Is the world watching a new Tang dynasty?

VISHAKHA DESAI

President of the Asia Society

August 18, 2008

The world watched with awe the amazing spectacle of the opening Olympic ceremony in Beijing. We saw the electronic unrolling of Chinese scrolls replete with great historic symbols, and we were mesmerized by dancers creating "harmony," using their bodies as ink brushes. There were 2,008 martial arts students performing millennium-old moves with mechanical precision, while the flying celestials and the galloping torchbearer created a sense of heavenly abode on Earth.

There was another time when China dazzled the world: the Tang dynasty (618-907), often thought of as China's golden age, when it was truly the "middle kingdom" at the centre of the universe. Its capital, Chang An (modern-day Xian) was a world-class city; visitors came from all over and were dazzled by its wealth, beauty and power. Its emperors used silver from Persia, glass from Europe, precious stones from Central Asia, and gold implements from India. Open, confident and cosmopolitan, China connected with the world with ease, adopting new ideas and projecting its own indigenous creations. It's no wonder Chinese scholars sometimes say that China is entering a new Tang dynasty.

Indeed, when China was awarded the Olympic Games in 2001, the country's official Xinhua news agency called it a "milestone in China's rising international status and a historical event in the great renaissance of the Chinese nation." For seven years, Chinese officials and artists worked tirelessly to make this dream of a "renaissance" a glittering reality, and they exceeded all expectations. But how should we understand the broader implications of the opening ceremony, both for China and the outside world?

First, the good news. In keeping with China's recent efforts to reveal its "soft" side was the projection of China as a nascent leader of the new international cultural order. The Bird's Nest stadium was the creation of the multinational design team of Herzog & de Meuron, with suggestions from the visual artist Ai Weiwei. Many artists involved in the creation of the spectacle, including fireworks specialist Cai Guo-Qiang, dance star Shen Wei, and composer Tan Dun, earned their fame primarily in the West. Even Zhang Yimou, the lead impresario for the event, gained fame in the West through his early films chronicling the hard life of a young modern China.

Chinese officials had clearly decided these diaspora darlings of the international art scene should be claimed as China's own. Their ability to bridge the traditions of East and West and to create a new space for creativity that can transcend the cultural specificities of the past in favour of a new blended future could be squarely associated with China's own global aspirations.

Not surprisingly, the Chinese leadership was keen to avoid any reference to the past two centuries of struggle and humiliation, or to its problematic political agendas and thorny trade issues.

At the same time, it could be argued that the spectacle of the opening ceremony was intended to overcome China's historic humiliation by the West and signal a new chapter. As in the Tang dynasty, arts and culture were centre stage, reflecting the country's economic prowess and political might.

But the extravaganza also left lingering doubts. Why such a drive to prove to the world that these had to be the very best Olympics? Some have said the effort suggests a hint of insecurity.

It should also be noted that while Mao was conspicuously absent in the ceremonies, his Communist legacy was present in subtle ways. The relentless emphasis on the "harmonious" presence of large groups of performers left no room for individual voices. Ironically, while younger Chinese are obsessed with personal stylistic statements, the drama of the opening ceremony was a collective expression at the service of the state.

Chinese intellectuals have always been cognizant of this tension between individual creativity and collective will. How will the new China balance these two conflicting needs? As we contemplate the potential arrival of the new Tang dynasty, we should remember the message of the old Tang dynasty poet Po Chu-i:

Sent as a present from Annam

A red cockatoo.

Coloured like the peach-tree blossom

Speaking with the speech of men.

And they did to it what is always done

To the learned and eloquent.

They took a cage with stout bars

And shut it up inside.