The Qing dynasty's Qianlong emperor at the close of the 18th century wrote to King George III after snubbing a British diplomatic mission: "We have never valued ingenious articles, nor do we have the slightest need of your country's manufactures. Therefore, O King, as regards your request to send someone to remain at the capital, while it is not in harmony with the regulations of the Celestial Empire we also feel very much that it is of no advantage to your country."
Needless to say, the British saw things in a different light, not least because the growing trade they were carrying out with China was resulting in an alarming flow of silver out of British coffers and into the Qing court's pockets.
The British solution for the trade imbalance at the beginning of the 19th century was simple: start selling opium to China. The strategy worked and its aftershocks can still be felt in Chinese apprehension toward the West in general and toward global trade in particular.
PHOTO COURTESY OF NATIONAL HISTORY MUSEUM
When the Daoguang emperor decided to take decisive action against opium in 1838 he called upon Lin Tse-hsu (林則徐), a scholar-bureaucrat who opted for a classically Confucian combination of moral persuasion and forceful crackdowns to enforce the ban on opium that was already in place but flagrantly ignored by both foreign and local traders. His methods failed spectacularly, but he nonetheless became a potent symbol to explain China's bitter experience of interaction with Western powers in the 19th century.
In a first for a local museum, the National Museum of History is holding an exhibition on Lin's life and work -- and on the opium trade he tried to stem.
Unfortunately, the show is unbearably static, featuring an assortment of opium pipes and utensils and old photos of addicts in various states of blissful repose. There is an abundance of dull wall text, and to be fair, it steers clear of the standard line on Lin in China that he was a heroic patriot who became victim of implacable and dastardly foreigners, but it's entirely in Chinese. What little English information is provided in the exhibition pamphlet is poorly translated and absent of detail. Perhaps someone forgot to inform the National Museum of History that this is "Visit Taiwan Year."
On the bright side, the facts, as presented in the exhibition, portray Lin as an upright servant of the Qing court, which isn't disputed. They also highlight the fact that his final tactic of seizing and then destroying all the opium within his jurisdiction invited swift retaliation from the British in the form of the First Opium War that ended in 1842 with a massive reparations bill and the loss of Hong Kong. But that's where the history lesson ends.
The exhibition's greatest flaw is in glossing over Lin's central role in setting off a chain of events that permanently changed China. The Opium War announced China's military weakness to European powers, and these arrived in quick succession, trying to instigate wars that they could quickly win to then leverage concessions out of the Qing court.
Whether Lin could have averted a war with more deft diplomacy, or at the very least postponed foreign incursions by a few decades, are questions scholars have considered ever since Lin found himself reassigned to Xinjiang, a posting that amounted to the Qing government's worst possible demotion.
It's too bad that an exhibition dedicated to the man so studiously avoided exploring these and other critical questions.
Performance note:
What: Lin Tse-Hsu and the New Opium War
When: Now until July 11
Where: 29 Nanhai Road, Taipei (
Tickets: NT$20 for adults, NT$10 for students
The Nuremberg trials have inspired filmmakers before, from Stanley Kramer’s 1961 drama to the 2000 television miniseries with Alec Baldwin and Brian Cox. But for the latest take, Nuremberg, writer-director James Vanderbilt focuses on a lesser-known figure: The US Army psychiatrist Douglas Kelley, who after the war was assigned to supervise and evaluate captured Nazi leaders to ensure they were fit for trial (and also keep them alive). But his is a name that had been largely forgotten: He wasn’t even a character in the miniseries. Kelley, portrayed in the film by Rami Malek, was an ambitious sort who saw in
It’s always a pleasure to see something one has long advocated slowly become reality. The late August visit of a delegation to the Philippines led by Deputy Minister of Agriculture Huang Chao-ching (黃昭欽), Chair of Chinese International Economic Cooperation Association Joseph Lyu (呂桔誠) and US-Taiwan Business Council vice president, Lotta Danielsson, was yet another example of how the two nations are drawing closer together. The security threat from the People’s Republic of China (PRC), along with their complementary economies, is finally fostering growth in ties. Interestingly, officials from both sides often refer to a shared Austronesian heritage when arguing for
Among the Nazis who were prosecuted during the Nuremberg trials in 1945 and 1946 was Hitler’s second-in-command, Hermann Goring. Less widely known, though, is the involvement of the US psychiatrist Douglas Kelley, who spent more than 80 hours interviewing and assessing Goring and 21 other Nazi officials prior to the trials. As described in Jack El-Hai’s 2013 book The Nazi and the Psychiatrist, Kelley was charmed by Goring but also haunted by his own conclusion that the Nazis’ atrocities were not specific to that time and place or to those people: they could in fact happen anywhere. He was ultimately
Late last month the Executive Yuan approved a proposal from the Ministry of Labor to allow the hospitality industry to recruit mid-level migrant workers. The industry, surveys said, was short 6,600 laborers. In reality, it is already heavily using illegal foreign workers — foreign wives of foreign residents who cannot work, runaways and illegally moonlighting factory workers. The proposal thus merely legalizes what already exists. The government could generate a similar legal labor supply simply by legalizing moonlighting and permitting spouses of legal residents to work legally on their current visa. But after 30 years of advocating for that reform,