Indian Defence Review

The State Councillor and Minister of National Defence of China, General Liang Guanglie calling on the Prime Minister, Dr. Manmohan Singh, in New Delhi.

Much of what I will say is drawn from my own experience of China, an abiding fascination with its unique civilization and a deep respect for its philosophical and cultural heritage. My justification for indulging in this rather broad sweep analysis is that managing the China challenge requires a much deeper understanding of the nature of Chinese civilization, its cultural particularities and the worldview of its people, formed layer upon layer, over five thousand years of unbroken though sometimes tumultuous history.

China is undergoing a dramatic transformation and its traditional culture and ways of thinking can no longer be sourced only to persistent templates derived from the past.

One has to only look at how modern, digital culture has pervaded Chinese society, in particular, its youth, to be cautious in making judgments about the country’s view of itself. Nevertheless, there are certain deeply rooted elements that shape China’s psyche and its world view that are worth careful reflection, including where India fits into that broad consciousness. At various points, I will also try and contrast Chinese and Indian cultural and philosophical traits, so that one is better prepared in adjusting one’s own template in judging Chinese behaviour.

If there is one singular and unique feature of Chinese civilization that distinguishes it from other major civilizations, it is the use of Chinese ideograms and characters, that survive with few changes to this day, since they first appeared on oracle bones, some three thousand five hundred years or more ago, during the ancient Shang dynasty. Chinese language has no alphabet. Each character is a word in itself and a decent vocabulary requires memorizing at least three thousand characters. A scholar may aspire to a vocabulary of five thousand. “Classical Chinese”, in the words of one scholar, Peter Hessler, the author of Oracle Bones, “connected people over space and time. It provided a powerful element of unity to an empire that, from another perspective, was a mish-mash of ethnic groups and languages.” What is to be appreciated in this context is the importance of the written word in Chinese culture and the transformation of Chinese ideograms into an essential element in Chinese aesthetics. Calligraphy is a much-admired accomplishment and characters appear as an integral component in paintings as well as Chinese pottery.

Contrast this with Indian culture, where the spoken word is preeminent. The ancient Vedas were heard as “Srutis” and were then remembered as “Smritis”. The written word came much later. Mantras get energized only when they are recited in the correct rhythm and tone. Beauty is imparted and sought through arrangements of sound; imagery is not of the same order. To an Indian, Chinese music sounds stilted and archaic, while Indian classical music is a breathtaking mastery of seven notes and several microtones in between, forever reinventing itself. It is for this reason that I consider Chinese to be a predominantly visual culture, a legacy of the ancient ideogram, while India’s is a predominantly aural culture, where spoken word, the musical note, the sacred mantra, were to become the defining characteristics of the culture.

This difference in civilizational trajectory has its impact on how our two cultures perceive the world around us and interact with one another. The emphasis on the written word led to an immense treasury of historical documentation in China. The Chinese pilgrims, Fa Xian and Xuan Zhuang left elaborate records of their journeys to India and its great universities of Taxila, Nalanda and Vikramshila. In contrast, while it is estimated that the beginning of the 6th century AD, the number of Indian Buddhist monks and teachers in China were upwards of three thousand, no accounts of China, as they perceived their adopted country, have surfaced so far. Only some legends survive in temples associated with the more famous among them, such as the Shaolin temple linked with the Zen master, Bodhidhama and the Fei Lai Feng temple, or the Peak that Flew Over, located in Hangzhou, associated with the Buddhist monk, known only by his Chinese name, Huili. Huili came from Rajgir and chose the location of his temple at the foot of a peak that resembled Gridhkuta in his native town. Hence the Peak that Flew Over.

The great value attached to the written word, bound as it has been with Chinese aesthetics and the thought process of a complex culture, has combined with an enormous and detailed historical record to provide a contemporary reference point and multi-faceted prism through which the world is perceived. Even to this day much of Chinese discourse is conducted through historical analogies, some of which are explicit and well known. Some are artfully coded and the language lends itself easily to innuendo and ambiguity. The contrast with India will be apparent where history is often a distraction.

In Chinese diplomatic behavior, this cultural particularity poses unusual challenges to any interlocutor or negotiator. The Chinese will insistently demand and sometimes obtain explicit formulations from friend and adversary alike on issues of importance to their interests, but will rarely concede clarity and finality in formulations reflecting the other side’s interests. Thus, there is the recurring demand that India reaffirm, time and again, its recognition of Chinese sovereignty over Tibet. In 2003, during PM Vajpayee’s visit, China conceded Sikkim as a part of India but this was not explicitly recorded in a written formulation. In 2005, during Wen Jiabao’s visit to India, China went a step further and handed over maps of China, showing Sikkim as part of India. Recently, some Chinese scholars have pointed out that the absence of an official statement recognizing Indian sovereignty leaves the door open to subsequent shifts if necessary.

I also recall seeing the record of conversation between RK Nehru and Chinese Premier Zhou en-lai in 1962, some months before the border war erupted in October that year. RK Nehru drew attention to reports that China was leaning towards the Pakistani position that Jammu and Kashmir was disputed territory. He recalled to Zhou an earlier conversation, where when asked whether China accepted Indian sovereignty over J&K, he had said, rhetorically—Has China ever said that it does not accept Indian sovereignty over J&K, or words to that effect. At this latest encounter, Zhou turned the same formulation on its head, to ask, Has China ever said that India has sovereignty over J&K?

Much of the misunderstanding and lack of communication that has characterised India-China relations may be sourced to the failure on India’s part to be conversant with Chinese thought processes. It is easy to accuse the Chinese of betrayal, as Nehru did after the 1962 war, but a clear awareness that deception is, after all, an integral element of Chinese strategic culture, may have spared us much angst in the past. Such awareness should certainly be part of our confronting the China challenge in the future. Deception, let me add, is not unique to Chinese strategic thinking. The Mahabharata has examples of its efficacy and Chanakya is an ardent enthusiast. But in China it is accorded a value much more significant than in other cultures. I think many may be familiar with the Chinese classic, The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, and the oft-quoted “Ruse of the Empty City”, therein, which is a favourite part of Chinese lore. This was resorted to by the famous Shu Kingdom General Zhuge Liang. The General was in danger of being besieged and over-run at the fortress city of Xicheng by the Wei army, while his main forces were located a long distance away. Zhuge Liang ordered all the city gates to be opened and asked his soldiers to don the clothes of ordinary householders, going about their normal activities, while he parked himself on top of one of the city gates, calmly playing the Chinese string instrument, the Qin. The Wei General, Sima Yi, confronted with this strange spectacle, suspected that he would run into an ambush as soon as he entered the city gates and withdrew. And the day was saved for Shu. Zhu Geliang is credited with the observation that to win a war, it was necessary to steal into the mind of one’s enemy, observe his thought processes, and then fashion the appropriate strategy. There is no moral or ethical dimension attached to deception and the Chinese would find it odd being accused of “betrayal”, in particular, if the strategy of deception had worked.