary supplier for Gardoqui family throughout the Seven Years’ War. Although trade was declined in 1762, commerce rose rapidly afterward. As we can see from Table 3, among the ports of New England, Salem and Marblehead were very active as trading partners of the Gardoqui family. Boston received the largest number of ships and was the most

Fig. 3 Graph of the comparison of the import of cod between the Gardoqui family and whole of Bilbao port (Quintal) (Libro de avería, 1756–1765)

BILBAO MERCHANT AND THEIR TRADE …

Table 3 The volume of codfish imports in each port in North America 1758–1765

Port Salem Marblehead Piscataquis Newfoundland and Canada

141

Amount (Quintal) 83,940 70,894 4,100 15,227

※ 2000 quintal of fish (not specified as codfish) was imported from Gloucester (Libro de avería, 1758–1765)

significant port in North America through this century. However, as a hub for exporting cod, Salem and Marblehead, located even further north, were used more than Boston. Salem and Marblehead were a part of the Massachusetts Bay colony. Why did the Gardoquis choose merchants of Salem and Marblehead over Boston merchants as business partners? Morison points out that although Boston froze in winter with terrible winter weather, Salem, Marblehead, and Gloucester had been maintained as fishing harbors for 200 years (Morison 1921: 2–14). Moreover, from 1740 until the Revolution, Boston had been damaged by frequent epidemics, high tax rates, and high-cost fuel (Morison 1921: 2–14). The principal ship owners, Hooper, Lee, and Cabot, were business partners of the Gardoqui family.13 They contracted with fisherman and bought codfish, which they sent to Bilbao. During the Revolutionary age, they were called privateers. The Gardoqui family communicated and sent many goods to John Adams through them; the family even entertained Adams when he visited Europe in 1785. Bilbao exported nothing legally importable to New England due to the Navigation Acts (Lydon 2008: 95–96). However, very few salts were transported, as indicated in Fig. 4. 3.4

Why Did the Gardoqui Family Trade with the British Colonies?

There are five reasons why the Gardoquis traded with British America despite wartime. First, as is well known, codfish was an essential food for European Catholic countries such as Spain and Portugal, given traditional avoidance of meat-eating every Friday, during the holidays, and Lent; in total, the fasting day was about 120 to 160 days (Uztáriz 1742: 271– 273). According to the dictionary written by Terreros y Pando, a Jesuit

142

R. TAKAGAKI

Fig. 4 Salt imported from Bilbao to New England (Hogshead) (Naval office shipping lists for Massachusetts)

and a philologist, codfish could replace meat because of cod was very cheap and highly nutritious (Terreros y Pando 1786: 2; Grafe 2011: 69– 71). Therefore, cod was in high demand in Spain. Second, the fisherman caught bigger cod in New England than in Newfoundland, where the climate is colder; in fact, fishing could not occur between autumn and winter. Moreover, fish were divided into three types in New England. Although it is difficult to find the exact size, trash fish were consumed in the West Indies. The lesser merchantable fish were sent to Jamaica or the islands of Portugal. The merchantable fish were sent to Spain and Portugal (Lydon 2008: 65). Third, furthermore, the Spanish population was increasing rapidly in the eighteenth century (Tateishi 1984: 198– 201). Therefore, demand for cod grew each year. Next, it was easier to transport goods from the British colonies to Bilbao than any other port in Spain owing to geographical conditions and low tariffs, as this port was free from the tax of the kingdom. Compared to other Spanish ports, Bilbao had the advantage of being a commercial route for central Spain and was more established than any other port. As a result, Bilbao was an excellent port for North American merchants, for their goods found a ready market. In this way, Bilbao merchants engaged in North Atlantic trade, led by the Gardoqui family. This trade provided important food imports. It was different a bit

BILBAO MERCHANT AND THEIR TRADE …

143

from other port cities and other Northern ports, for example, trade of San Sebastian in the Guipúzcoa, which traded with South America as mentioned in the next part. In Spanish Empire trade, colonial goods were mostly re-exported to other European countries in the eighteenth century. However, the cod satisfied the huge demand within Spain regardless of the change of economic conditions. The trade through Bilbao was significant in that it constituted the essential food trade and not the luxury trade. The next section explores the commerce of Guipuzcoan merchants in the eighteenth century.

4 4.1

Guipúzcoa and South Atlantic: The Case of Caracas Company The Construction of the Caracas Company

The Caracas Company was one of the most important companies in the period of Bourbon reform. Established by the decree of Phillip V in 1724, at San Sebastián, the Caracas Company was a privileged company typical in early modern Europe; however, it was established and operated by Guipuzcoan people for trade with Venezuela. Of all Spanish colonies, Venezuela had the most fertile land yet lacked a significant agricultural base at the time. Thus, the Spanish mainland had little interest in Venezuela except for gold and pearls in the Golden Age (Yamada 2008). Before the arrival of the company, the trading relationship was almost non-existent, and Dutch and Englishmen occupied the commerce in Venezuela. Spanish merchants had bought the merchandise of Venezuela through them. Cacao became the main product of the company after, got from Curacao where the base of the Dutch West Indian Company at the same time together with the spices (Martinena Cierbide 1997: 66). Hussey provided a comprehensive study of the Caracas Company (Hussey 1934). This work traced the transition of the trade in Atlantic from the late seventeenth century until the end of the Caracas Company. He showed that this company contributed to the economic development of early modern Spain; his assessment is that the prosperity of Caracas was not achievable by the Caracas Company alone. However, he traced the company from its establishment to dissolve and changing to a Philippine company. In addition, it appears that the articles about Caracas Company by Iribarren (2005), Cierbide (1997) and Aizpurúa (1981) concentrate not on Guipúzcoa but on Venezuela. In other words, these

144

R. TAKAGAKI

studies examined that places the company was active, not the trade policy of mainland or the history of Guipúzcoa where located the headquarters but the evolutionary history of Venezuela. In brief, these studies argue for interpreting the history of the company in the context of Venezuelan independence. This company not only brought massive wealth to the colony but also caused friction between Peninsular and Criollo. Yet in these studies, the attention paid to the economy and society of Guipúzcoa is weak. In this section, this study considers one of the networks of Guipúzcoan merchants and analyzes the relationship between Guipúzcoa and the Spanish court. As mentioned above, Guipúzcoa, where located the office was located, had the advantage since it is next to northwestern Europe. Also, they had political and economic privilege. Thus, they could trade with other European ports for free. However, they had a bad feeling about Cádiz, which had monopolized the interests of colonial trade in southern Spain. For this, the Guipuzcoan merchants thought that found the company that has a connection with local benefit closely. The plan of the company was discussed after 1728. The Guipuzcoan merchant thought the trade with Venezuela to import cacao was more expensive than gold and silver in Europe. Guipúzcoa merchants, ship owners, seamen, and the count of Peñaflorida in Guipúzcoa gathered at San Sebastián and decided to request the establishment of a company to King (Hussey 1934: 66). By the decree of King Phillip V, the new company for trading with Venezuela had been established in Guipúzcoa. Because the Royal General Committee of Commerce (La Real Junta General de Comercio) had feared the disturbance by the privateer and the smuggler in that land and the coast. On September 25, 1728, thus, the Caracas Company was established by the king’s decree; its head office was located in San Sebastián. It had the exclusive privilege of trade with Venezuela. In response, it had imposed a monopoly upon the cacao trade again. Therefore, it had to play two roles: the guard of Orinoco River and the chase of the smuggler. These things were necessary in ensuring a monopoly on the cacao trade, which deprived other countries of benefitting from it. In addition, the company could send two ships in one year directly to the port of La Guaira and Puerto Cabello in Caracas from Guipúzcoa, and ships could move freely between two ports in Venezuela. Thereafter, it was unnecessary to travel through Cádiz when going to Spanish America (Iribarren 2005: 170; Hussey 1934: 60–61).14 Also, it allowed that 40 to 50 cannon loads to be set for each ship.

BILBAO MERCHANT AND THEIR TRADE …

145

On July 15, 1730, two frigates and one galley departed from Pasajes in Guipúzcoa; three months later, another frigate departed (La Real Compañía Guipuzcoana de Caracas 1765: 30). Table 4 is the financial statement of the first and second voyages. The net income was 738,570 pesos in finally. These facts strongly suggest that the new company was succeeded. Table 5 indicates the dividend rate of yield, which was estimated at 20% until 1739. The table shows that this rate had increased in 1741 (about 26% and 33%) in accord with the growth of the profit of the company. However, after hit a turning point by the rebellion in Venezuela and the transition of head office to Madrid, it was defined 5%. Table 4 Financial Statement of the First and the Second Voyages

Costs 1. Outfit The first voyage Two frigate (each 46 cannons) One frigate (24 cannons) One galley (16 cannons) The second voyage Two frigate < ach 46 cannons] Crew 1400 crews Food stocks

Unit: Pesos 110,000 40,000 8,000 110,000

140,000 70,000 478,000 900,000

2. Tile taxes and other costs 3. Transaction costs Cacao 80,000 fanegas Tax within Spain Associated costs Landing Charge Total cost Profits 5oid Cacao 80,000 fanegas in tax-free

800,000 563,430 100,000 20,000 1,483,430 3,600,000

Net income

738,570

Made by the author from the date of Roland Dennis Hussey, The Caracas Company, 1728–1784: A Study in the History of Spanish Monopolistic Trade, London: Harvard University Press, 1934, p. 71

146

R. TAKAGAKI

Table 5 The stock dividend ratio

Year

Dividend ratio

Buy

Pay

%

1733 1736 1737 1738 1739 1741.3 1741.6 1749 1753 1754 1757 1758 1759 1760 1761 1762 1763 1764 1765 1766 1767 1766 1770 1771 1772 1773 1774 1775 1776 1777 1778 1779 1780 1761 1782 1783 1764

1735 1737 1738 1739 1739 1741 1741 1751 1754 1756 1759 1759 1761 1761 After 1764 After 1764 After 1764 1764 1765 Paid 1766 1770 1771 1772 1773 1774 1775 1776 1777 1778 1779 1784 1784 None None None None

20 20 20 20 20 26 2/3 33 1/3 25 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5

Made by the author from the date of Hussey, op. cit., p. 321

BILBAO MERCHANT AND THEIR TRADE …

147

About the main imports, cacao and tobacco, Figs. 5 and 6 demonstrate the amount of imports from 1731 to 1785 by the lists of the voyages in Hussey’s book.

Fig. 5 The Volume of Cacao Import by the Caracas Company 1731–1785 (fanega15 ) (Made by the author from the date of Hussey, op. cit., pp. 305–318)

Fig. 6 Volume of Tabaco import by the Caracas Company 1731–1785 (Arroba16 ) (Made by the author from the date of Hussey, op. cit., pp. 305–318)

148

R. TAKAGAKI

These tables enable the assumption that the import volume of cacao had grown in the 1730s and then again after 1757. As an interesting point, cacao was imported as the goods of the company mainly before 1753, but after 1759, it was regarded as the goods for private; also, this classification occasionally exceeded the amount of the company. However, after 1778, when the free trade within Spanish Empire had begun with the announcement of regulation of free trade (Reglamento de Libre Comercio) until 1785 when the company folded, the volume of imports declined suddenly. Most tobacco was transported as a corporate asset. The private transport occurred around 1770 mostly because the royal court demanded it. According to this graph, the volume of imports was increased from the late 1750s till just before of regulation of free trade. Next, Fig. 7 shows the returned ports. It reached ten ports, that is Cádiz monopolized port in Spain, Pasajes and San Sebastián in Guipúzcoa, La Coruña (A Coruña), Camariñas, Ribadeo, Vigo, Cedeira in Galicia, Gijón, Luarca in Asturias, Santander in Cantabria17 (Hussey 1934: 305–318). According to Hussey’s dates, the company had used Cádiz until around 1739. However, around 1740, the use rate of the ports of the Basque Provinces was increased. Later, their ships came back to Pasajes mainly after 1757. On the whole, the usage rate of the Basque port surpassed 50%, whereas the rate of Cádiz was no larger than 40% and

Fig. 7 Ports of returns 1731–1785 (Ships) (Made by the author from the date of Hussey, op. cit., pp. 305–318)

BILBAO MERCHANT AND THEIR TRADE …

149

Galicia, Asturias, and Cantabria shared the remaining 1%. This fact reveals that this company not only had secured the independence of the monopolized port but also defied the boundaries of the trading route of state or empire. 4.2

The Relationship Between Stock and Guipúzcoa

As mentioned previously, the Caracas Company was a joint stock company, but it was also one that had attracted the royal privilege company as had the English East India Company and the Dutch East India Company. The Spanish treasury did not have enough money fiscally to start a new business because of the overrun of the privateer and smuggling concurrently with many wars (Hussey 1934: 65). The stock was sold for 500 pesos per share. The first stock purchase finished in 1733. The member of the company thought 1,500,000 pesos were needed to run it, but only 706,330 pesos, less than half of the estimation, were collected (Hussey 1934: 170). Phillip V and his queen, Isabel de Farnesio, purchased two hundred shares, and the province of Guipúzcoa purchased one hundred shares. Among the shareholders were people and organizations concerned about Guipúzcoa—for example, the University of Oñate, Consulado de San Sebastián (Iribarren 2005: 169– 170). It appears that the administration of the company was carried out by many of the people of Guipúzcoa in spite of the royal company. Table 6 shows the list of names of the register. A stockholder received the voting right by having eight shares of stock. Fifty-seven stockholders were listed in the register; among them, twenty-nine stockholders from the origin of the Basque Provinces or the people concerned about the Basque Provinces.18 Moreover, except for the king, the directors had to live in Guipúzcoa. Counting backwards from the amount to be paid, the outstanding stocks are about 1,412 shares representing up to 176 rights to vote. In 1734, Phillip V and his queen had most of the right with 25 votes. Next, the province of Guipúzcoa had 12 votes; Juan Antonio Claessens, a director, had seven votes; Joseph Miguel de Vildósola, a director, had five votes; and Joseph de Lopeola, a director, had five votes also. The names in the register represented 129 of the total 176 rights to vote. It is estimated that at least 29 people, with 67 cumulative votes, have the first name that concerned with the Basque Provinces. Accordingly, more than half of the shares and rights to vote were occupied by the Basque people.

150

R. TAKAGAKI

Table 6

The list of names of the register 1734

Name

Rights to vote

Name

Rights to vote

Felloe V and Queen Jsatoela Provincial of Guipúzcoa Juan Antonio Claessens (Director) Joseph Miguel de Vildósola (Director) Joseph de Lopeola (Director) Consulado of San Sebastián Marquess of Casapontejos Francisco Antonio de Orbe Martin de Arostegui Francisco de Eslava Joseph de Yarza City of San Sebastián

25

1

5

Juan Manuel de la Mata Linares Martin Joseph de Albisu Cap. Francisco Antonio de Oquendo Martin Ignacio de Elogorreaga (sic) Gabriel de Laguna

1

4

Francisca Carolena

1

4

Simon de Rispaldiza

1

3

Pedro de Zabala

1

3 3 3 2

1 1 1 1

2

Phelipe Aguirre Mariana Pérez Dardón Joseph de Arze Juan Francisco Garcia de Andoain Manuel Joseph de Echeverria Juan Miguel de Laviano

2 2 2

Juan Phelipe de Anssa Juan Claessens Juana de Lazqueti

1 1 1

2 2

Raphael de Eliza Juachin Pérez

1 1

2

Joseph de Lazcano

1

12 7 5

2

1 1 1

Marquess y Marchioness of la Paz Domingo Gregorio de Yunibarbia (Director) Carlos Andriani Santiago de Irisarri Joseph de Aierdi (Director) Michaela Ipenarrieta Juan Angel de Echeverria Juan Bauptista de Iturralde, Marquess of Murillo Marquess of Balme diano Marquess of Narros

1

1

Martin de Zavaleta

1

1

1

Bartholomé de Urbina Juan de Goieneche

1 1

Matheo Martiarena del Barranco Nicolás de Echeveste Duchess of Arcos

1

1 1

(continued)

BILBAO MERCHANT AND THEIR TRADE …

Table 6

151

(continued)

Name

Rights to vote

Name

Rights to vote

Francisco de Aldecoa Manuel de Aguirre

1 1

1 1

Francisco de Eulate

1

Joseph Jacinto de Mendizabal University of Oñate

1

Francisco de Arco Cathalina Bauptista de Astigarraga Joseph Antonio (Inspector) Juan Bauptista de Echeverria

1 1

1

Made by the author from the date of Monserrat Gárate Ojanguren, La Real Compañía Guipuzcoana de caracas, Sociedad Guipuzcoana de Ediciones y Pubulicaciones, 1990.; Kazuhiko Nakagawa, A Study of the Caracas Company (in Japanese), Seijo University Economic Papers, 2003, pp. 70–71

4.3

Decline of the Company

The company was well done generally. However, in 1749, a rebellion was occurred by Juan Francisco León in Caracas. He was born in the Canary Islands and later went to Caracas to run the cacao plantation and engage in business with the Dutch. Therefore, he cooperated with the Dutch and Criollo out of apparent antipathy to the company. The company lobbied to the colony government for the right to curtail his work as law officer (Teniente de justicia) (Iribarren 2005: 194–197). This triggered Juan and his son to revolt against the company. Even though this rebellion was repressed in 1752, it had a considerable influence on the sovereigns in other colonies and ministries in the mainland. The company was forced to retreat for a while, since it was presumed that the company’s advance triggered the uprising (Hussey 1934: 127–128). Furthermore, the company was pressed to reorganize and reform the system like monopoly, the profits of the company by only Guipuzcoan people. By decree of the king on May 24, 1751, the home office was translated to Madrid (Hussey 1934: 156–157). In addition, the dividend rate was set at 5% from 1752, and extra warehouses were eliminated. The king and the court acclaimed these reforms, for they allowed the king and his court to do two things for their business. First, they could locate many storehouses; La Coruña, Cádiz, Madrid, Alicante Barcelona, and Valencia. Next, they allowed direct transport of goods from La Guaira to Spanish port (Hussey 1934: 157–158).

152

R. TAKAGAKI

However, the company could not defeat the smugglers. The company’s ships were too old to catch the smugglers. Under these circumstances, the financial situation declined. Table 7 demonstrates the three balance sheets in 1763, 1774, and 1783. In 1763, the assets exceeded the liability of about 4,000,000 pesos. The opposite situation occurred in 1774. In 1783, the last year of the company’s operations, the company faced insolvency. During these years, regulation of free trade with Antilles Island, as stated later, had announced in 1765. By this way, the monopoly trade of company had encroached. In 1774, when the company’s finances had become strained, inter-regional trade was allowed in Spanish America. Ultimately, king announced the regulation of free trade between Spanish America and almost any mainland Spanish port in 1778. However, Venezuela and Mexico were excluded from these regulations. The reason for this, according to Hussey, was that Charles III thought leaves the power of the company in Venezuela (Hussey 1934: 231). After all, two colonies were Table 7

Balance sheet

Liabilities Loans Accounts payable Outstanding stocks Tax and salary Total Assets Assets in Caracas Assets in Maracaibo Assets in Spain Total

31 December 1763

31 December 1774

31 December 1763

10,926,949 3,825,402

16,363,236

19,074,018 607,465

23,206,500

35,121,750

35,121,750

6,302,298

9,051,108

15,009,696

44,251,149

60,536,094

69,812,929

25,324,606

39,510,233

26,146,437

5,835,015

4,462,541

5,381,951

17,507,737

16,224,943

35,308,055

46,667,358

60,368,939

66,836,443

Made by the author from the date of Hussey, op. cit. pp. 193, 256, 294

BILBAO MERCHANT AND THEIR TRADE …

153

incorporated to the free-trade region in 1789 (Iribarren 2005: 230–231; Tateishi 1989: 64). Previous studies argued that the company defeated the competitive under the situation of the regulation of free trade. Of course, this regulation affected the economy’s health. Although the import volume of cacao rose from the middle period of operation, meanwhile the debts exceeded income in 1774. It is considered to decline in earnings brought by cacao from Venezuela for this reason. Smuggling was rampant, and smugglers sold cacao less than 35% the company price. In connection with smuggling, the price of cacao went down. Even if one bought one fanega for 34 pesos, they had to sell it at about 30 ~ 33 pesos in Spain (Iribarren 2005: 202–203). The point is the competition had already declined before the promulgation of free trade regulation, and declined further afterward, spurred by the opening market. In this way, this privileged company could not overcome competition from smuggling. 4.4

Toward to Asia—The Diversion to the Philippine Company

The Royal Philippine Company was incorporated on March 10, 1785 through a royal decree by Charles III. The royal family, Bank of San Carlos,19 Cinco Gremios Mayores de Madrid (“the five big merchant guilds of Madrid”),20 and other personnel were engaged in the management of the company, worth about 8 million pesos. According to DíazTrechuelo, the purpose of the company was the integration of commerce with both America and Asia (Díaz-Trechuelo 2003: 370). The company also facilitated trade between Manila and the Guangdong port city of China. The base of the company was in Cádiz, but many of members were merchants from Guipúzcoa, specifically the shipyard located in the town of Pasajes. This company sailed around the Cape of Good Hope to the east. To sell goods in Manila, the company was allowed to go toward South America for embarking goods. However, the Manila galleon, which crossed the Pacific Ocean, existed until 1813,21 and so the two trade systems coexisted. It is well known that Manila was the base of silver trade in the Spanish Empire in the sixteenth and seventeenth century (Flynn 1991). In the eighteenth century, the Philippines were a hub of activity not only for the Spanish Empire in Asia but also within the intra-Asian trade. For the duration of the company’s existence, Manila was a free port for raw materials and Asian manufactured goods. This port city was therefore important

154

R. TAKAGAKI

as a distribution center for Asian goods in the eighteenth century—silk, muslin, spice, indigo, ivory, pearl, sugar, cinnamon, tobacco, coffee, and precious metal. The Royal Philippine Company carried Asian goods from Manila to Spain frequently. In 1762, about twenty years before, the foundation of the Royal Philippine Company, the English East India Company attacked the Philippines. Manila did not recover until 1764, after the conclusion of the Treaty of Paris. For several decades in the second half of the eighteenth century, Spain was involved in many wars in the Atlantic. However, as a part of the Bourbon Reforms, the Spanish Crown wanted to strengthen its power in government and encourage trade between the Philippines and Spain by establishing a company that imported goods produced in Asia and the Philippines. In addition, they planned the economic development of the Philippines. The Royal Philippine Company governed Manila with these objectives. Nevertheless, the company was dissolved in 1834, when Manila became a free port (Map 1). 4.5

Why Did Guipúzcoan Merchants Participate in Trade Within the Empire?

The Royal Guipuzcoan Company of Caracas enjoyed exclusive privileges granted by the Spanish crown. They gained two privileges: trade in Caracas and the pursuit to competitor. This privilege was consistent with national interest for the king in terms of regaining the commercial benefit from the merchants of other countries. For Guipúzcoan merchants, this privilege was new and constituted a chance for economic prosperity by the negotiation with the king and the royal court. That is, this company aimed not only at the local but also at the national and, by extension, at the empire as a whole. Eventually, the company’s monopoly came to be seen as a struggle between Basque independence and the Spanish kingdom. In spite of Spanish colonization, Venezuela hardly engaged in commerce with the mainland. By this, the smuggling was rampant. Guipuzcoan merchants planned to establish the company to enter the market. This plan received the nod from the king, who intended to gain control over a revitalized Atlantic trade. As a consequence, the company handled the exclusive right to trade of Caracas. Later, although the dissolution of the company they found a new way. Guipuzcoan merchants not only utilized their historical privilege but also gained the new privilege

Map 1

The mainly network of Guipuzcoan merchant. This figure was created by the author

BILBAO MERCHANT AND THEIR TRADE …

155

156

R. TAKAGAKI

of linking their profits to national profits. In short, it is suggested that these companies and its trade shared mutual interest both of Guipuzcoan merchants and the royal court.

5

Conclusion

This chapter attempted to clarify how local merchants engaged in the cross-national or cross-imperial trade by demonstrating two case studies. The first case was that of the Gardoqui family in Bilbao, who engaged in trade not only with Europe but also with British North America although a local merchant. They freely benefited from the independent customs and tax systems. This chapter suggests that such merchants enjoyed the privilege of their city meanwhile their social status within the national court rose through trade. Further studies are needed, however, in order to reveal the relationships among these matters. Moreover, we can evaluate that while they conflict with the national court, they contributed to Spain and created a relationship with North America. Bilbao merchants integrated with the Atlantic economy through North American trade. The second part mainly discusses the activity of Guipuzcoan merchant. Guipuzcoan people had acquired local privileges similar to those of Bilbao. Nevertheless, they settled for a complementary position in the trade. Thereby, they attempted to obtain new privileges by negotiating with the king and court officials. As a consequence, their company came to fruition by arriving at a mutually beneficial agreement with the royal court. Despite the company’s ultimate defeat in the face of market competition, it served as the basis for a new company, new privilege, and a new trading route. In conclusion, Basque merchants not merely resisted the economic and political pressures, for example, the transformation of customs, throughout the eighteenth century. They also found a way of adapting to the economic and political situation in that time. In this way, they not only gained benefit for themselves but also contributed to national interests as a result. In addition, their differences were created by the independence they enjoyed from other regions and the state. This chapter concludes that the commerce of the Basque merchants became marked by stretching from Europe to North America and the Spanish Empire. In other words, the network of the Basque merchant is shown to have extended beyond its national area, across the seas, and even reaching the Philippines in Asia. For quite some time in the eighteenth century, Bilbao

BILBAO MERCHANT AND THEIR TRADE …

157

and Guipuzcoan merchants were highly active agents in commerce both inside and outside the empire. From the point of view of the connection with Maritime Asian History, Spain and Maritime Asia’s links were connected in a different way from the conventional Manila Galleon in the last century by the entry of local merchants. This chapter did not discuss that in detail, but it is important to note that the network between Bilbao and North America expanded to Maritime Asia by the actions of a Salem merchant who traveled to trade there from the end of the eighteenth century. Indeed, the activity and the network of a local merchant from a Europe were connected not only to the Atlantic but also to Maritime Asia during the late-early modern age and the modern age itself.

Notes 1. In 1765, it was allowed that free trade between nine ports of Spain (Santander, Gijón, A Coruña, Seville, Cádiz, Malaga, Cartagena, Alicante, and Barcelona) and Antilles. In 1770, Campeche and the Yucatán Peninsula included this decree. The regional trade in America permitted partially in 1774. In 1778, also, allowed Spanish other ports (Almería, Alfaques de Tortosa, Palma de Mallorca, Santa Cruz de Tenerife) and other two ports in America (Buenos Aires and Montevideo). 2. By the Nueva Planta decrees, local privileges and the many customs in some of the regions in Spain had abolished between 1714 and 1717. 3. As the methodology of Global History, there are the four-layer structure. It considered the linkage and the comparison by the view of local (1), national (2), regional (3), and global (4). This chapter tries to discuss the network of sea or the relation with state from the view of local (that is two ports in the Basque Provinces). 4. Consulado was the commercial court in Spain. In addition, it regards as the merchant guild because this was consisted by local merchants. 5. The Bilbao merchant means the owner of goods. 6. Certainly, Spanish court did not think very well of them. When declared the “The Regulation of Free Trade” system in 1765, but the Basque ports were expected from it. In particular, for opposing Bilbao, the Spanish court gave the privilege to Santander and El Ferrol. English merchant, especially London merchant, was agreeing to this plan. The consul of France supported too, but Bayonne merchant opposed this project. In addition to this attempt, the Spanish court began construction of highway from Burgos to Santander, and this project finished in 1752. The people of Bilbao against Spanish court constructed the road by themselves.

158

R. TAKAGAKI

7. This system was established for the foreign merchants from Protestant regions, depositing their property to the host in exchange for providing the inn. 8. He and his son, Joseph Joaquin started the business in 1750, but Joseph Joaquin did not 23 years old still. So, they created the company in 1756. In 1758, Diego, the second son, participated in the management company. After Joseph dead in 1765, his wife Maria sat on a director. 9. National Archives and Records Administration in the USA has many letters of Gardoqui e Hijos during 1770s–1790s in English. 10. Sacones means the unit of wool of lambs. 11. In the sources, this is not distinguished. 12. According to the sources, there is not port name but written Inglaterra (It means England in Spanish). 13. Merchants of the Massachusetts Bay colony means shipowner. 14. On November 17, 1728, the article of incorporation specified the following contents. (1) The stock was sold 500 pesos per share of stock. Running by five directors and the king accede to this office. Directors have received 5,000 pesos as the salary in each year. The family of the second degree of kingship cannot take up the position of director at the same time. (2) It has to hold the meeting of stockholders once every five years at least. The shareholder who holds a stake in eight stocks can attend it. Also, there is the election of the director and be determined the dividend rate. 15. 1 fanega is about 55.5 liter. 16. 1 arroba is about 11.5 kg. 17. Actually, it had arrived once time on Rochefort with 7,487 fanegas of cacao in 1743. However, in this chapter, it graphed only within the ports of Spain. 18. This name lists referred to an article. This figure is minimum because of extract only regard as the Basque people by name or the post in the company. 19. This bank was the predecessor of the National bank of Spain, founded in 1782 by Francisco Cabarrús. The son of a French merchant, Cabarrús was born in Bayonne, in the French Basque country. When Francisco was very young, he moved to Zaragoza, Spain. He was appointed director of the Bank of San Carlos by the 1st Count of Floridablanca, who was Charles III’s chief minister. Francisco also served as an ambassador and the minister of Finance. More importantly, he proposed the establishment of a company to trade with the Philippines. 20. These guilds specialized in jewelry, lingerie, drapery, silk, haberdashery, spice trade, and pharmacy. They dominated Madrid’s commercial industry in the early modern age, and had a close relationship with the royal court.

BILBAO MERCHANT AND THEIR TRADE …

159

Moreover, members from northern Spain; the Basque Province, Navarre, Rioja, Cantabria monopolized the guilds. 21. The ship travelled twice a year.

References Aizpurúa, Ramón. 1981. El siglo XVlll en la Venezuela colonial: la sociedad colonial y su crisis. Boletín Americanista 31: 3–13. Akita, Shigeru, and Shiro Momoki, eds. 2008. Rekishigaku no Frontier Chiiki kara toinaosu kokumin koxtuka shikan [The Frontier of History]. Suita: Osaka University Press. Angulo Morales, Alberto. 2001. Comercialización y contrabando de tabaco en el País Vasco durante el antiguo régimen. Vasconia 31: 21–43. Aragón Ruano, Älvaro, and Alberto Angulo Morales. 2013. The Spanish Basque Provinces in Global Trade Networks in the Eighteenth Century. International Journal of Maritime History 25: 149–172. Aragón Ruano, Álvaro. 2015. The Mediterranean Connections of Basque Ports (1700–1841): Trade, Trust, and Networks. Journal of European Economic History 3: 51–90. Archivo Histórico Provincial de Vizcaya. Protocolo 3340, Esno. Joaquín de la Concha, año 1756. ———. Protocolo 3342, Esno. Joaquín de la Concha, año 1758. Basurto Larrañaga, Ramón. 1983. Comercio y burguesía mercantil de Bilbao en la segunda mitad del siglo XVIII . Bilbao: Servicio Editorial Universidad del País Vasco. ———. 2003. Linejas y fortunas mercantiles de Bilbao del siglo XVIII. Itsas Memoria, Revista de Estudios Marítimos del País Vasco 4: 343–356. Bilbao, Luis María. 2003. Comercio y transporte internacionales en los puertos de Vizcaya y Guipúzcoa durante el siglo XVII (1600–1650). Una visión panorámica. Itsas Memoria. Revistas De Estudios Marítimos Del País Vasco 4: 259–285. Calderón Cuadrado, Reyes. 2004. Empresarios españoles en el proceso de independencia norteamericana: La casa Gardoqui e hijos de Bilbao. Madrid: Unión Editorial. Cierbide, Ricardo Martinena. 1997. La Compañía Guipuzcoana de Caracas y los vascos en Venezuela durante el siglo XVIII. Revista Internacional De Los Estudios Vascos 42: 66. Consulado de Bilbao. Libro borrador de haberes de las cuentas del derecho de avería, 1755–1766 (11 books). Díaz-Trechuelo, María Lourdes. 2003. La Real Compañía de Filipinas en Guipúzcoa. Itsas Memoria. Revista De Estudios Marítimos Del País Vasco 4: 369–381.

160

R. TAKAGAKI

———. 1989. De a , en Actas de jornadas organizadas por Fundación de Vizcaya, “Los Vascos y América” El comercio Vasco con América en el siglo XVIII La Real Compañía Guipuzucoana de Caracas, 361–385. Bilbao: Laida. Elliott, John. 2006. Empires of the Atlantic World Britain and Spain in America 1492–1830. New Haven: Yale University Press. Flynn, Dennis O. 1991. Comparing the Tokugawa Shogunate with Hapsburg Spain: Two Silver-Based Empires in a Global Setting. In The Political Economy of Merchant Empires, ed. James D. Tracy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Games, Alison. 2006. Atlantic History: Definitions, Challenges, and Opportunities. The American Historical Review 111: 746–749. Gould, Eliga. 2007. Entangled Histories, Entangled Worlds: The EnglishSpeaking Atlantic as a Spanish Periphery. The American Historical Review 112 (3): 764–786. Grafe, Regina. 2011. Distant Tyranny: Markets, Power, and Backwardness in Spain, 1650–1800. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Grafe, Regina, and Oscar Gelderblom. 2010. The Rise and Fall of the Merchant Guilds: Re-thinking the Comparative Study of Commercial Institutions in Premodern Europe. Journal of Interdisciplinary History 10 (4): 477–511. Great Britain Customs Establishment. Naval Office Shipping Lists for Massachusetts, 1686–1765. Massachusetts Historical Society. Hussey, Roland Dennis. 1934. THE CARACAS COMPANY 1728–1784: A Study in the History of Spanish Monopolistic Trade. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Iribarren, Arantazazu Amezaga. 2005. La Real Comapañía Guipuzcoana de Caracas. Crónica sentimental con una visión historiográfica. Los años áuricos y las rebeliones (1728–1751). Sancho El Sabio: Revista De Cultura e Investigación Vasca 23: 167–208. La Real Compañía Guipuzcoana de Caracas. 1765. Real Compañía Guipuzcoana de Caracas, Noticias Historiales Prácticas, Madrid. Lamikiz, Xabier. 2010. Trade and Trust in the Eighteenth-Century Atlantic World—Spanish Merchants and Their Overseas Networks. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press for the Royal Historical Society. ———. 2017. Comercio internacional, rivalidades interurbanas y cambio institucional en el norte de la Península Ibérica durante el siglo XVII, en Ramón Lanza García (coor.), Las instituciones económicas, las finanzas públicas y el declive de España en la Edad Moderna. Madrid: Universidad Autónoma de Madrid, Servicio de Publicaciones. Lydon, James. 2008. Fish and Flour for Gold, 1600–1800: Southern Europe in the Colonial Balance of Payments. Philadelphia: Library Company of Philadelphia.

BILBAO MERCHANT AND THEIR TRADE …

161

Martínez Borrallo, Antonio. 2017. Comerciantes vascos en los Cinco Gremios Mayores de Madrid. MAGALLÁNICA, Revista De Histroria Moderna 4 (7): 145–179. Morison, Samuel Eliot. 1921. The Maritime History of Massachusetts 1783–1860. Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin Company. National Archive Founders Online, USA. https://founders.archives.gov/. Accessed 18 November 2020. Ringrose, David. 1998. Spain, Europe and the “SPANISH MIRACLE” 1700– 1900. New York: Cambridge University Press. Satou, Hiroyuki. 1969. A Note on Cloth Production and International Impacts (in Japanese). Hitotsubashi Journal of Social Sciences 16: 60–66. Satsuma, Shinsuke. 2017. “Free Trade” or Conquest: Analysis of British Plans for Spanish American Trade and Settlement in the Early Eighteenth Century. In Shogyo to Ibunka no Sessyoku [Contact Between Commerce and Different Culture], ed. Kawawake Keiko and Tamaki Toshiaki. Tokyo: Yoshida Shoten Publishing. Smith, Robert Sidney. 1940. The Spanish Guild Merchant, a History of the Consulado, 1250–1700. Durham: Duke University Press. Tateishi, Hirotaka. 1984. La ganadería trashumante en la España del siglo XVIII. Jimbun Gakuho (Social Sciences and Humanities) 167: 189–205. ———. 1989. El Reglamento de Comericio Libre (1778) y la economía Española. Studies in the Mediterranean World Past and Present, 63–71. Terreros y Pando, Esteban de. 1786. Diccionario Castellano con las voces de ciencias y artes y sus correspondientes en las tres lenguas Francesa, Latina e Italiana. Madrid. Uztáriz, Gerónimo de. 1742. Theorica y practica de comercio y de marina. Madrid. Vázquez de Prada, Valentín. 1968. Las rutas comerciales entre España y América en el siglo XVIII. Anuario de Estudios Americanos 25: 197–241. Yamada, Atsumi. 2008. El dorado densetsu: Spain to England no tankenteikoku [Legend of El Dorado -Exploration Imperialisms of Spain and England]. Tokyo: Chuoukouronshinsha. Zabala Uriarte, Aingeru. 1994. Mundo urbano y actividad mercantil, Bilbao 1700–1810. Bilbao.

Maritime Asia in Contemporary Eras

Modern China’s Imagining of the Nanyang and the Construction of Transnational Asia Hong Liu

1 Introduction: Reflecting on the Nanyang (Southeast Asia) Over the last four decades or so, as a result of Asia’s rapid economic development, Asian regionalism has attracted growing attention in academic studies and the mass media. While most current discussion about Asia focuses on today’s processes and problems of regional economic and political integration, some studies look at the prehistory of Asian regionalism (for example, late nineteenth-century Asianism or pan-Asianism)

The author is grateful for Professor Gregor Benton’s invaluable help in preparing for this chapter and the funding support from Nanyang Technological University (#04INS000103C430) under the research project entitled “Plural Co-existence and Asian Sustainability: East Asian Experiences in a Comparative Perspective.” The author is solely responsible for all the views expressed in this chapter and remaining errors. H. Liu (B) Tan Lark Sye Chair Professor of Public Policy and Global Affairs, School of Social Sciences, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore, Singapore e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. Akita et al. (eds.), Changing Dynamics and Mechanisms of Maritime Asia in Comparative Perspectives, Palgrave Studies in Comparative Global History, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-2554-1_7

165

166

H. LIU

and the basis it offers for a more grounded understanding of contemporary change in Asia. At the same time as constructing the historical course of modern Asia and its wider significance, scholars also revisit and problematise the vocabulary and concepts that have become embedded in the associated discourse, including names and ideas such as Asia, East Asia, China, and so on (for some relevant studies, see Huang 2008; Katzenstein and Shiraishi 2006; Liu 2001; Sugihara 2005). Generally speaking, the discussion regarding modern Asia has centred on the mutual perceptions and interactions of China and Japan, in particular the multidimensional relations (conceptual, political, and practical) between the two countries in the late nineteenth and the early twentieth centuries. (c.f., Nobukuni 2004; Tanaka 1995). Existing studies focus principally on two-way exchanges between China and Japan—little attention has been paid to the Nanyang’s role in the Asia discussion, or to Japan’s influence on China’s view of the Nanyang in the late Qing. A few authors seem to have been aware of this bias. For example, Hamashita Takeshi (2008) considers that it is possible to view theories of East Asia and of Asia’s modernisation from the angle of geopolitical and cultural theory, from the peripheral angle, and from the angle of the theory of maritime space. In his important multi-volume study on Chinese intellectual history, Wang Hui, taking Wei Yuan’s conception of the sea as an example, analyses the Nanyang’s relative centrality to the Asia discussion (including a dissection of the intricate relationship between the Nanyang itself and the non-Han peoples east of China). In his opinion, however, this Nanyang-centric view serves Wei Yuan’s goal of “constructing a new vision of the world,” with as his basic objective “the effective reconstitution of the traditional system of imperial tribute.” So Wei Yuan’s “real motive continues to be to research China’s relations with the West by describing the Eastern and Western Nanyang and other regions as a means of describing relations between China and the West.” By “writing about the South Seas [the Nanyang] to understand the West Seas [the West]” (this is how he summarises Haiguotuzhi 海国图志 (“Illustrated treatise on the maritime kingdoms”), Wei “explains that Sino-Western relations can, to some extent, be understood in the context of the network of imperial tributary trade relations.” Wang Hui further points out that the more than one hundred Chinese and non-Chinese works cited by the Haiguotuzhi include over twenty historical works written in a biographical style, and that more than seventy are ancient Chinese writings describing

MODERN CHINA’S IMAGINING OF THE NANYANG …

167

relations with external geographical regions and only twenty are Western works (Wang 2004: 644–65). Rebecca Karl (2002) has analysed the late-Qing discussion of Asia in some depth, and directed her attention in particular to the politics of ideas and its role in the construction of a modern nationalist movement and a new region. Through an analysis of Liang Qichao and others’ idea of “Asia for the Asians,” she argues that many late-Qing intellectuals saw “Asia” as a concept and historical medium (or space) that, more and more clearly with every passing day, helped connect China and the world, and that the content of that “Asia” was by no means stable: its scope, which remained a hotly debated topic, continued to have global, regional, and national significance. Moreover, this new Asia was no longer a Sinocentric concept but represented a region created in a modern environment. In that process, regions previously classified as vassals of China (like the Nanyang) were incorporated into “Asia,” and China’s links with these neighbouring countries were a major moment in this creative process (c.f., Benton and Liu 2018; Benton et al., 2018). Sun Yat-sen’s Revolutionary Alliance propelled China’s revolutionary practice into a position of primacy in the Asian orbit. In Sun Yat-sen’s new thinking about organisational structures, Asia was to serve the practice of the Chinese revolution. Sun’s ideology of “Asianism” was heavily influenced by the Japanese idea of Pan-Asianism (Karl 2002). In their Nanyang-centric narratives, Wang Gungwu (1992) and Prasenjit Duara (1997) noted, respectively, the late Qing’s role and its efforts to drum up support among Overseas Chinese, not only to politicise their interests but also to tie them into China’s economic modernisation. Zhang Guotu (1989: 134–48) has argued that the Qing court’s aim was to revitalise commerce, that it was aware of the economic strength of the Overseas Chinese and therefore began to take measures to protect them (including by setting up consulates, particularly in the Nanyang). From a literary angle, Brian Bernards (2011) has analysed modern Chinese writers’ imagining of the Nanyang and their construction of “Nanyang colour.” Liao Wenhui (2011: 4–14) argues that Southeast Asian research on theNanyang, “starting in the 1930s, was driven mainly by a group of scholars and journalists that came south from China and promoted or established a culture or tradition of historical research, which is today known as Nanyang studies,” and he pointed out that “Nanyang studies” chiefly comprise frontier history and research on the Sino-foreign contacts that emerged from it. However, in the 1970s, “Nanyang studies”

168

H. LIU

in Malaysia and Singapore entered a new stage, that of “Huaren [ethnic Chinese] studies.” Authors separated Nanyang studies and Huaren studies chronologically, a venture well worth discussing. In their work on Asianism, Caroline Hau and Takashi Shiraishi (2009) stress the role played by networks in linking Japan and Southeast Asia and in propagating pan-Asianism. Outside the Asian region, scholars have noted the impact of pan-Asianism and other strands of thought (e.g., opposition to Western imperialism, Asian nationalism, and pan-Islamism) (Aydin 2007). Regarding China’s “Asianist” response to Japan in the late Qing and the early Republic, Ge Zhaoguang (2011: 169–94) has argued that when Chinese of insight advocated studying and copying Japan, Japan was not necessarily the object of Chinese people’s identity and intimate regard. Chinese “Asianism” rarely embodies the fervent pursuit of modernity—more usually, it is an expression of a wish to merge with the wider world: the thinking it embodies is that of pre-modern China’s pursuit of wealth and power. Latent within it is, “rather, a clear expression of national and state sentiment.” At the time, thousands of Chinese intellectuals and students in Japan came under the influence of modern nationalism and Asianism, and supported the creation of a powerful centralised state, capable of defending (and demarcating) its national frontiers and of opposing imperialist aggression (Duara 1995). In the course of these developments, the Nanyang and Overseas Chinese in Southeast Asia, long “marginalised” or described as inhabiting a “border zone,” increasingly became an important focus of late-Qing elites and even more so of Sun Yat-sen, who described Overseas Chinese as “mothers of the revolution.” Chinese diaspora’s supported China’s national revolutionary movement financially and materially, and became a central component of that movement (Huang 2011). Seen from another angle, the propagation of the concept depended on mass media. Liu Zenghe (2000) has pointed out in his research on media forms and the late-Qing public domain that in the late Qing feudal rule over society became ever weaker and Western politics, culture, and capital streamed ever more forcefully into China, so that the markets, the national capital, and cultural nationalism that were intrinsically alien to the feudal state came into ever greater prominence, forming a corrosive force against which the two-thousand year old “feudal” state had scant remedy. The popular media, as “mothers of public opinion” and cultural vectors, naturally also took a leading role in the shaping of public opinion.

MODERN CHINA’S IMAGINING OF THE NANYANG …

169

In other words, demographic and ideological cross-border flows, what Edward Said (2000) called “travelling theories,” and the media platforms on which the latter depend are important elements in modern Asian processes of change, and an essential starting point in our exploration of Asianism. We must therefore go beyond national boundaries in analysing the multinational and transcultural flow of ideas. Today, when we think about the East Asian community, we tend to focus on modern Japanese Asianism or the impact of Japanese Asianism on China in the late Qing and the early Republic, and China’s response to it. For example, by way of an analysis of the East Asian Union (established in Tokyo in 1939) and Japan’s view of Asia in modern times, Shi Guifang (2002) explores the social and historical causes of the East Asian Union, and goes on to analyse its circumstances in Japan and the parts of China controlled by the Japanese or their puppets between 1937 and 1945, stressing the true character of the theory of an East Asian Union and Japan’s East Asian Union movement. Wang Xiangyuan (2005) closely analyses Japanese scholars’ and cultural figures’ role in Japan’s war of aggression against China, and points out that the architects of Japan’s policy of aggression towards China were, in essence, non-governmental scholars and intellectuals not occupying any particular political office or in opposition. Although all the above-mentioned studies are founded in documentary research, they seem to be somewhat politicised. Zhang Qing (2010) emphasises that the essential characteristic of “new cultural history” in modern historical studies is that it reflects the pursuit of an “all-sided history,” it seeks to integrate multiple factors into the field of what might otherwise remain specialised history, it focuses on integrating marginal people or “media” into the veins and arteries of modern China’s social change, in order to encourage viewing the centre from the “edges,” and thus to open up an even greater multitude of perspectives. In fact, quite a few Chinese studying or working in Japan in the late Qing realised that Japan’s prosperity was based on large-scale industry and commerce. Li Wenquan emphasised the need for commercial surveys, and noted that “at present the Nanyang belongs not to the people of the Nanyang but to the West. Although Fujianese and Cantonese have been operating in the Nanyang since the mid-years of the Ming dynasty, later they were replaced by Europeans and Americans. That happened because Europeans and Americans were the first to

170

H. LIU

do commercial surveys. That is why the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association advocates ‘focussing on expatriates, starting with the Nanyang archipelago’.” Li (1910a) especially called on Overseas Chinese merchants to “investigate the situation internally and externally and cultivate personal relations and mutual understanding—one cannot be achieved without the other.” So in Tokyo in 1910 the founder and editor-in-chief of the first magazine in Chinese dealing with Nanyang business affairs, the Nanyang qundaoshangyeyanjiu hui zazhi 南洋群島商 業研究会雑誌 (“Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Association,” hereafter The Journal, even subsequent to its name change) was Li Wenquan李文權 (1910b). Using The Journal as a case study, and on the basis of Chinese and Japanese sources, this chapter surveys and explores new trends of thought in international scholarship on Asia. It analyses modern China’s imagining and construction of the Nanyang in the early twentieth century, and how that process was affected by Japan’s political and economic development and diplomatic influence. It argues that the emergence of new mass media and transnational networks were an important factor in China’s imagining of the Nanyang. Japan played a major role in the development of modern China’s perception of the Nanyang, and by way of transnational mass media and Chinese students studying abroad in the late-Qing dynasty, with their various networks, promoted the construction of an image of “commercial Nanyang” both similar to and different from “political Nanyang.” This chapter is organised into three parts; an analysis of the mission of Li Wenquan and of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association he founded, and of its transnationally constituted membership; the imagining of the Nanyang as developed by The Journal, the role of Overseas-Chinese, and the possibility of an East–West commercial war and of Sino-Japanese cooperation advocated by The Journal; and a summary exposition of the role played by the new Nanyang in contemporary China’s imagining of modern Asianism and transnationalism.

2

Li Wenquan and the Nanyang Commercial Study Association

The Journal was set up by the Nanyang Commercial Study Association, and was founded and organised by Li Wenquan (1878–?). Because Sino-Japanese interaction has produced numerous well-known figures in

MODERN CHINA’S IMAGINING OF THE NANYANG …

171

modern times, coupled with the fact that contemporary studies tend to focus on “great men” to the detriment of more marginal figures, little is known in academic circles about the biography of Li Wenquan (the only exception is Li Peng 2013, which is a MA thesis focusing on Li Wenquan’s thought on enterprise), so I begin this section by briefly sketching Li’s life, as a prelude to an exploration of his ideas and activities. Li Wenquan, also known as Li Tao and Li Daoheng, was born in Beijing in 1878. He passed the triennial provincial civil-service exam and then studied at the capital’s Imperial University (predecessor of Peking University). He evinced a strong interest in national affairs, and abandoned the gentry role to “study the road to prosperity, as the cardinal principle,” and to save the motherland by promoting trade and industry. He taught in Japan for twelve years, during which time he made the acquaintance of a large number of Japanese politicians, journalists, business people, and sinologists. In Japan, he organised the establishment of the Study Association and its associated Journal, which in 1912 changed its name to Zhongguoshiyezazhi 中國實業雜誌 (“Journal of Chinese Industry and Commerce”). He argued that to become rich a nation needed industry and commerce, which could only be achieved through study. He personally went to Southeast Asia, America, and other places to carry out on-the-spot research, the reports on which he brought out in The Journal. The Journal published a wide range of materials drawn from many places. Its specific focus was on industry, and it was the longest-running journal outside China published on this topic by a single person at the time of the Revolution of 1911 (Guo 1987). In his Self-Description at the Age of 37 , Li Wenquan said: “During the last ten years, I’ve done nothing but study industry and commerce.” So promoting industry and commerce to save the nation was his overriding concern and The Journal ’s fundamental purpose. In 1918, having returned to China, Li Wenquan founded the Nanyang Association of Entrepreneurship in Nanjing, and continued publishing The Journal, which survived until 1936, with Li as both publisher and editor-in-chief. a. Early experiences: The emergence of a transnational In 1880, aged two, Li Wenquan followed his father, an official, from Beijing to Guangdong, where he lived and studied for fourteen years.

172

H. LIU

Thus located in China’s earliest window on the world and one of its two most important regions of overseas emigration, Li naturally gained a first-hand knowledge and understanding of the Sino-Western political and cultural conflict, of foreign living, and of the circumstances of Overseas Chinese. When the first Sino-Japanese War broke out in 1894, he went to Beijing to take the imperial examination, but he failed, after which he “stayed in Beijing for three years, reading behind closed doors.” He took the exam again in 1897, and gained first place at local, county, and prefectural levels (Li 1916: 593). In 1898, Li Wenquan began studying the new literature and press in Beijing, and personally experienced the Reform Movement of that year. He believed that political reform was “not enough to save the nation,” and founded the Newspaper-Reading Association (Li 1916: 594). In 1899, he started studying at the Imperial University, and in those politically tumultuous years he, like many intellectuals at the time, was captivated by the new ideas. He started to ponder more deeply the fate of the country, and to look beyond “reform” in search of new ways to “save the nation.” Meanwhile, his experience at the Imperial University gradually persuaded him to break with the traditional ways of the scholar-literati. The arrival of the Boxer rebels in Beijing and the occupation of the capital by forces of the Eight Allied Powers interrupted Li Wenquan’s studies after less than one year, and in 1900 the Imperial University was forced to close. During that time, he worked for three days a week as “secretary” in a military post office operating between Japan and Beijing, and also as a book-seller travelling among Guangdong, Shanghai, and Beijing. In 1902, the Imperial University re-opened and Li resumed his studies, graduating in 1906. However, despite his new status as “successful candidate for the magistracy,” he abandoned his official position in the face of China’s “humiliation by foreigners, domestic troubles, national penury, and the affliction of the poor,” and instead committed himself to “studying the road to wealth as the cardinal idea” (Li 1916: 594–97) and promoting industry and commerce to save the motherland. Convinced that “the Japanese islands rose up with force and spirit to become prosperous and strong,” he decided to travel at his own expense to Japan, where, through a friend, he got a teaching job at the Tokyo Higher School of Commerce (T¯oky¯o K¯ot¯o Sh¯ogy¯o Gakk¯o, the predecessor of Hitotsubashi University). According to Hitotsubashi University’s records, Li Wenquan taught there from 1906 to 1916, and during that time

MODERN CHINA’S IMAGINING OF THE NANYANG …

173

he published his book Qingyu 清语(“Qing language”) (Hitotsubashi University Archival Editorial Committee 1991). In short, Li Wenquan’s early experience was marked by the crossing of geographic and politico-cultural boundaries. Journeying from the north down to Guangdong gave him first-hand experience of Western influences and of the relationship between Overseas Chinese and their motherland. Growing up in times of political and cultural revolution convinced him that the survival and development of the people and the nation depended above all on the development of industry and commerce, so “promoting industry and commerce to save the motherland” gradually become his dominant thought. b. Founding the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association in Japan In 1906, shortly after his arrival in Japan, Li Wenquan “became convinced that China’s old-style opera needed reforming and that it was important to study Western theatre” (Chunliu Jiuzhu 1918: 111). Together with Li Shutong (1880–1942), a renowned painter and writer in modern China who later became a monk, and others, he established modern China’s first contemporary opera society, Chunliu she 春柳社 (“Spring willow society”), whose members starred in a Chinese version of Uncle Tom’s Cabin (Hei nu yu tian lu 黑奴吁天录) (On the history and role of the Chunliu She in modern China, see Liu 2007). The purpose of the society was “to study a variety of forms of literature and art.” Its members included Wu Wozun, Huang Nannan, Ma Jiangshi, Xie Kangbai, Zhuang Yunshi, Lu Jingruo, and Ouyang Yuqian. In 1918, after returning to China, Li Wenquan founded the Chunliu journal in Tianjin, China’s first specialist opera journal. Li himself was leader of the group. Chunliu folded in October of the following year, after bringing out eight issues. Its purpose was to “reform traditional opera” and “carry out research on opera.” Li believed that there was a link between opera and national development, so he wanted by means of research to create an “opera scholarship” that would “elevate the reputation of opera” and, by playing on opera’s influence among the masses, expand its social function, “whereafter its level might be raised to the point where it can surpass Europe and the United States” (Chunliu Jiuzhu 1918: 111).

174

H. LIU

The Spring Willow Society and its activities in the field of Chinese opera reflected the vital role and influence of Japan’s new school of theatre on modern Chinese spoken theatre (Fong and Chan 2019; Tam 2019; Yuan 1991). The experience of participating in the Spring Willow Society not only acquainted Li Wenquan at first hand with Japanese society and culture but provided an essential grounding for his transnational networking, both interpersonal and conceptual. For example, in 1912 in Shanghai he visited Li Shutong (at the time literary editor of Taipingyang bao 太平洋报 [Pacific News ], and simultaneously in charge of supplements and advertising), whereupon the latter published a report of Li Wenquan’s arrival in Shanghai and a photo of him. In 1907, Tokyo hosted the World’s Fair, which Li Wenquan visited regularly, thus acquiring a better understanding of the measure of Japanese industrial development. It was clear to him that the reason Japanese goods could sell so well in China was that Japanese entrepreneurs had thoroughly surveyed the Chinese economy, so he himself began to prepare similar surveys of the Japanese business scene. At the same time, he realised that the Japanese were getting ready to open up the Nanyang, and had already made extensive surveys of the region. Since 1887, Meiji-era Japan had published no fewer than forty monographs on the Nanyang. During the Taisho reign, the number of publications on the Nanyang increased five-fold over that of the Meiji era, reaching a total of more than two hundred volumes (Yano 1991: 2–14). This discovery, together with Li Wenquan’s more than ten years’ personal experience in Guangdong which was a main source of Chinese emigration to Southeast Asia, led him to focus on the Nanyang. In October 1910, in Japan, he founded the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association, started publishing The Journal, and urged Chinese entrepreneurs and Overseas Chinese to make detailed business surveys of the Nanyang. After the outbreak of the First World War, European goods could no longer be delivered to China with the same ease as before, and Li Wenquan concluded that this was an excellent opportunity for Chinese industry. Therefore, even though it was financially difficult to publish The Journal, he continued travelling to Japan and to America, where he attended the Panama-Pacific International Exposition in San Francisco in 1915, in order to improve The Journal ’s contents and coverage and to expand his own personal horizon. During his travels, he wrote a report on Panama, a comparative study of Chinese and Japanese manufacture, a report on Japanese development in the United States, an account of a

MODERN CHINA’S IMAGINING OF THE NANYANG …

175

trip to Cuba, a description of the Philadelphia Commercial Museum, and accounts of his visits to Auckland and Chicago. At the time of the magazine’s founding, Li Wenquan had been teaching in Japan for four years, and knew much about the country. Unlike other Chinese students, he had gone to Japan as a teacher. His perspective was not limited, like theirs, to the relationship between China and Japan, but extended to the whole of the Nanyang and to the overseasChinese relationship with China. The contents of The Journal were not confined to politics and thought but embraced social and industrial aspects. Through the discussions in which he and The Journal engaged, an imagining of the Nanyang began gradually to take shape, and to become an important component of the Asianist tide of thought. Li Wenquan’s activities in the early twentieth century coincided with a period of change in Sino-Japanese relations. In and after the decade starting in 1898, large numbers of Chinese flocked to Japan to attend schools, thus ushering in the so-called “golden decade” in Sino-Japanese relations (Reynolds 1993). After the Russo-Japanese war in 1904, more than 6,000 Chinese went to study in Japan, where students and other Chinese intellectuals founded a number of periodicals. In 1902, Liang Qichao in Yokohama founded Xinmin congbao 新民叢報 (New Citizen) (which folded in November 1907). New Citizen focussed on late-Qing politics and on introducing Western bourgeois political theory into Chinese circles, the promotion of reform, and the advocacy of nationalism. The periodicals founded in those years strongly influenced modern trends of thought in China and the wider historical process. While this was going on, a group of radical Asianists in Japan, intent on denying and overthrowing European colonialism and Qing or Meiji statism, set up various political associations to promote the exchange of ideas within the Asian region. For example, in 1907 the Yazhou Heqinhui 亞洲和 親會 (Asian Friendship Society) was founded in Tokyo by a group of Chinese intellectuals and Japanese socialists, together with some Indian exiles, Filipinos, and Vietnamese. Although their political role was negligible, their activities helped strengthen earlier ideological ties between people of different geographical, ethnic, and cultural origins, while at the same time representing in concrete political form the transition to a new kind of globalism (Karl 2002: 168–74). Li Wenquan’s Association obviously had a business orientation, but it also covered political and social topics, and was an early manifestation of ethnic-Chinese (i.e., Huaren) transnationalism. Its goal was “to promote

176

H. LIU

industry and commerce and the tie between the homeland and Overseas Chinese.” Its charter ran as follows: 1. By joint endeavour, to research industry and commerce, the history of the development of industry and commerce in East Asia, and commercial and trading and manufacturing competition with Western Europe (other political topics lie outside the [Study Association’s] orbit). 2. To focus on the mobilisation of Overseas Chinese in the Nanyang (hence the Association’s name). 3. To found a temporary branch in Tokyo, together with other local branches wherever there is a membership in excess of one hundred people. 4. Activities are divided into five sections: a. A research department, to research domestic and external trade and market trends and collect a rich store of statistical data. b. An editorial section, to publish a journal four times a year, as well as occasional publications as required. c. A public announcement section, to report on research in order to help businesses develop (the advertisements in the magazine are new-style ones). d. A language section, to do research on Fujianese, Cantonese, and Malay (Fujian languages are divided into Fuzhou, Zhangzhou, and Quanzhou languages, Cantonese is divided into Guangzhou and Hakka languages). e. A hospitality section, so that the main branch and the subbranches can look after people visiting the various ports. 5. Membership is open to all, from north or south, from the various provinces, speakers of all Chinese languages, scholars and merchants, as well as Japanese and Koreans, as long as they meet one or more of the following criteria: • They are familiar with conditions in the Nanyang. • They speak a Fujianese [Hokkien] or Cantonese dialect. • If outside the business world and active in political or scholarly circles, they know about business. • They are capitalists. • They are people good at researching, editing, or translating.

MODERN CHINA’S IMAGINING OF THE NANYANG …

177

• All such people will require a sponsor to introduce them. [….] 6. Members both in China and overseas must submit a monthly communication. The members of the Association had a strong modern transnational disposition. Its initial membership of 132 people, including one Malay, eleven Japanese such as the Japanese Consul-General in Hong Kong, the Japanese Consul in Singapore, and the Japanese Consul in Java. By the following year, the membership had grown to 259. Apart from members and committee members, the Association included around fifty approved and specially approved members. They fell into three categories: (1) consular officials sent overseas by the Chinese government, of which there were 27, in Japan, Canada, Singapore, the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, and the United States–for example, Hu Weide was Assistant Minister in the Embassy in Japan, Zhang Yuanjie was stationed in the United Kingdom, Wang Siyuan was Consul-General in Canada, Tso Ping-lung was Consul-General in Singapore, Wang Daxie was Imperial Envoy in Japan, and Cao Qian was Consul-General in Kobe; (2) mainland Chinese officials, of which there were 19, including in Beijing, Heilongjiang, Anhui, Guangdong, Guangxi, the Department of Foreign Affairs, and the Imperial Navy (Sa Zhenbing); and (3) four Japanese officials, including journalists and Takekoshi Yosabur¯ o, a member of the Diet (Takekoshi 1916: 157–58). Of the approved members, Takekoshi Yosabur¯ o (竹越與三郎, 1865– 1950) was the best known. He was editor-in-chief of Sekai no Nihon ( 世界之日本, The world’s Japan). In 1898, he became Secretary to Prince Saionji Kinmochi 西園寺公望, and in 1902 he was elected to the House of Representatives. In the summer of 1909, he conducted research in the Nanyang, and the following year he published a 500-page book titled Nankokuki (南國記, A record of the southern countries ). This book was extremely influential, and was reprinted ten times in 1911. It popularised Japan’s southward drive, and was reviewed at least 32 times in newspapers and 18 times in magazines, nearly always positively (Yano 1979: 46–49).In 1909, Takekoshi published Comparative Colonial Systems (比 較殖民制度), which in the early twentieth century was one of the six most important texts on Japanese colonial policy. It focused in particular on

178

H. LIU

the relationship between colonial economy and society and the system of political rule (Hara 1984: 67). As a specially approved member of the Study Association, Takekoshi (1916: 156) contributed articles to The Journal. He also published an article titled “Pros and Cons of Japan’s Current Policy” in Ta Shan Bai Jia Yan (他山百家言, Words of wisdom from the learned), edited by Li Wenquan. He believed that Japan’s future development “lay not on the land but in the sea. Not in the north and west, but in the south. Not in the mountains, but on the islands. That is the best place for the members of the nation.”(On the life of Takekoshi Yosabur¯ o, see National Diet Library 2013). He pointed out that although Japan intended to invade China, in his view there was “no benefit to such a policy,” and he argued instead that “a nation’s development depended on the full deployment of its industry, scholarship, and military strength. Such is true development, achieved by the full command of human and national resources. The decline of a nation will inevitably follow on from the neglect of this principle. […] Today’s Japan is bounded by the sea, it is a natural frontier, to cross it in search of the continent is to seek out trouble for oneself— as a policy of national defence, it is hard to see how it could succeed” (Takekoshi 1916: 157–58). Takekoshi stressed that Japan was an island nation, and that it should follow the example of Britain—it should abandon its continental policy and content itself with an island policy, it should seek colonies overseas. “Today, follow the sea south, the China Sea does not have innumerable islands like the Nanyang, Japan should open up the countless islands of the Nanyang. To do so, it is necessary to expand the navy, everything must be geared to its expansion. Such a policy is far more beneficial than one directed towards the continent. If both an island and a continental policy are pursued, exhaustion is inevitable” (Takekoshi 1916: 157–58). So Takekoshi advocated Japanese expansion (including naval) in the direction of the Nanyang, which could then be used as a base from which to expand onto the continent. In some senses, the importance Li Wenquan attached to the Nanyang may been linked to the late-Meiji and earlyTaisho idea of Japanese expansion into the Nanyang. However, there was one big difference between him and Takekoshi: unlike the latter, he did not advocate (in China’s case) promoting military and political influence in the region, but believed instead that one could compete with the West in Southeast Asia by means of a “commercial warfare” and the mobilisation of overseas-Chinese economic strength.

MODERN CHINA’S IMAGINING OF THE NANYANG …

179

During his twelve years in Japan, Li Wenquan frequently travelled between China and Japan, and maintained ties with Chinese businessmen in the Nanyang. Because of his post at the Tokyo Higher School of Commerce and his work on The Journal, “he had direct and indirect ties, including ties of friendship, with more than five hundred scholarofficials.” According to his own estimate in 1918, he also maintained friendly relations with around three thousand senior Japanese merchants (Li 1925: 48). Most of these Japanese were intellectuals, but they also included many business people. Many Japanese spoke and wrote about China at that time, and Li Wenquan published their views in a column in The Journal. He divided them into roughly five categories—industry, academia, “public opinion,” communications, and politics. He edited this material into three volumes, titled Ta Shan Bai Jia Yan. Some of these Japanese pronouncements talked about Sino-Japanese goodwill and mutual support. Others “castigated the shortcomings of men of both nations,” while still others sought to mastermind schemes on China’s behalf. On the other hand, during his annual China trips he sought out leading oppositionists, and edited, translated, and published their views on Japan, also in a volume titled Ta Shan Bai Jia Yan (Li 1925: 48). He gave both sets of volumes away free, in order to promote exchange and understanding between China and Japan. This also came to form an important component of Li’s and the Study Association’s conceptual network. This feature had a direct impact on The Journal ’s concerns and on its shaping and imagining of the Nanyang.

3

The Journal and the Imagining of Asia

1. The Journal ’s transnational distribution and circulation We have mentioned earlier that in 1910, Li Wenquan organised the Study Association in Tokyo, and, in June of the same year, began publishing The Journal, a quarterly. The first issue of The Journal was published in Tokyo, but in Japan a guarantee of 500 yen had to be paid to the police before anything was published, funds that the publishers would have found hard to raise, so for that and other reasons, they began bringing The Journal out in Beijing, starting from the third issue. Even so, it was widely distributed, to cities including Tianjin, Shanghai, Taiyuan, Jinan, Guangzhou, Fuzhou, Chongqing, Kaifeng, Baoding, and

180

H. LIU

Hankou. In addition, complimentary copies were sent to the Office to Encourage Industry (quanyegongsuo) and the Consultancy Bureau (ziyiju) and to Chambers of Commerce in each of China’s twenty-two provinces and to the seats of government in all the prefectures and counties, as well as to all the Chinese schools in Southeast Asia. Chambers of Commerce in China and Chinese schools overseas that did not receive copies were urged to send their addresses to the Association (Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association 1910a). So The Journal circulated throughout China, Japan, and the Nanyang, and its readership included officials, merchants, cultural figures, and students. This transnationalism was also reflected in the advertisements carried by The Journal, offering products from China, Japan, and Southeast Asia. In 1912, while Li Wenquan was visiting Shanghai, Li Shutong introduced him and The Journal as follows in Pacific News: This journal is run single-handedly by Li Daoheng [i.e., Li Wenquan]. Mr. Li has lived for many years in Japan, and teaches at the Tokyo Higher School of Commerce. He founded The Journal three years ago. It comes out several times a year. Its style and lay-out is exquisite, it is rich in material, and it has long been critically acclaimed both at home and abroad. This year [1912] it became a monthly, and changed its name to Chinese Journal of Industry and Commerce. It requests contributions from merchants and scholars alike. It is beautifully edited, as well as comprehensive and unfailingly accurate. It advertising is its special forte. It is finely printed. It is entirely worthy of our country, and a model for all such journals.

The Journal continued to focus on commerce and industry, mainly in China, but also in the Nanyang and Japan and elsewhere. In its inaugural issue, The Journal declared that amid the tumult of the full drama of the twentieth century, armed struggle was unthinkable, and one should concentrate instead on commerical warfare. The Nanyang belonged not to the people of the Nanyang but to the West. Ever since the mid-Ming, the people of Fujian and Guangdong had engaged in business throughout the Nanyang, but more recently they had been replaced by Europeans and Americans, mainly because Europeans and Americans had been the first to carry out comprehensive business surveys. That is why the Society advocated a “focus on Overseas Chinese, beginning with the Nanyang” (Li 1910a). It was imperative that Overseas Chinese business people “investigate the situation internally and externally, cultivate personal relations and mutual understanding, one cannot be achieved without the other” (Li

MODERN CHINA’S IMAGINING OF THE NANYANG …

181

1910a). This emphasis was realised in the constitution of the Association and in all its works. The Journal was extremely rich in content. It included pictures, essays, translations, survey reports, overseas-Chinese writings, biographies, interviews, members’ correspondence, and manuscripts sent in by readers. Four issues contained a total of 312 essays, surveys, and interviews, occupying some 900 pages. The Journal explained that its “urgent task was to revitalise industry and commerce, and to fortify the link between the homeland and Overseas Chinese, so that it bears fruit.” Most essays were therefore about Overseas Chinese and commercial surveys. As head both of the Study Association and The Journal, Li Wenquan contributed six essays; he also contributed two commercial surveys, three biographies, and seven other articles. 2. The Journal ’s imagining of the Nanyang and itsstrategy of trade war with the West The Journal stressed the relationship between Overseas Chinese in the Nanyang and China, and argued that industry and commerce could save the nation. Business surveys were necessary to achieve economic development and to win victory in the commerical warfare with the West. So The Journal attached great importance to Japan’s trading experience and its relevance to China. Its contents show that its imagining of the Nanyang had the following characteristics. First, it emphasised that China’s enormous influence on the history of the Nanyang had been eliminated after the arrival of Westerners in the region. The Qing Empire’s control of the Nanyang had ended as a result the arrival of Western colonialism, and “the loss of the Nanyang was like the loss of our own territory” (Li 1910a). According to The Journal, the Nanyang, jaggedly encircled by the ocean, “is a major navigation route between Asia and Europe and a buffer for southern China: for thousands of years it has been our people’s colony.” Commercial colonists usually act on the pretext of promoting trade. They send officials and merchants to the intended destinations to set up trading relations and engage in trade. Once they have established themselves in a place, they turn a barren world into a sprawling commercial hub. For example, in the East Indies the Dutch used their trading associations to establish a successful colony. “In the Nanyang, if our country had carried out a colonial policy before

182

H. LIU

the Anglo-Dutch-Portuguese occupation, the land would have been ours, the people would have been ours, and the outcome could only have been joyful. Now, however, other people occupy the territories that should have been ours. If we pay attention to agriculture, industry, and trade, even though we cannot have a colony in name, we can have one in reality. It is not too late, it is not yet a question of mending the fold after the sheep are lost” (Xie 1910). These debates on historical and commercial topics engaged readers’ interest, and some wrote letters arguing that the Nanyang was China’s “natural great colony” and asking how the Chinese Government could for such a long time place Overseas Chinese outside the sphere of its regard. The letter-writers urged the speedy dispatch of consuls to protect the Overseas Chinese, “to relieve them in their dire straits, in order to win back their hearts by means of education, and make patriots of them” (Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association 1910b). Second, it urged a commerical warfare with the West in order to extend China’s influence in the Nanyang, for which business surveys and market analysis were essential. In the inaugural issue of The Journal, Li Wenquan said: “Our daily clothing, food, and living depend above all on the Nanyang,” because China’s coffee, tea, tobacco, and spices are all its special products. Chinese moved to the region hundreds of years earlier and settled there, but we lack surveys of industry and commerce in the region, so we are unable to compete with the West or Japan. In The Journal ’s view, several hundred years ago China had been the world’s greatest manufacturing and trading nation, but now it could not match the Dutch or the Portuguese, the British, the French, the Germans, the Russians, and the Austrians, as well as the United States and Japan— in future, it will not even be able to stand up to the Koreans. The main reason is that China has not conducted any surveys of industry and commerce. The Journal also pointed out that China lacked the contacts necessary for such surveys, and that it fared worse in this regard than the Europeans and Americans and the Japanese. It had not even made surveys of its own country, let alone of the Nanyang, whereas the Japanese had long ago started publishing materials on China and the Nanyang. So we should not just sit back and wait to die—instead, we should liaise with Overseas Chinese to resist the whites. Li Wenquan went on to say that “right now the Nanyang belongs not to the people of the Nanyang but to the Westerners. Ever since the mid-Ming, Fujianese and Cantonese have engaged in trade in the Nanyang, but later they were replaced by

MODERN CHINA’S IMAGINING OF THE NANYANG …

183

Europeans. That happened because Europeans were the first carry out business surveys. That is why the Study Association advocates ‘making Overseas Chinese our focus, starting with the Nanyang’” (Li 1910a). Li specially called on Overseas Chinese merchants to “investigate the situation internally and externally, cultivate personal relations and mutual understanding, one cannot be achieved without the other” (Li 1910a). In his view, overseas-Chinese business people could combine during World War One to invest jointly in small enterprises. He said, “We should use our own industrial products to meet domestic needs. There is no need because of the absence of foreign goods to await help from third parties. Small-scale industry is not difficult to run. The fact that Heaven has brought misfortune onto Europe does mean that we should fight Europe on the battlefield. Heaven smiles on China, and it is therefore the right time for a commerical warfare” (Li 1910b). If China’s present-day industry and commerce does not revive, the situation will,in a word, become even more hopeless. Natural geographical sources of profit will not suffice. Internationally, the situation has been paralysed by the evil effects of World War I. In this regard, The Journal argued that politicians should revise old concepts, economic circles should cease their empty talk, and merchant circles should not confine themselves to awaiting death—all should actively devise counter-measures. Third, The Journal stressed the role of Overseas Chinese in the Nanyang in China’s development, and in particular in the commercial warfare. It argued that Overseas Chinese could not survive outside the protection of the motherland. The relationship between the two sides was such that “the motherland could never be strong without the Overseas Chinese, and the Overseas Chinese could not survive without the motherland.” In The Journal’ s view, Overseas Chinese had considerable experience in developing and running industrial projects, an area to which they were able to bring new skills. Overseas Chinese have much industrial experience. Domestically, public finances have not met the expectations of the Minister of Revenue, but money is in short supply and needs are limitless. At this juncture of countless reforms, if the focus is on one side, the other side is neglected. It is difficult to maintain a balanced approach. Action must be taken, but if money is borrowed from foreign sources, one risks the loss of sovereignty. (As long as we retain ultimate power and are careful when negotiating contracts, there is no harm in borrowing from abroad. Those who oppose

184

H. LIU

procuring foreign debts do so because of the danger of losing sovereignty.) […] If we persuade Overseas Chinese to band together in order to return to the motherland and become active in various regards, we will not need to run up external debts and thereby visit harm upon the people. (Li 1910c: 5)

The Journal stressed that to get support from Overseas Chinese in the Nanyang, the Government should appoint consuls to protect them, in order to remove the bane from their lives and to make them happy. At the present time, both the motherland and the Overseas Chinese are at a critical juncture. Only the motherland can save the Overseas Chinese, and only the Overseas Chinese can aid the motherland. Apart from each other, neither has anything to depend on. If we delay for ten or twenty years, there will be no further chance of rescue or assistance. So recent mutual assistance between Overseas Chinese and the motherland is today more necessary than ever. This will not only benefit the Overseas Chinese and aid the nation but will bring fortune to all East Asians. (Li 1910c: 8)

The Journal also stressed the importance of unity among Overseas Chinese. Lu Ji, in Jiu you shugan [Reflections on the past travels], exclaimed at one point: “Our country’s merchants are loosely organised and disunited, and they get no protection from the Government. […] So our merchants in the Nanyang can indeed unite and apply their strength to the acquisition of knowledge: even without government protection, it will not be difficult for our hundreds of thousands of diligent and hardship-enduring compatriots to vanquish the white man” (Lu 1910: 15–16). Li Wenquan’s ideas about overseas investment in China were bidirectional. He was fully aware of The Journal ’s propaganda role. On the one hand, he called on the Chinese Government to protect the legal rights of Overseas Chinese, in order to convince them to invest in China. On the other hand, he encouraged Overseas Chinese to return home and invest (c.f., Li 2013). Fourth, The Journal argued that the Nanyang was not just a geographical concept but was intimately connected with the fate of China in the region. Japan, for its part, could become a template for China’s relationship with the Nanyang, and even a potential partner. Modern Japan’s engagement with the Nanyang started with its business surveys. In September 1886, Shiga Shigetaka (志賀重昴, 1863–1927), having graduated in geography from Sapporo College, sailed aboard the naval training

MODERN CHINA’S IMAGINING OF THE NANYANG …

185

vessel “Tsukuba” to the colonies of the Nanyang, and wrote about his experiences after returning home, in a book titled 南洋時事(Current Affairs on the South Seas ) (Shiga 1887). This work reported in detail on the situation in the Pacific island colonies and on the prospects for Japanese exports. In a review, Yano T¯ oru wrote, Shiga Shigetaka advocates that the Japanese use peaceful and commercial methods to strive for higher aims overseas. Among modern Japanese thinkers, he alone pushes for the “Nanyang” concept. He is deeply aware of the crisis of Asia’s yellow race. He proposes using diplomatic means to secure Japan’s overseas development. This approach has had an important effect on Japan’s subsequent idea of a “southward drive” (Kamiya 1991: 52). Each issue of Jitsugyo no Nihon 實業之日本 (“Industrial and commercial Japan”), which was published in the late Meiji and the first five or six years of the Taisho reign (Yano 1991: 2–14), carried reports and reviews on the Nanyang. For example, in March 1915 it published a spring supplement on the Nanyang that described the Taisho’s “southward drive” and highlighted how to set up enterprises in the Nanyang and establish a firm foothold in the region. In line with the needs of Japan’s capitalist development, Japan’s view of the Nanyang at the time was not of a unique cultural and historical entity but of a market and source of raw materials for Japan (Shimizu 1991: 90–91). Most Chinese studying in Japan in the late Qing took Japan as their teacher. Li Wenquan noticed that most of the eight functions of Japanese Chambers of Commerce had to do with investigation—investigation was at the heart of Japan’s economic development. That is why he wanted industrial surveys carried out and acted on. He was the forerunner of the Chinese tradition of industrial and commercial surveys. The Journal published numerous reports on Japanese commercial activity in the Nanyang (Li 1911a: 21–45; 1911b: 83–93). In one article, it asked: “We take Japan as our teacher in all things, why is industry and commerce the sole exception?” (Zhongguo shiye zaizhi, vol. 6, no. 5 (1916), p. 358). At around the time of the Qing’s collapse, when some Overseas Chinese proposed learning from Japan’s political system, it opined: “Japan’s revenue could only grow because of the setting up of the Diet, that was the only reason its civil war could be extinguished. Japan’s diplomats could only achieve equality [with other nations] because of the founding of the Diet” (Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association 1911).

186

H. LIU

The idea of cooperating with Japan promoted by The Journal was never realised. This was not only because it proposed that Asians cooperate in a trade war against Western forces in Asia, but perhaps also because of factors in the environment that the publication was seeking to shape, and relevant individuals. For example, Takekoshi Yosabur¯o (1911: 141–42) wrote as follows in The Journal: On a visit to Java [in 1909], [I noticed] many Qing merchants, more than 600,000 of them. [...] Although the Dutch treat Qing nationals cruelly, all the workers and merchants in the Dutch East Indies get their provisions from Qing nationals. Even the Japanese sugar importers and commodity exporters have been replaced by Qing nationals. Relations between Japanese merchants and Qing merchants are strong. [...] If Qing merchants further develop Japan’s imports and exports, they will greatly exceed today’s volume [of such]. [...] Japan has many traders in the Nanyang today, so the Japanese Government wants Qing merchants to develop their presence in the region, for the good of East Asia as a whole.

4 Concluding Remarks: Modern China’s New Perceptions of the Nanyang and Embryonic Transnationalism The actions and thinking of Li Wenquan as well as the transnational structures and concerns of The Journal show that they promoted the formation of a new view of the Nanyang, a view that exhibited a degree of continuity with China’s previous view of the region but that at the same time injected a new element into it, and thus formed an organic constituent of modern China’s view of Asia. This perception has the following characteristics. First, there is the question of historical continuity in how the Nanyang was viewed by Chinese. I mentioned earlier that after China had been forcibly opened up by the Western powers as a result of the Opium War, Chinese intellectuals represented by Wei Yuan and others set about reexamining China’s relations with neighbouring countries. The Nanyang played a prominent role in this re-examination, for it not only illustrated the collapse of the Qing’s system of imperial tribute trade but formed an important link in Sino-Western relations. The view of the Nanyang propagated by The Journal was clearly rooted, at least in part, in the view held in China ever since the mid-nineteenth century. For example, several articles stressed China’s enormous historical influence in the Nanyang and

MODERN CHINA’S IMAGINING OF THE NANYANG …

187

the dissipation of that influence in the wake of the arrival of Westerners in the region. Similarly, The Journal ’s preoccupation with the Overseas Chinese was based on the late-nineteenth century Qing court’s attitude towards them (i.e., protecting them while at the same time using them to help speed China’s economic modernisation (Godley 2002). Indeed, the interplay between emerging nationalisms, overseas Chinese networks and growing political influences from outside the region such as the Comintern took place against the formation of a transnational Nanyang. (See also Belogurova 2019; Onimaru’s chapter in this book). Second, The Journal linked the Nanyang with the development of modern commerce and the commercial warfare which led it to view the Nanyang within the framework of constant change and intense competition that characterised the new world economic and trading system. Ever since the late Qing, China’s discourse in relation to Overseas Chinese had centred on their relations with the motherland, as well the exploitation to which they were subjected overseas, and had stressed the Chinese Government’s efforts to protect them. From their vantage-point overseas, Li Wenquan and his colleagues emphasised the Chinese Government’s duty to protect the interests of Overseas Chinese, and at the same time called on Overseas-Chinese communities in the Nanyang (and not just on Chinese in China) to conduct business and market research, for use in the trade war with the West. This new vision of the Nanyang identified it as a major commercial and industrial regional hub, a standpoint Li Wenquan actively promoted within Overseas Chinese communities. For example, he visited Southeast Asia’s most important Chinese commercial organisation (Singapore’s Chinese General Chamber of Commerce), which a few years later (in 1922) began publishing Shangwu yuekan 商 務月刊 (“Commerce monthly”). This new journal was clearly committed to the idea that the key to Overseas-Chinese commercial success lay in having an international vision and being fully familiar with the situation both in China and in Chinese communities overseas, and it adopted as its charter a commitment to spreading basic commercial information (including through market surveys) and reporting on changes in the world economic situation (Singapore Chinese Chamber of Commerce 1922: 1–5; On the role played by the Singapore Chinese Chamber of Commerce in Asia’s Chinese merchant networks, see Liu 1999). So in the late Qing and the early Republic, commercial Nanyang entered into a new mode of coexistence with political Nanyang, linked by Overseas Chinese. In 1918, Zhongguo yu Nanyang 中國與南洋 (“China and the

188

H. LIU

Nanyang”), a journal edited and published by Jinan College, declared that “our focus in studying the Nanyang is primarily on the Nanyang’s Overseas Chinese” (Zhao 1918: 6–8). Third, The Journal organically linked the Nanyang with China and Japan, thus creating a new Asian phenomenon and construction, and lent a new vitality to the regional flow of ideas, including the Asianist trend of thought. The imagining of Asia in the late Qing was, essentially, a product of the Sino-Japanese, Sino-Western, or Sino-Southeast Asian binary. However, Li Wenquan and his colleagues (including some active in the Spring Willow society) transcended this binary, and constructed their imagining of Asia in a many-sided context and flow, and, from the perspective of the East–West clash, reviewed regional relationships in Asia. Japan’s perception of the Nanyang was translated through the pages of The Journal to China and to Overseas-Chinese communities in Southeast Asia, thus forming an important link in modern China’s view of Asia and in early twentieth century Asianism. For example, Sun Yat-sen’s pan-Asianism was influenced by Japan, while Indonesian nationalists gained inspiration and enlightenment from him. From 1945 to 1967, Indonesia’s President Sukarno considered that, in the struggle for independence, Indonesia and China shared the same goals and aspirations. This belief was an extension of his concept of pan-Asianism. In 1928, he wrote in Suluh Indonesia Muda (“Voice of Indonesian Youth”): People are starting to realise that Indonesians and Chinese are East Asians. Both peoples are suffering, both are fighting for their freedom. [...] The fact that the peoples of Asia are undergoing a shared suffering will lead inevitably to common action; their common destiny will produce shared feeling; in the struggle against British and other imperialisms, the peoples of Egypt, India, China, and Indonesia face a common enemy. [...] So we must work together to build an Asian society and barriers to resist foreign imperialism—that is why we must always uphold the principle of pan-Asianism. (Sukarno 1966: 67; see also Liu 2011)

Fourthly, a new view of the Nanyang and a new imagining of Asia was constructed in the public sphere by means of the mass media, and widely propagated through transnational, transracial, and ethnic-Chinese interpersonal networks. As Leo Ou-fan Lee and Andrew Nathan (1986: 360–95) have pointed out, the rise of popular culture in the late Qing

MODERN CHINA’S IMAGINING OF THE NANYANG …

189

led to the emergence of a large number of newspapers and magazines, The Journal came into being precisely against the background of the revolutionary development of these mass media. It shared a common fate with other journals of its time (like many, it had a circulation of around 3,000, and was short-lived), but unlike most other journals of the period, its focus was on the Nanyang, in particular commercial Nanyang, and it knitted Japan, China, and South East Asia into a tripartite whole from which flowed a new construction of Asia. This new imagining complemented the transnational, transcultural, and transracial interpersonal networks created by the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association and similar formations, and became a unique cultural vector in the development of mass media in the late Qing. Finally, although the Study Association and its Journal were subjected to political influences, they were not merely nationally and politically bounded but were a commercial link that went beyond China, Japan, and the Nanyang to form a new transnationalism. One could even say that it was the prototype of early twenty-first century transnational Asia (Liu 2018). “Transnational Asia” extended flexible geography to the whole of East Asia (including Southeast Asia), as well as to maritime Asia. Its core contents were the concepts, identifications, sequences, templates, and Asian modernity created by institutions, social groups, and individuals in the course of transgressing national frontiers. In that sense, “transnational Asia” was not simply the geography and cultural space of openness, and a phenomenon that provided a new path and perspective for understanding globalisation and regional evolution. Its main focus, starting from societies formed, historically, by networking, migration, and transnational spaces interacting with the state and from the different institutions and imaginings created by the vigour of markets and organisations, transnational marriages, and transnational entrepreneurs, was on systemic, cultural, and spatial connections and relations. It was precisely these mutually interacting nodes and interfaces that constituted the quintessence of transnational Asia. On the basis of an analysis of China’s first journal on the Nanyang, The Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association, this chapter explores the new views of the Nanyang held by late-Qing and early republican Chinese intellectuals, and the ensuing Chinese view of modern Asia. Modern China was an era of constant change and of colliding trends of thought. Although Li Wenquan was merely one small individual in a great age, through him, and The Journal he

190

H. LIU

founded, Japanese ideas were transmitted to China and China’s view of the Nanyang was transmitted to the Nanyang. Both The Journal ’s mode of operation and its ideas and principles represented in embryo the special qualities of modern China’s view of “transnational Asia.”

References Aydin, Cemil. 2007. The Politics of Anti-Westernism in Asia: Visions of World Order in Pan-Islamic and Pan-Asian Thought. New York: Columbia University Press. Belogurova, Anna. 2019. The Nanyang Revolution: The Comintern and Chinese Networks in Southeast Asia, 1890–1957 . Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Benton, Gregor, and Hong Liu. 2018. Dear China: Emigrant Letters and Remittances, 1820–1980, 1st ed. Berkeley: University of California Press. Benton, Gregor, Hong Liu, and Huimei Zhang, eds. 2018. The Qiaopi Trade and Transnational Networks in the Chinese Diaspora. London: Routledge. Bernards, Brian. 2011. Writing the South Seas: Postcolonialism and the Nanyang Literary Imagination. PhD dissertation, University of California, Los Angles. Chunliu, Jiuzhu [Li Weiquan]. 1918. Chunliu She zhi Guoqutan [A History of Chunliushe]. Chunliu (2): 111–114. Duara, Prasenjit. 1995. Rescuing History from the Nation: Questioning Narratives of Modern China. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. ———. 1997. Transnationalism and the Predicament of Sovereignty: China, 1900–1945. American Historical Review 102 (4): 1030–1051. Fong, Gilbert, and Shelby K. Y. Chan. 2019. Staging Reality: Premodern Drama in China at the Turn of the Twentieth Century. In Modernization of Asian Theatres: Process and Tradition, ed. Y. Nagata and R. Chaturvedi, 63–86. Singapore: Springer. Ge, Zhaoguang. 2011. Xiangxiangde Shijide: Shui Rentong ‘Yazhou’ [Imagined and Real: Who Identifies with ‘Asia’]. In idem, Zhaizhi Zhongguo [Here in China I dwell], 169–94. Shanghai: Sannianshudian. Godley, Michael R. 2002. The Mandarin-Capitalists from Nanyang: Overseas Chinese Enterprise in the Modernisation of China 1893–1911. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Guo, Hongxiao. 1987. Zhongguo Shiye Zaizhi [Journal of Chinese Industry and Commerce]. In Xinhaigeminshiqiqikanjieshao [Introductory Notes on periodicals published during the 1911 Revolution]. Vol. 5, ed. S. Ding, 189–90. Beijing: Renminchuban she. Hamashita, Takeshi. 2008. China, East Asia and the Global Economy: Regional and Historical Perspectives, ed. L. Grove and M. Selden. London: Routledge.

MODERN CHINA’S IMAGINING OF THE NANYANG …

191

Hara, Kakuten. 1984. Essays on the History of Modern Asian Research: The South Manchurian Railway Company’s Research Department, the East Asian Research Institute, and research of the IPR. Tokyo: Keiso-Shobo. Hau, Caroline, and Takashi Shiraishi. 2009. Daydreaming about Rizal and Tetcho: On Asianism as Network and Fantasy. Philippine Studies 57 (3): 329–388. Hitotsubashi University Archival Editorial Committee, ed. 1991. Documents on History of Educational System of Hitotsubashi University. Vol. 12. Tokyo: Kunitachi, Hitotsubashi University Archival Editorial Committee. Huang, Donglan. 2008. Yazhou de Dansheng: Jindai Zhongguo Yujing lide ‘Yazhou’ Gainian [The Birth of Asia: The Concept of ‘Asia’ in the Context of Modern China]. Xin Shixue (New History). Vol. 2, ed. J. Sun, 27–46. Beijing: Zhonghuashuju. Huang, Jianli. 2011. Umbilical Ties: The Framing of the Overseas Chinese as the Mother of the Revolution. Frontiers of History in China 6 (2): 183–228. Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association. 1910a. Benhui Zui Yaojin Gaobai [Our Society’s Urgent Announcement]. Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association (2). Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association. 1910b. ‘Zhengfu duiyi Huaqiao Hanyi Shixing Zhi Zhengce’ [Proper Policies by the Government towards the Overseas Chinese]. Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association (2). Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association. 1911. Riben Huaqiao Daibai Qingyuan Shuka Guohui [Representatives of Overseas Chinese in Japan Pleading to Open the Parliament ASAP]. Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association (4). Kamiya, Tadataka. 1991. The Formation of the South Seas ‘Myth’. In Southeast Asia and Japan. Vol. 10, Study Series on Southeast Asia, ed. T. Yano. Tokyo: Kôbundô. Karl, Rebecca E. 2002. Staging the World: Chinese Nationalism at the Turn of the Twentieth Century. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Katzenstein, Peter J., and Takashi Shiraishi, eds. 2006. Beyond Japan: The Dynamics of East Asian Regionalism. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Lee, Leo Ou-fan, and Andrew J. Nathan. 1986. The Beginnings of Mass Culture: Journalism and Fiction in the Late Ch’ing and Beyond. In Popular Culture in Late Imperial China, ed. D. Johnson, A.J. Nathan, and E.S. Rawski, 360–395. Berkeley: University of California Press. Li, Peng. 2013. Li Wenquan Shiyeguan Yanjiu [A Study of Li Wenquan’s Views of Enterprises]. Master thesis, Central China Normal University. Li, Wenquan. 1910a. Nanyang Qundao Shangye Yanjiuhui Zhancheng [Chart of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association]. Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association (1).

192

H. LIU

———. 1910b. Fakanchi [Forward to a Periodical]. Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association (1). ———. 1910c. Lun Huaqiao Yu Zhuguo zhi Guanxi [On Relations between Overseas Chinese and the Motherland]. Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association (2): 5–8. ———, trans. 1911a. Riben Daweibo Riben Changye Lun [On Japanese Industry]. Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association (3): 21–45. ———. 1911b. Riben Rongchanwu Xingxiao Nanyang Linian Zhi Xianzhuan [Sale Status of Japanese Agricultural Products in Southeast Asia throughout the Years]. Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association (3): 83–93. Li, Weiquan. 1916. Sanshiqi Zhishu [Self-Description at the Age of 37]. Zhongguo Shiye Zazhi 6 (9–10): 593–597. Li, Weunquan. 1925. Jin Shinian Zhishu [Self-Description of the Past Decade]. P. 48 in Dalian Quanye Bolanhui Chukou Tushuo [Record of Dalian Expo of Promoting Export], ed. W. Li. Dalian: Dalian manzhouri rixin wenshe. Liao, Wenhui. 2011. Xinma Shixue Bashinian: Cong Nanyang Yanjiu dao Huaren Yanji (1930–2009) [Eighty Years of Historiography in Malaysia and Singapore: From “Nanyang Studies” to “Chinese Studies” 1930–2009]. Shanghai: Shanghai sanlianshudian. Liu, Hong. 1999. Organized Chinese Transnationalism and the Institutionalization of Business Networks: Singapore Chinese Chamber of Commerce and Industry as a Case Analysis. Southeast Asian Studies 37 (3): 391–416. ———. 2001. Sino-Southeast Asian Studies: Towards an Alternative Paradigm. Asian Studies Review 25 (3): 259–283. ———. 2011. China and the Shaping of Indonesia, 1949–1965. Singapore and Kyoto: National University of Singapore and Kyoto University Press. ———. 2018. Transnational Asia and Regional Networks: Toward a New Political Economy of East Asia. East Asian Community Review 1 (1): 33–47. Liu, Siyuan. 2007. Adaptation as Appropriation: Staging Western Drama in the First Western-Style Theatres in Japan and China. Theatre Journal 59 (3): 411–429. Liu, Zenghe. 2000. Meiti Xintai Yu Wangqing Gonggong Lingyu Yanjiu De Tuozhan [Media Format and the Expansion of Public Space in the Late Qing]. Jindai Shi Yanjiu 2: 237–265. Lu, Ji. 1910. Jiu You Shu Gan [Reflections on the Past Travels]. Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association 2: 15–16. National Diet Library. 2013. Takekoshi, Yosaburo. Retrieved October 27, 2020 (https://www.ndl.go.jp/portrait/e/datas/287.html).

MODERN CHINA’S IMAGINING OF THE NANYANG …

193

Nobukuni, Koyasu. 2004. Dongya Lun: Riben Xiandai Shixiang Pipan [On East Asia: A Critique of Modern Japanese Thought], Trans. J. Zhao. Changchun: Jilin renmin chubanshe. Reynolds, Douglas R. 1993. China, 1898–1912: The Xinzheng Revolution and Japan. Cambridge, MA: Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University. Said, Edward W. 2000. Traveling Theory. In The Edward Said Reader, ed. M. Bayoumi and A. Rubin, 195–217. New York: Vintage Books. Shi, Guifang. 2002. “Tongwen Tongzhong” de Pianju: Riwei Dong YaLianmeng Yundong de Xingwang [The “Same Culture, Same Race” Hoax: The Rise and Fall of the Japanese and the Puppets’ East Asian Union Movement]. Beijing: Shehui kexue wenxian chubanshe. Shiga, Shigetaka. 1887. Current Affairs on the South Seas. Tokyo: Maruzen. Shimizu, Hazime. 1991. Japanese Capitalism and the South Seas. In Southeast Asia and Japan. Vol. 10, Study Series on Southeast Asia, ed. T. Yano. Tokyo: Kôbundô. Singapore Chinese Chamber of Commerce. 1922. Commerce Monthly (1): 1–5. Sugihara, Kaoru, ed. 2005. Japan, China, and the Growth of the Asian International Economy, 1850–1949. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sukarno. 1966. Indonesianism and Pan-Asianism. In Under the Banner of Revolution. Vol. 1. Jakarta: Publication Committee. Takekoshi, Yosabur¯ o. 1911. Nanyang Qingshan Zhi Fazhan Yu Riben Zhi Guanxi [Development of Chinese Merchants in Nanyang and Their Relations with Japan]. Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association 3: 141–142. ———. 1916. Jinri Zhengce zhi Deshi [Pros and Cons of Japan’s Current Policy]. In Ta Shan Baijia Yan [Words of Wisdom from the Learned], ed. W. Li, 156–58. Tianjin: Zhongguoshiyezaizhi she bianjibu. Tam, Kwok-kan. 2019. Chinese Ibsenism: Reinventions of Women, Class and Nation. Singapore: Springer. Tanaka, Stefan. 1995. Japan’s Orient: Rendering Pasts into History. Berkeley: University of California Press. Wang, Gungwu. 1992. Community and Nation: China, Southeast Asia, and Australia. St Leonards, NSW: Allen & Unwin for Asian Studies Association of Australia. Wang, Hui. 2004. Xiandai Zhongguo Sixiang de Xingqi [The Rise of Modern Chinese Thought]. Vol. 1. Beijing: Sanlianshudian. Wang, Xiangyuan. 2005. Riben Dui Zhongguo de Wenhua Qinlüe: Xuezhe, Wenhua Ren De Qin Hua Zhanzheng [Japan’s Cultural Invasion of China: Scholars and Cultural Figures’ Aggressive War against China]. Beijing: Kunlun chuban she. Xie, Zhuyuan. 1910. Zhimin Zhengce [Colonial Policy]. Journal of the Nanyang Archipelago Commercial Study Association (2).

194

H. LIU

Yano, Tôru. 1979. Japan’s Historical View of the South Seas. Tokyo: Chuo-KoronShinsha. ———. 1991. Participation in the South Seas in Modern Japan. In Southeast Asia and Japan. Vol. 10, Study Series on Southeast Asia, ed. T. Yano, 2–14. Tokyo: Kôbundô. Yuan, Guoxing. 1991. Chuanshi Shiqi Zhongguo Huaju Yu Riben De Yinyuan [Connections between Chinese and Japanese Drama at the Time of the Former’s Founding]. Dongbei Shida Xuebao 2: 79–81. Zhang, Guotu. 1989. Zhongguo Fengjian Zhengfu de Huaqiao Zhengce [The Overseas Chinese Policy of the Chinese Feudal Government]. Xiamen: Xiamen daxue chubanshe. Zhang, Qing. 2010. Lishi Yanjiu De Danwei: Zhuangmenshi Yu Zhongguo Jindaishi Yanjiu [Units in Historical Research: Special Themed History and Research on Modern Chinese History]. In Guoqu de jinyan yu weilaide keneng zuouxiang—zhongguo jindaishi yanjiu sanshinian (1979–2009) [Past Experiences and Possible Future Directions: Studies of Modern Chinese History in the Past Three Decades], ed. X. Xu, 133–50. Beijing: Shehuikexue wenxian chubanshe. Zhao, Zhenping. 1918. Nanyang Zhi Dingyi [Definitions of Nanyang]. Zhongguo Yu Nanang 1: 6–8.

Sergei Witte and the Shipping Associations: Rethinking the Russian Empire from a Maritime Viewpoint Yukimura Sakon

1

Introduction

This study is an attempt to reconsider the relations between the Russian Empire and maritime Asia through Russian commercial shipping. Although recent Russia historians have addressed Russo-Asian relations,1 their studies do not discuss maritime Asia. To describe Russia’s relationship with Asia in its entirety, however, it is necessary to discuss the Russian attitude toward maritime Asia. Likewise, studies of maritime Asia have focused little attention on the Russian Empire and doing so would expand our understanding of maritime Asia. It is certain that Russia was half-hearted about participating in developing intra-Asian trade in the second half of the nineteenth century, as Teruyuki Hara, an eminent Japanese specialist in Russian history, has pointed out.2 However, at the end of the nineteenth century, Russian shipping lines suddenly began to call on Asian ports, a trend that grew rapidly. For example, 11 Russian commercial ships passed through the

Y. Sakon (B) Faculty of Economic Sciences, Niigata University, Niigata, Japan © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. Akita et al. (eds.), Changing Dynamics and Mechanisms of Maritime Asia in Comparative Perspectives, Palgrave Studies in Comparative Global History, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-2554-1_8

195

196

Y. SAKON

Suez Canal in 1880, 74 ships in 1900, and from 1911 to 1913, more than 100 ships passed through each year.3 The most well-known Russian shipping association that connected Russian and Asian ports was the Volunteer Fleet, which transported soldiers, exiles, emigrants, and goods from Odessa to the Russian Far East. Its first arrival in Vladivostok in 1879 was one of the milestones in the process of the integration of the Russian Far East into the Russian Empire. Its official task was to patrol under the authority of the navy during wartime; however, because there was little danger of imminent war, the fleet made round trips between Odessa and Vladivostok or Sakhalin Island.4 It is worth noting that the Volunteer Fleet carried a large amount of tea to Russia from both China and South Asia. On its way to Odessa, it stopped at Hankow, a Chinese city in the upper reaches of the Yangtze River, to stow tea. At the turn of the century, the Volunteer Fleet began to ferry tea from India and Ceylon, too. As a result, the transport of tea became one of its most important tasks. In other words, it connected Russia with maritime Asia (see Map 1). Its history typifies the connection between Russian diplomacy and Asian economic policy. As Table 1 shows, at the beginning of the twentieth century, though export from Russia to China was inactive, goods imported from China accounted for approximately ten percent of all imports.5 Thereafter, import from India increased gradually. In addition to the role of the Volunteer Fleet, this study discusses the economic policy of Sergei Witte (the Russian minister of finance beginning in 1892) and its ramifications, particularly in regard to his using Russian commercial fleets to effectively find markets for Russian goods in Asia. Studies that have examined the relationship between Russian shipping trade and Witte reveal Witte’s attempts to change Russia’s attitude toward the Asian market. In his book, The Origins of the Modern World, Robert B. Marks describes the era of Sergei Witte as follows: the Russian government “launched a massive railroad-building program followed by heavy industry (coal, iron, and steel, and oil),” which played a major role in the first stage of industrialization, “creating banks, hiring foreign engineers, and erecting high tariff barriers to protect its new industries from foreign competition.” According to Marks, Witte believed that “the economic relations of Russia with western Europe were fully comparable to the relations of colonial countries with their metropolises.”6

SERGEI WITTE AND THE SHIPPING ASSOCIATIONS …

Map 1

The regular lines of two Russian shipping associations

Table 1

Russian export to and import from China and India 1899–1903

Export to Chinaa Import from China Import from India

1904–1908

197

1909–1913

million ruble

%

million ruble

%

million ruble

%

11.1 48.9 8.2

1.4 7.8 1.3

32.4 78.7 13.0

3.1 10.2 1.7

26.0 79.2 26.8

1.7 7.0 2.4

a including Mongolia

Export to India was not referred (Source Rossiia nakanune Pervoi mirovoi voiny. Statistiko-dokumental’nyi spravochnik. Moscow, 2008. pp. 190–191

This is a common view of Witte, who has been discussed by many historians. As is commonly known, he adopted a protectionist stance based on the theory of Friedrich List,7 a German economist in the first half of the nineteenth century. At the same time, in his book Po povodu

198

Y. SAKON

natsionalizma. Natsional’naia ekonomiia i Fridrikh List [About Nationalism—National Economy and Friedrich List], Witte stated that it was necessary to develop a national fleet to boost the country to the highest stage of economic development,8 as will be discussed below. In the last four years of his tenure as minister of finance, he dealt with shipping associations. That is, he did not have enough time to develop the shipping trade as minister, and the results were not substantial enough to attract historians’ attention, especially since the Russian Empire has been universally acknowledged as unconcerned with the maritime arena. It is clear that construction of the Trans-Siberian railway was a vital point of his economic policy. As will be shown below, however, Witte tried to develop shipping trade in maritime Asia more so to maintain Russia’s international voice. The study of Witte and the Volunteer Fleet reveals the nature of the relations between Russia and maritime Asia before World War I. First, this study will present the history of the Volunteer Fleet from the late nineteenth century. Then, it will examine Witte’s dispute with Pavel Tyltov, the Director of the Russian Navy, about the reform of the Volunteer Fleet. Finally, it will examine the shipping tea trade after the Russo-Japanese war and the ramifications of Witte’s policy.

2

Launch of the Volunteer Fleet

British interference in the treaty of San Stefano of 1878, which ended the Russo-Turkish War (1877–1878), repelled the Russian people, and merchants in Moscow and St. Petersburg collected contributions to establish a new Russian fleet for war with the British Empire. To meet the people’s demand, in 1878, the Russian government organized the foundation committee, chaired by Prince Alexander (Tsar Alexander III after 1881) with sub-chairperson Constantine Pobedonostsev, a well-known conservative ideologist and lawyer who had nurtured the prince and assumed the first directorship of the association of the Volunteer Fleet. The committee bought three ships from the Hamburg-American Line, a German shipping company, as well as two ships from two separate British companies.9 In August 1878, the ships began carrying soldiers back from the front of the Russo-Turkish war. In May 1879, articles of the association were established, and members of the board were elected. At first, the Volunteer Fleet was a society independent from the government, and Pobedonostsev was its chief director. However, in 1882, instability of business made him submit a petition to Tsar Alexander III

SERGEI WITTE AND THE SHIPPING ASSOCIATIONS …

199

to grant a subsidy of 7,500,000 ruble for 10 years. The petition caused an argument between Nikolai Bunge, the Minister of Finance, and Ivan Shestakov, the Director of the Russian Navy, both of whom schemed to gain control of the Volunteer Fleet, resulting in Pobedonostsev losing control. Finally, in 1886, a new temporary regulation was published, providing that the Volunteer Fleet will be under the control of the Director of the Russian Navy, although Bunge and the other Ministers modified the original plan of the regulation Shestakov had presented.10 Although it was decided that the regulation would be renewed in 1892, it was not changed very much. Despite its official main task was patrol during war, it is certain that the Volunteer Fleet played a big role in the transportation of tea by sea routes. From the beginning, however, it was not the main transporter of Chinese tea to Russia (see Fig. 1), because British ships carried it. In addition, Russia imported Chinese tea through Kyakhta, a town near the Mongolian-Russian border, which traded with the Qing exclusively until the Beijing Treaty opened Chinese ports. However, Shanxi (山西) merchants tightly controlled tea trade via Kyakhta.11

1895

1894

1893

1891

1892

1890

1888

1889

1886

1887

1885

1883

1884

1882

1881

1879

1880

14,00,000 12,00,000 10,00,000 8,00,000 6,00,000 4,00,000 2,00,000 0

Amount to European Russia By the Volunteer Fleet

Fig. 1 Tea Transported to European Russia (Source: G. E. Grum-Gruzhimailo “Chainaia torgovlia v Rossii,” V. I. Kovalevskii ed. Proizvoditel’nye cily Rossii (Saint-Petersburg, 1896), p. 124; M. Poggenpol’, Ocherk vozniknovenniia i deiatel’nosti Dobrovol’nogo flota za vremia 25-letnego ego sushchestvovaniia (St. Petersburg, 1903), p. 238)

200

Y. SAKON

The commencement of tea production in India and Ceylon in 1838 changed the history of tea. In other words, it changed the source of tea for Britain from China to India and Ceylon, which were colonies of the British Empire. By 1860, tea farms spread around India and Ceylon12 reducing the amount imported to Britain from China. In 1888, Indian tea surpassed Chinese tea in the British market for the first time. Fiftyfour percent of tea imported to Britain in 1900 was Indian tea, while thirty-six percent was Ceylonese, and six percent, Chinese.13 The statistics from Chinese Maritime Customs demonstrate that in the 1890s, Russia became the best market for Chinese tea. For instance, in 1895, China exported 122.2 million pounds (about 3.4 million poods, which included 1.6 million poods of black tea) of tea to Russia as compared to the 43.5 million pounds (about 1.2 million poods) to the United Kingdom (including Hong Kong).14 And it is obvious that the Volunteer Fleet helped Russian advance into East Asia, especially considering the aftermath of the First Sino-Japanese War (1894/1895). For instance, in 1901, the fleet transported 28,000 soldiers, making 23 round trip to do so. In addition, construction of the Trans-Siberian Railway since 1891 improved the business of the Volunteer Fleet, as it transported many building materials. In the second half of the 1890s, it sometimes made a profit of more than 1 million ruble a year.

3

Witte’s Reform Plan of the Volunteer Fleet

At the turn of the century, members of the Fleet’s committee attempted to launch new lines from Odessa to New York and the Persian Gulf as they were worried the Trans-Siberian Railway would affect its importance as the main line between European Russia and the Far East. However, Witte believed that, to find market in Asia and to compete with European countries, not only both the Trans-Siberian Railway and the Volunteer Fleet but also new Russian shipping companies would be needed. In 1899, Witte gave approval to two Russian companies, the Russian East Asiatic Steamship Company and the Northern Steamship Company, with their parent companies in Copenhagen, East-Asiatic Company and the Danish-Russian Steamship Company, to enter the same line of business as the Volunteer Fleet. The establishment of two new seaborne companies was related with Witte’s expectation that railways and commercial shipping would encourage economic development and the expansion

SERGEI WITTE AND THE SHIPPING ASSOCIATIONS …

201

of new markets for Russia. As shown below, Witte thought the number of Russian ships bound for East Asia was not enough. In an appeal dated April 12, 1899, from the East-Asiatic Company to Witte, the aim in establishing the Russian East Asiatic Steamship Company was explained as the following: The aim of the foundation of the company is mainly concerned with the possibility to open new markets, in anticipation of – thanks to the proper policy of the Ministry of Finance – inevitable forthcoming growth of Russian industry and prosperity of trade through exports, especially from Russian Baltic ports (…) [the] company’s organizers are thinking that with the gradual increase in ships of the Volunteer Fleet, and with the completion of the Trans-Siberian railway as well as the railway in Manchuria, the cargos for the State will be gradually transferred to private cargos.15

We would like to emphasize two points here. The first is the original goal of the company to connect the Far East to the Baltic Rim, and not the Black Sea region. Andersen had shown Witte the plan to link the Far East to the ports of the Baltic Sea and the North Sea in March of 1899,16 although in practice sometimes REAS linked Vladivostok to Odessa. In the first year, its ships made five round trips.17 The second point is that the establishment of a new seaborne company was related with Witte’s expectation that railways and commercial shipping would encourage economic development and the expansion of new markets for Russia. On August 11, 1899, the founders of the Northern Steamship Company presented Witte with a petition to establish the company. They discussed the following: In spite of the development of Russian foreign trade, very few Russian ships took part in the transportation of goods, as foreigners managed almost all Russian seaborne cargos. Since the damage to Russian trade that is caused by such a condition is very clear, we need to aspire to create our own commercial shipping company.18

This petition demonstrated Witte’s commercial policy, although whether it was Witte or the Danish-Russian Steamship Company who first proposed the establishment of a new maritime company is unclear. Witte did attempt to encourage industrialization, introducing foreign capital to Russia.19 The same applies to the shipping association. When Witte

202

Y. SAKON

implored Tsar Alexander III to construct the Trans-Siberian railway in 1892, he predicted that transportation networks around the world would soon change radically due to the construction of the Panama Canal.20 Witte attempted to develop Russian overland and shipping transportation in accordance with the growth of the international economy. In addition to the introduction of the two shipping companies, Witte had a plan to transform the Volunteer Fleet from an auxiliary fleet to the Navy into a shipping trade company. Because it was decided that its regulation would be renewed in 1902, on March 14, 1901, Tyltov submitted a plan of revision to the council of the state, concerned that the Trans-Siberian Railway would reduce the tasks of the Volunteer Fleet and that competition among Russian shipping lines bound for the Far East would negatively affect the fleet. Therefore, he insisted on approving the monopoly of the fleet for the service of transporting national goods and soldiers to the Far East. Moreover, he thought that the Director of the Russian Navy should keep its control as before. As mentioned above, however, in 1899, Witte approved two companies to enter the same line of business as the Volunteer Fleet. He considered that the number of goods sent to the Far East was gradually increasing, while Russia did not have enough ships to carry them, and that the Trans-Siberian Railway would stimulate shipping trade in the Far East. Hence, in his document dated May 7, 1901, criticizing Tyltov’s lack of understanding about the change in circumstances, he insisted the following: This question is closely connected with the national tasks of our trade and economic policy to acquire new markets for the sale of productions of the national industry and the opening up of new ways for our export trade. The recent political circumstances are particularly favorable for carrying out the above tasks. Moreover, it is well known that these circumstances help certain continental powers to have great success in developing their maritime trade and in acquiring eastern markets for the products of their manufacturing industry and, in connection with this, to strengthen their influence in the eastern states. In my opinion, it is unquestionable that our participation in that business is appropriate, because, since ancient times, our country has had very serious state interests in the East, which have been growing significantly and expanding lately. (omission) The previous presentation shows that already the experience of the last decade demonstrated that satisfaction of the needs of the Navy was not

SERGEI WITTE AND THE SHIPPING ASSOCIATIONS …

203

in fact the main goal of the Voluntary Fleet. The immediate questions arising from the discussion of the direction of its future operations directly point to the need for gradual conversion of the Voluntary Fleet into an enterprise operating on bases and the corresponding need to eliminate certain operations not required from the viewpoint of the Navy. Of course, in the event of military actions or the Government’s needs in general, courts of the Voluntary Fleet may be referred to the military department on a general basis, but the main future tasks of the Voluntary Fleet, as an enterprise owned by the treasury, are now mainly the result of interests of the domestic trade navigation, which, as you know, are subject to the Ministry of Finance’s jurisdiction and closest care.21

In short, Witte insisted that the Volunteer Fleet be gradually transformed from an auxiliary fleet to the Navy into a shipping trade company, in order to open up markets in the East for Russian industry, and that the Ministry of Finance should have its control. In the same document, he criticized that too many materials for railway building and military goods took away the space for private sectors, for example, Russian sugar exports to Ceylon. Appreciating the transportation of Chinese tea by the Volunteer Fleet, which succeeded in setting Russian tea trade free from foreign agencies, he nevertheless insisted that the lack of data was an obstacle to judging the potential for commercial activities by the Volunteer Fleet.22 On February 23 and 26, 1901, in the meeting of ministries and agencies about the renewal of the regulation of the Volunteer Fleet, Vladimir Kovalevsky, a representative of the Ministry of Finance, showed the plan to connect Russia with San Francisco, Australia, and Bangkok through the Volunteer Fleet. For example, he mentioned that the Australian market, the size of which was about 100 million ruble, would have great potential for Russia, similar to Manchuria, because coarse articles were distributed there despite British economic control. We can consider Kovalevsky’s plan to be the same as Witte’s. If his plan had been accomplished, the Russian Empire would perhaps have developed closer relations with maritime Asia. Yet, other Russian ministers could not understand his intention to reinforce shipping services by changing the character of the Volunteer Fleet. Finally, they approved Tyltov’s ideas. As shown in the next chapter, however, this does not mean that they ignored the influence of economic issues over domestic and international politics. In his book Po povodu natsionalizma [About Nationalism], Witte mentioned that the role of shipping trade is to boost a country to the highest economic stage.

204

Y. SAKON

History indicates that a successive transition of nations to the latter stages of their development takes place best through free trade with more civilized nations. However, establishment in the country of a more or less sophisticated manufacturing industry, creation of a substantial national fleet, and development of extensive trade were not universally achieved and cannot be achieved without state assistance. This assistance means establishing a protective system, linked with customs duties, different bonuses, etc. Without the protective system, no country can move from an agricultural economy to an economy with significant development of the manufacturing industry, national fleet, and cosmopolitan trade. When a country finally reaches higher stages of economic development, national manufacturers and the fleet can become strong enough so that they would no longer face the danger of foreign competition, and the country would gradually return to full free trade.23

At the turn of the century, Witte started to develop Russian shipping trade for Russia’s foray into the Asian markets based on his and List’s recognition of historical trade pattern. Besides the above-mentioned three examples, he dealt with the foundation of the Russo-Danube steamship established in 1903 and a shipping company with the Chinese Eastern Railway Company in 1899. Right after the start of his shipping policy, however, Witte was removed from the position of Minister of Finance in August 1903 and had to leave the shipping associations he had introduced.

4 The Volunteer Fleet and Tea Trade After the Russo-Japanese War Although the Director of Russian Navy kept control of the Volunteer Fleet even after the renewal of its regulation in 1902, this did not mean much during the Russo-Japanese war, except that several ships were used as hospital and supply ships. Therefore, in December 1908, the Council of Ministers decided to transfer its control from the Minister of Navy24 to the Minister of Trade and Industry. In the proceedings of the Council, the following was mentioned: It should not be forgotten that, at present, the conditions of the international society are such that while armed clashes among cultural states are comparatively rare, economic struggle is ongoing, some suffer defeat,

SERGEI WITTE AND THE SHIPPING ASSOCIATIONS …

205

and others gain victories in the sphere of trade and industrial interests, and peaceful conquests are even more durable than military successes.25

Most Russian Ministers acknowledged the importance of “economic struggle” (konomiqecka bopba) or “peaceful conquests” (mipnye zavoevani), and they expected that the Volunteer Fleet would contribute to them. Concerning “economic struggle,” in 1904, the State Council discussed the presence of foreign capital in the Russian shipping industry. Its members were divided in their opinion regarding whether to permit the free entrance of foreign capital or to prohibit it. Proponents of the entrance of foreign capital underlined the underdevelopment of the Russian shipping industry with their slogan, “Capital has no nationality.” Opponents pointed out the risk of takeover of Russian ships by foreign capitalists, insisting that “capital has a nationality.” Finally, by a margin of 30 to 26, they ruled to prohibit the new entry of foreign capital into the Russian shipping industry.26 This discussion illustrates that the Russian rulers paid great attention to “economic struggle” and “peaceful conquests” at the beginning of the twentieth century, while many felt it necessary to be on guard against foreign capital. Before the First World War, the Russian shipping associations could not fully enter the intra-Asian trade, except for tea, while they transported Russian goods to the Russian Far East. From 1906, not only from China but also from South Asia, Russia imported a large quantity of tea, although the exact amount is not clear. Russian statistics describe the amount of black tea imported from China went on exceeding the amount from South Asia until the outbreak of the First World War.27 As Fig. 2 shows, however, Indian and Chinese statistics show that the quantity of tea from South Asia to Russia surpassed the quantity from China since 1910. For the transport of tea, the Volunteer Fleet operated services between Shanghai and Vladivostok via Nagasaki since 1907,28 while the Northern Steamship Company operated services between Calcutta and Vladivostok and between Hankow and Nikolaevsk on the Amur since 1911. Their statistics in 1912 show that the Volunteer Fleet emphasized the transport of Chinese tea, while tea from Calcutta and Ceylon was more important for the Northern Steamship Company (see Map 1). These two Russian shipping associations carried about 2.3 million poods of tea as Russia imported 0.2 million poods of tea from Britain.29 In short, on the eve of

206

Y. SAKON

60,000 50,000 40,000 30,000 20,000 10,000 0 1903 1904 1905 1906 1907 1908 1909 1910 1911 1912 1913 India & Ceylon

China

Fig. 2 Amount of tea exported to Russia from India & Ceylon and China (Source: Materialy po chainoi torgovle v sviazi s proektom vvedeniia v Rossii chainoi monopolii (Petrograd, 1915). Table No. 6 & 10 (units = 1000 lb))

the First World War, the two Russian shipping associations carried almost 90% of tea from China and South Asia to Russia. It is natural that the board of the Volunteer Fleet had to pay attention to work of the Northern Steamship Company.30 Not only the leaders of the Volunteer Fleet but also the Russian government watched for the Northern Steamship Company as foreign capital. However, it was clear that the Northern Steamship Company maintained the Russian tea trade too. One reason why the demand for tea in Russia increased was the development of industrialization. At the eve of the First World War, the two biggest tea companies in Russia were V. Vysotsky, established in 1881, and A. Kuznetsov, established in 1891.31 The former found markets for tea in Ukraine and the latter near the Ural Mountains, areas that were rapidly becoming industrialized since the end of the nineteenth century.32 The spread of tea among factory workers33 helped the development of the tea trade and new tea companies. Each company had ten branches with a senior salesman who maintained detailed records of customers’ information, including their property, solvency, and debt.34 By the end of the nineteenth century, new tea companies were established in Russia. Long-established tea companies that had traded in

SERGEI WITTE AND THE SHIPPING ASSOCIATIONS …

207

Kyakhta since the beginning of the nineteenth century had declined due to their failure to adapt to the transformed business regulations. For example, Alexei Gubkin, who began tea wholesaling in 1840, released information about the type, quality, and grower of his teas to buyers. In the past, dealers had often simply thrown different types of tea into a box and displayed only a price. Gubkin’s method became standard in the Russian tea trade and his company grew. Eventually, it was reorganized as a new tea company in 1891 by A. Kuznetsov, a grandson of Gubkin.35

5

Conclusion

It is well known that Sergei Witte, a follower of Friedrich List, encouraged Russian industrialization and construction of the Trans-Siberian Railway, erecting high tariff barriers to protect new industries; however, his maritime policy is unknown. Focusing on what is unknown—the question of how he used the Russian commercial fleet—this study discussed Witte’s plan to propel Russia into the last stage of economic development and the ramifications of his initiatives. Witte believed that, after the completion of the Trans-Siberian railway, Russia could compete with other great powers, including the British Empire, in the Asian market. For this it was necessary to strengthen the shipping lines between European, Russian, and Asian ports. In particular, the plan to reform the Volunteer Fleet in 1901 shows his expectations for shipping trade and the possibility of Russia entering inter-Asian trade, even though other Russian ministers disagreed with him. After Witte’s resignation as minister of finance, Russian rulers began to emphasize the importance of “economic struggle” and “peaceful conquests,” and control of the Volunteer Fleet was transferred from the minister of the navy to the minister of trade and industry. After 1856, Russia played “the Great Game” not only in Central Asia but also from the Balkan Peninsula to the Far East. In the early twentieth century, Russian authorities increasingly tried to enter commercial ships into “the Great Game,”36 though they disagreed about the introduction of foreign capital. The Volunteer Fleet achieved some positive results in the tea trade, competing with the Northern Steamship Company, a Denmark-affiliated company introduced to Russia by Witte. Their rivalry and industrialization helped the growth of the tea trade. That is, Witte’s economic

208

Y. SAKON

policy, the industrialization of Russia, and the establishment of new shipping companies encouraged the import of tea from Asia, but it did not encourage the export of Russian goods to Asia, as Table 1 showed. At the end of the nineteenth century and onward, the Russian economy continued to develop along similarlines, with connections to maritime Asia via Russian liners traveling between Odessa and Vladivostok.

Notes 1. For example, Tomohiko Uyama ed., Asiatic Russia: Imperial power in regional and international contexts, London: Routledge, 2012; Kimitaka Matsuzato ed., Russia and Its Northeast Asian Neighbors: China, Japan, and Korea, 1858–1945, New York: Lexington Books, 2017. 2. In the same article, Hara discussed how the economy of the Russian Far East depended on the Asian economy and that, after the Russo-Japanese war in 1904–05, Russian authorities tried to find a way out from under this dependence. Teruyuki Hara, “Kindai tohoku ajia koueki nettowaku no seiritsu: kan-nihon-kai ken wo chushin ni [The Establishment of the Modern Northeast Asian networks: from the viewpoint of Sea of Japan Rim],” Yukimura Sakon ed., Kindai tohoku ajia no tanjo; Kokyoshi no kokoromi [The Emergence of the Modern Northeast Asia: the trial for the establishment of transnational history], Sapporo: Hokkaido University Press, 2008, pp. 25–59. 3. Rossiiskii gosudarstvennyi istoricheskii arkhiv in St. Petersburg (Russian State History Archive: further, RGIA), f.1276. op. 12. d. 897. l. 2ob., 3ob., 4. 4. Although we can find a few good studies on the Volunteer Fleet, they deal with only part of the history.V.P. Biankin, Russkoe torgovoe moreplavanie na Dal’nem Vostoke (1860–1925 gg.). Vladivostok, 1979; M.T. Kozhekina, “Russkii Dobrovol’nyi flot: Sozdanie i stanovlenie 1878–1900”, Vostochnyi arkhiv, No. 10. 2003, pp. 50–62; Kozhekina, “Dobrovol’nyi flot i razvitie ekonomicheskikh otnoshenii Rossii s Vostokom”, Vostochnyi arkhiv, No. 11–12. 2004, pp. 95–106. 5. China was third behind Germany and the United Kingdom. Rossiia nakanune Pervoi mirovoi voiny: Statistiko-dokumental’nyi spravochnik. Moscow, 2008, p. 191. 6. Robert B. Marks, The Origins of the Modern World: A Global and Environmental Narrative from the Fifteenth to the Twenty-First Century, Third Edition, Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2015, p. 138. 7. For Witte’s perception of List, see Vladimir Avtonomov and Elizaveta Burina, “List and Russia,” in Harald Hagemann, Stephan Seiter, and Eugen Wendler, eds., The Economic Thought of Friedrich List, London:

SERGEI WITTE AND THE SHIPPING ASSOCIATIONS …

8. 9.

10. 11. 12.

13. 14.

15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

209

Routledge, 2019, pp. 202–205. The authors point out that Witte accepted nearly all the facets of List’s system, except its political liberalism and republicanism. S. Iu. Witte, Po povodu natsionalizma: Natsional’naia ekonomika i Fridrikh List, Saint Petersburg, 1912, p. 67. M. Poggenpol’, ed., Ocherk vozniknoveniia i deiatel’nosti Dobrovol’nogo flota za vremia XXV-ti letnego ego sushchestvovaniia. St. Petersburg, 1903, pp. 10–15. RGIA, f. 1152, op. 10, (1884 g.) d. 90; RGIA, f. 1152, op. 10, (1885 g.) d. 664. A. P. Subbotin, Chai i chainaia torgovlia v Rossii i drugikh gosudarstvakh. Saint-Petersburg, 1892, pp. 342–343. Sakae Tsunoyama, Cha no sekaishi: Ryokucha no bunka to kocha no shyakai [The world history of tea: Culture of green tea and society of black tea], Tokyo: Chuko-shinshyo, 1980. Kaoru Sugihara, Azia kan boueki no keisei to kouzou [Patterns and development of intra-Asian trade], Kyoto: Minerva Shobo 1996, p. 175. “Tea and coffee. Statement showing the imports of tea and coffee into the principal countries of Europe and into the United States; together with statistical tables relating thereto for recent years, as far as the particulars can be stated,” in British Parliamentary Papers, Cd. 351 (1900), p. 6; China. Imperial Maritime Customs, Decennial Reports, 1892–1901. (Shanghai: The Statistical Department of the Inspectorate General of Customs, 1904), p. xxxii. RGIA, f. 95, op. 3, d. 1006, l. 37. RGIA, f. 95, op. 3, d. 1006, l. 4. RGIA, f. 95, op. 3, d. 1006, l. 129. RGIA, f. 95, op. 3, d. 1027, l. 1–2. Theodore H. von Laue, Sergei Witte and the Industrialization of Russia. New York: Atheneum, 1969, pp. 177–187. S. Iu. Witte, Sobranie sochinenii i dokumental’nykh materialov. Tom 1. Kniga vtoraia. Chast’ pervaia. Moscow, 2004, pp. 168–169. RGIA, f. 1153, op. 1, d. 113a, l. 133-135ob. Ibid. l. 127–127ob. Witte, Po povodu natsionalizma, p. 67. With the opening of the Russian Parliament in 1906, the position of the Director of Navy was changed into that of a Minister. Osobyi zhurnal soveta ministrov. 9 Dekabria 1908 goda. No. 223. “Po voprosu o peresmotre polozheniia o Dobrovol’nom flote”. RGIA, f. 1153, op. 1, (1904 g.) d. 66a, l. 212–217. We should note that the State Council prohibited “new” entries and did not seek to remove existing foreign capital in the Russian shipping industry. Thus, two Denmark-affiliated shipping companies, the Russian East Asiatic Steamship

210

27. 28.

29. 30. 31.

32. 33. 34. 35.

36.

Y. SAKON

Company and the Northern Steamship Company, continued to exist in Russia until the October Revolution of 1917. Materialy po chainoi torgovle v sviazi s proektom vvedeniia v Rossii chainoi monopolii. Petrograd, 1915,Table no. 32. For the launch of this line, see Yukimura Sakon, “The Russian East Asiatic Company and the Volunteer Fleet after the Russo-Japanese War: The Case of Russian Transatlantic Liners,” ChiMoKoJa—Histories of China, Mongolia, Korea, and Japan, 1 (2015), pp. 1–15. Materialy po chainoi torgovle, Table no. 24. RGIA, f. 98, op. 2, d. 868, l. 6ob. On January 1st, 1913, these companies issued share capital of 10,000,000 rubles, while other companies issued share capital of less than 2,500,000 rubles. Materialy po chainoi torgovle, p. 53. M. E. Falkus, The Industrialisation of Russia, 1700–1914. London: Macmillan, 1972, pp. 34–35. I. A. Sokolov, Kitaiskii chai v Rossii. Tom 1. Moscow, 2015, pp. 276–283. A. Gubarevich-Radobyl’skii, Chai i chainaia monopoliia. Opyt issledovaniia osnov oblozheniia chaia v Rossii. Saint-Petersburg, 1908, p. 117. Subbotin, Chai i chainaia torgovlia, p. 568; Istoricheskii ocherk 25 letnei deiatel’nosti torgovo-promyshlennogo tovarishchestva preemnik Alekseia Gubkina A. Kuznetsov i Ko. Moscow, 1917, pp. 3–8. Tomohiko Uyama, “Kindai teikoku kan taikei no nakano Roshia: Yurashia kokusai chitsujo no henkaku ni hatashita yakuwari [Russia in the Modern Imperial Relation System: Its Role for the Transformation of International Order in Eurasia],” Shigeru Akita ed., Gurobaruka no sekaishi [World histories of Globalization], Kyoto: Minerva Shobo, 2019, pp. 228–229.

References Rossiiskii gosudarstvennyi istoricheskii arkhiv in St. Petersburg (Russian State History Archive: RGIA). f. 1276. op. 12. d. 897. f. 1152, op. 10, (1884 g.) d. 90. f 1152, op. 10, (1885 g) d. 664. f. 95, op. 3, d. 1006. f. 95, op. 3, d. 1027. f. 1153, op. 1, d. 113a. f. 1153, op. 1, (1904 g.) d. 66a. f. 98, op. 2, d. 868. Osobyi zhurnal soveta ministrov (Special journal of the council of ministers). Dekabria 1908 goda. No. 223. “Po voprosu o peresmotre polozheniia o Dobrovol’nom flote”.

SERGEI WITTE AND THE SHIPPING ASSOCIATIONS …

211

British Parliamentary Papers Cd. 351 (1900): “Tea and coffee. Statement showing the imports of tea and coffee into the principal countries of Europe and into the United States; together with statistical tables relating thereto for recent years, as far as the particulars can be stated”. Avtonomov, Vladimir, and Elizaveta Burina. 2019. List and Russia. In The Economic Thought of Friedrich List, ed. Harald Hagemann, Stephan Seiter, and Eugen Wendler, 198–212. London: Routledge. Biankin, V. P. 1979. Russkoe torgovoe moreplavanie na Dal’nem Vostoke (1860– 1925 gg). Vladivostok. China. 1904. Imperial Maritime Customs, Decennial Reports, 1892–1901. Shanghai: The Statistical Department of the Inspectorate General of Customs. Falkus, M. E. 1972. The Industrialisation of Russia, 1700–1914. London: Macmillan. Gubarevich-Radobyl’skii, A. 1908. Chai i chainaia monopoliia. Opyt issledovaniia osnov oblozheniia chaia v Rossii. Saint-Petersburg. Grum-Gruzhimailo, G. E. 1896. “Chainaia torgovlia v Rossii.” In Proizvoditel’nye cily Rossii, ed. V. I. Kovalevskii, Saint-Petersburg. Hara, Teruyuki. 2008. Kindai tohoku ajia koueki nettowaku no seiritsu: kannihon-kai ken wo chushinni [The Establishment of the Modern Northeast Asian networks: from the viewpoint of Sea of Japan Rim]. In Kindai tohoku ajia no tanjo; Kokyoshi no kokoromi [The Emergence of the Modern Northeast Asia: the trial for the establishment of transnational history], ed. Yukimura Sakon, 25–59. Sapporo: Hokkaido University Press. Istoricheskii ocherk 25 letnei deiatel’nosti torgovo-promyshlennogo tovarishchestva preemnik Alekseia Gubkina A. Kuznetsov i Ko.. Moscow, 1917. Kozhekina, M. T. 2003. Russkii Dobrovol’nyi flot: Sozdanie i stanovlenie 1878– 1900. Vostochnyi arkhiv 10: 50–62. Kozhekina, M. T. 2004. Dobrovol’nyi flot i razvitie ekonomicheskikh otnoshenii Rossii s Vostokom. Vostochnyi arkhiv 11–12: 95–106. Laue, Theodore H. von. 1969. Sergei Witte and the Industrialization of Russia. New York: Atheneum. Marks, Robert B. 2015. The Origins of the Modern World: A Global and Environmental Narrative from the Fifteenth to the Twenty-First Century, 3rd ed. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield. Materialy po chainoi torgovle v sviazi s proektom vvedeniia v Rossii chainoi monopolii. Petrograd, 1915. Matsuzato, Kimitaka, ed. 2017. Russia and Its Northeast Asian Neighbors: China, Japan, and Korea, 1858–1945. New York: Lexington Books. Poggenpol’, M. ed., 1903. Ocherk vozniknoveniia i deiatel’nosti Dobrovol’nogo flota zavremia XXV-ti letnego ego sushchestvovaniia. St. Petersburg.

212

Y. SAKON

Rossiia nakanune Pervoi mirovoi voiny: Statistiko-dokumental’nyi spravochnik. Moscow, 2008. Sakon, Yukimura. 2015. The Russian East Asiatic Company and the Volunteer Fleet after the Russo-Japanese War: The Case of Russian Transatlantic Liners. ChiMoKoJa—Histories of China, Mongolia, Korea, and Japan, 1 (2015). Sokolov, I. A. 2015. Kitaiskii chai v Rossii. Tom 1. Moscow. Subbotin, A. P. 1892. Chai i chainaia torgovlia v Rossii i drugikh gosudarstvakh. Saint-Petersburg. Sugihara, Kaoru. 1996. Azia kan boueki no keisei to kouzou [Patterns and Development of intra-Asian Trade]. Kyoto: Minerva Shobo. Tsunoyama, Sakae. Cha no sekaishi: Ryokucha no bunka to kocha no shyakai [The World History of Tea: Culture of Green Tea and Society of Black Tea]. Tokyo: Chuko-shinshyo. Uyama, Tomohiko, ed. 2012. Asiatic Russia: Imperial Power in Regional and International Contexts. London: Routledge. Uyama, Tomohiko. 2019. Kindai teikoku kan taikei no nakano Roshia: Yurashia kokusai chitsujo no henkaku ni hatashita yakuwari [Russia in the modern Imperial relation system: its role for the transformation of international order in Eurasia]. In Gurobaruka no sekaishi [World histories of Globalization], ed. Shigeru Akita, 211–240. Kyoto: Minerva Shobo. Witte, S. Iu. 1912. Po povodu natsionalizma: Natsional’naia ekonomika i Fridrikh List. Saint Petersburg. Witte, S. Iu. 2004. Sobranie sochinenii i dokumental’nykh materialov. Tom 1. Kniga vtoraia. Chast’ pervaia. Moscow.

Itinerary, Revolution, and Port Cities: Comparative Study on Maritime Port Cities as Arenas for Asian Revolutionary Movements Takeshi Onimaru

1

Introduction

Port cities have always been an indispensable part of the maritime world and played essential roles. Before the rise of air travel from the midtwentieth century, port cities were often the major political, trading, and cultural centers where different peoples, goods, cultures, and thoughts came together and interacted (Haneda 2009: 5–6). Port cities rose and fell in accordance with changing political and economic situations in countries and regions, and this was particularly true of 19th-century Asia. In East and Southeast Asia, some port cities had emerged as newly established colonial cities like Singapore and Hong Kong, or as treaty ports like Shanghai and Yokohama. Others like Guangzhou, Manila, Hanoi, Saigon, Bangkok, Batavia, and Rangoon had also strengthened their importance as political or commercial centers. From the mid-nineteenth century onward, all of these port cities were connected by the regular services

T. Onimaru (B) Kyushu University, Fukuoka, Japan e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. Akita et al. (eds.), Changing Dynamics and Mechanisms of Maritime Asia in Comparative Perspectives, Palgrave Studies in Comparative Global History, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-2554-1_9

213

214

T. ONIMARU

of steamships, and more and more people, goods, money, and information regularly circulated between East and Southeast Asia and beyond through these cities. Among the persons who flowed through these cities from the late nineteenth century was a growing number of revolutionaries. The period during which the connectivity in maritime Asia was being enhanced and the flows of people, goods, money, and information were growing was also a time when revolutionary political movements were rising in Asia. Political movements aimed at overthrowing political regimes or colonial rulers had flourished in East and Southeast Asia from the late nineteenth century. The Philippine Revolution against Spanish colonial rule from 1896 to 1898, the Chinese Xinhai Revolution in 1911, and the communist uprisings in the Dutch East Indies in 1926 to 1927 were all direct results of a high tide of revolutionary movements in Asia. These political movements were serious threats to political and colonial orders, and were closely monitored and suppressed by authorities. Those activists who organized and directed radical, revolutionary, and sometimes subversive movements were the most “wanted,” and many of them had to leave their homes to avoid detection, imprisonment, or execution, and to continue their revolutionary endeavors abroad. And when they were forced into exile, they frequently chose maritime port cities as their revolutionary bases or shelters abroad. For example, from the late nineteenth century till the 1910s, Yokohama was an important port of shelter for Asian revolutionaries like Sun Yat-sen, Mariano Ponce,1 Phan Bô.i Châu,2 ´ (aka Hô` Chí and Rash Behari Bose.3 In Guangzhou, Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc Minh) and Tan Malaka, leading communists in Southeast Asia, established their revolutionary bases and tried to build their underground networks in East and Southeast Asia in the 1920s. And from the 1920s till the 1930s, communists who escaped from severe suppression both in mainland China and in the Dutch East Indies went into hiding in Singapore and tried to organize communist movements in British Malaya. These maritime port cities were quite convenient and crucial for their activities. The revolutionaries fully utilized the connectivity provided by the regular steamship services and the modern communication technologies such as the telegraph available in these cities to maintain links with revolutionary movements in their home countries, to construct underground liaison networks, and to avoid surveillance and capture by moving from one port city to another. In other words, the transportation and communication networks in maritime Asia were indispensable for the revolutionary movements in East and Southeast Asia. But since each

ITINERARY, REVOLUTION, AND PORT CITIES …

215

maritime port city had different features and characteristics, not all of them were suitable as revolutionary bases. This chapter examines the question of why certain maritime port cities could serve as sites for revolutionary movements in Asia. To explore this question, this chapter looks at the role of maritime port cities in the activities of three leading revolutionaries in Asia, Sun Yat-sen, Nguy˜ên ´ and Tan Malaka. All of these persons had to operate in exile Ái Quôc, for a long period during their revolutionary careers; Sun Yat-sen was in ´ exile from China for 21 years from 1895 to 1916, Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc was outside French Indochina for 30 years from 1911 to 1941, and Tan Malaka remained outside the Dutch East Indies for 20 years from 1922 to 1942.During these long years, they utilized different maritime port cities depending both on their purposes and activities, and on the specific features of each city. Why did they or did they not choose a certain port city for their particular purposes and activities? What kind of features in each city mattered for their choices? By comparing the maritime port cities they operated from, this chapter analyzes the relation between the features in each maritime port city and the activities of revolutionaries there, and reveals what was the most important factors for these ports to be sites for the Asian revolutionary movements.

2 (1) Sun

Revolutionaries in Exile

Yat-sen4

Sun Yat-sen, well-known as the “father of modern China,” was born in Xiangshan district in Guangdong province in 1866. His first trip to abroad was in 1878. He visited the Kingdom of Hawaii where his elder brother, Sun Mei, lived and stayed there until 1883. During his stay in Hawaii, he attended school with financial support from Sun Mei. He came back to his home in 1883, but went to Hong Kong in the autumn of the same year. In 1887, he entered the Hong Kong College of Medicine for Chinese, which was the forerunner of the University of Hong Kong, and graduated in 1892. And it was in Hong Kong that he started to engage in the revolutionary movement against the Qing dynasty. While studying at the Hong Kong College, he frequently discussed political issues and problems in China with his classmate, Chen Shao-bao.5 After he graduated

216

T. ONIMARU

from the college, he started his career as a medical doctor in Macau, but subsequently left that behind and devoted himself to his revolutionary endeavors. Sun Yat-sen left Hong Kong for Hawaii and established the Revive China Society (the Xingzhonghui) in 1894. This organization was aimed at overthrowing the Qing dynasty, and he set up the branch of the Society in Hong Kong in 1895 when he came back to Hong Kong from Hawaii via Yokohama. He and his colleagues began preparing in Hong Kong for an armed revolt against the Qing dynasty. He sought the support of the Japanese consulate in Hong Kong, but was not successful in this. He met Umeya Sh¯okichi6 who run a photo studio in Hong Kong and supported him financially almost until his last time. Sun Yat-sen and his colleagues planned to launch an uprising in Guangzhou in October 1895, but this uprising failed because the Qing and the colonial government in Hong Kong learned of the plan in advance. Sun Yat-sen escaped from Guangzhou to Hong Kong via Macau. But he was afraid of being arrested by the colonial authorities in Hong Kong and handed over to the Qing government, and thus he departed Hong Kong with Chen Shao-bao and other colleagues and traveled to Yokohama via Kobe. In Yokohama, he established a branch of the Revive China Society with the support of overseas Chinese with whom he had become acquainted in the previous year when he had stopped at Yokohama on the way back to Hong Kong from Hawaii. Sun went to Hawaii again and tried to gain support from overseas Chinese there. But this time, as he was a man wanted by the Qing authorities, the Chinese in Hawaii were afraid of being linked with him and his efforts failed. Sun Yat-sen thus left Hawaii for San Francisco and took the Transcontinental Railroad to New York. From New York, he traveled to Liverpool across the Atlantic, and finally reached London in September 1896. It was in London that Sun Yat-sen was kidnapped and detained by the embassy of the Qing dynasty. After his release, he published a book on the uprising in Guangzhou and his detention in London, and his name became well-known through this book. He stayed in London until July 1897 and then headed to Japan via Canada. In August 1897, Sun Yat-sen arrived at Yokohama. He met Chen Shao-bao again and became acquainted with Miyazaki T¯oten7 through an introduction by Chen Shao-bao. He remained in Yokohama and Tokyo

ITINERARY, REVOLUTION, AND PORT CITIES …

217

until June 1900 and there developed links with Japanese politicians, businessmen, and activists, like Inukai Tsuyoshi,8 T¯oyama Mitsuru,9 and Hiraoka K¯otar¯o.10 He also met Asian revolutionaries such as Mariano Ponce. Sun planned a further armed uprising in China and left Yokohama to prepare for it in June 1900. First, he went to Hong Kong and French Indochina, then came back to Japan, and then again went to Shanghai and Taiwan. In October 1900, the Huizhou Uprising broke out and Sun Yat-sen commanded the uprising from Taiwan, but this uprising again failed. From Taiwan, Sun went back to Japan. Again, he mainly stayed in Yokohama and Tokyo and recruited Chinese students and youths there for the Chinese revolutionary movement. From 1903 to 1905, he undertook a world tour advertising the movement and seeking support for the Chinese revolution. From Japan, Sun visited Hawaii, the United States, Europe, and Southeast Asia. In 1905, when he came back to Japan, he organized the Zhongguo Tongmenghui [Chinese Alliance Society] in Tokyo. In March 1907, at the request of the Qing government, the Japanese government decided to deport Sun Yat-sen from Japan. He left Japan and moved to Singapore via Hong Kong. In Singapore, he published the Tongmenghui journal, propagated the Chinese revolutionary movement, and sought support for it from overseas Chinese in Southeast Asia. He then planned another armed uprising in Southern China, and moved his base from Singapore to Hanoi. On this occasion, known as the Huizhou Qinuhu Uprising, revolutionary forces defeated the local Qing troops and occupied several towns. Sun Yat-sen directed the Uprising from Hanoi, but in December 1907, it was suppressed. In January 1908, at the request of the Qing government, the French Indochina authorities asked Sun to leave Hanoi. He moved again to Singapore and there established the Nanyang Branch of the Tongmenghui to unite the Chinese revolutionary movements in Southeast Asia. In 1909, Sun Yat-sen traveled from Singapore to the United States via Europe. He set up branches of the Tongmenghui in New York, Chicago, and other cities, and tried to muster support for the movement. In July 1910, he arrived at Penang, and transferred the Nanyang Branch from Singapore to Penang. He started to use Penang as his revolutionary base, but he was then ordered to leave there by the Straits Settlements government because his presence and activities were regarded as a threat to

218

T. ONIMARU

the law and order of the colony. In December 1910, he left Penang and continued to seek support for the revolution by visiting cities in the United States and Canada. In 1911, Sun Yat-sen came to hear of the outbreak of the Xinhai Revolution while he was in the United States. He thus returned to China and was appointed as the provisional President of the Republic of China in 1912. But Sun was defeated in the political struggle and the armed uprising (the Second Revolution) against Yuan Shi-kai11 and again went into exile in 1913. The place he headed to was Japan. The Japanese government did not want to accept him as a political refugee because the government officially recognized the Republic of China under Yuan Shi-kai. But Inukai Tsuyoshi, Umeya Sh¯okichi, and other of his friends in Japan helped and sheltered him. Inukai asked the government to grant asylum to him. Sun Yat-sen arrived in Yokohama in August 17, 1913. During his stay in Yokohama and Tokyo, he organized the Chinese Revolutionary Party and tried to prepare the revolution against Yuan Shi-kai under his command. He was acquainted with Indian nationalists and revolutionaries like Rash Behari Bose. In 1916, Yuan Shi-kai passed away and Sun Yat-sen went back to Shanghai. This was the end of his exile and he continued his “revolution” based in Guangzhou or Shanghai until his death in 1925. ´ 12 (2) Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc ´ was one of aliases Nguyen Tat Thanh used in his life Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc as politician, activist, agent, revolutionary, nationalist, and communist. Ho Chi Minh was another of his alias and he became the first President of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam in 1945 with this alias. But ´ was his most famous alias in the undoubtedly, the name Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc 1920s and 30s in Asia. ´ was born in Nam Ðàn Prefecture in Nghê. Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc Anprovince, French Indochina, in 1890.13 He learned French from his childhood and went abroad for the first time in June 1911. Unlike Sun Yat-sen, he went abroad simply because wanted to get out of French Indochina and to see the world. He got a job as an assistant cook on a French ship under the name of ‘Ba.’ He left Saigon, visited Singapore, Colombo, Port Said, and finally reached Marseilles in July 1911. In

ITINERARY, REVOLUTION, AND PORT CITIES …

219

Marseilles, he applied to enter the École Coloniale but failed. He joined the ship again as a sailor and traveled around Asia, the Middle East, Africa, and South America. In 1912, he left the ship at New York and stayed in the United States until the following year when he moved to the United Kingdom. And it was in the United Kingdom that he first actively involved himself in political movements. He joined the labor union movement and the demonstrations on the streets while he learned English and worked in a school and a hotel kitchen14 in London. ´ went to France in 1917 and based himself in Paris. Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc He made contact with Vietnamese, Korean, Tunisian, and other anticolonial revolutionaries, and became affiliated with the French Socialist Party in 1919. In the same year, he also organized the Association of Annamite Patriots (Association des Patriotes Annamites). On June 18, ´ 1919, under the name of Nguy˜ên Ái Quôche submitted the “Demands of the Annamite People (Revendications du peuple annamite)” to the Allied leaders who attended the Versailles Peace Conference. In 1920, after reading Lenin’s “Theses on the National and Colonial ´ decided to join the communist movement. Questions,” Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc He thus joined the Third International (the Comintern) and, in 1921, he participated in the formation of the French Communist Party. He left Paris in 1923 and traveled to Moscow via Berlin, Hamburg, and Petrograd. In Moscow, he stayed at the Hotel Lux and studied at the Communist University of the Toilers of the East. He attended the fifth Congress of the Comintern as the representative of the French Communist Party, joined the Red International of Labor Unions (Profintern), Communist Youth International, and the Communist Women’s International, and published papers in International Press Correspondence. In October 1924, he was dispatched to join the Soviet advisors to the Kuomintang (the Chinese Nationalist Party) government, led by Mikhail Borodin,15 in Guangzhou. He took the Trans-Siberian Railway from Moscow to Vladivostok, and arrived in Guangzhou in November and met Borodin there. Under the names of Lý Thuy. and Wang Shan-yi, he engaged in translation and propaganda work, tried to establish links with radical activists across Asia, and established the Communist Group (Cô.ng san d-oàn) and the Vietnamese Revolutionary Youth League (Hô.i Viê.t Nam Cách ma.ng Thanh niên) to organize the Vietnamese revolutionaries and activists in Guangzhou. The Vietnamese Revolutionary Youth ij

220

T. ONIMARU

League aimed to recruit youth from French Indochina, to take them to Guangzhou, to train and discipline them, and finally to turn them into communist revolutionaries. Zhou En-lai and other Chinese communists gave lectures to them as special lecturers. ´ utilized Guangzhou as a base for his activities but Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc this situation was radically changed in 1927 when Chiang Kai-shek initiated an anti-communist coup and the United Front was dissolved. He thus departed from Guangzhou and headed for Moscow via Hong Kong, Shanghai, and Vladivostok. He engaged in diverse work for the Comintern in Moscow, Paris, Brussels, and Berlin until May 1928 when he traveled to Siam. He arrived in Bangkok in July 1927 and then moved to Udon Thani, a town in Northeastern Siam, where exiled Vietnamese revolutionaries had set up their base. He stayed in Siam and continued his revolutionary endeavor with them. At the end of December 1928, he left Siam and moved to Hong Kong via Guangzhou. In Hong Kong, he made contact with Vietnamese communists there and established the Vietnamese Communist Party. He also made contact with the Far Eastern Bureau of the Comintern in Shanghai, and was ordered to organize the communist movement in French Indochina, to establish communist parties in both British Malaya and in Siam, and to engage in liaison work between the Far Eastern Bureau and the communist movements in these regions. He established the “Southern Bureau” in Hong Kong and actively traveled backwards and forward between Southeast Asia, Shanghai, and Hong Kong. He participated in the formation of the Siamese Communist Party and that of the Malayan Communist Party in 1930. His activities in Hong Kong suddenly ended in June 6, 1931 when he was arrested by the British colonial police in Hong Kong. He was deported from Hong Kong at the end of 1932 and traveled to Moscow via Amoy and Shanghai. In autumn 1938, he left Moscow and traveled to Yan’an overland via Alma-Ata, Urumqi, Lanzhou, and Xi’an. He stayed in Yan’an for two weeks and then continued his revolutionary endeavors ´ returned to French mainly in Southern China. In 1941, Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc Indochina which had already been under Japanese occupation for a year. This ended his long period of exile from Vietnam. After this, he continued his struggle for independence, traveling back and forth between Vietnam and Southern China. In August 1945, under the name Hô` Chí Minh, he

ITINERARY, REVOLUTION, AND PORT CITIES …

221

declared the independence of his country and became the first President of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam. (3) Tan Malaka16 Tan Malaka was the leading activist and communist in Southeast Asia in the 1920s and 1930s. He was one of the most “wanted” men by the Dutch East Indies government and was carefully monitored by the British colonial authorities in Malaya. He was born at Suliki village in the Minangkabau region of West Sumatra in 1897. His first trip abroad was at the end of 1913 when he traveled to the Netherlands to study at a school in Haarlem. After his graduation in April 1916, he stayed in the Netherlands until 1919. Impressed by the Russian Revolution, he read Das Kapital (Capital) by Karl Marx and pamphlets on the Russian Revolution and became inclined to political radicalism. Tan Malaka returned to the Dutch East Indies in November 1919 and started to teach at a school in a plantation close to Medan in East Sumatra. While there, he contributed to the journal of Perserikatan Komunis di Hindia (PKH; Communist Union of the Indies) and also participated in a railroad strike. In June 1921, he participated in the sixth congress of Sarekat Islam (Islamic Union) in Yogyakarta, Central Java, and subsequently devoted himself to the anti-colonial political movement. Tan Malaka established a school for training activists of Sarekat Islam in Semarang, Central Java and was an active teacher there. He was also elected as a vice -chairman of the Indonesian Miners Labor Union (Serikat Buruh Pelikan Indonesia) and the second chairman of the Perserikatan Komunis di Hindia, and became the leader of the radical political movement in the Dutch East Indies. But Tan Malaka was arrested in Bandung in West Java in February 1922 and deported from the Dutch East Indies. Embarking from Semarang, when Tam Malaka reached the Netherlands, he continued his political activities and stood for election to the Dutch parliament, under the auspices of the Communist Party of the Netherlands. After he failed to be elected, he moved to Berlin, and after some time, headed for Moscow. In Moscow, Tan Malaka attended a meeting of the Executive Committee of the Comintern and participated in the Fourth Congress of the Comintern as the representative of the Perserikatan Komunis di Hindia in November 1922. He was there assigned the task of guiding

222

T. ONIMARU

the communist movements in Southeast Asia by the Comintern and dispatched to Guangzhou. Tan Malaka arrived in Guangzhou in December 1923, and established contact with the Perserikatan Komunis di Hindia (soon to become Partai Komunis Indonesia, or PKI — the Communist Party of Indonesia). He also met with Sun Yat-sen and other leaders of the Kuomintang, attended the Pacific Transport Workers’ Conference in Guangzhou in 1924 and published articles in the English-language journal The Dawn. He also actively engaged in work in Siam, French Indochina, Singapore, and other places in Southeast Asia. He undertook all this work as an individual without assistance and the overwork saw his health break down. Tan Malaka thus decided to leave Guangzhou and to move to the American Philippines to take a rest there. He traveled to Manila via Hong Kong at the end of June 1925, and stayed there until early 1926. In Manila, he met with local labor union leaders. While in Manila, he came to know about the armed uprising being planned by the Communist Party of Indonesia. He thus traveled to Singapore using a false passport, met party members, and drafted his theses against the uprising, stating that the party was still too weak to engage in armed uprising. In December 1926, the armed uprising was initiated but quickly crushed by the Dutch East Indies government. After meeting with Djamaluddin Tami17 and Subaka18 in Singapore, Tam Malaka decided to travel to Bangkok. In early June 1927, following the outlawing of the PKI by the Dutch East Indies administration. Tan Malaka together with Djamaluddin Tamin and Subakat established Partai Republik Indonesia (Indonesian Republican Party) in Bangkok. In August, they decided that Tan Malaka should proceed to Manila, Djamaluddin Tamin to Singapore, and that Subakat should stay in Bangkok. Tan Malaka left Bangkok for Manila but was arrested in Manila soon after his arrival. The American Philippine government ordered him to leave the colony and he left Manila on August 23, 1927. He went to Amoy, hiding there for a while, and then moved to a village outside Amoy. At the end of 1929, he moved from Amoy to Shanghai, where he contracted tuberculosis and began to waste away physically. The Comintern apparatus in Shanghai provided him with money for medical treatment, clothing, and food. He recovered his health by hospitalization and medication. In 1932, Tan Malaka left Shanghai for Hong Kong but was arrested in Hong Kong on 10 October immediately after his arrival, and the British

ITINERARY, REVOLUTION, AND PORT CITIES …

223

colonial government deported him in December 1932. Boarding a vessel for Shanghai, he slipped off the ship at Amoy and hid himself again in a suburban village. In early 1936, Tan Malaka moved to urban Amoy from the village and, to make a living, ran a foreign language school for Chinese students with the help of his friends there. He left Amoy for Rangoon in August 1937 with a passport issued by the Republic of China. After about a month in Rangoon, he moved to Singapore. In April 1942, he left Singapore which had been occupied by Japan, for Medan via Penang. He arrived in Medan in June and this ended his journey in exile for 20 years. On his return to his homeland, he went underground during the Japanese military occupation. Subsequently, he was actively involved in the armed struggle against the Dutch following the declaration of independence of Indonesia in August 1945, and lost his life while waging guerrilla warfare.

3

Maritime Port Cities as “Arenas”

The Asian maritime port cities utilized by Sun Yat-sen, Nguy˜ên Ái ´ and Tan Malaka during their “peregrinations” abroad included Quôc, Yokohama, Shanghai, Manila, Amoy, Guangzhou, Hong Kong, Hanoi, Bangkok, Singapore, Rangoon, and Penang. What activities did they engage in these cities and what features did each city possess that were crucial for their choices of cities and activities? Sun Yat-sen used Yokohama, Hong Kong, Hanoi, Singapore, and Penang as his revolutionary bases. All of these cities had overseas Chinese communities and it was precisely the existence of these communities that was crucial for his activities. What he did in these cities included organizing the Revive China Society, the Zhongguo Tongmenghui, and the Chinese Revolutionary Party, promoting the revolutionary movement in China, recruiting youth for the revolution, seeking financial support, preparing armed uprisings, and so on. He pursued these activities by building networks with overseas Chinese in these cities and sometimes by involving them in the revolutionary movement itself. But one city— Yokohama—had another network that was crucial for his activities. After the failed uprising in 1895, Sun Yat-sen decided to go to Japan because his close friend, Umeya Sh¯okichi, recommended that he do so (Kosaka 2009: 65–66). In 1897, when Sun came back to Yokohama from Europe, he met Miyazaki T¯oten through an introduction by Chen Shaobao, and became acquainted with Japanese politicians, businessmen, and

224

T. ONIMARU

activists like Inukai Tsuyoshi, T¯oyama Mitsuru, and Hiraoka K¯ otar¯o. He also renewed his friendship with Umeya Sh¯okichi. Sun Yat-sen gained financial and personal support through this network. In 1913, when he was defeated in the political struggle against Yuan Shi-kai, he decided to go to Japan again but the Japanese government did not want to accept him. Inukai Tsuyoshi encouraged the unwilling Japanese government to grant Sun Yat-sen asylum and T¯oyama Mitsuru and Umeya Sh¯okichi provided Sun Yat-sen with safe houses and security in Japan (Ibid: 160–162). The reasons why they supported Sun Yat-sen varied; it was friendship in Umeya’s case and it was passion for the Chinese revolution in Miyazaki’s case. But no matter how different their motivations were, it was crucial for Sun Yat-sen that there were persons who provided him with support. And it was not only Sun Yat-sen but also other Asian revolutionaries who tried to achieve their revolutionary aims by utilizing networks in Yokohama. Mariano Ponce, the Filipino revolutionary came to Yokohama in 1898 and established his base there. During his stay in Yokohama, he became acquainted with Japanese officials, businessmen, and activists, and also with Asian revolutionaries and youth who had been exiled to or who studied in Japan. He met Sun Yat-sen at a party hosted by Inukai Tsuyoshi and eventually was able to obtain ammunition through the network he built in Japan (Ibid: 76–78; Hau and Shiraishi 2009: 335; Mojares 2011: 42–44). Phan Bô.i Châu, the leading Vietnamese nationalist, came to Japan in 1905 attempting to purchase army munitions. He stayed mainly in Yokohama, met Sun Yat-sen there and discussed the possibility of obtaining munitions from Chinese revolutionaries. After he failed to obtain weapons, he started the Ðông Du movement which aimed to bring Vietnamese youth to Japan for training. He was supported in this endeavor by Inukai Tsuyoshi and Miyazaki T¯ oten (Furuta 1996: 54– 55; Hau and Shiraishi 2009: 336–337; Shiraishi 2012: 50–71, 90). Rash Behari Bose, the Indian revolutionary, also came to Japan in 1915 to purchase ammunition for the Indian revolutionary movement. He utilized Yokohama and Tokyo as his bases. He became acquainted with Sun Yatsen through an introduction by Umeya Sh¯ okichi and was introduced to T¯oyama Mitsuru by Sun Yat-sen. In 1915, when the Japanese government ordered Bose to leave Japan within 5 days under pressure from the British government, T¯oyama Mitsuru, and other Japanese friends provided a safe house and protection for him (Nakajima 2005: 59–98).

ITINERARY, REVOLUTION, AND PORT CITIES …

225

These examples show that Yokohama was a gathering and meeting place for Asian revolutionaries and their Japanese supporters from the late nineteenth century until the 1910s. What made Yokohama such an appealing place for Asian revolutionaries? The first factor was the rise of Japan as a modern emerging state in Asia. After the Meiji Restoration in 1868, modern state building began in Japan. Japan won two external wars, the Sino-Japan War in 1895 and the Russo-Japanese War in 1905, and these victories and the modernization and state-building processes in Japan impressed and attracted people who were trying to liberate their countries from colonial rulers or “ancient régimes.” Asian revolutionaries came to Japan to learn the experiences in Japan or to seek support for their own revolutions. The second factor was the networks. Hau and Shiraishi examine the rise of networks among Asian revolutionaries, activists, and politicians from the late 1870s. They point out that in these network, Inukai Tsuyoshi, Sun Yat-sen, Mariano Ponce, and Phan Bô.i Châu played important roles as hubs (Hau and Shiraishi 2009: 335–336). Miyazaki T¯oten and Umeya Sh¯okichi also played hub roles, and this made Yokohama a place for networking among these “hubs” and the youth and revolutionaries who resided there. In particular, links with Japanese politicians, businessmen, and activists who supported Asian revolutionary movements were crucial for those who sought financial and sometimes military support for their own revolutions or needed to get protection of find a safe house. But these two factors did not last long. Once Japan’s imperialistic aspirations in Asia strengthened, its attractiveness disappeared, Asian youth and revolutionaries left Japan, and Yokohama was no longer a sphere for networking. ´ and Tan Malaka never came to Yokohama, nor Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc anywhere else in Japan. This was because they were involved in communist movements. Unlike the case of Sun Yat-sen, it was almost impossible for communists to get financial support and protection from Japanese politicians and businessmen. Communist movements were harshly suppressed almost everywhere in Asia, including Japan, so it was ´ and Tan Malaka to find bases abroad more difficult for Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc than it was for Sun Yat-sen. What features, then, did maritime port cities need to have to become useful sites for communist undergrounds? ´ and Tan Guangzhou was a city utilized by both Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc ˜ ´ Malaka. Nguyên Ái Quôc was a member of the Soviet advisors to the

226

T. ONIMARU

Kuomintang government in Guangzhou and organized the Communist Group and the Vietnamese Revolutionary Youth League. He also brought Vietnamese youth to Guangzhou for training with the cooperation of Zhou En-lai and other members of the Chinese Communists Party. Tan Malaka also came to Guangzhou by order of the Comintern. He made contact with the Communist Party of Indonesia, met Sun Yat-sen and other Kuomintang members, and continued his revolutionary activities there. ´ stayed in Guangzhou from 1924 to 1927 and Tan Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc Malaka lived there from 1923 to 1925. In those years, communists could openly settle in Guangzhou and could continue their activities because Guangzhou was the capital city of the Kuomintang government led by Sun Yat-sen and the Kuomintang and the Chinese Communist Party were participating in a United Front. It was particularly Sun Yat-sen who made Guangzhou an important and attractive site for Asian revolutionary movements, including communist movements. Sun Yat-sen was at that time in the final phase of his long revolutionary career. He had already become a symbol for Asian revolutionary movements, and he created an open sphere for Asian revolutionary movements by implementing the United Front and engaging in cooperation with the Soviets. But the death of Sun Yat-sen in 1925 and the anti-communist coup by Chiang Kai-shek in 1927 destroyed these preconditions and Guangzhou lost its attraction as a site for Asian revolutionaries, especially for communists. ´ and Tan Malaka were able to In Guangzhou, Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc openly engage in their political work until 1927, but in other maritime port cities they utilized—Shanghai, Amoy, Manila, Hong Kong, Hanoi, Bangkok, and Singapore—communist movements and organizers were closely monitored and suppressed, and they had to go underground for safety. And the best city in Asia for being politically underground from the late nineteenth century until the early twentieth century was Shanghai. The first and the most important feature which made Shanghai the best political underground site was the existence of a “grey zones.” The grey zones were places where a certain degree of ambiguity existed in law enforcement and administrative control. In Shanghai, grey zones were generated because there was a division of municipalities and a division of police forces. From the late nineteenth century to the early twentieth century, Shanghai was divided into three administrative sections: the International Settlement, the French Concession, and the Chinese Municipality. Each section had its own police force and the police jurisdictions

ITINERARY, REVOLUTION, AND PORT CITIES …

227

were also divided along administrative lines. But there was no restriction on movement between the three municipalities, and these factors generated grey zones within and between these divisions (Onimaru 2016: 120). The grey zones were obstacles for police activities but were gifts for underground political movements. The Chinese Communist Party Central Committee remained underground in Shanghai until 1933 after the collapse of the United Front in 1927, and the Comintern established its regional headquarters in Shanghai in 1927 in charge of liaison work between Moscow and the Far East and Southeast Asian regions (Onimaru 2016; Stranahan 1998). The existence of the grey zones was undoubtedly a crucial factor in these decisions. Another factor which made Shanghai a suitable sphere for underground activities was that Shanghai was a cosmopolitan city. Edgar Snow, a famous American journalist, described Shanghai as follows. Within Greater Shanghai dwell nearly 3,000,000 people. The vast majority is of course Chinese. But in the International Settlement and in the French Concession, with combined population of nearly 1,500,000, live men of every land. Even little-spreading and exotic races like the Arabian, Iraquian, Georgian, Esthonian, Tonkinese, Annamese, Malayan and Egyptian have communities here. The latest censor’s notes list 50 different foreign nationalities with a total of 48,000. That does not include all the Russian casuals, for whom estimates range from 20,000 to 25,000. A dozen dialects of Chinese are heard here; the native populace includes migrants from every province, even far Turkestan and Tibet (Snow 1933: 173).

Ethnic diversity in Shanghai was an important factor because revolutionaries could hide themselves in multi-ethnic Shanghai without attracting attention. But the existence of grey zones and ethnic diversity was not sufficient to secure the safety of activists and agents. Hilaire Noulens, the Comintern organization agent in Shanghai from 1930 to 1931, utilized these two factors, but, at the same time, he used seven different names and five different residences to hide himself and his activities in Shanghai (Onimaru 2011: 109–116). These practices were also crucial for underground revolutionaries. They hid themselves by using aliases and forged passports, and by frequently changing safe houses. ´ and Tan The other maritime port cities utilized by Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc Malaka were Amoy, Manila, Hong Kong, Singapore, and Bangkok. In

228

T. ONIMARU

Amoy and Manila, the existence of collaborators was crucial for Tan Malaka to secure his safety, as it was for Sun Yat-sen in Yokohama. In Manila, he was supported by his friend who he had got to know in Hong Kong (Tan 1991 Vol.1: 114–115, 142). In Amoy, he was provided with shelter by those who he had met there in 1927 when he was deported from Manila (Ibid: 155–162). In 1932, when he was deported from Hong Kong after his arrest there, his initial preferred destination was Manila. But this was rejected by the American consul in Hong Kong, and he decided to go to Shanghai. He left the ship in Amoy, and hid himself there by utilizing the network he had developed earlier (Tan 1991 Vol.2: 50, 55–64). Hong Kong and Singapore were British crown colonies and communist movements were closely monitored and suppressed by the police. In ´ and Tan Malaka were arrested in Hong Kong fact, both Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc at different times. But after their arrests, they were not handed over to the French Indochina authorities or the Dutch East Indies authorities, and instead were just released and deported from Hong Kong. Why were not they extradited to those jurisdictions even though both authorities wanted them handed over? René Onraet who was the Commissioner of Police in the British Straits Settlements wrote in his memoir that there were agreements that political offenders could not be extradited (Onraet 1947: 110). In ´ and Tan Malaka were deported and not Hong Kong, Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc handed over to other jurisdictions because both of them were regarded as political detainees (Quinne-Judge 2003: 193; Tan 1991 Vol.2: 50–52). And this rule that political offenders were not extradited was undoubtedly an important factor making Hong Kong and Singapore sites for underground political activities. ´ chose Hong Kong and Tan Another reason why Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc Malaka chose Singapore was the geographical location of these cities. Hong Kong was close to French Indochina and Singapore was close to the Dutch East Indies, and these geographical proximities were quite useful for their activities.19 Lastly, what made Bangkok a site for the political underground? Chinese and Vietnamese communists established their bases in Siam, including Bangkok, precisely because the Siamese government did not engage in close surveillance or suppression activities against communist movements prior to the Siamese revolution in 1932 (Goscha 1999). After

ITINERARY, REVOLUTION, AND PORT CITIES …

229

the revolution, suppression measures against communists tightened up in Siam (Furuta 1995: 98–100). Tan Malaka was based in Bangkok from 1926 to 1927 and, at that time, the control and suppression against the communist movement were still fairly relaxed in Siam. This situation was the key factor in Bangkok becoming a sphere for communist underground activities.

4

Conclusion

By comparing the maritime port cities utilized by Sun Yat-sen, Nguy˜ên ´ and Tan Malaka as their bases abroad, this chapter examines Ái Quôc, the features and factors in each maritime port city in East and Southeast Asia in becoming sites for Asian revolutionary movements from the late nineteenth century to the early twentieth century. The port cities these three leading Asian revolutionaries utilized were Yokohama, Shanghai, Amoy, Manila, Guangzhou, Hong Kong, Hanoi, Bangkok, Singapore, and Penang. All of these ten cities were “modern” cities because they were connected by regular steamship services and the postal and telegraphic services and also because they were political, economic, and cultural centers. But even though they shared common features like the availability of modern transportation and communication technologies, they were different in geographical locations and historical, political, and social backgrounds. It was these differences or specific features in each city which were most important in them becoming sites for Asian revolutionary movements. These included: the links with supporters and collaborators in Yokohama, Amoy, Manila, Hanoi, and Penang; the state or colonial policies in place in Guangzhou, Hong Kong, Bangkok, Singapore, and Penang; the structure of the city itself in Shanghai; and the geographical location of Hong Kong, Hanoi, and Singapore. This point that differences mattered becomes much clearer by comparing Yokohama, Shanghai, and Guangzhou. These three cities were quite important sites for Asian revolutionary movements, but there were differences in the features that made each city a revolutionary sphere. The important features in Yokohama were the rise of Japan as an emerging modern state in Asia, the possibility of visiting revolutionaries to learn of Japan’s development experience, and the human networks available there to gain support, especially links with Japanese “patrons.” The key features in Shanghai were the existence of grey zones and the cosmopolitan demographic setting, which enabled underground activities to be carried

230

T. ONIMARU

out. And finally, in Guangzhou, it was the presence of Sun Yat-sen and his policies that made the city attractive for revolutionaries. In other words, Yokohama was a Japanese domestic city where links with Japanese figures were crucial, Shanghai was the ideal city for political underground activities because the structure of the city itself generated spaces for underground activities, and Guangzhou was the temporary “utopia” created by Sun Yat-sen. ´ and Tan Malaka, it When we compare Sun Yat-sen, Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc, is clear that whether they were communists or not had an influence on their choices for cities. Sun Yat-sen could use Yokohama but Nguy˜ên Ái ´ and Tan Malaka could not, because there was almost no chance for Quôc foreign communists to find effective supporters who would provide them with protection and safe houses. This shows that for communists, it was crucial for them to find port cities where they could hide themselves and could continue their underground activities. From the mid-nineteenth century, when the world started to be connected by modern transportation and communication infrastructure, the maritime port cities were places where all could feel the connectivity and modernity of Asia. They were also important sites for revolutionary movements in Asia, not only because they shared common features of connectivity and modernity but also because, at the same time, they had different factors suitable for and required by each specific political movement and activist. And the features that made maritime port cities sites for revolutionary movements in Asia were formed much more by these different and specific characteristics produced by geographical locations, and political, historical and social backgrounds in each city than by the commonalities they shared.

Notes 1. Mariano Ponce was a leading Filipino nationalist who sought international alliances and support for the Philippine Revolution. For his activities, see Mojares (2011). 2. Phan Bô.i Châu was an organizer and leading nationalist of the anticolonial movement in French Indochina who initiated the Ðông Du movement for sending Vietnamese youth for Japan to study there. For his activities, see Shiraishi (2012). 3. Rash Behari Bose was a revolutionary who tried to gain Japanese support for the independence of India. He traveled to Japan in 1915 and stayed there till the end of his life. For his activities, see Nakajima (2005).

ITINERARY, REVOLUTION, AND PORT CITIES …

231

4. The activities of Sun Yat_sen in this section are based on Chen (1991), Fukamachi (2016), Suzue (1950), Kosaka (2009), and Kayloe (2017). 5. Chen Shao-bao (陳少白) was born in Guangdong province in 1869 and joined the Chinese revolutionary movement with Sun Yat-sen. 6. Umeya Shoukichi (梅屋庄吉) was born in 1869. He was a leading supporter of Sun Yat-sen and organized the wedding ceremony for Sun Yat-sen and Soong Ching-ling in Tokyo in 1915. For his life and activities, see Kosaka (2009). 7. Miyzakai T¯ oten (宮崎滔天) was born in 1871. He supported Sun Yatsen’s revolutionary endeavor until his death in 1922. 8. Inukai Tsuyoshi (犬養毅) was a politician and Prime Minister (1931— 32) who supported Sun Ya–sen and other Asian revolutionaries. He was born in 1855 and was assassinated in 1932 when he was serving as Prime Minister. 9. T¯ oyama Mitsuru (頭山満) was born in 1855. He was a leading nationalist who supported Sun Yat-sen, Chiang Kai-shek, Phan Boi Chau, Rash Behari Bose, and other Asian revolutionaries and nationalists. 10. Hiraoka K¯ otar¯o (平岡浩太郎) was born in 1851 and a nationalist, politician, and businessman who supported Sun Yat-sen financially. 11. Yuan Shi-kai (袁世凱) was a warlord and politician under the Qing and subsequently Republican China. 12. His activities in this section are based on Duiker (2000), Quinn-Judge (2003), Goscha (1999), Furuta (1996), Tsuboi (2002), and Hoang (1987). ´ was born is still debated. 1890 is the 13. The year when Nguy˜ên Ái Quôc official view of the Vietnamese government. 14. When he worked in the pastry section of the Carlton Hotel in London, Auguste Escoffier, the famous French chef, reportedly admired his skill in pastry making (Duiker 2000: 52). 15. Mikhail Borodin was born in Russia in 1884. He was a member and agent of the Comintern from its establishment. 16. The activities described in this section are based on Tan (1991), Poeze (1976), McVey (2006), Kusno (2003), and Mrázek (1972). 17. Djamaluddin Tamin was born in Bukit Tinggi in West Sumatra in 1900. He joined the Communist Party of Indonesia in 1922, and met Tan Malaka in Singapore in 1926 (Tan 1991 Vol.3: 355–356). 18. Subakat was born in East Java in 1890. After joining the Communist Party of Indonesia, he moved to Singapore in 1925 and stayed there until 1927, becoming acquainted with Tan Malaka in that city. He was arrested in Bangkok in1929 and was handed over to the police in the Dutch East Indies. He died in jail in 1930 (Ibid: 344).

232

T. ONIMARU

19. In his memoir, Tan Malaka pointed out that the geographical proximity between Singapore and Indonesia gave him “possibilities” for his activities (Tan 1991 Vol.3: 111).

References Chen, Xiqi, ed. 1991. Sun Zhong Shan nian pu chang bian (Chronological record of Sun Yat-sen). Beijing: Zhonghua Book Company. Duiker, William J. 2000. Ho Chi Minh. Australia: Allen & Union. Fukamachi, Hideo. 2016. Son Bun (Sun Yat-sen). Tokyo: Iwanami Syoten. Furuta, Moto’o. 1995. Vietnam no Sekaisi (Vietnam in the Context of World History). Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press. ———1996. Ho Chi Minh: Minzoku Kaihou to Doimoi (Ho Chi Minh: National Liberation and Doi Moi). Tokyo: Iwanami Syoten. Goscha, Christoper E. 1999. Thailand and the Southeast Asian Networks of the Vietnamese Revolution, 1885 – 1954. Richmond: Curzon. Haneda, Masashi, ed. 2009. Asian Port Cities 1600–1800: Local and Foreign Cultural Interactions. Singapore and Kyoto: National University of Singapore Press and Kyoto University Press. Hau, Caroline S., and Shiraishi Takashi. 2009. Daydreaming about Rizal and Tetch¯ o: On Asianism as Network and Fantasy. Philippine Studies 57 (3): 329– 388. Hoang, Van Hoan. 1987. Cang hai yi su (A Drop in the Ocean). Beijing: Liberation Army Publishing. Kayloe, Tjioo. 2017. The Unfinished Revolution: Sun Yat-sen and the Struggle for Modern China. Singapore: Marshall Cavendish Editions. Kosaka, Ayano. 2009. Kakumei wo purodyu-su sita Nihonjin: Umeya Shokichi den (Sh¯ okichi Umeya: Japanese Producer of Chinese Revolution). Tokyo: Koudansha. Kusno, Abidin. 2003. From City to City: Tan Malaka, Shanghai and the Politics of Geographical Imaging. Singapore Journal of Tropical Geography 24 (3): 327–339. McVey, Ruth T. 2006. The Rise of Indonesian Communism. Jakarta: Equinox Publishing. Mojares, Resil B. 2011. The Itineraries of Mariano Ponce. In Traveling NationMakers: Transnational Flows and Movements in the Making of Modern Southeast Asia, ed. Caroline S. Hau and Kasian Tejapira, 32–63. Kyoto and Singapore: Kyoto University Press and National University of Singapore Press. Mrázek, Rudolf. 1972. Tan Malaka: A Political Personality’s Structure of Experience. Indonesia 14: 1–48.

ITINERARY, REVOLUTION, AND PORT CITIES …

233

Nakajima, Takeshi. 2005. Nakamuraya no Bose: Indo dokuritu undou to kindai Nihon no Ajiasyugi (Bose in Nakamuraya: The Indian independence movement and modern Japanese Asianism). Tokyo: Hakusui Sha. Onimaru, Takeshi. 2011. Living ‘Underground’ in Shanghai: Noulens and the Shanghai Comintern Network. In Traveling Nation-Makers: Transnational Flows and Movements in the Making of Modern Southeast Asia, ed. Caroline S. Hau and Kasian Tejapira, 96–125. Kyoto and Singapore: Kyoto University Press and National University of Singapore Press. ———2016. Shanghai Connection: The Construction and Collapse of the Comintern Network in East and Southeast Asia. Southeast Asian Studies: Special Issue on Political Networks in Asia 5 (1): 115–133. Onraet, René. 1947. Singapore: A Police Background. London: Dorothy Crisp & Co. Poeze, Harry A. 1976. Tan Malaka: Levensloop van 1897 tot 1945 (Tan Malaka: Life from 1897 to 1945). s’Gravenhage: Martinus Nijhoff. Quinn-Judge, Sophie. 2003. Ho Chi Minh: The Missing Years 1919–1941. Singapore: Horizon Books. Shiraishi, Masaya. 2012. Nihon wo mezashita Vietnam no eiyu to ouji: Phan Boi Chau to Cuong De (Vietnamese Hero and Prince aiming at Japan: Phan Boi Chau and Cuong De). Tokyo: Sairyu Sha. Snow, Edgar. 1933. Far Eastern Front. New York: Harrison Smith & Robert Haas. Stranahan, Patricia. 1998. Underground: The Shanghai Communist Party and the Politics of Survival, 1927–1937 . Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield. Suzue, Gen’ichi. 1950. Son Bun den (Biography of Sun Yat-sen). Tokyo: Iwanami Syoten. Tan, Malaka. 1991. From Jail to Jail, Vol. 1, 2, 3. (translated by Helen Jarvis). Athens: Ohio University Center for International Studies. Tsuboi, Yoshiaki. 2002. Vietnam Gendai Seiji (Contemporary Politics in Vietnam). Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Syuppankai.

ASPAC or ASEAN? Institutional Evolution and Survival in Contemporary Maritime Asia Kei Koga

1

Introduction

Multilateral institutions led by regional states in maritime Asia—from the Western Pacific to the Eastern Indian Ocean—were scarce in the postWorld War II era. Admittedly, there were several institutional frameworks, such as the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) created in 1954, the Economic Commission for Asia and the Far-East (ECAFE) established in 1947, and the Asian Development Bank (ADB) formulated in 1963. However, they were generally initiated by western-led international institutions, particularly the United Nations. Southeast Asia had some institutional frameworks in 1963, such as the Association of Southeast Asia (ASA), a regional grouping which included the Philippines, Malaya, and Thailand, and Maphilindo, the cooperative framework between Malaysia, the Philippines, and Indonesia, yet they were not consolidated as they were but transformed into the foundation of a regional institution—the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN).

K. Koga (B) School of Social Sciences, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore, Singapore e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. Akita et al. (eds.), Changing Dynamics and Mechanisms of Maritime Asia in Comparative Perspectives, Palgrave Studies in Comparative Global History, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-2554-1_10

235

236

K. KOGA

Since its inception in 1967, ASEAN has been the dominant multilateral institution in the region. In the post-Cold War period, ASEAN expanded its membership, comprising of 10 Southeast Asian states, while proliferating its own regional institutions, including the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF), ASEAN + 3, the East Asia Summit (EAS), the ASEAN Defence Ministers Meeting (ADMM), and ADMM-Plus. Many scholars therefore consider ASEAN the most important multilateral institution in maritime Asia, designing and promoting regional rules and norms. A certain question arises: why has ASEAN become the solid institutional foundation and the core multilateral framework in maritime Asia? To answer this question, one needs to look at how ASEAN competed with other regional frameworks, and in fact, despite the paucity of such a regional framework in East Asia, there was an alternative institution to ASEAN: the Asia Pacific Council (ASPAC). ASPAC, the lesser known regional institutions, was established in 1966, and consisted of Australia, Japan, Malaysia, New Zealand, the Philippines, the Republic of Vietnam (ROV), Thailand, the Republic of Korea (ROK), and the Republic of China (ROC). Although the image of the institution was strongly associated with anti-communist due to its membership structure and the strong anti-communist stance of ROK which proposed its establishment, several members including Australia and Japan avoided being stigmatized as such and promoted political dialogues as well as socio-economic functional cooperation only, rather than military cooperation. In other words, the institution was functionally quite similar to ASEAN and became a cooperative security mechanism where the member states gather and discuss potential cooperation. That said, ASPAC collapsed while ASEAN survived. According to conventional wisdom, Asia’s strategic environment changed due to the People’s Republic of China’s accession to the United Nations in 1971 and the 1972 Sino-US rapprochement, and this strategic change made it difficult for ASPAC member states to sustain the institution because the members included ROC, which was replaced by the People’s Republic of China (PRC) in the United Nations. ASPAC was unable to serve member states’ strategic benefits as long as ROC remained as a member. Malaysia decided to withdraw its membership in 1973, and the institution slowly withered away (Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Japan 1974, 1975, 1976, 1977).1 On the other hand, ASEAN was more neutral and able to accommodate such a strategic shift in East Asia. However, this explanation is insufficient for two reasons. First, it was not clear why

ASPAC OR ASEAN? …

237

ASPAC needed to be collapsed given that the institution had neither military components nor a security policy coordination mechanism. As such, the institution did not pose a security threat to the communist states in the region. Second, it is still unclear whether ASPAC and ASEAN had to be mutually exclusive. It is conceivable that Malaysia would have considered this possibility, but Malaysia’s decision to withdraw from ASPAC has not been analyzed from this counter-factual perspective (Koga and Nordin 2020). This paper analyzes why ASEAN survived while ASPAC collapsed by comparing their institutional evolution during the 1960s and 1970s. Its central argument is that a structural factor—a change in the regional distribution of power caused by the withdrawal of the United States and the United Kingdom and the intensification of Sino-Soviet rivalry— created a condition under which both ASEAN and ASPAC required institutional changes for their survival. However, it is ultimately an agent factor, namely Malaysia that played a decisive role in both ASEAN’s institutional survival and ASPAC’s collapse by promoting the idea of “regional neutrality” in ASEAN and withdrawing from ASPAC. This illustrates the importance of ideas to sustain regional institutions. This paper is divided into four parts. In the first two parts, it explores the establishment and development of ASEAN from 1967 to 1970 and of ASPAC from 1966 and 1970. In the third part, the paper discusses two conditions that determine institutional survival or collapse, which are a shift in the strategic environment and pivotal member states’ decision on whether the institution should maintain the status quo, change its organizational objectives, or be left behind. Applying these two conditions to ASEAN and ASPAC, this section illuminates their institutional differences.

2 ASEAN’s Establishment and Development: 1967–1970 The origin of ASEAN dates back to the 1960s when the political momentum of Southeast Asian regionalism began to emerge (Acharya 2012: 155). However, the regional strategic landscape was largely shaped by great power politics, particularly by the United States and the United Kingdom. SEATO created a close military link between the United States and the Philippines and between the United States and Thailand. The

238

K. KOGA

United Kingdom was part of the 1957 Anglo-Malayan Defense Agreement, which created a defense link with Malaysia and Singapore. Vietnam was divided into two separate states by the 1954 Geneva Agreement, which were deeply embedded in the Cold War Structure. The Democratic Republic of Vietnam (DRV) was backed by the Soviet Union and China, while South Vietnam or later ROV was supported by the United States. Domestic political situations in Cambodia and Laos during 1960s were never stable, and their neutrality status promoted by the 1954 Geneva Agreement was fragile—Laos became increasingly involved in the Vietnam War despite its neutrality endorsed internationally in 1963, and Cambodia was unable to gain internationally recognized neutrality status due to its border problem with South Vietnam. Cambodia began to provide political support to DRV in the mid-1960s as the communists supported Cambodia’s claim to the border. In this sense, Southeast Asia was strategically divided by and deeply embedded in great power politics. In this context, there were also political trends for newly independent states in Southeast Asia to establish a regional institution in order to distance themselves from great power politics. Some states, namely Indonesia, Burma, Cambodia, the Philippines, Thailand, South Vietnam, and DRV participated in the 1955 Asian-African Conference, the socalled Bandung Conference, to attest their political autonomy from the shadow of colonialism. Furthermore, Burma, Cambodia, and Indonesia attended the very first summit of the Non-Alignment Movement (NAM) in 1961, and Burma, Cambodia, Indonesia, and Laos attended the second summit, declaring that NAM members “opposed to taking part in [the Cold War-related] pacts and alliances” and criticizing “the maintenance or future establishment of foreign military bases and the stationing of foreign troops on the territories of other countries” in the Cairo Declaration (Institute of Foreign Affairs, IFA, 2011: 22). Given the existing defense arrangements of other Southeast Asian states, namely DRV, Malaysia, Singapore, South Vietnam, Thailand, and the Philippines, these states were constrained to participate in the initial phases of NAM. Nevertheless, considering their participation in the Bandung Conference, the political sentiment to support NAM existed within these states. It is in this context that Southeast Asian states attempted to establish their own regional institution. While the ideas of regionalism had existed since the end of World War II, such as Ho Chi Minh’s “pan-Asiatic community” and Aun Sun’s new Asian order, it was the Association of

ASPAC OR ASEAN? …

239

Southeast Asia (ASA) and Maphilindo that shaped contemporary Southeast Asian regionalism. ASA was established in 1961 and its members included Malaysia, Thailand, and the Philippines. The initial idea was proposed by Malaysia’s Prime Minister Tunk Abdul Rahman who aimed to create the ASA in order to not only promote economic and social stability but also to nurture a regional identity, a we-feeling of “one region” (Acharya 2012: 106–107). Despite these efforts, Indonesian President Sukarno remained skeptical about the members’ traditional ties with the West and was unwilling to support such an initiative (Ibid.). On the other hand, the idea of a new group, Maphilindo, was proposed by Philippine President Diosdado Macapagal. The first Maphilindo summit was convened in 1963, and invited the heads of state of Malaysia, the Philippines, and Indonesia. The objective was to raise awareness of the Malay race and to find solutions to the existing problems among them, particularly territorial disputes in Sabah and the formation of the Malaysian federation. Nevertheless, Sukarno’s Konfrontasi policy against Malaysia began in 1963, which dissolved Maphilindo. The dilemma between the strategic realities of the Western presence in Southeast Asia and the regional aspiration for common identity and greater autonomy continued, but a new political dynamism in Indonesia—the 30 September Movement (G30S)—created a window of opportunity to recalibrate a new regionalism in Southeast Asia. G30S was a military coup attempt against the Sukarno government in 1965, resulting in the weakening of the political power of Sukarno and the rise of Suharto as a new anti-communist leader in Indonesia. This radical shift in Indonesia’s domestic politics also altered the direction of its foreign policy. Suharto quickly changed Indonesia’s foreign policy from Konfrontasi to a more accommodating posture toward the West and regional states, including Malaysia (Leifer 1970: 512). Such a change thus provided an opportunity for regional states to once again establish Southeast Asia’s own regional institution. This political momentum resulted in the establishment of ASEAN on August 8, 1967, which on the paper focused on socio-economic functional cooperation among the five-member states in Southeast Asia, namely Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand, and the Philippines. Envisioning the creation of a Southeast Asian community in the future, and pursuing regional autonomy and security stability, ASEAN incorporated the basic principles of the UN Charter and NAM, such as the principle of non-interference, the preservation of national identities, and

240

K. KOGA

the notion of no permanent foreign bases (ASEAN Secretariat 1967). The decision-making was based on consensus, and the core institution in ASEAN was the annual foreign ministers meeting, the so-called ASEAN Ministerial Meeting (AMM) (Koga 2017). Given the membership structure, other Southeast Asian states such as Myanmar and Cambodia considered an anti-communist bloc, making it difficult for them to be included as members of ASEAN (Acharya 2012: 156). Nevertheless, with the exception of 1970, the AMM continued to be held annually (see Table 1). Table 1

AMM from 1967 to 1976

1st Meeting 2nd Meeting 3rd Meeting 4th Meeting 5th Meeting 6th Meeting 7th Meeting 8th Meeting 9th Meeting

Venue

Date

Observer

Bangkok, Thailand Jakarta, Indonesia Cameron Highlands, Malaysia Manila, the Philippines Singapore Pattaya, Thailand Jakarta, Indonesia Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia Manila, the Philippines

August 5–8, 1967 August 6–7, 1968 December 16–17, 1969 March 12–13, 1971 April 13–14, 1972 April 16–18, 1973 May 7–9, 1974 May 13–15, 1975 June 24–26, 1976

Laos and South Vietnam South Vietnam and Cambodia Cambodia and Laos Papua New Guinea

Table 2 ASPAC Ministerial Meetings from 1966 to 1972

1st Meeting 2nd Meeting 3rd Meeting 4th Meeting 5th Meeting 6th Meeting 7th Meeting

Venue

Date

Observer

Seoul, South Korea Bangkok, Thailand Canberra, Australia Kawana, Japan Wellington, New Zealand Manila, the Philippines Seoul, South Korea

June 14–16, 1966 July 5–7, 1967 July 30–August 1, 1968 June 9–11, 1969 June 17–19, 1970 July 14–16, 1971 June 14–16, 1972

Laos Laos Laos Laos, Indonesia Laos Laos, Indonesia, Cambodia Laos, Indonesia, Cambodia

ASPAC OR ASEAN? …

241

From 1967 to 1970, ASEAN faced several institutional crises, such as Singapore’s execution of two Indonesian suspects of the 1965 MacDonald House bombing, which killed three and injured thirtythree. Among them, the most notable incident was the 1968 heightened tension between the Philippines and Malaysia. This incident derives from Malaysia’s 1968 discovery of Philippines training in Corregidor to invade Sabah; ASEAN, with the initiative taken by Indonesia and Thailand, provided informal and formal channels of communication to mitigate the bilateral tensions between the Philippines and Malaysia (Acharya 2012: 164–165; Emmers 2003: 16). Consequently, the third AMM was able to manage intra-member tensions by avoiding a discussion on the territorial disputes over Sabah. Throughout the period of 1967–1970, ASEAN was still in its formative years and unable to concretely institutionalize its organizational and functional structure. In fact, there were discussions on political and military cooperation among the member states, subtly proposed by some leaders such as Suharto. These discussions were quickly dismissed because of their ineffectiveness and the possibility of sending the wrong signal to the international community that ASEAN would aim to formulate a military bloc (Ba 2009: 70; Koga 2014: 737). In other words, ASEAN remained politically and institutionally fragile, and it would not have been surprising if ASEAN had collapsed due to intra-member disputes.

3 ASPAC’s Establishment and Development: 1966–1970 The establishment of ASPAC preceded the establishment of ASEAN. However, its establishment occurred in the same strategic tide in the 1960s when Asia witnessed the rapidly growing political traction for regionalism. Under this regional trend, ASPAC was formed in June 1966 by South Korea’s initiative, encompassing a geographically broad range of members from Northeast Asia to Southeast Asia to Oceania.2 Considering that there were little strategic linkages among these subregions, ASPAC had the potential to develop into the very first inter-sub regional institution in the Asia Pacific region. However, to that end, ASPAC needed to coordinate member states’ political ambitions and interests. South Korea’s political objectives were indeed quite ambitious. Preparing for ASPAC’s establishment in 1964, South Korea set five goals: (1) the enhancement of the anti-communist system; (2) the strengthening

242

K. KOGA

of political ties among free countries in Southeast Asia and improvement of their international status; (3) establishment of a dialogue regarding international affairs and common policy; (4) the foundation of the Southeast Asian Summit; and (5) an increase in South Korea’s national prestige as a host of ASPAC (Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade, South Korea 1964a: 15). While South Korea did not push hard for its political desire to create a security system on the basis of ASPAC, such as a collective security mechanism or collective self-defense mechanism, the inclusion of the anticommunist agenda tainted the image of ASPAC as an anti-communist coalition even before it was established. ASPAC’s political image created complicated intra-member relations. Taiwan and South Korea were congruent with their anti-communist political postures. Taiwan was, however, more aggressive and constantly aimed at formulating an anti-communist coalition consisting of five strong anti-communist states, namely Taiwan, South Korea, South Vietnam, Thailand, and the Philippines. On the other hand, South Korea considered the inclusion of Japan, Australia, and New Zealand partly due to its desire to improve bilateral relations with them and their relatively higher material power status (Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade, South Korea 1964b: 18). Other states were more cautious about their participation in ASPAC. The Philippines was wary about ASPAC’s anti-communist image and hesitated to participate (Ibid., 19). Australia was concerned about the potential exclusion of Japan and Indonesia because such exclusion might create further political division in Northeast and Southeast Asia (Lee 2009: 18). Malaysia did not intend to participate in the council given its political inclination to uphold the principles of NAM (Ibid.). Japan was also hesitant to participate because the potential member states, especially South Korea, Taiwan, and South Vietnam, held strong postures of anti-communism (Ibid., 21). In this sense, some of the potential member states, particularly Japan and Malaysia, were highly wary about assuming ASPAC’s membership due to its strong “anti-communist” images deriving from South Korea’s political ambition and the membership of Taiwan and South Vietnam. These states feared that such an institution would likely send the wrong political signal to the international community, possibly becoming unnecessarily entrapped in ideological conflicts caused by the strong anticommunist states. With such a political image, it became more difficult

ASPAC OR ASEAN? …

243

for South Korea to attract Japan and Malaysia to ASPAC, and thus South Korea compromised on its anti-communist posture in ASPAC. South Korea held a pre-conference in March 1965 in order to invite those who were hesitant to participate. As expected, participant states could not reach a consensus on the agenda regarding proposed dialogues about political and security issues (Ibid., 29; Jon 2012: 137– 138). Furthermore, another regional institution, namely the Ministerial Conference for Economic Development in Southeast Asia, was established in April 1965 with the support of the United States; thus, South Korea decided in August 1965 to postpone the establishment of ASPAC (Cablegram 1965). The establishment process of ASPAC was apparently stymied, but Japan’s decision to participate in ASPAC in December 1965 reinvigorated the process. This became possible partly because the Japanese Diet ratified Japan’s normalization treaty with South Korea, which cleared one of its political concerns regarding ASPAC as Japan was unwilling to formally enter any political agreement or institution initiated by any states that did not have diplomatic relations with Japan. Moreover, South Korea’s diplomatic efforts also facilitated Japan’s decision to enter. In fact, it was clear that Japan was opposed to the idea of including security agendas, such as information sharing regarding guerrilla activities, including communist insurgencies, because that would look ASPAC an anti-communist group (Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Japan 1966). South Korea then attempted to mitigate the image of an anti-communist group by dropping an idea of military coalition such as the creation of the Northeast Asian Treaty Organization (NEATO), which alleviated Japan’s concerns (Lee 2009: 37). This does not mean that South Korea had altered its political ambition toward ASPAC. It is still thought that ASPAC should nurture a common stance that countered the threats from communist invasion in Southeast Asia and the Asia Pacific (Lee 2009: 42). To this end, it initially situated ASPAC as a regional consultative body which sought neither to dilute the US leadership in the region nor to deny potential cooperation with the United States (Ibid.). The intra-member debates at the second preconference, which was held in Bangkok, Thailand on April 18–19, 1966 was a case in point. There were tense discussions between those who were eager to make ASPAC a non-political military organization, such as Japan and Malaysia, and those who did not deny such a possibility, such as South Korea, South Vietnam, and Taiwan. Eventually, both sides came to agree

244

K. KOGA

on the use of intra-member “general cooperation” instead of the term “political security cooperation” (Ibid., 45). Thus, the process of the establishment of ASPAC is significant in defining the nature of the institution. The political stance among the member states differed to a significant degree, and so did the member states’ policies and attitudes toward ASPAC. In the initial phase, there were those who wanted to institutionalize ASPAC as Asia’s anticommunist group, such as South Korea, ROV, and ROC, and those who aimed at enhancing the socio-economic cooperative aspect of ASPAC in the region on either a regular or ad-hoc basis, such as Japan, Malaysia, and New Zealand. Australia was situated in between; while it did not see ASPAC as an anti-communist organization, it was eager to discuss political security issues. These divergences had long persisted among the member states; thus, although ASPAC created seven socio-economic centers or projects, including the Economic Coordination Center and the Social-Cultural Center, it never invented any political-security projects. However, there was the lingering possibility that ASPAC would become a collective self-defense mechanism. ASPAC member states with the exception of Malaysia were US allies, and there were strong anticommunist states, such as ROV and ROC. Considering its disengagement from Southeast Asia, particularly Vietnam, in the late 1960s, the United States inclined to endorse ASPAC’s potential to become a multilateral military pact, equivalent to the idea of the Asian and Pacific Treaty Organization (APTO) (Nixon 1967: 116; Memorandum of Conversation 1967). In response, most member states, including Australia, Thailand, and Japan, explicitly denied such a possibility (Lee 2009: 164). Still, Taiwan showed its willingness to adopt the idea, and South Korea also did not deny the idea as a long-term objective (Ibid.). . During these seven years, when ASPAC held seven ministerial meetings from 1966 to 1972 (Table 1), the political stance of the member states vis-à-vis ASPAC shifted largely due to tactical reasons. For example, in the second meeting, Taiwan was the only state that advocated for the creation of an anti-communist group, while the Philippines and South Vietnam were inclined to institutionalize it as a socio-economic organization. New Zealand, however, joined Australia to suggest holding a political dialogue (Ibid., 105). In the third meeting, these political stances changed again. South Vietnam and South Korea joined Taiwan to make an effort to turn ASPAC into an anti-communist group, while

ASPAC OR ASEAN? …

245

Japan agreed with Australia and New Zealand to hold political discussions (Ibid., 142). In the fourth meeting, Thailand also aligned with Australia, Japan, and New Zealand to create a political forum, but by 1972, South Korea changed its position and removed itself from a coalition with Taiwan and South Vietnam and attempted to turn it into a socio-economic forum (Ibid., 176 and 191). These changes illustrate ASPAC’s difficulty in reaching consensus on its political raison d’être. Meanwhile, ASPAC’s functional socio-cultural cooperation developed steadily. In 1966, several proposals were submitted to establish suborganizations, such as the Food and Fertilizer Technology Center, the Social and Cultural Center, and the Registry of Scientific and Technical Services. Although all of these proposals were not realized at once, the member states consensually agreed to strengthen socio-cultural cooperation over time (Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Japan 1973). For example, the standing committee decided in 1967 to establish the Social and Cultural Center in Seoul, which was proposed by South Korea and Thailand, and the Registry of Scientific and Technical Services in Canberra, Australia, which was proposed by the Philippines. In 1969, the ideas of the Economic Cooperation Center in Bangkok and the Food and Fertilizer Technology Center in Taipei were discussed, and their establishment was decided in 1970. Japan proposed the creation of the Asian and Pacific Maritime Cooperation Scheme in Tokyo, and it functioned as one of ASPAC’s sub-organizations by 1972. As such, ASPAC’s cooperative schemes in the economic, social, and cultural fields grew steadily. As such, ASPAC had a dual face by 1970. On the one hand, ASPAC maintained its political ambiguity on the possibility of becoming an institutionalized anti-communist group or a collective self-defense mechanism in the long-term. While denying such an institutional change in the short-term, several member states such as Taiwan and South Vietnam still considered the possibility, resulting in intra-member division on the future direction of ASPAC. On the other hand, the functional cooperation among the member states had been gradually enhanced despite ASPAC’s financial and organizational comparative disadvantage vis-à-vis international institutions such as the United Nations Economic Commission for Asia and the Far-East (ECAFE) and the Minister Conference for the Economic Development of Southeast Asia. ASPAC thus became the institution that facilitated cooperation among the member states. ASPAC had difficulty in demonstrating its comparative advantage in such fields. In fact, if ASPAC solely focused on functional cooperation, it

246

K. KOGA

could not compete with other organizations, such as the ECAFE; therefore, the institution needed to have an additional institutional niche in the region, which was political and security discussions among the member states.

4 Conditions for Institutional Survival and Collapse: ASEAN and ASPAC in 1970–1973 Both ASEAN and ASPAC were weak regional institutions. They equally faced a danger of institutional collapse given the persistent differences in the interests of the member states. However, by 1973, the fate of these institutions had been determined: ASEAN survived and ASPAC collapsed. Here, two basic conditions for institutional survival can be identified (Koga 2017: 8–27). The first condition depends on the sustainability of institutional raison d’être after a power shift, a change in the regional balance of power. Such a shift generally questions the existing raison d’être of the institution because its utility might be negated by the environmental change. Unless the member states consider that the institution is cost-effective and worth sustaining, the institution is likely to collapse by losing the members’ political and financial support (Ibid.). The second condition is the degree of restraints on pivotal member states that can trigger institutional collapse. Among the members, there are some who can influence other member states’ decisions on the direction of the institution. While both ASEAN and ASPAC fulfilled the first condition in the face of Sino-US rapprochement in the early 1970s, the second condition was not fulfilled by ASPAC, which eventually led to its collapse. (1) First Condition: Sustaining institutional raison d’être East Asia faced a significant shift in the regional distribution of power from 1971 to 1973, most notably the Sino-US rapprochement. Since such rapprochement was conducted without any consultation, ASPAC member states, especially those who were US allies and considered using the institution as an anti-communist coalition, were shocked by receiving such information on July 15, 1971. Nevertheless, such political rapprochement was predicted a few years before. As Nixon’s article in Foreign Affairs in 1967 and his “silent majority” speech in 1969 indicated, the United States attempted to reduce

ASPAC OR ASEAN? …

247

its military commitment while encouraging regional states to take more responsibility in the region (Nixon 1967, 1969). For its part, China faced a strategic difficulty in its relations with the Soviet Union. Throughout the 1960s, relations between the Soviet Union and China incrementally deteriorated due to their competition to gain political influence over North Vietnam. Such political competition culminated in 1969, when China and the Soviet Union confronted one another over two disputed borders in Zhenbao Island and Xinjian, and both faced a danger of military conflict, including a Soviet attack on China’s nuclear facilities. Consequently, the United States and China had a strategic interest to conduct rapprochement to mitigate tensions with one another. Since 1970, the United States and China had attempted to expand their lines of communication through means such as resuming the Warsaw Talks and undertaking Ping-Pong diplomacy, and in February 1972, concluded the Joint Communiqué of the United States of America and the People’s Republic of China, known as the Shanghai Communiqué. The communiqué aimed to avoid seeking “hegemony” in the Asia–Pacific region, reject “hegemony” from a third party, and recognize the necessity of stability through a stable regional strategic balance. This altered the distribution of power in East Asia from the ideological bipolar setting between the “free world” and communism to the strategic trilateral relations among the United States, the Soviet Union, and China. Meanwhile, China’s global standing was rapidly rising. The most symbolic event occurred on October 25, 1971, when a vote at the United Nations General Assembly expelled Taiwan—the Republic of China— from its UN seats and replaced it with the People’s Republic of China. ASPAC member states’ stances were split: Malaysia supported, Thailand abstained, and Australia, Japan, New Zealand, and the Philippines opposed it (United Nations Bibliographic Information System, 1971).3 Nevertheless, after the Sino-US rapprochement, ASPAC member states gradually shifted to adapt their stances to become more accommodating to China. Japan began to establish diplomatic relations with China on September 29, 1972, when Japan and China concluded the “Joint Communiqué of the Government of Japan and the Government of the People’s Republic of China,” which abrogated the Sino-Japanese Treaty with Taiwan (Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Japan 1971, 1972a). Other member states soon followed suit. Australia established diplomatic relations on December 21, 1972, and so did New Zealand the next day. Although it took three years for Malaysia to restore its relations with

248

K. KOGA

China in 1974, Malaysia was the first among the ASEAN member states, and both the Philippines and Thailand entered diplomatic relations with China in 1975. As such, a defection cascade of ASPAC member states was observed from 1972. Indeed, Southeast Asian states made a strategic effort to adapt to the new security situation in East Asia in 1971. One of the most notable maneuvers was made by ASEAN, producing the Declaration of the Zone of Peace, Freedom, and Neutrality (ZOPFAN) (ASEAN Secretariat 1971). Originally, Malaysia attempted to push its political proposal, regional neutralization in the context of its weakening security ties with the United Kingdom. In order to mitigate the power vacuum created by the disengagement of the United States and the United Kingdom from the region, Malaysia attempted to create regional neutrality guaranteed by three great powers, the United States, the Soviet Union, and China. The reactions of the ASEAN member states were not positive because its implementation of great power guarantees was unrealistic; however, it was not negative either because of ZOPFAN’s political aspiration which resonated with one of its institutional norms, the principle of non-interference (Koga 2017: 47). As such, ASEAN modified the neutralization proposal significantly and turned it into ZOPFAN, which aspired to eventual regional neutrality in the future but only focused on ASEAN’s activities to disseminate such an aspiration to the international community (Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Kingdom of Thailand 1971). This institutional action was politically significant because ASEAN was previously considered as a socio-cultural regional organization to enhance cooperation among Southeast Asian states. The declaration was clearly based on geopolitical considerations, aiming at avoiding the political and military entrapment of the great power politics, to which Southeast Asia had long been susceptible. Although its effectiveness was highly questionable, ZOPFAN at least bound the member states, which included three ASPAC member states, Malaysia, the Philippines, and Thailand, to take a loose common political stance toward East Asia’s power shift (Koga 2017: 44–50). ASPAC, on the other hand, faced a dilemma in responding to the regional strategic shift. Given ASPAC’s functionality, its activities were mainly focused on the economic and socio-cultural fields. At most, it was able to provide a place for political dialogues among the member states, which did not have any institutional authority for decision-making. Thus, ASPAC would theoretically sustain its institutional utility and had

ASPAC OR ASEAN? …

249

a justification to survive if the member states defined ASPAC as solely a functional institution. Nevertheless, this became a difficult task for the ASPAC member states to implement. Under the new strategic environment in East Asia, the ASPAC member states came to agree that its membership configuration became a great political obstacle, which would produce a negative consequence on member states’ relations with China. Taiwan was formally expelled by the United Nations, which damaged the institutional credibility and political legitimacy of ASPAC. This also created a higher political cost for the member states simply by being a member of ASPAC because they could easily be seen as anti-communist or anti-China states. In this sense, the ASPAC member states had negative expectations of institutional utility. This shared expectation, however, did not result in reaching a similar resolution to the institutional problem. South Korea, South Vietnam, and Taiwan paradoxically began to value the existence of the institution. As South Korea and South Vietnam at the time did not have formal membership to international organizations, primarily the United Nations, and as Taiwan had now lost its international standing due to its loss of UN membership, these three states needed ASPAC to legitimize their statehood by using their affiliation to ASPAC. Their priority became to maintain ASPAC, and South Korea aimed at an eventual institutional change of ASPAC, transforming it into a legal regional institution like the Organization of American States (OAS) or the Organization of African Unity (OAU), which were recognized by the United Nations (Lee 2009: 185). Japan, on the other hand, was uncertain in considering ASPAC’s survival. This was because Japan was the first state to establish diplomatic ties with China and abrogated its formal ties with Taiwan. In this context, Japan faced a diplomatic dilemma; ASPAC could serve as an informal tie with Taiwan, but such a tie could be seen as anti-China behavior. Japan was indecisive and maintained its neutral position, or “wait-andsee” posture, deferring ASPAC’s destiny to evolving regional political trends (Ibid., 197). Over time, however, Japan’s position became ossified and by December 1972, Japan chose to “freeze” ASPAC in order not to provoke China or Taiwan (Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Japan 1972b). At the same time, Japan knew that ASPAC would be highly unlikely to sustain itself as it stood (Telegram 114 1973). Thailand and New Zealand held a similar stance to Japan. While agreeing to host the eighth ASPAC meeting in 1973, Thailand attempted

250

K. KOGA

to foster discussions regarding the future direction of ASPAC through the standing committee, regardless of whether it would change or collapse (Telegram from the Ambassador in Thailand to the Foreign Minister n.d.). New Zealand acknowledged the negativity of ASPAC’s existence, but considered that there was a potential political benefit because ASPAC provided communication linkages between Northeast Asia, Southeast Asia, and Oceania. Nevertheless, New Zealand decided to defer to other Asian states’ decisions, respecting the “Asian” states’ initiative (Telegram 1030 1972). The Philippines also considered the necessity of ASPAC’s change, but it advocated transforming the institution into an Asian political forum, which would expand its membership to all Asian states. The Philippines’ position had long been held since President Marcos’ 1969 State of Nations Address, stating that the forum was to “help solve intra-regional conflicts or, at least, defuse potentially explosive situation[s]” (See Marcos 1969). The Philippines thus took a position to transform ASPAC into a different organization. Malaysia became increasingly hesitant to be affiliated with ASPAC. During the late 1960s, Malaysia was concerned about its evolving geostrategic position in Southeast Asia and beyond, which was caused by the abrogation of the Anglo-Malayan Treaty and US retrenchment. To alleviate such concerns, Malaysia proposed the creation of a regional neutral zone in Southeast Asia. Yet, given that ASPAC was seen as an anticommunist group, Malaysia attempted to show its willingness to withdraw from ASPAC. In fact, Malaysia was wary about ASPAC’s institutional characteristics, given Malaysia’s emphasis on the principles of the NonAligned Movement (NAM). However, since it established diplomatic ties with South Korea as well as North Korea in 1960, Malaysia had attempted to show political support for South Korea’s international initiatives in order to help South Korea’s international standing. In this context, with persuasion by Australia, Japan, and New Zealand, Malaysia assumed its ASPAC membership. Nonetheless, the 1971–1972 strategic changes altered Malaysia’s calculated and lukewarm attitude toward ASPAC, and the country began to seriously consider its withdrawal. The change in the regional distribution of power only strengthened Malaysia’s belief that the current membership configuration could no longer accommodate Malaysia’s policy toward East Asia. Malaysia excused the third standing committee for the eighth ASPAC meeting and declared that it did not participate in any institution where several anti-communist

ASPAC OR ASEAN? …

251

states, including South Vietnam and Taiwan, were members, and other communist states were excluded (Lee 2009: 182). Australia echoed Malaysia’s posture. After Gough Whitlam from the labor party assumed prime ministership in December 1972, Australia did not hesitate to show its willingness to withdraw from ASPAC. Whitlam asserted that Australia would normalize relations with China and withdraw from regional security institutions, such as the Southeast Asian Treaty Organizations (SEATO) and ASPAC, and he asserted that ASPAC, and particularly Taiwan’s membership, did not reflect the political reality in the region at the time, and that a new regional organization should be established (Whitlam 1973: 33–34). Thus, Australia saw ASPAC as an anachronistic institution, and it maintained a negative expectation for its utility. In this context, the member states had three choices for the future of ASPAC. The first choice was to let ASPAC collapse, which seemed to be endorsed by Australia and Malaysia. The second was to let other member states decide the fate of ASPAC. This stance was assumed by Japan, New Zealand, and Thailand. The third was to transform ASPAC into a different institution or to establish a new institution. This idea was supported by South Korea, South Vietnam, Taiwan, and the Philippines. While it was possible to maintain the institutional status quo, the member states argued that this option was not possible. Therefore, ASPAC’s survival depended on a compromise between pro-institutional collapse and pro-institutional change. (2) Second Condition: [Self] Restraining Pivotal Member States In order to survive, ASPAC needed to justify its raison d’être in the new regional strategic environment by undergoing institutional change. Three main proposals were provided by Japan, South Korea, and the Philippines. Japan was less enthusiastic about transforming ASPAC into a political security institution, yet together with the Philippines provided an option that ASPAC would be subsumed into other international organizations. More specifically, Japan considered three possibilities for the future of ASPAC, which were to incorporate it into either ASEAN, the Ministerial Conference for Economic Development in Southeast Asia, or ECAFE (Lee 2009: 198–201). Facing a bleak institutional situation that these

252

K. KOGA

options were opposed by the member states, Japan did not see any possibility of otherwise sustaining ASPAC. The Philippines provided an option to establish the Asia Political Forum, but it never specified a method to incorporate ASPAC into the new forum. South Korea provided four principles of ASPAC for its survival before the seventh meeting was held in Seoul in June 1972: (1) ASPAC’s objective was to promote peace and development in the Asia Pacific region; (2) ASPAC was not an institution to politically or militarily counter a third party; (3) ASPAC’s purpose was to promote cooperation in the economic, social and cultural fields; and (4) ASPAC was not an exclusive institution but was open to all regional states (Ibid., 189). These principles were reflected in ASPAC’s communiqué, endorsing functional cooperation as the institutional objective, and expecting potential membership expansion (Lee 2009: 192). This indicated South Korea’s difficulty in maintaining its original political ambition: the establishment of an anti-communist group. At this point, South Korea was more concerned about its international standing than coalition building against communism, and the priority had become to maintain its leadership in ASPAC. On the other hand, Malaysia took the initiative to withdraw from ASPAC on March 12, 1973 (Koga and Nordin 2020). Malaysia argued that no other member state took any action despite their conviction that the relevance of ASPAC was highly doubtful (Lee 2009: 221). In fact, Japan stated on March 6, 1973 that it was desirable to postpone the ASPAC ministerial meeting, but if it was held, Japan would not send a delegation (Ibid., 222). New Zealand decided to follow the same logic as Japan, and was not willing to hold a ministerial meeting or send its delegation to such a meeting (Ibid., 220). Given Malaysia’s political position toward ASPAC in the past, it was not puzzling to understand its determination for withdrawal in the new regional environment. Australia also decided to excuse itself from the standing committee, and these actions accelerated ASPAC’s institutional collapse. Malaysia’s decision was decisive for other member states to judge the fate of ASPAC as its membership provided a political image to hedge against the risk of being seen as anti-communist. Still, South Korea attempted to reverse this situation. It decided to tackle the most contentious issue: expelling Taiwan from ASPAC. With the Sino-US rapprochement and China’s UN status, South Korea concluded that if ASPAC included Taiwan, it would stagnate ASPAC’s institutional and functional projects, but it also knew that Taiwan would

ASPAC OR ASEAN? …

253

never voluntarily withdraw its membership (Ibid., 203). Other member states, such as Thailand and Japan, also refused to expel Taiwan from ASPAC. South Korea thus decided to conduct negotiations with Taiwan for its voluntary withdrawal in April 1973 as ASPAC’s collapse became imminent. The negotiation apparently failed because Taiwan became skeptical about South Korea’s appeal based on pure self-interest due to the fact that during this period, South Korea proposed a dialogue with China regarding the disputed development of offshore resources in the Yellow Sea and East China Sea (Ibid., 228). This worried Taiwan who thought that its membership withdrawal would only lead to China becoming a new member of ASPAC. Consequently, Taiwan chose to let ASPAC collapse. This failure of the negotiation with Taiwan made South Korea face a stalemate in providing options for ASPAC’s survival. South Korea could not gain member states’ supports for its proposal of Taiwan’s voluntary withdrawal. Meanwhile, Malaysia, Japan, and Australia were prepared for their withdrawal, and it was Malaysia’s decision that eventually created the defection cascade and led to the institutional collapse of ASPAC. The second standing committee was held on June 6, 1973, which became the last meeting of ASPAC, without any conclusion, although the future of ASPAC’s functional mechanisms needed to be discussed among the member states (Lee 2009: 231).

5

Conclusion

What resulted in ASEAN’s survival and ASPAC’s collapse? This historical analysis illuminates two important conditions: a shift in the strategic environment and the role of pivotal member states. A shift in the regional distribution of power caused by the disengagement of the United States and the United Kingdom in the late 1960s and the 1972 US-China rapprochement posed the question of the institutional raison d’être of ASEAN and ASPAC. ASEAN successfully reinvented its utility by creating the concept of ZOPFAN, while ASPAC maintained the same institutional format that focused on functional cooperation. However, ASEAN was able to create a certain consensus among the member states by sharing their understanding of ZOPFAN; ASPAC was unsuccessful in this regard. Malaysia, a pivotal state in determining ASPAC’s institutional fate, decided to withdraw its membership in 1973. One of the most interesting implication of this study is the importance of the organizational image in international politics. Whether or

254

K. KOGA

not such an image is self-created, the image influences states’ foreign policy. Malaysia attempted to avoid the possibility of being seen as an anticommunist country since it advanced regional neutralization in Southeast Asia. Despite that its main activities were functional, ASPAC was not able to be considered a neutral organization by Malaysia due to its membership. ASEAN, on the other hand, was accepted because the water-downed version of regional neutralization, ZOPFAN, was declared after reaching a consensus among the member states. In this sense, three factors—a shift in the regional balance of power, a pivotal member state’s decision, and inter-subjective or subjective organizational images—are the keys to determining the survival and collapse of ASEAN and ASPAC. That said, two general, yet important questions are left out in this paper and need to be answered. One is whether an independent variable for institutional survival and collapse can be found in the degree of intraregional connectedness, particularly economic connection, and geographical proximity. ASEAN was geographically less sparse than ASPAC, while ASEAN was politically connected given the member states’ preference for non-alignment in a relative sense and their pursuant for political autonomy. This hypothesis is plausible; however, it is still difficult to argue that they need to be included as an independent variable for two reasons. First, there are examples of institutional collapse even though they are geographically close, such as ASA. Second, the level of economic interdependence among ASEAN members at its inception was not high at all. While political connectedness can be a variable that might increase institutional survivability, the variable should be, at most, conditional. This is because the similar political interests alone cannot bind states together as we can see in the case of ASA and Maphilindo. Therefore, not only the nature of intra-member relationship, but also the configuration of regional distribution of power as a structural element need to be taken into account in order to understand institutional survival and collapse. The other question is whether Indonesia, a pivotal state in Southeast Asia that created a political momentum for Southeast Asian regionalism and led the establishment of ASEAN in 1967, was the agent that determined the fate of ASPAC and ASEAN. Indeed, Indonesia was the important state in Southeast Asia in formulating regionalism due to its political influence as well as geographical and population size, and other non-Southeast Asian states in ASPAC sought for Indonesia’s participation in order to increase its institutional credibility (Ministry of Foreign Affairs,

ASPAC OR ASEAN? …

255

Japan 1969).4 However, the Indonesia factor is not likely to be the determinant factor, because the fact that ASPAC was sustained from 1966 to 1973 was unable to be explained by Indonesia’s non-participation only. Indonesia’s participation may have prolonged the life of ASPAC, but it did not cause the collapse of ASPAC. In this sense, both structural conditions and agent choices are important to be considered in understanding institutional survival and collapse. Given these findings, ASEAN’s dominance over institutional setting in contemporary maritime Asia derives from its relatively high institutional survivability over other regional institutions, including ASPAC. Yet, ASEAN’s survivability was determined by both the attribute of the institution and a strategic setting in the region of the day. The importance of structural and agent factor therefore suggests that material and ideational attributions of a particular institution need to be properly contextualized in order to understand its institutional survivability. Generally, this perspective is largely neglected as the logic of institutional survivability has been taken for granted from rationalist perspectives, which was rather assumed and not sufficiently supported by in-depth empirical evidence. This study thus contributes to shedding light on new logics with the historical evidence and illustrates the complexity of institutional survivability and collapse through the case of ASPAC and ASEAN.

Notes 1. ASPAC Ministerial Meeting was postponed from 1974. Four functional projects under ASPAC, namely the Economic Coordination Center (ECOCEN), the Social-Cultural Center, the Food and Fertilizer Technology Center (FFTC), and Registry of Scientific and Technical Services (Registry), were decided to continue. ECOCEN and Registry dissolved in 1975. While the fate of the Social-Cultural Center established by South Korea’s initiative is not clear, the FFTC still exists (as of 2018, see http:// www.fftc.agnet.org/index.php) as the project was initiated by Taiwan. Its current member states include Japan, South Korea, the Philippines, Taiwan, and Vietnam (see Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Japan, 1974, 1975, 1976, 1977). 2. ASPAC comprised of eight member states: Australia, Japan, Malaysia, New Zealand, the Philippines, South Korea, Taiwan, and Thailand. 3. South Korea and South Vietnam did not have a voting right at this point as they had not had a UN seat.

256

K. KOGA

4. For example, Japan invited the Indonesian ambassador in Japan to participate in the 4th ministerial meetings of ASPAC as an observer. Indonesia accepted the invitation and participated in the meeting for the first time, and Prime Minister Eisaku Satoh described this participation as an indicator to strengthen relations in the region. Since then, Indonesia had participated in the 6th and 7th ministerial meetings as an observer.

References Acharya, Amitav. 2012. The Making of Southeast Asia: International Relations of a Region. Singapore: ISEAS Publishing. ASEAN Secretariat. 1967. The Asean Declaration (Bangkok Declaration) Bangkok, 8 August 1967. http://asean.org/the-asean-declaration-bangkokdeclaration-bangkok-8-august-1967/. Accessed 20 October 2020. ———. 1971. Zone of Peace, Freedom and Neutrality Declaration, Malaysia. November 27. Ba, Alice. 2009. [Re]Negotiating East and Southeast Asia: Region, Regionalism, and the Association of Southeast Asian Nations. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Emmers, Ralf. 2003. Cooperative Security and the Balance of Power in ASEAN and the ARF . London and New York: Routledge Curzon. Institute of Foreign Affairs, IFA. 2011. Summit Declarations of Non-Aligned Movement (1961–2009). Kathmandu: IFA. Jon, Kyon-a. 2012. 1960 nendai no ajia ni okeru chiiki shugi to kankoku: ajiataiheiyo kyogikai (ASPAC) wo chushin ni [Regionalism in Asia and South Korea during the 1960s: The case of Asia-Pacific Council (ASPAC)]. Oita daigaku kyoiku fukushi gakubu kenkyu kiyo 27(2): 127–142. http://www.ed. oita-u.ac.jp/kykenkyu/bulletin/kiyou/jyonn34-2.pdf. Accessed 20 October 2020. Koga, Kei. 2014. Institutional Transformation of ASEAN: ZOPFAN, TAC, and the Bali Concord I in 1968–1976. The Pacific Review 27 (5): 729–753. Koga, Kei. 2017. Reinventing Regional Security Institutions in Africa and Asia: Power shifts, ideas, and institutional change. Oxon and New York: Routledge. Koga, Kei, and Z.H. Nordin. 2020. Institutional Collapse and Shifting Balance of Ontological Security: Role of Malaysia’s Dual Identity in the Decay of ASPAC in the 1960s and 1970s. The Pacific Review 33 (5): 842–871. Lee, Sang Hyeon. 2009. ASPAC (Ajia taiheiyo kyogikai) wo meguru kokusai kankei 1964–1973: Ajia hankyo rengo to ajia ban renpo shokoku kaigi no hazama de (International Relations Revolving around ASPAC: Between Asian Anti-Communist Coalition and Asian Commonwealth of Nations). Ph.D. Dissertation, Tsukuba University.

ASPAC OR ASEAN? …

257

Leifer, Michael. 1970. Indonesia’s Future Role. World Today 26 (12): 512–519. Marcos, Ferdinand E. 1969. Fourth State of the Nation Address. January 27. https://www.officialgazette.gov.ph/1969/01/27/ferdinand-emarcos-fourth-state-of-the-nation-address-january-27-1969/. Accessed 20 October 2020. Memorandum of Conversation. 1967. Takeo Miki and Dean Rusk, Security and Regional Development. September 14. Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Japan. 1966. Tonanajia gaisho kaigi ni kansuru waga kuni no taido (shian) (Japan’s posture towards the Southeast Asian Ministerial Meeting [draft]). Northeast Asian Bureau, January 17. ———. 1969. ASPAC ni okeru Sato Eisaku naikaku sori daijin aisatsu (Prime Minister Eisaku Sato’s opening speech at ASPAC). June 9. http://wor ldjpn.grips.ac.jp/documents/texts/exdpm/19690609.S1J.html. Accessed 20 October 2020. ———. 1971. Joint Communique of the Government of Japan and the Government of the People’s Republic of China. September 29. http://www.mofa. go.jp/region/asia-paci/china/joint72.html. Accessed 20 October 2020. ———. 1972a. Ohira gaimu daijin kisha kaiken sho roku (Detailed record of press conference by Foreign Minister Ohira). September 29. http://www. mofa.go.jp/mofaj/gaiko/bluebook/1973/s48-shiryou-4-3.htm. Accessed 20 October 2020. ———. 1972b. Ajia kokancho kaigi gijiroku” (Meeting records of Asia ambassadors and consulate generals). 03–482, November 21. ———. 1973. “Waga kuni to kakkoku tono shomondai: dai 2 bu” (Issues between our country and other countries. The second section). https://www. mofa.go.jp/mofaj/gaiko/bluebook/1973/s48-2-1-1-1.htm#m212. Accessed 20 October 2020. ———. 1974. Diplomatic Bluebook. https://www.mofa.go.jp/mofaj/gaiko/blu ebook/1974_1/s49-2-5-1-1.htm#a3. Accessed 20 October 2020. ———. 1975. Diplomatic Bluebook. https://www.mofa.go.jp/mofaj/gaiko/blu ebook/1975_1/s50-2-1-1.htm#a2. Accessed 20 October 2020. ———. 1976. Diplomatic Bluebook. https://www.mofa.go.jp/mofaj/gaiko/blu ebook/1976_1/s51-2-1-1.htm#G5. Accessed 20 October 2020. ———. 1977. Diplomatic Bluebook. https://www.mofa.go.jp/mofaj/gaiko/blu ebook/1977_1/s52-2-1-1.htm#f8. Accessed 20 October 2020. Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade, South Korea. 1964a. Ministerial Meeting: Southeast Asia Free Countries, Southeast Asia Bureau, Department of Asia, August 24. In Planning the Establishment of ASPAC: 1963–1965. South Korean Diplomatic Documents C-0010–22. ———. 1964b. Negotiation Process with the Republic of China regarding Southeast Asian Free Country Ministerial Meeting, October 5. South Korean Diplomatic Documents C-0010–22.

258

K. KOGA

Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Kingdom of Thailand. 1971. Zone of Peace, Freedom and Neutrality Declaration: Adopted by the Foreign Ministers at the Special ASEAN Foreign Ministers Meeting in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia on 27 November 1971. http://www.mfa.go.th/asean/contents/files/other-201 30527-163245-351392.pdf. Accessed 9 January 2019. Nixon, Richard. 1967. Asia after Viet Nam. Foreign Affairs 46 (1): 111–125. ———. 1969. Address to the Nation on the War in Vietnam. November 3. https://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/documents/address-the-nation-the-warvietnam. Accessed 20 October 2020. Telegram 114, Canberra to Wellington. 1973, 16 January. ABHS, 950, W4627, PM434/11/1 Part 14, Box4676, NZNA. Telegram from the Ambassador in Thailand to the Foreign Minister, “The member states’ attitude toward the future direction of ASPAC,” South Korean diplomatic document, C-0063–02. Telegram 1030, Bangkok to Wellington. 1972, 22 December. ABHS, 90, W4627, PM434/11/1 Part 14, Box 4676, NZNA. United Nations Bibliographic Information System. 1971. Restoration of the lawful rights of the People’s Republic of China in the United Nations: resolution/adopted by the General Assembly. A/RES/2758 (XXVI), October 25. https://digitallibrary.un.org/record/192054?ln=en. Accessed 20 October 2020. Whitlam, Gough. 1973. Prime Minister’s Address to the Australian Institute of Political Science Summer School in Canberra on 27 January, 1973. International Affairs 44 (1): 33–34.