A few months ago, I visited China, staying in Nanjing, Shanghai, Suzhou, and Hangzhou -- all foci during the long, devastating Taiping Civil War that took place between 1850 and 1864. When Westerners think of Nanjing, of course, it is the brutal Japanese occupation before and during WWII that springs to mind, but I soon became aware as I visited the city that there are successive layers of history, each of which affected later developments.
The Taiping era fascinates me, and since Nanjing was the seat of the Heavenly King and the last major city to be held by the rebels, it is perhaps the best place to learn of the rebellion. Among other places in Nanjing, I visited the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom Museum, the site of what was once the palace of the Heavenly King, and walked parts of the impressive city walls to view ancient fortifications. The Taiping Museum was of particular interest and very detailed, but I quickly realized I was poorly prepared to understand the artifacts and displays, most of which had at least some English text to explain them.
The mere facts of the rebellion -- that a poor, failed scholar who had visions that he was the younger brother of Jesus Christ and had been given, according to his visions, the task of wiping the foreign Manchus from power and establishing a heavenly kingdom in its stead -- almost seem too fantastic to believe. And yet this is what happened. Millions of Chinese peasants left their homes and followed him, some hewing to his quasi-Christian beliefs and others sensing that the time had come, at last, to rout out the corrupt Manchu overlords. The subsequent upheaval dwarfed anything we might compare it to. The best estimates are that anywhere between 20 to 50 million people died during this civil war that, somehow, very few of us in the West have even heard of.
Obviously, this all made a strong impression on me, and I resolved to read more about the Taiping so that I could reach a better understanding of what happened.
I don't think most of us in the West fully understand the resentment and mistrust the Chinese, even today, feel toward us. Of course, the Opium Wars and the various vulture-like entities that sprang up in response to the enfeebled Qing dynasty have much to do with that, but there was also the experience, during this struggle as well as at many other times, of Western representatives continuously changing tack or seeming to work in unpredictable ways. For example, during the Taiping campaigns, Western military leaders would capriciously change sides, not to mention that some Western envoys insisted on protocols that were opaque or contradictory. It was not the East that seemed inscrutable in these exchanges so much as the West. (The Taiping rebels were fairly consistent up until the end in dealing with Westerners, and the representatives of the Qing also clung to a fairly consistent policy, which centered on keeping barbarian influences as far as possible from Beijing and the emperor.)
The events the author describes and analyzes are complex, but he helps us by focusing on two major players, the reluctant scholar-general Zeng Guofan and the Taiping leader Hong Rengan, cousin and most influential advisor to the Heavenly King. Both of these men were unlikely leaders, yet they each had a strong vision that guided their actions and policies. Although he was fighting "on the wrong side" from the Western perspective, I confess that I developed a real fondness for Zeng, who improbably emerged from his Confucian fastness to become a brilliant strategist. His tale is a tragic one, for at the end of the war, when he had finally defeated the Taiping, he only wished to withdraw back into his scholarly cocoon but instead faced ridicule, suspicion, and opprobrium up until the time of his death.
Another striking and indeed exasperating aspect of this era is the West's consistently cack-handed and wrongheaded approach. There was endless vacillation over which side to back, the Qing or the Taiping. Indeed, the third course, neutrality, while it seemed the safest, invariably backfired, and the British policy of "neutrality" was no such thing. But all the major foreign powers -- British, French, and American -- failed to understand what the Taiping were and weren't, and the author recounts a litany of their diplomatic missteps and miscalculations. Ultimately, Hong Rengan's Taiping vision was very much in accordance to what the West wanted: open trade, modernization, and a pro-Western government in power. Yet a few Western representatives who wrote dispatches back to governments halfway across the globe managed to critically misrepresent Taiping intentions.
I couldn't help but think, as I read this book, of how often our foreign policy goes awry because we don't know what the "real" nature of rebel factions or emergent movements is. A brief glance at Syria provides a rich example of this. Who will be our friends after the dust settles? Which group's policies will align most closely with our own interests? The role of the media and of particular influential people who may or may not have a clear appraisal of the situation has at times an outsize influence over foreign policy, not to mention what I will call the "appetites" for foreign intervention at home at any given time.
In short, it is instructive to see how dramatically the West got it wrong during the Taiping rebellion, and it would be foolish, in the final analysis, to assume that we have made much progress in assessing friends and enemies since then. It is also striking that the Taiping provided a template for revolutionary "leaps forward" under communist leaders and, indeed, still provides a crude template for changes China is undergoing today.