Recently, I watched the ‘Last Emperor’, famously directed by Bernardo Bertolucci in 1987, winning nine Academy Awards for its screenplay and performance. It was a fuzzy feeling seeing the imposing Forbidden City during the last years of the Qing Dynasty – guarded by rows of armoured imperial guards – in contrast with the desolate and abandoned courtyards which imprisoned the defunct the last Qing Emperor, Pu Yi, during his adolescent years, after the rise of the Republic of China and its subsequent collapse into several despotic states known as the Warlord Era. I believe this ‘fuzzy feeling’ is known as the nolstagia of history. This feeling of nolstagia is by no means isolated to Qing History, or even Chinese history, but is found throughout the ages of human civilisation. From the founding of Rome and subsequently the rise of the Roman Kingdom in 750 BCE, to the uncontrollable expansion of the Umayyad Caliphate from Arabia to Pakistan, then to within a hundred miles of Paris, to the Spanish conquests of the Americas in the fifteenth century, history is saturated with these extraordinary instances of human achievements. Yet as we would know today, the Romanum Lacum or the ‘Roman Lake’ – that is the mediterranean sea, is no longer so Roman or even Italian, the Umayyad Caliphate has long splintered into several smaller successive states, and the Spanish Empire has also been reduced to merely the Iberian peninsula. Even Adolf Hitler’s ambitious dreams of a Tausendjähriges Reich – ‘A Thousand Year Reich’ – lasted for no more than twelve years despite its promising start. In each instance, and at least in point of history, it would’ve seemed that these remarkable empires were truly to become the pivotal turning point of human history, becoming the defining moment that were to dictate even our lives today in the 21st century; perhaps we all would’ve been polytheistic believers and worshoppers of Jupiter, or devoted Muslims to Allah[1] or non-existent through the brutal racial purifications and genocides of Hitler’s regime. But none of this happened in reality; religion nowadays come in all forms and sizes, and the Third Reich has long gave way to a stable, peaceful, and democratic Germany. It is thus evident that empires do not last, and the questions that arise from it is why and perhaps more profoundly what and how? What would’ve happened if Empress Dowager Cixi and the Guanxu Emperor had not died without a suitable successor to the throne? How could’ve the Eastern Roman Empire healed its long religious fractures on Christian theology within itself and between the East and the West? Combined, it is these questions reserved for each battle, each decision, and each empire throughout the millenias of human history that form the tingling sense of nolstagia for history – supplemented in the modern age by an infinite array of historical academia which combines the text with the visual to create a portal through time.
From a modern-day perspective, our relationship with the past – whether that be ancient nomadic tribes roaming the Asian Steppe or infantrymen in the trenches on the Somme – may seem insignificant and distant. Indeed to most, they are indifferent to history past their grandparents or great-grandparents. Their ancestory or heritage pose little interest beyond the amusing facts that they may be related to a historical figure or of a mixed race they previously did not know. After all, bygones are just bygones, and in our ever more stressful lives in adapting to the modern rhythmn of society, it may be wise to focus on the present or the future rather than where our ancestors five generations ago lived, what they achieved or what they thought and believed. This, of course is not limited to personal relationships with the past, but a wider cultural or national identity most hold and value today. Yet as overwhelming our modern-day lives could be, or as distant history may seem to pose to tomorrow’s school or work, I believe history nevertheless possesses important revelance in defining who we are. On the surface, it may be our gender, cultural background, or political alignment that categorises ourselves as individuals, yet it is history that once again bring an often-neglected insight into why we are who we are. Why is that so important, you may ask? Because as much as we tend to see our modern identities as independent from the past, they are in truth deeply interconnected. Whether that be modern examples of social progression or rapid advancements in technology, they are no more accomodated by the world wars fought in the name of liberty or the migration of Eastern Roman scholars to the west after the fall of Constantinople than the pioneers or advocates who we credit with these movements and changes. Even at times when history and social change have often had conflicting interests, it is also these circumstances that propel us to further value personal freedom, rights, and liberty. It was the looming threat of a Wehrmacht invasion of the British Isles that bound together the spirit of all Britons alike against the war effort; it was the brutal retalliation against the marches of Muhammed Ghandi that ignited the flames of revolution in India; it was the unrelenting concessions to the twenty-one demands[2] to the Japanese by Yuan Shi Kai that prompted national protests against further Chinese humiliation.
With such monumental forces of history powering the reality we exist in today, it is thus an irresistable, fuzzy, feeling to submit our minds and curiosity to the ages of the past. As rapidly as our world changes and evolves, we are no different to a Macadeonian peasant in the ninth century marvelling at the grand walls of Constantinople, either to rise in prominence through the social pyramid, or to pursue a life of perhaps monotonous normality as we work in a corporate office, or study day in day out within our homes. Between us and that peasant, we both live in the present, ponder the past, and consider the future. Is there any difference? One day we will too become that person, pondered by others a thousand years from now, whether with or without name and rank, and immortalised within the minds of humanity.
Let us therefore dwelve as we are to be dwelved upon. As you will read in part II, I shall further explain the phenomenon of such a ‘fuzzy’ feeling, using both pscyhological and historical research to strengthen humanity’s bridge with the past.
[1]although it cannot be denied that they were rather tolerant against other religions unlike modern-day Islamic states.
[2] Later reduced to thirteen demands.
Veni Vidi Veritatem 