The Manchus of the Ching dynasty court had much to account for in China's spectacular decline and eventual defeat by imperial forces in the 19th century, but they cannot be faulted for keeping bad records.
The Ching bureaucracy was obsessive about keeping tabs on everything taking place throughout the land and this has made it easier for historians to chart the slow-motion collapse that began only a few decades after the dynasty crushed the last of the Ming holdouts.
The National Palace Museum has dug up from its enormous archive of Ching dynasty historical documents a collection of memos, maps, illustrations and court-commissioned accounts that explain quite vividly the heights to which the Ching army rose and the depths to which it eventually sank.
Eternal Vigilance -- Special Exhibition of Ching Military Documents begins with a graphic illustration of the Manchu military prowess that completely overwhelmed the Ming armies by sweeping from the north using mounted archers and cavalry.
With nimble maneuvers, the Ching banner armies chased the Ming all the way to the border with Burma before it achieved complete victory. The acceptance of the Ming defeat is shown in an illustration made by a Ching court historian.
Having deposed the Ming, the Ching felt its rule was perpetually threatened by destabilizing forces both within and without the kingdom and was almost constantly embarking on campaigns to pacify uprisings. This is especially apparent in the exhibition's attention to the Ching pacification of the territories to the west of current-day Lanzhou in Gansu Province, the untamed Muslim areas of China.
Documents on exhibit sent between the Beijing court and regional officials show how the Ching sought to fortify its camps and outposts against attack by Muslim separatists at Jiayuguan, the westernmost reach of the Great Wall and at Aksu, a tiny garrison town on the Tibetan plateau in Qinghai Province. Commanders call for the reinforcement of walls and the repositioning of outposts in beautifully scripted calligraphy scrolls.
One of the most spectacular items on display is a colored illustration of the final defeat of the Taiping rebellion, the breakaway group led by a man who believed he was Jesus' Chinese brother and which occupied most of southern China in the 1860s.
The picture shows dozens of imperial naval destroyers mounting a surprise attack with stunning detail in the banners flown by the ships and the expressions of the hapless rebels being slaughtered.
Victory over the Taiping, however, was nothing to celebrate for the Ching, since the uprising killed millions of people and further exposed the weakness of the regime. Already the Ching had been trounced by British and French forces in two wars, one ill-fated battle of which is shown in a ship movement illustration.
Many of the documents on display are letters or lists of materials written by regional officials and sent to Beijing, but there are sufficient illustrations to clarify what is provided in writing.
Taken as a whole, they show how the agile Manchu army became sedentary, inward looking and eventually lost the innovative strategies that led it to victory.
For anyone interested in Chinese military history or imperial commissioned artworks, this special exhibition is a rare occasion that the National Palace Museum is probably alone in being able to provide.
That US assistance was a model for Taiwan’s spectacular development success was early recognized by policymakers and analysts. In a report to the US Congress for the fiscal year 1962, former President John F. Kennedy noted Taiwan’s “rapid economic growth,” was “producing a substantial net gain in living.” Kennedy had a stake in Taiwan’s achievements and the US’ official development assistance (ODA) in general: In September 1961, his entreaty to make the 1960s a “decade of development,” and an accompanying proposal for dedicated legislation to this end, had been formalized by congressional passage of the Foreign Assistance Act. Two
President William Lai’s (賴清德) March 13 national security speech marked a turning point. He signaled that the government was finally getting serious about a whole-of-society approach to defending the nation. The presidential office summarized his speech succinctly: “President Lai introduced 17 major strategies to respond to five major national security and united front threats Taiwan now faces: China’s threat to national sovereignty, its threats from infiltration and espionage activities targeting Taiwan’s military, its threats aimed at obscuring the national identity of the people of Taiwan, its threats from united front infiltration into Taiwanese society through cross-strait exchanges, and its threats from
Despite the intense sunshine, we were hardly breaking a sweat as we cruised along the flat, dedicated bike lane, well protected from the heat by a canopy of trees. The electric assist on the bikes likely made a difference, too. Far removed from the bustle and noise of the Taichung traffic, we admired the serene rural scenery, making our way over rivers, alongside rice paddies and through pear orchards. Our route for the day covered two bike paths that connect in Fengyuan District (豐原) and are best done together. The Hou-Feng Bike Path (后豐鐵馬道) runs southward from Houli District (后里) while the
March 31 to April 6 On May 13, 1950, National Taiwan University Hospital otolaryngologist Su You-peng (蘇友鵬) was summoned to the director’s office. He thought someone had complained about him practicing the violin at night, but when he entered the room, he knew something was terribly wrong. He saw several burly men who appeared to be government secret agents, and three other resident doctors: internist Hsu Chiang (許強), dermatologist Hu Pao-chen (胡寶珍) and ophthalmologist Hu Hsin-lin (胡鑫麟). They were handcuffed, herded onto two jeeps and taken to the Secrecy Bureau (保密局) for questioning. Su was still in his doctor’s robes at
RSS