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by Faun Rice


  the borders of the Middle Kingdom. Chinese monks and other religious figures

  also traveled early and far. Chinese military might has been demonstrated pe-

  riodically on the northern frontiers; and regarding the southern borderlands of

  particular interest here, the Mongol invasion and famous voyages of the Ming

  admiral Cheng Ho penetrated deep into Indonesia. Yet the Greater East Asian

  Galactic Polity centered in the imperial capital has endured longer in time and

  space than the presence of any Chinese coercive force.

  In ad 484, a petition reached the Southern Qi imperial court from the ruler

  of the original Khmer kingdom in the lower Mekong Delta, a distant Cam-

  bodian place that had never known the presence of the Chinese arms it now

  solicited (Pelliot 1903). True, northern Vietnam had been successfully invaded

  by Chinese forces in Han times, but in Cambodia, as Keith Taylor comments,

  there was no experience with the soldiers and officials of a neighboring empire,

  nor the awareness of boundaries, in terrain and culture, that such an experience

  produced among the Viets and Chams. Information about the outside world

  arrive to Khmer leaders as news about Hindu gods and forms of Buddhist and

  Hindu devotion as well as cosmological notions of political space that were ex-

  pounded in the Sanskrit language. (1993: 157)

  Still, King Kaundinya Jayavarman of the Khmer realm the Chinese knew as

  “Funan” must have been aware of the Son of Heaven’s might when he complained

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  ON KINGS

  to him about a certain “slave” who had rebelled against his own authority and

  enlisted support from a neighboring kingdom (“Lin-yi,” evidently the predeces-

  sor regime of Champa in southern Vietnam). The Chinese ruler in question was

  probably the Emperor Wu of the short-lived Southern Qi dynasty. The mission

  is recorded at the beginning of the sixth century in The history of the Southern Qi

  dynasty, and accordingly presents a Chinese—indeed Confucian—perspective

  on what transpired. Jayavarman did not lead the embassy in person, although

  some Funan kings did so act; he sent a Hindu bonze as his representative. His

  petition begins properly with a profession of submission to the sage and saintly

  Celestial Emperor. “Your subject, Jayavarman,” it reads, “bows his forehead to

  the earth and fulsomely praises the divine civilizing virtue” of the “saintly mas-

  ter,” wishing him all kinds of happiness, including that “the concubines of the

  six palaces be perfectly beautiful”; and voicing confidence that earth will know

  peace, harmony, and prosperity “because of the brilliant civilizing influence

  of your majesty.” Such is the preamble to King Jayavarman’s complaint about

  his “slave” rival, followed by the offering of “meager presents” in tribute to the

  “saintly and virtuous” majesty, including a golden image of the king of dragons.

  Jayavarman asks the emperor for troops to put down the rebel, promising in

  return to aid the imperial throne in “repressing the realms that border the sea.”

  Or if not an army, would the Divine Majesty issue a special edict authorizing a

  small number of Chinese troops to join his own forces in order to “exterminate

  this nefarious lowly one”? The emperor’s response is equivocal. Taking note of

  his benevolence, his reform of Buddhism, and his own resemblance to Indra,

  king of the gods, the emperor declares that: “For me, it is only by culture and

  virtue that I attract the distant peoples; I do not wish to have recourse to arms.”

  However, considering that King Jayavarman “comes from afar and with a loyal

  heart to ask for the aid of the imperial forces,” the emperor will refer the matter

  to his tribunal—where, as far as I can determine, the request for military aid

  died. Apparently it was soft power from beginning to end.

  In ad 252, the Chinese military did intervene in Yunnan: an event that

  was inscribed in ritual memories and tribal polities for many centuries beyond,

  even as its political impulses also rippled further than the actual extent of the

  invasion. The famous Shu Han minister and strategist Zhuge Liang led the

  campaign in the aim of restoring the imperial authority that had lapsed with the

  decline of the Han dynasty. Sensing he could not rule what he had conquered,

  Zhuge withdrew, leaving the area in charge of the leaders of indigenous ethnic

  groups on whom he had bestowed Chinese offices and surnames—a practice

  THE CULTURAL POLITICS OF CORE–PERIPHERY RELATIONS 365

  of letting “barbarians rule barbarians” apparently in effect since Western Zhou

  times, later commonly known as the “bridle and halter” policy, and, since Yuan,

  as the tusi system. For centuries after Zhuge’s withdrawal, he was numbered

  among local deities in temples built in his honor. As late as the twentieth cen-

  tury, Bai peasants, reputed to be the aborigines of Yunnan, were using a carry-

  ing yoke whose design was attributed to Zhuge, claiming their ancestors had

  learned the style when serving in his armies. Other longstanding traditions of

  local non-Han peoples related that their chieftains’ bronze drums—not merely

  a “symbol” of their authority, as often reported, but an active-animistic agent

  thereof—had been given their predecessors by Zhuge. Richard van Glahn tells

  that when a drum of this kind was forcibly surrendered to an invading Ming

  army in 1573, the chief lamented, “with two or three of such drums, one could

  proclaim himself king. Striking the drum at the summit of a hill will cause all

  the tribes to assemble. But now, all is lost” (1987: 15). Various signs and tradi-

  tions of Zhuge’s conquests were long preserved in central Yunnan, some into

  modern times, although his forces had never reached that far. And in a phenom-

  enon of the kind frequently recorded in the Sino-Southeast Asian borderlands,

  important chiefs of non-Han peoples in the areas he did pacify were known to

  convert their Chinese surnames into claims of Han ancestry (cf. Backus 1981;

  Giersch 2006; Took 2005). Stranger-kingship: the cultural politics of core–pe-

  riphery relations have real-political effects.

  GALACTIC MIMESIS: UNEVEN DEVELOPMENT IN

  CORE–PERIPHERY SYSTEMS

  “Barbarian” chiefs of Chinese ancestry; New Guinea vil agers who adopt clans,

  totems, ancestors, and rituals of their dominant neighboring peoples; Cam-

  bodian or Javanese kingdoms ruled in Sanskrit terms by Hinduized kings;

  Indonesian rulers become Islamic sultans who assume a Portuguese lifestyle:

  in sum, a recurrent impulse of upward mobility—more exactly upward nobil-

  ity—runs through these galactic systems, no less at the peripheries than at

  the center, as well as among the several secondary and tertiary societies in-

  between. Even the kingdoms at the apex of the regional hierarchy aspire to a

  hegemony of yet higher order—a project that also engages them with exotic

  hinterland groups, thereby opening prospects of grandeur at the underdevel-

  oped galactic margins.

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  ON KINGS

  The world over, would-be kings of kings would institute something ap-

  proaching a cosmocratic regime by laying cla
im to ancient or current prede-

  cessors of widespread and exalted renown: whether by descent, incarnation, or

  other privileged association; and whether these paragons be great gods such as

  Shiva, world-historical heroes such as Alexander, fabled cities such as Rome, or

  mighty empires such as the Chinese. Buddhist rulers in Southeast Asia invoke

  Ashoka. West African Islamic rulers and their nearby pagan counterparts trace

  their dynasties to Mecca: the former often to descendants of the Prophet, the

  latter to his reputed enemies. The Gauls and Spartan kings come from Her-

  akles, although after the Roman conquests some Gaulish chiefs had Julian or

  Augustan ancestors. The kings of the Banyoro, Baganda, and several other East

  African realms claim to be heirs of the Bachwezi rulers of the fabled Kitara

  empire. Later Mexica emperors overlaid their barbaric Chichimec origins with

  an exalted Toltec identity by importing a ruler of known descent from that

  legendary civilization and its renowned god-king Quetzalcoatl. Aeneas of Troy,

  stranger-king of the Latins, became the ancestor of Roman emperors through

  Romulus, and thereby of the Holy Roman emperors and the Habsburgs, among

  others; whereas the Greek heroes who returned from the Trojan War, the Nos-

  toi, particularly Odysseus, gave rise to the ruling aristocracy in city-states of

  northern Greece, Italy, and Sicily. Enough said, except that the ambitions of ga-

  lactic sovereigns which thus impel an upward cosmic reach are complemented

  by a policy of outward expansion through war, trade, and diplomacy, going even

  beyond the strategic material returns with the aim of encompassing the potent

  animistic powers of the barbaric wild.8

  These upward and outward ambitions were interrelated: everything happens

  as if the appropriation of the diverse earthly powers of the galactic hinterlands

  would thus validate the claims of universal hegemony entailed in the ruler’s

  privileged relations to transcendent cosmic authorities. Consider, for example,

  Lorraine Gesick’s description of Southeast Asian galactic orders:

  Linked with the conviction that living things were ordered along a continuum

  from the bestial to the sacred, we found a circular conception of space in which

  politically charged centers were thought to radiate power outward and downward

  8. To document some of the most marvelous claims, see C. C. E. Brown (1952) on

  Alexander the Great, Malkin (1998) on the Nostoi, Tanner (1993) on Aeneus, and

  Drinkwater (1978) on Romanized Gauls.

  THE CULTURAL POLITICS OF CORE–PERIPHERY RELATIONS 367

  toward the less charged peripheries . . . . In the landscape, palaces, temples, sacred

  mountains, and capital cities were similarly surrounded by secondary and tertiary

  centers and villages, all of which participated in and reflected, in varying degrees,

  the power of the center. Finally, at the extreme periphery, civilized, cultivated

  lands and villages gave way to jungles and mountain ranges—“wild” territory

  beyond the reach of the center’s power. These territories were by no means im-

  potent; on the contrary, they were filled with power; but it was anarchic, chaotic,

  primeval. Only a person who was extremely “civilized” in himself could, by medi-

  tation and self-discipline, subdue these forces. (1983: 2)

  Underlying it all, the reach for both celestial and terrestrial powers beyond

  the cosmocrater’s own, is the alterity of the sources of human life and death,

  and thereby of the welfare of the social totality. Speaking of “traditional so-

  cieties” in general, Mary Helms refers to a “cosmologically-charged outside”

  from which are drawn materials, intangible energies, and original knowledge

  and culture “that allow the production of human life and social being” (1993: 7).

  And among a series of astute observations on the dynamics of core–periphery

  systems in general, Helms notes that in taming the wild hinterlands with their

  cultivated exports, the civilizing mission of dominant centers has a counterpart

  in the centers’ acquisition of “naturally endowed” imports that increase their

  “ideological and political potency by virtue of the autochthonous forces believed

  to be inherent in that which is exotic, curious, or different” (ibid.: 180). Here

  again is a real-politics of the marvelous, in the course of which the untamed

  forces of the periphery are transformed into the potency and prosperity of the

  center. As Helms describes, by trade and tribute from the hinterlands come rare

  animals, strange foreigners, precious stones and minerals, rare woods, spices, and

  drugs, and the horns, tails, furs, and feathers of exotic beasts and birds. One is

  of course reminded of the Celestial Emperor’s mission of bringing order to All

  Under Heaven, and particularly of the demonstration of his virtue ( te) by incor-

  porating the tributary wonders and monsters brought from afar by the barbarian

  inhabitants of fabulous countries. So likewise would the tribute-bearing peoples

  be culturally transformed, domesticated, and civilized by coming into the im-

  perial presence and thereby under its power as manifested and transmitted by

  his person: that is, bodily as well as ritually, architecturally, and in the banquets,

  gifts, and honors the outlanders receive and consume. The overall effect is a

  two-way traffic in animistic potencies, political and wild, in which the subjective

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  ON KINGS

  forces of things endow vitality on both the central and outlying societies—and

  notably elevate and empower their leaders.

  The center “desires the resources, the potency and the potentiality, the ‘alien

  powers’ of the periphery, the wild, the forest. Both center and periphery seek to

  restore ‘vitality’ in the exchange of powers” (Turton 2000: 25–26). So Andrew

  Turton describes the exchanges between lowland Shan states and the hill peo-

  ples they call kha, “serfs” (or “slaves”)—although typically the hill peoples are the

  residual autochthonous “owners” of the fertile lowlands. For their part, the Shan

  states, historically tributary to Burmese or Chinese potentates, were included

  in the Greater East Asian Galactic system that stretched southward from the

  Middle Kingdom into Malaya, Sumatra, Java, and beyond.

  Edward Schafer tells that the aromatics and other exotica from Southeast

  Asia that reached China “partook of the godly and the beneficial, and at the

  same time the deadly and the devilish” (1967: 193). The animistic force was not

  merely a Chinese sense of the exotic; it was quite familiar to the tribal people

  who collected these potent things. Something like the divine and the deadly

  were already ensouled in the camphor crystals and other aromatics sought out

  by the indigenous peoples of the Indonesian forests. In his useful compendium

  of Malay magic, Walter William Skeat (1900: 212ff.) relates that camphor was

  controlled by indwelling spirits who had to be propitiated so that it could be

  discovered and harvested. Communication with these metapersons, moreover,

  required a special language, ordinary Malay being taboo. Transmitted thence to

  the Chinese court, the ensouled forces of the Malay wild redoubled the political

&
nbsp; animism of the emperor. As Schafer observed, incense from Southeast Asian

  aromatics “marked the presence of the royal afflatus, breathing supernatural wis-

  dom through the worlds of nature and human affairs” (1963: 156). In imperial

  levees of the T’ang ministers, a table of these aromatics was placed before the

  Son of Heaven. Inhaled then by the court officials, the scent of camphor from

  Malaya or sandalwood from Borneo insinuated the emperor’s virtue into the

  persons of his officials, whereupon it could be realized in statecraft and dissemi-

  nated through the world—to ultimately subdue and civilize the barbarians who

  had originally appropriated these powers. (That was long before Marx talked of

  the surplus value that returned in fetishized form to rule its producers.)9

  9. I have discussed this use of Southeast Asian aromatics by T’ang emperors in much

  the same terms elsewhere (Sahlins 2010).

  THE CULTURAL POLITICS OF CORE–PERIPHERY RELATIONS 369

  On being informed that the Chinese protector-general had been chased

  from Vietnam by a rebellion, an imperial court official and poet wrote:

  Remember when the North was on good terms with the Yueh [the Viets]. For a long

  time both were nourished by the southern fragrance.

  All the same, the ensuing Ly dynasty (1009–1225), having established an inde-

  pendent Dai Viet state, proceeded to organize the kingdom on basic principles

  of the Chinese imperium: a “Vietnamized version of Chinese political theory,”

  as Keith Taylor characterized it, with a “southern emperor” counterposed to the

  Chinese “northern emperor,” ruling his “southern kingdom” by the grace of his

  own “mandate of heaven” (1999: 147). Chinese sources identify the third Ly

  ruler, Ly Nhat Ton (r. 1054–72), as the first Viet king who had the presumption

  to claim imperial status; Vietnamese sources corroborate that he “adopted many

  of the formalities of China’s imperial court, from the official name of the realm,

  to the attire of his officials, to the ranks and titles conferred upon officials, upon

  members of the royal family, and upon the royal ancestors” (ibid.: 144). For all

  that the Dai Viet opposed imperial China, they did so by replicating it—just

  as certain Maluku rulers took on Chinese, Portuguese, or Dutch attributes; the

 

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