Oracle Bones (33 page)

Professor Bagley is a scholar of ancient Chinese bronzes, and he has a reputation for brilliance and exactitude; often he criticizes the tendency of historians and archaeologists to make assumptions without evidence. He has clear blue eyes and a careful way of speaking. When I interview him for a
National Geo-graphic
article, he emphasizes that traditional mindsets in China have been slow to respond to new discoveries.

“The classical historical tradition,” he says, “is always interested in seeing a single line of development, from an early ruling empire that passes down legitimate rule to its successors, so they don’t talk about anything outside that one line of descent. And the oracle bones of course see everything from the Anyang king’s point of view—it’s like that
New Yorker
map, where most of the world consists of Manhattan.”

He continues: “One of the difficulties here is that archaeological funding has been concentrated on Anyang and other northern sites, because the written historical record tells you that this is what matters. But there is a real irony in that the really sensational finds have been accidental, in places like Sanxingdui. Sanxingdui is telling us something that we never saw the likes of before.”

Scholars have theorized that the culture of Sanxingdui may have had links with Central Asia, or India, or Burma. But these aren’t neat connections: the bronze heads don’t closely resemble other known artifacts. It’s possible that they are simply the work of an advanced civilization that developed in Sichuan and then disappeared.

“There is a point of view,” Bagley explains, “in which you could say that no find outside the Yellow River Valley, no matter how strange or spectacular, is as important, because twenty-five hundred years of Chinese tradition says that the middle Yellow River Valley is where we all come from. Now, to a foreigner who doesn’t have a psychological investment in what is China, then I can look and say, well, a lot of interesting things were going on around 1300
B
.
C
. Some of those things became very central to Chinese history in later periods. Some of them, for reasons that aren’t clear, don’t seem to have a big afterlife. In Sichuan you don’t have people continuing to make big bronze statues. But if you just look at 1300
B
.
C
.—forget the word ‘China,’ because there’s no yellow patch on the map. If you just look at the eastern end of the Asian continent, there are a lot of interesting things going on, and there’s a lot of diversity. There are highly civilized societies in several places that are in touch with each other, related to each other—but distinctly different.”

No writing has been discovered at Sanxingdui, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that the culture was illiterate. The ancient people may have written on perishable materials. In Anyang, writing survived because it was inscribed into oracle bones and bronzes, which last for millennia. Most scholars believe that the Shang also wrote on bamboo or wood, but such materials wouldn’t survive centuries underground. The only evidence for their existence is indirect: an
oracle-bone character that is believed to be an early form of
,
ce
, the modern character that means “writing tablet.” The Shang form of this character resembles strips of bamboo or wood laced together with a leather strap. The object itself is long gone, but the word remains:

“The writing certainly contributes to the importance of Anyang in Chinese eyes,” Bagley says, “because it’s the ancestor of the writing system that’s in use today. But the fact that we have writing in Anyang may be the merest fluke. What do we have? We have divinations on bones. You can imagine that the kings at Anyang are always keeping records, but on perishable materials. Then imagine that there’s some king, around 1200
B
.
C
., who says, why don’t we carve on the materials we’re using for divination? That’s when the archaeological record begins. It could be simply the whim of some king.”

Because most historical dynasties were based in the north, the traditional perception has always been that the south was backward. But archaeological finds indicate an early development of agriculture in southern regions such as Sichuan.

“I’m just deeply impressed by this evidence that there was early rice cultivation in the middle Yangtze,” Bagley says. “The standard Chinese view has always been that the Yangtze region was the swamps, and it never got civilized until the northerners came, bringing civilization with them. My suspicion is that that’s just radically wrong.”

He continues: “In archaeology, you’re reconstructing a picture of the past that is based on what has been found. But what has been found is a very accidental selection of stuff. It’s been found by road building crews, and brick factories, and farmers digging in their fields. You know what’s been found—but you don’t know what hasn’t been found.”

P
ERSPECTIVE
II

Distance:
943
miles. Location: Office B
1509
, Eaglerun Plaza, No.
26
Xiaoyun Road, Beijing. Commentator: Xu Chaolong.

Xu Chaolong is a lapsed archaeologist. He has not been defrocked, and he has not lost his faith, but he has slipped away from academia. Not long ago, he was considered to be one of China’s most promising young scholars. He grew up in Sichuan province, graduated from Sichuan University, and then, in 1983, received a scholarship to Kyoto University in Japan. Some of his graduate research involved the Indus Valley; later, he studied the archaeology of his home province. He won major Japanese awards and fellowships. In 1990, having completed his Ph.D., he accepted a faculty position at Ibaraki University.

He is a classically trained violinist; he met his Japanese wife while giving her lessons on the
erhu
, a Chinese stringed instrument. He speaks and writes Japanese fluently. He has published eight books on archaeology, mostly about the Yangtze River region, and each of these books was written and published in Japanese. Not a single one has been translated into Chinese. Xu Chaolong says that he has been too busy to do it himself. Since 1998, he has worked for Kyocera Corporation, a Japanese company that makes cell phones, cameras, and photocopiers. He researches archaeology in his spare time.

Other scholars view Xu Chaolong in vastly different ways, depending on their nationality. Some young Chinese archaeologists say that he went into business only to please his Japanese wife. Foreign archaeologists claim that he was frustrated by the narrowness and conservatism of the field in China. Everybody—both Chinese and foreign—agrees that his deep love for Sichuan is both an inspiration and a limitation. He is a regional patriot. And whereas a foreign scholar like Professer Bagley speaks of Sanxingdui in terms of culture and politics, Xu Chaolong’s vocabulary is primarily economic—the language of a young man who grew up in Deng Xiaoping’s China.

When we meet, he shows me one of his Japanese-published books:
The Fifth Great Civilization
.

“Traditionally, the four great ancient civilizations were the Egyptian, Mesopotamian, Indus Valley, and the Yellow River Valley,” he says. “Now look at the importance of rice—the whole world eats it. But the civilization that came from the rice-producing region isn’t recognized. And in fact, most of the modern Chinese leaders are from rice areas. Chiang Kai-shek, Mao Zedong, Deng Xiaoping, Zhou Enlai, Zhu Rongji, Li Peng, Hu Jintao—all from the south. Ever since the fall of the Qing, southerners have been leading this country.

“The northerners controlled China for two thousand years, and of course it has an effect on the way archaeology is approached. But we need to recognize that Chinese civilization has more than one heart. There were two ancient centers that eventually became unified.”

We sit in a Japanese-minimalist room. There are four couches, a table, some silk flowers, and a plastic palm plant. There aren’t any windows; nothing hangs on the white walls. The room seems to heat up as Xu speaks. He talks quickly in Chinese, using short, clear sentences, and he becomes more animated as the interview progresses. He shifts nervously; he cracks his knuckles. He speaks faster and faster. He wears a crisp white shirt and a blue-and-gold silk tie. Gold-rimmed glasses. Gold and silver Rolex. I ask him why he came to work at Kyocera.

“They sponsored a project I did at the International Research Center for Japanese Study. I was researching Yangtze culture. After a while, the boss here told me that I had some talent in business. He said I could be like Heinrich Schliemann, the German who discovered the ancient city of Troy. Schliemann did both business and archaeology. My boss said: You can be that guy.

“This is a period of great change in China—the economics are changing, the politics are changing. And where does the power for change come from? From the south. And the rediscovery of the Yangtze rice culture will have a great effect on the changes of China’s economy. Why should the south lead Chinese economics? Because that’s the way it was in the past. The Yangtze wasn’t a barbarian region.

“The key word is: Rice. Thirty-three percent of the world’s population survives on rice. The source of this crop should be considered the source of a great civilization; we can call it the Rice Civilization. Along the Yellow River, it was the Millet and Wheat Civilization.”

At the end of the interview, he tells me again that politics have warped Chinese archaeology. “In the past, it was important for leaders to have a concentration of political control,” he says. “But this is an economic century, not a political century. The economy speaks out, and it will change the concept of power. Jiang Zemin recently visited the Sanxingdui bronzes, and I know from a friend there that Jiang was very interested. Look at the rest of the government—why are so many leaders from the south? They have their own great ancient civilization, and they need to discover it, to explore it. Once they explore their past, the people will have more confidence. They’ll have more power to develop their economy; they’ll have more voice in the political system. Politics, economics, and culture are inseparable.”

P
ERSPECTIVE
III

Distance: a few hundred feet. Location: a farmhouse in Sanxingdui, Sichuan province. Commentator: Xu Wenqiu.

Xu Wenqiu stands less than five feet tall, but she has a solidness that is common for middle-aged peasant women. She has calloused hands, sturdy legs, and wide feet. Her cheap tennis shoes are decorated with the American flag. When I explain that I’m researching a story for
National Geographic
, she says that she has never heard of the magazine. I ask her about the morning back in 1986 when she and the other villagers were digging clay.

“It was the eighteenth day of the sixth month, in the lunar calendar,” she says. “I remember it very well. People were digging, and they found the jade at eight o’clock. The next thing I saw was everybody running away. They all disappeared, and so did the jade!”

She laughs, and the crowd of neighbors joins in—interviews in the outdoors are never private in a village like Sanxingdui. It’s a cool morning, and the rapeseed is in season; around us, fields shimmer a brilliant gold. The woman’s simple home is made of mud walls and a tile roof. Nearby, the modern shape of the new Sanxingdui Museum rises above the fields like a mirage. The woman tells me that back in the summer of 1986, all of the jade was returned immediately.

“Some archaeologists came out to inspect it, and then they found that famous gold mask,” she says. “But Teacher Chen told us that it was bronze—he tricked us. He had us cover up the pit, and then later that day the military police came. Really, that mask was gold. Teacher Chen was just afraid that something would happen. That was on the second day.

“That summer we helped them excavate. That was our job. Sometimes we dug, or we used brushes to clean things off. They paid us less than one hundred yuan a month, although they also gave us food. Well, I wouldn’t really call it food. It was more like crackers. They were cheap.”

I ask her if she thinks that other artifacts are still underground.