邢唷> 欹 ubjbj 4倇倇/: ,,,8d84,%ll]]] % % % % % % %$Z( +L/%Q]]]]]/%%a#a#a#]B %a#] %a#a#a#粼哂Na#$%0%a#X+X+a#X+a#]]a#]]]]]/%/%!]]]%]]]]X+]]]]]]]]] : China Lecture: How Ideas Can Shape History Peter Watson (W hen people find out that I have written the books that I have, they tend to ask one or both of two questions. What is it about ideas that attracts you? And what is a history of ideas anyway? I hope to answer both these questions briefly in the course of this address. Regular history, orthodox history, is made up of events political, military, population changes, demographic and sometimes climatological changes. It is made up of migrations, exploration adventures, trading patterns. It is made up of wars, coups d抏tats, treaties, trade agreements, elections, the births and deaths of notable personalities, the reigns of emperors, kings and queens. What unites these very disparate sets of events is their dating we know exactly when they took place, even though we may argue about why they took place when they did. But history is not only about these events 憃ut there, as we might say, in the real world, on battlefields, in the shadow of great walls, in great palaces and castles, in ports and rivers and churches. History is also made up of thoughts, mind-sets, opinion, changes of opinion, ideas. All those are much less visible to the historian, much less date-specific, and yet arguably just as important. And this is where the allure of intellectual history lies. In teasing out which ideas have influenced history and why. It lies in the discovery that the dating of influential ideas can differ markedly from the chronology of what we might call the more visible events of the past. It offers the historian and, no less, the general reader an opportunity to break away from familiar chronologies, from established narratives, in what can be creative and fruitful ways. It is an alternative way of examining the past. And this, I would say, is where the enjoyment lies, where the pleasures of discovery are located. Let me add right away that intellectual history the history of ideas is in no way abstract or dry. In fact, let me begin by giving you three very specific 慽nternal changes that have taken place in the minds of men and women. Each is very different and yet they emphasize how history can be affected even by 憇mall ideas in profound ways. ( First, I ask you to consider the difference between primitive religions and the faiths of the great civilisations. Insofar as the world抯 earliest religions can be reduced to core elements, then those elements are: 1. a belief in the Great Goddess, 2. in the Bull, 3. in the main sky gods (the sun and the moon), in sacred stones, in the efficacy of sacrifice, in an afterlife, and in a soul of some sort which survives death and inhabits a blessed spot. These elements describe many religions in some of the less developed parts of the world even today. Among the great civilisations, however, this picture is no longer true and the reason for that state of affairs is without question one of the greatest changes in the history of ideas. For during a unique period, 750-350 bc a mere four centuries the world underwent a great intellectual sea-change. It happened quite independently right across the globe. In that relatively short time, most the world抯 great faiths came into being. It was an extraordinary coincidence. The first man to point this out was the German philosopher Karl Jaspers, as recently as 1949, barely 70 years ago. In his book, The Origin and Goal of History, he called this period the 慉xial Age and he characterised it as a time when, and I quote, 憌e meet with the most deep-cut dividing line in history. Man, as we know him today, came into being The most extraordinary events are concentrated in this period. Confucius and Lao-tse were living in China, all the schools of Chinese philosophy came into being at this time, including those of Mo-ti, Chuang-tse, Leh-tsu and a host of others. India produced the Upanishads and the Buddha and, like China, ran the whole gamut of philosophical possibilities down to scepticism, to materialism, sophism and nihilism. In Iran, Zarathustra taught a challenging view of the world as a struggle between good and evil. In Palestine the Jewish prophets made their first appearance, from Elijah, by way of Isaiah and Jeremiah to Deutero-Isaiah; Greece witnessed the appearance of Homer, of the philosophers Parmenides, Heraclitus and Plato of the tragedians, Thucydides and Archimedes. Everything implied by these names developed during these few centuries almost simultaneously in China, India, and the West, without any one of these regions knowing of the others. That last is the important point. Jaspers saw man as somehow becoming 憁ore human at this time. He says that reflection and philosophy appeared, that there was a 憇piritual breakthrough and that the Chinese, Indians, Iranians, Jews and Greeks between them created modern psychology at that time, in which man抯 relation to God is as an individual seeking an 慽nner goal rather than having a relationship with a number of gods 憃ut there, in the skies, in the landscape around the trees, the stones, the rivers or among our ancestors. Not all the faiths created were, strictly speaking, monotheisms, but they did all centre around one individual, whether that man always a man was a god, or the person through whom god spoke, or else someone who had a particular vision or approach to life which appealed to vast numbers of people. Arguably, says Jaspers, this is the most momentous change in the history of ideas. ( The second set of ideas I want to consider occurred in the narrow half-century of time between 1275 and 1325, when a whole raft of innovations were made right across the board in Europe that totally changed man抯 habits and the way he thought about the world. According to the Texan historian Alfred W. Crosby, 憈here was nothing quite like this half century again until the turn of the twentieth century, when the radio, radioactivity, Einstein, Picasso, and Sch鰊berg swept Europe into a similar revolution. During this narrow isthmus of time, and everywhere one turned, Crosby said, life was becoming more quantified and quantifiable. Some historians see in this an all-important change, which propelled Europe to advance over China, India and Islam. Until this point, space and time had been vague. Even among Christians, time was still not universally understood as divided into bc and ad. Some preferred a threefold division the Creation (then thought to be about 4,0000 BC) to the Ten Commandments, the Commandments to the Incarnation, and the Incarnation to the Second Coming. Although 慼ours existed, the medieval day was in practice divided into seven canonical 慼ours matins, prime, tierce, sext, none (from which the English word 憂oon derives), vespers and compline, when prayers were to be said. These 慼ours were longer in summer than in winter. Even number itself was an approximate notion in the middle ages. Recipes for making such things as glass, or the metal parts of organs, rarely included precise numbers instead phrases such as a bit more, or a medium-sized piece were accepted as sufficient. A large group of buildings, such as in the city of Paris, were described as like the stalks in a field. People didn抰 count like we do. Roman numerals were still in use, making arithmetic very difficult for ordinary merchants. In finger reckoning beyond ten, someone pointed to the joints of his or her fingers for multiples of ten, and for very large numbers for instance, 50,000 one pointed one抯 thumb at one抯 navel. But, and this is the main point, at the end of the thirteenth century, society in Europe changed from one where ideas mainly concerned qualitative perception to quantitative in all aspects. This may have had something to do with population changes the West抯 population at least doubled between 1000 and 1340. Either way, there was introduced into European life what the French historian Jacques le Goff has called an atmosphere of calculation. It was now, for instance, that literacy surged, partly stimulating and partly caused by changes in writing (the stabilisation of word order subject-verb-object was also achieved). The most well-known example of this surge in literacy is the change between Pope Innocent iii (1198-1216) who dispatched at most a few thousand letters a year, and Pope Boniface viii, a hundred years later, who wrote as many as 50,000. At that stage there were few or no divisions between words, sentences or paragraphs. In general, this meant that reading was difficult and conducted aloud. It was only in the early fourteenth century that the new cursive writing was combined with word separation, punctuation, chapter headings, and other devices we now take for granted (plus some that we don t, like a half-circle, ", to indicate a word was continued on the next line). Around 1200 Stephen Langton (a future archbishop of Canterbury) devised the chapter and verse system for the books of the Bible that we still use today, which until then were almost entirely undifferentiated. Libraries had traditionally been organised along religious lines: the Bible came first, then the church fathers, with the secular books on the liberal arts last. But beyond this broad agreement the actual order of many texts was arbitrary and unreliable, and so it was now only now that the scholars introduced alphabetisation. Everyone (every scholar, that is) understood it and, moreover, the order implied no doctrinal significance. In the same way scholars also introduced the analytic table of contents. Each of these innovations changed the experience of reading, in particular from reading aloud to reading in silence. In 1412 Oxford and in 1431 Angers introduced the regulation that libraries were to be quiet places hitherto they had been anything but. This was important because reading in silence, unlike reading aloud, enabled heretical thoughts to form secretly in the minds of readers. Silence helped imagination and creativity. The first clocks in towns had no faces or hands but were just bells. (慍lock is related to the French cloche and the German Glocke, which mean bell.) Bell clocks were very popular from the start. A petition for a city clock at Lyons read: 慖f such a clock were to be made, more merchants would come to the fairs, the citizens would be very consoled, cheerful and happy and would live a more orderly life, and the town would gain in decoration. Many towns, even small ones, agreed to tax themselves so they could have a clock. The mechanical clock was probably invented in the 1270s (the same decade as spectacles), and Dante refers to clocks in Paradiso, written about 1320. Although China had clocks before Europe, it was the West抯 enthusiasm for equal hours that changed perceptions of time equal hours were in general usage in Germany in the 1330s. Jean Froissart, historian of the Hundred Years War, between England and France, began his chronicle using canonical hours, but shifted to equal hours in the course of his narrative. It was not long before the town clock determined when the working day should start and end. The discovery of perspective, and its relation to mathematics, was another aspect of the quantification of life that took place about this time. Al-Khwarizmi抯 book on Hindu numerals, and algebra, was translated into Latin by Robert of Chester in the twelfth century and from then on the influence of the new numerals began to grow. The operational signs for arithmetic came later. In the last half of the fifteenth century Italians and others were still using ( for 憄lus and ( for 憁inus. (Blackboard.) The familiar 憄lus and 憁inus signs, + and - , appeared in print in Germany in 1489. The x sign for multiplication was not settled for centuries: to begin with in medieval manuscripts it had as many as eleven different meanings. Fractions were a function of trade and, in the Middle Ages, could be very complicated, such as 197/280 and, the most complex that I have come across: 3345312/4320864. The decimal system existed in embryo but was not finally completed for another three hundred years. With the arrival of Hindu-Arabic numerals, algebra was at last capable of development. In the early thirteenth century Leonardo Fibonacci in Pisa, Italy, used a letter in place of a number, but never developed this idea. His contemporary, Jordanus Nemorarius, who may have taught at Toulouse, in France, used letters as symbols for known and unknown quantities but he had no signs for plus or minus, or multiplication. It was the French algebraists in the sixteenth century who fully codified this system. Francis Vieta used vowels for unknowns and consonants for knowns, and then, in the seventeenth century, Descartes introduced the modern system, a and b and their neighbours at the beginning of the alphabet for knowns, and x and y and their neighbours at the end of the alphabet for unknowns. Alongside these changes in writing and mathematics ran parallel developments in music notation. Gregorian chant, the most famous form of medieval church music, is characteristically nonmensural: the structure of its musical line is determined by the flow of the Latin words. However, by, roughly speaking, the tenth century, the number of different chants had grown so much that no one person could remember them all and a system was needed to record them. To begin with they produced what one scholar has called 憄neumatic notation (Blackboard) a system of marks to indicate breathing, when the voice should rise in pitch (an acute accent,/), or drop (grave, \), or rise and fall (circumflex, ^). This was improved when the monks lightly traced one and then two or more horizontal lines across the page to make the high and low notes easier to recognise  this was the beginning of the staff or stave. Gregorian chant formed the basis of western polyphonic music, which also appears to have been the first music to have been specifically composed, written down, in note form, rather than evolved through trial and error with voices. The arrival of printing, among other things, had an important effect on spelling, which now became fixed, corresponding less and less with pronunciation. And so, we see that a concern with accuracy led to new forms of mathematics which could not have been conceived in advance. That is how ideas work, sometimes, 慽n mysterious ways. Moreover, this new concern with accuracy, and calculation, achieved for its own sake, also made possible the development of both capitalism and science, which could not have occurred without it. Capitalism抯 laws of contract needed accurate wording. ( My third preliminary idea begins with the arrival in what was then Calcutta and is now Kolkata, India, of William Jones and the establishment of the Bengal Asiatic Society on January 15, 1784. This society was established by a group of highly talented English civil servants, employed by the East India Company and who, besides their official day-to-day duties helping to administer the sub-continent, also pursued broader interests, which included language studies, the recovery and translation of the Indian classics, astronomy and the natural sciences. Four men stood out. These were, first, Warren Hastings (1732-1818), the governor of Bengal, and a highly controversial politician, who was later impeached for corruption (and, after a trial that lasted, on and off, for seven years, acquitted), but throughout it all energetically encouraged the activities of the society. It was Hastings who ensured that learned Brahmans from across India gathered at Fort William to supply the most authentic texts, which illustrated Indic law, literature and language. The others in the group were William Jones, a judge, Henry Colebrooke (a renowned mathematician, a judge also and a philologist, referred to as the 慚aster of Sanskrit) and Charles Wilkins, a typographer but also the first translator of the Bhagavad Gita into English. Between them, these multi-talented men accomplished three things. They located, recovered, and translated the main Indian Hindu and Buddhist classics, they kick-started the investigation of Indian history, and Jones, who had studied 28 languages and spoke 13, in a brilliant flash of insight, uncovered the great similarities between Sanskrit on the one hand and Greek and Latin on the other, in the process producing the concept of the Indo-European languages. When the Asiatic Society of Bengal was instituted, in 1784, Jones became president. He had been in India barely eighteen months when he made his great discovery. The relationship of Sanskrit to Greek and Latin was first aired in his third anniversary address to the Asiatic Society. Each year for eleven years he commemorated the founding of the society with a major address, several of which were important statements on Eastern culture. But his third address, 慜n the Hindus, delivered on February 2, 1786, was by far the most momentous. He said: 慣he Sanskrit language, whatever be its antiquity, is of a wonderful structure; more perfect than the Greek, more copious than the Latin, and more exquisitely refined than either, yet bearing to both of them a stronger affinity, both in the roots of the verbs and in the forms of the grammar, than could possibly have been produced by accident; so strong, indeed, that no philologer could examine them all three, without believing them to have sprung from some common source, which, perhaps, no longer exists. It is difficult for us today to grasp the full impact of this insight. In linking Sanskrit to Greek and Latin, and in arguing that the Eastern tongue was, if anything, older than and superior to the Western languages, Jones was striking a blow against the very foundations of Western culture and the (at least tacit) assumption that it was more advanced than cultures elsewhere. A major 憆eorientation in thought and attitude was needed. 慐uropeans doubted that ancient India was worth the trouble of knowing. This was a tenacious prejudice against which Warren Hastings and Jones still had to struggle in the last quarter of the eighteenth century. (T he history of ideas is not new and I don抰 claim that it is. People have been dividing up intellectual history in different ways for several centuries and, it must be said, coming up with different answers. A few examples will show the range of possibilities, how flexible the subject is once we get away from the definite dates of regular history. I should also add that, for some reason, numerous figures in the past have viewed intellectual history as a tri-partite system organised around three grand ideas, ages or principles. This can be most instructive. For example, Joachim of Fiore, the 12th-century Italian mystic and theologian, argued that there have been three epochs in history, presided over by God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit respectively, during which the Old Testament, the New Testament and a 憇piritual eternal gospel will be in force. Jean Bodin, the 16th-century French political philosopher, divided history into three periods the history of oriental peoples, the history of Mediterranean peoples, and the history of northern peoples. In 1620, Francis Bacon identified three discoveries that set his age apart from ancient times namely, printing, gunpowder, and the magnet. As he put it, 慣hese three have changed the whole face and state of things throughout the world, the first in literature, the second in warfare, the third in navigation. Thomas Hobbes, Bacon抯 17th-century amanuensis, argued that three branches of knowledge outweighed all others in explanatory power: physics, which studies natural objects; psychology, which studies man as an individual; and politics, which deals with artificial and social groupings of mankind. Giambattista Vico, in 18th-century Naples, Italy, distinguished the age of the gods, the heroic age and the human age. In fact, Vico tended to think in threes: he distinguished three 慽nstincts which, he said, shaped history, and three 憄unishments, that shaped civilisation. The three instincts were a belief in Providence, the protective power of God, the recognition of parenthood, and the instinct to bury the dead, which gave mankind the institutions of religion, family and sepulture. The three punishments were shame, curiosity and the need to work. The 18th-century French statesman, Anne Robert Jacques Turgot, argued that civilisation is the product of geographical, biological and psychological factors. William Godwin, the English anarchist at the turn of the 19th century, thought that the three chief ideas that would produce the all-important goal in life the triumph of reason and truth were literature, education and (political) justice. Later in the 19th century, Thomas Carlyle noted 憈he three greatest elements of modern civilisation [are] gunpowder, printing and the Protestant religion, while the famous British anthropologist Sir James Frazer distinguished the ages of magic, religion and science. The American historian, Lewis Morgan, in his Ancient Society, divided history into the stages of savagery, barbarism and civilisation, and thought that the main organising ideas of civilisation were the growth of government, the growth of ideas about the family, and the growth of ideas of property. More recently, in 1937, in his Intellectual and Cultural History of the Western World, another American historian, Harry Elmer Barnes, described three great changes in 憇ensibility in history the arrival of 慹thical monotheism in the Axial Age, which we have already referred to, the advent of individualism in the Renaissance, when the present world became an end in itself instead of a preparation for the shadowy afterlife, and the Darwinian revolution of the nineteenth century. More recently still, in 1951, in Ideas and Men, Crane Brinton, professor of ancient and modern history at Harvard, identified humanism, Protestantism and rationalism as the three great ideas making the modern world. In Ernest Gellner抯 Plough, Sword and Book (published in 1988 in Britain), he argued that there have been three great phases in history hunting/gathering, agrarian production, farming, and industrial production and that these fitted with the three great classes of human activity: production, coercion and cognition. In his book, Fire and Civilisation (1992), the Dutch sociologist Johan Goudsblom argued that man抯 control of fire produced the first transformation in human life. Early man was now no longer a predator: control of fire enabled him to corral animals and to clear land. Without this, agriculture the second transformation would not have been possible. Control over fire also introduced the possibility of cooking, which distinguished man from the animals and may be regarded as the origins of science. (The use of smoke may also have been the first form of communication.) Control over fire, of course, also led to baking, ceramics and smelting (the 憄yrotechnic cultures as he called them), which enabled metal daggers and then swords to be constructed. But the third great transformation, and the most important, after agriculture, Goudsblom said, was industrialisation, the union of fire with water, to produce in the first instance steam, harnessing a new form of energy which enabled machines of unprecedented size and power to perform certain routine skills much better and much faster than was possible by hand. In their book, The Western Intellectual Tradition, Jacob Bronowski and Bruce Mazlish at Harvard identify three 憆ealms of intellectual activity, an approach that I have found very useful. There is first the realm of truth: the effort to inquire into truth is the concern of religion, science, philosophy where, in an ideal world, agreement would be total and involuntary i.e., inevitable in a logical, mathematical or syllogistical sense. Next, there is the search for what is right: this is the concern of law, ethics and politics, where agreement largely voluntary need not be total but in order to work still needs to be widespread. And thirdly there is the realm of taste, which is largely the business of the arts, and where agreement is not necessary at all and where disagreement may be fruitful. Each of these approaches to intellectual history has something to be said for it and each of the books and essays referred to above is warmly recommended and are recognisable in my own work. But the three ideas I have settled on as the most important, and which determine the ultimate structure and thesis of Ideas, are these: the soul, Europe, and the experiment. I will conclude by again briefly discussing each of these. ( We know that since Palaeolithic times early man had a rudimentary notion of the 慳fterlife, because even then some people were buried with grave goods which, it was imagined, would be needed in the 憂ext world. And this is the crucial element of the soul its immortality. Looking about them, early humans would have found plenty of evidence for an afterlife, or death and rebirth. The sun and the moon both routinely disappeared and reappeared. Many trees lost their leaves each year but grew new ones when spring came. An afterlife clearly implies some sort of post-mortem existence and this introduces what the British historian and priest S. G. Brandon has called humanity抯 憁ost fundamental concept: the soul. A very common belief is that only special human beings have souls. Some primitive peoples ascribe souls to men and not to women, others the reverse. According to some peoples, the soul is contained in different parts of the body: the eye, the hair, the shadow, the stomach, the blood, the liver, the breath, above all the heart. For some primitive peoples, the soul leaves the body via the top of the head, for which reason trepanning has always been a common religious ritual. Similarly in Hindu the soul is not the heart but, 慴eing 搕he size of a thumb (at death), it lives in the heart. The Rig Veda recognized the soul as 慳 light in the heart. But there was also a widespread feeling that the soul is an alternative version of the self. Anthropologists put this down to primitive man抯 experience of dreams, 憈hat in sleep they seemed to be able to leave their bodies and go on journeys and sometimes see those who were dead. Reflecting on such things, primitive peoples would naturally have concluded that a kind of inner self or soul dwelt in the body during life, departing from it temporarily during sleep and permanently at death. The modern concept of the immortal soul is a Greek idea, which owes much to Pythagoras. Before that, most ancient civilisations thought that man had two kinds of souls. There was the 慺ree-soul, which represented the individual personality. And there were a number of 慴ody-souls which endowed the body with life and consciousness. For the early Greeks, for example, human nature was composed of three entities: the body, the psyche, identified with the life principle and located in the head; and the thymos, 憁ind or 慶onsciousness, located in the phrenes, or lungs. During life, the thymos was regarded as more important but it didn抰 survive death, whereas the psyche became the eidolon, a shadowy form of the body. This distinction was not maintained beyond the sixth century bc, when the psyche came to be thought of as both the essential self, the seat of consciousness and the life principle. Pindar thought the psyche was of divine origin and therefore immortal. In developing the idea of the immortal soul Pythagoras was joined by Parmenides and Empedocles, other Greeks living alongside him in southern Italy and Sicily. Pythagoras, Empedocles and Plato all believed in reincarnation and in metempsychosis the idea that souls could come back in other animals and even in plants. Both Socrates and Plato shared Pindar抯 idea of the divine origin of the soul and it is here that the vision took root that the soul was in fact more precious than the body. Speaking for myself I do not believe that souls exist but I cannot deny that the longing for immortality is natural, in some form or other, and has persisted throughout history and fueled religions of all kinds. Many people today are still in thrall to the idea. The desire for an immortal soul underpins most religions and the belief in an immortal soul remains of fundamental importance to millions of people. My second candidate for the three most important ideas in history is the experiment. The experiment is more than a method of doing science. It is a form of authority and it is significant that the man who conceived it was himself an authority in the Middle Ages. He was Robert Grosseteste (c. 1186-1253). A graduate of Oxford, who studied theology at Paris, Grosseteste is best known for being chancellor of Oxford University. He was a translator of the classics, a biblical scholar and bishop of Lincoln in England. But he was also, and possibly most importantly, the inventor of the experimental method. (Experiments of sorts had been carried out in Alexandria, Egypt, in Han China and 9th-century Baghdad but never developed systematically.) Roger Bacon was the first to point out, in his Compendium Studii, that 慴efore other men, Grosseteste wrote about science. In the half-century before Grosseteste was born, Western scholars had been translating Greek and Islamic scientific writings out of Arabic into Latin, and this in itself was a factor in the creation of the West. Grosseteste took part in the translation movement but it was he who saw that if progress beyond the classics were to be made then the problem of scientific method had to be sorted out. There had been considerable technical advance in the West since the ninth century, when the new wheeled plough and new methods of harnessing draught animals were brought in. In addition, watermills and windmills had transformed corn-grinding and metallurgy, the compass and the astrolabe had been improved, and spectacles and the clock were invented. But these were ad-hoc, rule-of-thumb advances, and there was at the time no notion of how to generalise arguments, so as to establish proof, generate explanations, and provide more exact measurements and answers. Grosseteste抯 main insight, building on Aristotle, was to develop his model of 慽nduction and systematic testing. He said that the first stage of an inquiry was to break up the phenomenon under investigation into the principles or elements of which it was comprised this was induction. Having isolated these principles or elements, one should recombine them systematically to build up knowledge of the phenomenon. He started with the rainbow. He observed how it occurred in the sky, in the spray made by mill-wheels, by the oars of a rowing boat, by squirting water from the mouth, and by sunlight passing through a glass flask full of water. This eventually led to Theorodic of Freiberg抯 idea of the refraction of light through individual spherical drops of water and in this sense is the first example of the systematic, analytic, experimental approach. This breakthrough was to culminate in the scientific revolution, which took place first in Britain and France, and cemented the advances of the west. Science is the defining feature of the modern world. ( But possibly the most interesting question in the history of ideas is the one I shall conclude with and which is particularly relevant to be discussing here in China in the 21st century. This question is: why, in the High Middle Ages, did Europe the West which had until then lagged behind the Islamic, Indian and Chinese civilisations, began to pull ahead? In the tenth century ad, the famous Arab geographer, Mas憉di, had this to say about the peoples of 慤rufa, as Muslims then called Europe: 慣he warm humour is lacking among them; their bodies are large, their natures gross, their manners harsh, their understanding dull, and their tongues heavy The farther they are to the north the more stupid, gross, and brutish they are. His slightly later colleague, Sa慽d ibn Ahmad, Qadi of the Muslim city of Toledo in Spain, wasn抰 much more impressed either. In 1068, two years after the battle of Hastings, ibn Ahmad wrote a book in Arabic on the categories of nations. He found that there had been eight nations that had contributed most to knowledge including the Indians, Chinese, Persians, Greeks, Egyptians and, of course, the Arabs. On the other hand he found that the north Europeans 慼ave not cultivated the sciences [and] are more like beasts than like men they lack keenness of understanding and clarity of intelligence厭 Even as late as the thirteenth century, the Oxford scholar, Roger Bacon, had his eyes fixed firmly on the East. He petitioned the pope, Clement iv, to mount a grand project an encyclopaedia of new knowledge in the natural sciences. He had in mind the great number of translations then being made from the Arabic, and he recommended the study of oriental languages, and of Islam. By the time of his near-namesake, Francis Bacon, however, the world was very different. A massive change had come over Europe, sometime between 1000 ad and 1500 ad, and the continent had drawn decisively ahead. Francis Bacon believed there was little to be learned from outside Europe. What had happened? Why had 憈he West drawn ahead? What features of this 慺rigid, 慻ross and 慳pathetic people, as ibn Ahmad also called Europeans, were turned round, to create the conditions we see about us today, where the West undisputably leads the world in terms of wealth, technological advance and religious and political freedoms? In the realm of ideas the central concern of this address the change that came over Europe, sometime between the year 1000 ad and, say, 1500, when the discovery of America had been achieved (by west Europeans), is probably the most fascinating question of all, eclipsing all others in importance and giving shape to the latest epoch of history. In my book I explore several answers, but for the purposes of this address, in this place, China, and in the limited time available, I will concentrate on just one aspect: did Europe pull ahead, or did the rest of the world drop behind? The economic/cultural situation in the 慜ld World has been described in detail by Janet Abu-Lughod, a professor in Cairo and Chicago, in her seminal book, Before European Hegemony. In that work, she writes: 慣he second half of the thirteenth century was a remarkable moment in world history. Never before had so many regions of the Old World come into contact with one another. The apogee of this cycle came between the end of the thirteenth century and the first decades of the fourteenth, by which time even Europe and China had established direct if limited contact with each other. This economic world, she says, is not only fascinating in itself but, because it contained no single overriding power, it provided an important contrast to the world system that grew out of it: the one Europe reshaped to its own ends and has dominated for so long. Her argument is this: that in terms of time, the century between 1250 and 1350 ad constituted a fulcrum or critical 憈urning point in world history; and in terms of space, the Middle East heartland region, linking the eastern Mediterranean with the Indian Ocean, constituted a geographical fulcrum on which West and East were then roughly balanced. She noted that there were eight basic trading systems at the time but that these collapsed into three main ones the European, the Middle Eastern and the Asian. All of them had several features in common: the invention of money and credit; mechanisms for pooling capital and distributing risk; merchants with independent wealth. Therefore, while conceding that between the thirteenth and the sixteenth centuries Europe did overtake the Orient, she concludes that there was nothing 憇pecial about Europe; instead the Orient was 憈emporarily in disarray. She says there was progressive fragmentation of the overland trade routes that had been unified by Genghis Kahn, that the depredations of Tamerlane around 1400 had a much worse effect on Asia than the Crusades ever did, and that the Black Death, 憌hich spread from China all the way to Europe in the mid-century between 1348 and 1351, decimated most of the cities along the great sea route of world trade, disturbing customary behaviour, changing the terms of exchange because of differential demographic losses, and creating a fluidity in world conditions that facilitated radical transformations, benefiting some and harming others. This could be seen in Europe, she says, where England, previously part of the periphery, began to play a more central role after the plague, since her 慸ie-off rate was lower than on the continent. And it was the galleys of the Italian city-states that, by the end of the thirteenth century, had opened the North Atlantic to traffic, delivering the coup de grace to a world system that had existed for centuries. This led to the Portuguese 慸iscovery of the Atlantic route to the Indies, much of which had been known to Arab and Chinese traders for centuries. But they now lost the monopoly of that knowledge. Her point is that the world system in place by the thirteenth century was relatively stable, and truly cosmopolitan: different religious systems coexisted Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Confucianism, Zoroastrianism; and business practices were equally sophisticated the world over. She writes: 慣he organisation of textile production in Kanchipuram was not unlike that in Flanders, the state built boats for trade in both Venice and China, trading centres like Cairo, Zaytun and Troyes grew in much the same way, and at a similar rate in the centuries up to the thirteenth. For Janet Abu-Lughod, what happened in the thirteenth century was that a world trading system that had been stable for some time became unravelled, leaving the western systems, centring on Bruges, Troyes, Genoa and Venice, relatively unscathed, while destroying those centres further east, at Cairo, Baghdad, Basra, Samarkand, Hormuz, Cambay, Calicut, Malacca and mainland China. For Abu-Lughod, it was thus important that 憈he rise of the west was preceded by 憈he fall of the east. When the Mongols, severely weakened by the Black Death, 憀ost China in 1386, the world now forfeited the key link that had connected the overland route, terminating at Beijing, with the sea routes through the Indian Ocean and South China Sea, terminating at the ports of south-east China. The repercussions of this disjunction at the Eastern end of the world system were felt throughout the trading world. In particular, it favoured Genoa at the expense of Venice. Venice was, with Genoa, the gateway of this world system into Europe. But Genoa also had a more ready alternative the Atlantic. And as the Atlantic opened up, ships plying that route were able to take advantage of the disarray in the east. She concludes: This geographic reorientation displaced the centre of world gravity in a decisive manner. ( The theory of Joseph Needham, the Cambridge-based historian of early Chinese science, is quite different. He begins by reminding us of the incredible number of inventions which came out of the East before 1000 ad, not least the competitive examination, which the West embraced with gusto. Needham was of the opinion that, in the earlier centuries, Europe had been a much more unstable continent than China, socially, politically and culturally speaking, and that this had kept the region backward. It was poor in precious metals and its layout a series of archipelagos (Iberia, Italy, Greece) had made it more nationalistic, because there were many natural boundaries. In addition to this, he says, the alphabet system of writing, precisely because it was so flexible, exacerbated the problem by making it relatively easy for different tribes and groups to evolve mutually incomprehensible languages (in contrast to China which had a unifying script). All this kept Europe embroiled in repeated conflict, and therefore backward. But then came two inventions, both out of China. First, was the stirrup which, by adding immeasurably to the power of the knightly class, helped create feudalism. And second, gunpowder, which helped destroy feudalism, at least in Europe, because it reduced the power of the knightly class. As feudalism decayed in the West, according to Needham, it gave rise to a mercantile class, which was closely associated with the rise of science. In China, however, this didn抰 happen. As a far more stable continent, with a more entrenched and unified imperial history, and despite the many inventions to its credit, feudalism there was replaced with 慴ureaucratic feudalism, or a 憁andarinate, a scholar-閘ite class highly suitable to a large country heavily centralised under an emperor where mandarin bureaucrats could steadily administer steady progress. The unfortunate side to all this, however, was that under such a system the mercantile class was down-graded the merchants were the lowest of the four ranks of society, after scholars, farmers and artisans. As well as stifling creativity, this arrangement meant that the city-state never developed in China: cities there were dominated instead by the representative of the emperor, which meant there were no mayors, no guilds, no councillors. Instead of being places of upward mobility, Chinese cities were ruled from the top down. As a result, and despite that long list of inventions, China never developed modern business methods or modern science. For Needham this was, in the end, fatal. Needham抯 arguments have been both discredited and supported by more recent scholarship (entire conferences have been held on the 慛eedham factor). At the same time, however, other historians have underlined the fact that there was a difference between Western and Eastern scholarship. In their comparison of early science in ancient Greece and China, Sir Geoffrey Lloyd of Cambridge in the UK, and Nathan Sivin, from Pennsylvania (and known as Xiwen), argue that the Greek philosopher/scientists enjoyed much less patronage than their contemporaries in China, who were employed by the emperor, and often charged with looking after the calendar, which was a state concern. This had the effect of making Chinese scientists much more circumspect in their views, and in embracing new concepts: they had much more to lose than in Greece, and they seldom argued as the Greeks argued. Instead, new ideas in China were invariably incorporated into existing theories, producing a 慶ascade of meanings; new notions never had to battle it out with old ones. In Greece on the other hand there was a 慶ompetition in wisdom. Lloyd argues that there are far more first-person-singular statements in Greek science than in Chinese, much more egotism, individuals describe their mistakes more often, and their uncertainties, and criticise themselves more. Greek plays poked fun at scientists and even this served a useful purpose. What these Ionians grasped was that the world was something that could be understood, if one took the trouble to observe it properly. It was not a playground of the gods who acted arbitrarily on the spur of the moment, moved by grand passions of love, wrath or revenge. The Ionians were astonished by this; in contrast, while the Babylonians and the Egyptians knew just as much about the orbits of the heavenly bodies, they regarded them as religious secrets. More recently, Toby Huff, the Harvard sociologist and astronomer, has claimed that an important difference between occident and orient in this context is that in China and the Islamic world a student抯 competence was judged by the state or the master. Neither of these systems fostered independent thought. Huff calculated that, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, Europe, China and the Islamic world had roughly the same number of scholars but that in the East they never achieved a corporate identity, therefore in the Islamic world and in China, scholarship never acquired the independent power that it was to achieve in Europe. There was no idea of shared knowledge, which could be discussed and argued over. The idea of corporate knowledge, Huff says, lay behind the idea of the universities as conceived in Europe but not in China or the Islamic world. This meant there was no organised scepticism in the East. He shows for example that Arab astronomers knew what Kepler knew but because they had no concept of the Corpus astronomicus, a general body of astronomical work which belonged to all and could be disputed they never developed a Copernican view of a heliocentric universe. ( The hinge chapter of my book covers the years when Europe assumed the ascendancy in the realm of ideas in scientific ideas, in theological ideas, in artistic ideas and in political ideas. All that began a thousand years ago. This is the single most important event in the history of ideas how and why Europe pulled ahead of the rest of the world in the High Middle Ages. We now inhabit a very different world. Or we say that we do. Yet look about us. The Internet and digital power is a creation of the west, nuclear power is a creation of the west, television is a creation of the west, the West抯 notion of modern capitalism has overwhelmed the world and outpaced the Soviet alternative. Most world class sports are of western origin. Western capitalism has, essentially, been embraced by modern China. In fact, China has entered the modern world with a bang, but let me end this address with one set of facts designed to make you think. China is leading the world right now in the realm of renewable energy, and in certain medical fields, such as innovation in the treatment for prostate cancer. But, so far, she has won only five Nobel Prizes in the sciences. That pales in comparison with the literally hundreds of prizes won by the US, UK and Germany but let us contrast China抯 achievement instead with that of her neighbor, Japan, which embraced Western ways immediately after her defeat in World War Two. Although she was beaten in WW2, Japan has won 21 Nobel Prizes in the sciences. And that with less than 10 per cent of China抯 population. One final point. I am told that in China today short books are very popular, but I would offer this caution. Psychological research shows that, in order to be creative in any given field, you have to master that field first, there is no alternative but+,9:<>" * K T Z m ( 7 V W r 篋厥丶蟋煇焼|無焑焑焑o無無無焁無hWh縇CJOJQJhBPCJOJQJhWh鎕hCJOJQJh鈕CJOJQJh`hCJOJQJh7.Eh7.ECJEHOJQJhWh`hCJOJQJ j涴hWh`hCJOJQJhWhVH6丆J$OJQJhWh`h6丆J$OJQJhWh鎕h6丆J$OJQJhWh鎕hCJ$OJQJhWh`hCJ$OJQJ ,9;<>J x xI$ gd寀m$ $a$gd寀m$ 勑`勑gd7.Em$ $a$gdBPm$gdBPm$gd7.Em$$d'& #$,D9Dgd7.E$a$gdW B U Y  " D ~  :CT`*adg鯇蕘芪芾蕘蕘鯇鯇蕘查塄転攰攰|攓旜旜旜旈旈旈hBP6丆JOJQJh赬Jh赬J6丆JOJQJh赬JCJOJQJhBPCJOJQJh`hCJOJQJh蔛%CJOJQJhWh鎕h6丆JOJQJh赬Jh`h6丆JOJQJhWh`h6丆JOJQJhWh`hCJOJQJhWh鎕hCJOJQJh.CJOJQJ,$,HIsw0箝箝筮遺府閣笧擱擱擱擱笖竼x竕_閿h.:丆JOJQJhWh@%:丆JOJQJh蔛%h@%6丆JOJQJh蔛%h蔛%6丆JOJQJh.CJOJQJhWh@%6丆JOJQJ]h赬JCJOJQJhWh@%CJOJQJhWhBPCJOJQJ j涴hBPCJOJQJh鎕hCJOJQJh蔛%CJOJQJhWh鎕hCJOJQJ!0h:MP\z}|}~2FQTX_=@#$鯇噠檎鯇泅轢臻籍槨轢槨轢楫棨鯇臻鯇諐檎檎z$hWh@%56丆JOJQJ\乚h赬JCJOJQJh h@%CJOJQJh CJOJQJh蔛%h@%6丆JOJQJh蔛%6丆JOJQJhWh@%6丆JOJQJh蔛%CJOJQJh.CJOJQJhWh@%CJOJQJhBPCJOJQJ.+Rwr  ? 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This is why my books are not short and shallow guides to intellectual history. They are designed to encourage a level of knowledge that will help readers become creative in their chosen field. You cannot be sure that your own ideas are new until you know what others have done before you. In the West it is called 憈he wounds of experience. If my book helps China return to the highly creative role it had in the history of ideas before the Middle Ages, a thousand years ago, then it will have served its purpose and we shall all be happy.((( China Lecture  PAGE \* MERGEFORMAT 19 =>@ACDFTUlmopqrstu黧黧黧柝柝實璞hWh弤CJOJQJhh")jhh"B*UmHnHphΖuh1B*mHnHphΖujhh"B*UphΖhh"B*phΖhsgjhsgUFqrstu $a$gd弤m$$a$21恏:p纚靶/ 班=!盃"盃#悹$悹%靶靶 愋j 666666666vvvvvvvvv66666>66666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666hH6666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666662 0@P`p2( 0@P`p 0@P`p 0@P`p 0@P`p 0@P`p 0@P`p8XV~ OJPJQJ_HmH nH sH tH P`P 纚Normal$dhとa$CJ_HaJmH sH tH d@d 蜶 Heading 1$$d@&a$:丆J(OJPJQJaJmH sH DA D Default Paragraph FontRiR 0 Table Normal4 l4a (k ( 0No List TB@T  1 Body Text!B*OJPJQJaJmH phMMMsH VV  1Body Text Char!B*CJOJPJQJaJphMMMtH <P@<  0 Body Text 2 dL!L  0Body Text 2 CharCJaJmH sH tH r@2r   Footnote Text"$d5$7$8$9DH$a$CJOJPJQJaJmH sH LAL  Footnote Text CharOJPJQJtH @&`Q@  Footnote ReferenceH*>Q@b> 蜶0 Body Text 3CJaJLqL 蜶0Body Text 3 CharCJaJmH sH tH PP 蜶Heading 1 Char:丆J(OJPJQJaJtH R橜R 0 Balloon Text dCJOJ QJ ^J aJZZ 0Balloon Text Char CJOJ QJ ^J aJmH sH tH 4@4 "0Header  B#BB "0 Header CharCJaJmH sH tH 4 4 "0Footer  B#BB "0 Footer CharCJaJmH sH tH PK!檗[Content_Types].xml瑧薔0E鱄鼉-J湶@%閭菐洽|廊$韶缽UL襎B l,3鳛;鉹得槣B+$G]ミ7O儕V墎$┇最 !)O赹齬虲$駓@摪磔/瓂H*橊劥)戅祶鬟粖譛Db俙}"譹蹕擩讞枻肵^)I`n蘀紛p)杵li筕[]1M<斷絨彥O蠵擊6r=瘔抸纆b營g吜u崘S賓b囑O缽嗕掘肦罝郢櫉反qu 痝嫎Z岸串o~俸lAp發x妏T0+[}`j纂鹺絲A幫儲V2虵蒳朄鰍瀡分5\|夻蕼汰Nвle瞂ds趈cs倭惻7琊嵨f坊賅 肉W琊+唻7爤唁`陲g 葮稠J雷j|唫h(驞-姷咩 dX﹊J曝(鉬x$( :隸;淥! 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