by Ling Zhang
The transregional distribution and consumption issues also manifested in competition and conflicts among different socio-economic uses of resources. Wood produced in northwest China was mobilized and distributed by the state; it then traversed hundreds of kilometers to be consumed in northeast China. Bushes, grass, and straw collected all over north China were funneled toward Hebei as well. All these vegetative materials bore other kinds of use values and offered various socio-economic utilities: they produced food and fruits, they were construction materials, they made tools, they created fire, and they fed domestic animals. From 1048, a large amount of the materials was separated from its traditional uses and was consumed for hydraulic purposes. The competition for vegetation for its domestic use or for dyke construction intensified. As a consequence, in the late eleventh century, there was outcry among poor families who could not gather enough firewood to keep them warm during Hebei's harsh winter.
I do not intend to make the judgment that the Song state should not have engaged in the extensive hydraulic works, so as to avoid exhausting China's vegetative resources. Such retrospective condemnation is meaningless. The Song state in the eleventh century felt that it had no choice. Rather, my point is that in pre-modern eras, only a few kinds of materials were regarded as resources and bore particular utilities. Since their quantities were limited, they were in high demand. Given a same kind of materials, people competed to obtain its different utilities. For instance, wood and straw were the predominant energy resources in the Northern Song period; yet, as construction materials, they carried the capacity for hydraulic utility. These two utilities and people's demands of them were mutually exclusive – a circumstance imposing fundamental material constraints to human activities. As hydraulic works were prioritized by the state, other human activities were jeopardized due to the lack of supplies. Clearly, the hydraulic mode of consumption underpinning the state's environmental management of the Yellow River–Hebei environmental complex led not only to the distributional inequality of resources among different regions, but also to the imbalance of various socio-economic values and functions of resources within a given region or a given society. This phenomenon points to a new possibility to further study the kind of “energy crisis” that scholars of late-imperial China like Kenneth Pomeranz examine. Due to both ecological and political-economy causes, an energy crisis not only comes from the decrease of the overall availability of a particular energy type, but it also derives from the energy type's regional and social unequal distribution and, very importantly, the shifting preferences of different utilities of a given resource. I shall explore this issue fully in other publications.
The above analysis suggests that trees and grass are not merely resources that exist to serve human needs. Instead, they are a part of the material foundation that defines the operation of the environmental world and human lives; they are active entities that both offer and constrain possibilities and, specifically in our case, they were participants in the making of the 1048–1128 environmental drama. Only by seeing trees and grass in this way can we make sense of the entanglement of the environmental and socio-economic changes in north China. We should note that the rapid disappearance of trees, bushes, and grass in north China did not end after the Yellow River left Hebei in 1128. It continued over the next nine hundred years, because all later imperial states followed the Song's footsteps by adopting the Song's hydraulic technology and its mode of consumption of vegetative materials. The continuous thinning-out of vegetation accompanied the deterioration of other aspects of the environment. Without adequate plants to transport and transform mineral contents, to retain water, and to root the earth, the soil salinization and sandification issues we discussed earlier only accelerated and worsened throughout the second millennium.
“The Taihang Mountains are denuded!” Shen Gua lamented in the 1070s. We know that this was only the traumatic beginning of a long-term environmental tragedy, a tragedy that was repeated and reinforced again and again, both by an overwhelming environmental power like the Yellow River and by particular human decisions and practices to contain and regulate the constantly changing environment. The legacy and consequences of the eleventh-century tragedy are still experienced by us today, when we walk down a street in some town of Hebei on a spring day, and when we are blinded by fierce sandstorms and lose our way.
An early version of this chapter appears in an article published by Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies, see Zhang (2009: 1–36).
1 For the Hai River system, see Zhang (1993) and Zou (1993: 118–147).
2 SS, 95: 2351 and 2364. XCB, 313: 7588.
3 SS, 95: 2352. XCB, 333: 8015; 323: 7790; and 324: 7810.
4 XCB, 421: 10204.
5 QSW, 2624: 10–11.
6 QSW, 2831: 158 and 2016: 15.
7 Xu (1995: 32–40).
8 SS, 93: 2310.
9 SS, 95: 2351.
10 SS, 92: 2282–2283. XCB, 278: 6800. For the technical aspects of these devices, see Needham et al. (1971: 335–336) and Flessel (1974: 63–66).
11 SS, 95: 2352, 2354, and 2356.
12 SS, 95: 2356.
13 XCB, 278: 6810.
14 XCB, 393: 9583.
15 QSW, 3050: 375.
16 Zou Hao's plead with the court in order to revive the Yuhe Canal, QSW, 2831: 158–159.
17 Li (1990: 246).
18 According to Zou Yilin (1987: 25–39), lakes on the North China Plain had changed very little from the sixth to the tenth century; it is in the eleventh century that they began to undergo remarkable changes.
19 Taiping huanyu ji, 59: 11a.
20 Zou (1987: 32) and Zhang (2006: 404).
21 XCB, 248: 6053; 396: 9661; and 399: 9733. SS, 95: 2362.
22 Hebei's underground tunnels are discussed in Chapter 2.
23 The concept of salinization used here follows Edmonds (1994: 124–125).
24 XCB, 159: 3853. See Zou (2005: 47–56).
25 “Shuowen,” SSWJ, 2: 29a–b.
26 QSW, 689: 284.
27 QSW, 985: 33 and 2036: 348.
28 For salt production during the Song, see Guo (1990).
29 XCB, 262: 6400; 263: 6443; and 290: 7085.
30 Comparing to positive cases in ancient Egypt and western parts of Hebei in the third–fourth centuries BCE, some Song historians analogically believe that the silting-field practice in Northern-Song China benefited soil fertility. See Higashi (1970: 434–479), Qi (1987: 79–83), and Han (1993: 44–47). However, by comparing the irrigation practices in ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, Joachim Radkau (2008: 93) points out that, while Egypt benefited greatly from floods and their sediments, Mesopotamia suffered from poor drainage conditions and resulted in serious environmental degradation. The same technology may lead to opposite results in different environmental settings.
31 XCB, 249: 6073. Su Shi, Dongpo zhilin, 4: 24.
32 Bray (1984: 138).
33 Shao (1991: 218–219).
34 Hydrologists have conducted enormous scientific research on the modern Yellow River. Focusing on different sections of the river in various periods, the results that they have achieved vary. Some general conclusions have emerged to help us understand the circumstances of the river in the Northern Song. For example, Han Peng and Ni Jinren (2001) and Zhang Xiaohua et al. (1999) show that when the river flows smoothly, heavy coarse matter of the silt deposits quickly on the riverbed, while fine matter suspends in the current and deposits slowly; as the water flow slows down and tends to evaporate, the suspending fine sand deposits on the surface to generate a layer of smooth and fertile topsoil. But when the river surges, scours, and breached its banks, the heavy coarse matter is stirred up by the currents and deposits on the land surface to create a layer of coarse and less fertile topsoil.
35 Although the silting-field measure was practiced in Hebei, reports about evident land improvement were not from Hebei, but from Henan where people used water from the Bian River, which enjoyed different hydrological characteristics
and provided different types of silt. For more discussion on the silting-field measure in Hebei and Henan, see Zhang (2009).
36 SHY, “Shihuo,” 1: 27a and 63: 183a–b. XCB, 450: 10821 and 518: 12337. Jilei ji, 62: 3b, 918.
37 SS, 91: 2265. For a detailed interpretation of this text, see Zhang (2009: 28–29).
38 XCB, 374: 9078.
39 Jin shi, 73: 1683.
40 XCB, 263: 6440 and 265: 6499.
41 Scott (1998: 6).
42 Muscolino (2015: 184–190) discusses the changes to soil caused by Yellow River sedimentation after the 1938 flood. Without scientific tests, we cannot assume that the 1938 flood's effects on Henan's soil were exactly same as the river's effects to Hebei's soil during 1048–1128. But the former supplies an analogous reference that helps us visualize the kind of changes that might have happened nine centuries ago.
43 The passage does not specify if all the changes took place in a single year, but its context, especially its indication for a temporal subsequence gives a strong hint that these changes took place within a year.
44 For an introduction of Shen Li and his hydraulic treatise that was compiled as Hetang tongyi by Shakeshen in the Yuan Dynasty, see Zhang (2009: 25–30).
45 QSW, 689: 284.
46 Xu (1988: 28–29).
47 SHY, “Fangyu,” 16: 12a.
48 In effect, agricultural cultivation in medieval China often damaged vegetation and depleted soil fertility. Poorly planned farming resulted in the exposure of land surface, as Tan Qixiang and Shi Nianhai have convincingly argued for the Yellow River's middle reaches and Zhou Yilin for the river's lower reaches. See various articles in Tan (1986) and Shi (1981, 1988a).
49 XCB, 421: 10205.
50 Liang Song mingxian xiaoji, 45: 2a.
51 Beixing rilu, shang: 14–16.
52 Jin shi, 73: 1683.
53 Jin shi, 106: 2332.
54 Makita (1959: 239–345).
55 Makita (1954: 251–252).
56 In Yingzhou of central Hebei, a survey in 1499 reported that among 1,120 qing (approximately 68.8 square kilometers) of fields, only 418 qing were arable, while the others were covered by sand and alkaline. See Ming shilu leizuan, 774. Also, see Gu Yanwu's comments on the land in Shandong and Hebei in Tianxia junguo libing shu, 2: 9b and 12b.
57 “Lun Beizhi shuili shu [On water management in Northern Zhili],” in Jifu tongzhi, 91: 3652a.
58 Traditionally, the rapid desertification on the Mongolian steppe or in the farther northwest is considered the major cause of sandstorms in present Beijing. However, “investigations [of the composition of sand and dust matter] suggest that the majority of wind-blown dust which can darken the sky in Beijing several times during the year comes from local river bed sand.” See Edmonds (1994: 110), citing Song Jinxi, “Beijing diqu shawuzhi de zhongkuangwu chengfen, jiegoutezheng yu fengsha de shawuzhi laiyuan,” Zhongguo shamo 1 (1987): 24–33.
59 XCB, 170: 4096. SS, 92: 2281.
60 XCB, 335: 8084.
61 SS, 95: 2357.
62 “Xiaoping shabo jianze ji [Report on sand's occupation of fields and tax reduction in Xiaoping],” in Guantao xianzhi, 6: 303–310.
63 “Shu Taoshan ji hou [Epilogue to the Prose of Tao Mountain],” in Guantao xianzhi, 2: 85–87.
64 “Xiaoping shabo jianze ji,” in Guantao xianzhi, 6: 304.
65 Shi (1981: 43).
66 Wu et al. (2001: 18).
67 Several scholars point out the connection between wood consumption for hydraulic purposes and deforestation, such as Yoshioka (1978: 24–26), Menzies (1996: 644–659), and Jiang (1998: 42–50). But none of these studies have examined such connection in adequate details.
68 Hefang tongyi, shang: 12–13.
69 The notion “sao” originally refers to a fascine roll made with wood, straw, and stone materials to block a bank rupture; it is then used to mean the hydraulic site along the river where multiple fascine rolls were placed, laborers stationed, and raw materials stored.
70 SS, 91: 2266.
71 “Yuanyou yuannian zhuangqiusi shixianglu [The stone incense burner in the Zhuangqiu Temple in the first year of Yuanyou (1986)],” Huaxian xianzhi, 6: 2252–2255b.
72 SS, 91: 2265.
73 SHY, “Shihuo,” 140: 8b.
74 SHY, “Fangyu,” 14: 14b–15a. QSW, 2427: 229. XCB, 28: 633.
75 The names of the fascine sites are collected from the “Monograph of Rivers and Canals,” in SS, vols. 91–93.
76 The number of fascine sites kept changing frequently. Some sites were abandoned after a river course eliminated, while some were renewed and multiplied as the river's threats became serious. For a detailed discussion, see Zhang (2009).
77 XCB, 223: 5421.
78 XCB, 105: 2455.
79 Ouyang Xiu's comment, in XCB, 179: 4327.
80 Qingxian ji, 8: 11a–b.
81 XCB, 289: 7072.
82 XCB, 415: 10096; 416: 10113; 420: 10179; and 421: 10198.
83 XCB, 415: 10087 and 416: 10110–10111.
84 SHY, “Fangyu,” 14: 14b–15a.
85 SHY, “Shihuo,” 1: 21b–22a.
86 QSW, 2012: 108.
87 QSW, 2387: 186.
88 QSW, 1644: 248–249.
89 QSW, 2703: 151.
90 Lamouroux (1998) has offered a detailed account on government funds that were used for the Yellow River hydraulic works.
91 XCB, 420: 10179.
92 XCB, 420: 10179.
93 XCB, 434: 10459.
94 XCB, 223: 542; 416: 10110–10111; and 434: 10460.
95 MXBT, 24: 233–234.
96 QSW, 2674: 79.
97 The government issued a decree to prompt tree planting along river banks in 962 (SHY, “Fangyu,” 14: 1a). The same order was reissued in 972 (SHY, “Fangyu,” 14: 1b), in 1000 (SHY, “Shihuo,” 1: 17b), in 1016 (XCB, 87: 1997), and in 1049 (XCB, 167: 4019). In the 1070s, the government again encouraged tree planting along both the Yellow River and Hebei's frontier ponds (XCB, 215: 5234; 246: 5987; and 254: 6206).
98 SHY, “Fangyu,” 14: 13b. XCB, 345: 8280.
99 XCB, 259: 6323.
100 XCB, 223: 5421; 414: 10056; 421: 10204; and 421: 10204.
101 QSW, 1784: 206.
102 Part of the northern Loess Plateau, around the Great Bend of the Yellow River, lay beyond the Song border or was a zone of military contestation between the Song and the Xiaxia. This means that the Song had no control of deforestation activities there and the historical sources of the Song Dynasty do not mention much about the environmental conditions there.
Epilogue
1128: The Close of the Environmental Drama
The River and the Plain
On March 20, 1127, after attacking and besieging the capital Kaifeng for fourteen months, a Jurchen army captured Emperor Qinzong and later Emperor Huizong and most of the royal family, and forced them to migrate north toward what is now northeastern China, then the homeland of the Jurchen. The Northern Song Dynasty fell. On June 12 of that year, a younger brother of Qinzong claimed the throne. Emperor Gaozong 高宗 (1107–1187), together with a few remaining officials of the Song court, some troops, and groups of refugees escaped southward. He eventually set up his imperial court in Hangzhou in the lower Yangzi valley in 1131. There began the Southern Song Dynasty (1127–1279).
While Emperor Gaozong was searching for a permanent home in the south, many Song loyalists were left behind, still fighting the Jurchen and hoping to regain control over north China, including Hebei. Some resorted to an environmental solution. In the winter of 1128, the Jurchen continued to advance southeastward. In order to thwart the Jurchen's march, the governor of Kaifeng Du Chong (died in 1141) commanded his troops to breach the dykes of the Yellow River to create a massive flood over northern Henan. This military action seems very similar to the one that Chiang Kai-shek's Nationalist government took in 1938 in the Sino-Japan War. As Micah Muscolino has detailed, the Nationalist troops bombed the Yellow River's dykes to provoke a flood
that, according to its strategic plan, would obstruct the Japanese army's use of railways and retard its southward advancement – an action that Kathryn Edgerton-Tarpley calls the “Nationalist state's technologization of disaster.”1 Eight centuries apart, the two actions induced similar social, economic, and environmental consequences: enormous numbers of people were killed and displaced; famine and water-borne epidemics caused widespread hardship; and long-standing water on the land surface caused various environmental conditions to deteriorate. In the 1128 case, the action seems to have been undertaken without a careful strategic plan, a step of utter desperation. As a result, the flooding failed to stop the Jurchen; instead, it only forced Du Chong and his troops to escape south, and drew north China into many years of misery. This environmental disaster was something of a last straw that crushed the hope for Song loyalists to recover the lost territory of north China.2
