From silkroadtoronto.wordpress.com blog:
Nov. 24: Online Group Topic – for this group topic I want you to focus on daily life at Dunhuang. What is the socio-political situation at the site, and how does Buddhism figure in? What do we know, and what do we not know, that might help us reconstruct the actual practice of Buddhism in the Dunhuang region?
1. Anxiety
As far as the socio-political situation of Dunhuang is concerned, we know that the town and religious complex were situated on the periphery of Imperial China; Dunhuang was a frontier town, comparable to the dusty streets of the Wild West in some small way. So far removed from the administrative, cultural, and safely guarded heart of China, one assumes the citizens of Dunhuang were anxious about maintaining their continued support from the Emperor. Without imperial support and troops, the little town would surely fall prey to the 'barbarians' from beyond (in fact, it often did), shattering the lives that Dunhuang residents tried to build for themselves.
Anxiety is an interesting emotion because it is involves a mental state that cannot easily assuaged. Perhaps adherence to Buddhism, and especially adherence to a calming meditative regime, may have helped to keep fear and troubles in check.
2. Hierarchy
There is evidence that Chinese society at Dunhuang was very hierarchical within a system of class-merit differentiation. Perhaps Dunhuang citizens actively competed with each other for prestige. One excellent way of accumulating prestige would be to actively display wealth and piety. Therefore, in this context, leaving one's mark upon the Cave of the Thousand Buddhas could be considered an important strategic move.
Donors commissioned paintings and sculptures in the caves, and likenesses of these patrons were probably accurately depicted within these works of art. Therefore, it is possible that Buddhist ritual sites offered Dunhuang citizens a chance to immortalize their legacy, compete within the political arena, and engage in pious (even redemptive) acts.
3. Daily Practice
In order to understand daily life at Dunhuang, it is important to remember that the everyday can sometimes include the sublime, and that religious experience can often become perfunctory. Buddhist prayer and meditation punctuated everyday life in a habitual and banal way. Similarly, the banality and pain of existence necessitated the Buddhist message in the first place. If we are to accurately reconstruct life at Dunhuang we must take into account the interpenetration of sacred and profane.
But how? We have many ancient texts and can glean much from archaeological excavation, but we do not have access to the bodily practice of Buddhism in Dunhuang during the Silk Road period. An interesting experiment might be to construct an accurate theatrical representation of a day-in-the-life of a Dunhuang citizen. This would involve a great many other reconstructions in order to effect a believable stage, and so might only be possible in a very limited way.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Zorastrianism
First of all, I just thought I would point out something that I found very interesting. Quoting from Mallandra's An Introduction to Ancient Iranian Religion:
(p. 39) "One of the initially bewildering features of Zarathustra's exposition is his use of verbal tenses. This difficulty is rooted in the fact that the Indo-Iranian languages possessed a special verb form, the injunctive, which is reserved for the expression of myth and timeless truths. Whereas one tends to regard all events, whether mythological or not, as taking place in a nonrecurring historical order, archaic man understood mythical events, which took place in mythological time, as being everpresent."
Fascinating. This reminds me of the aliens from Slaughterhouse Five. If "archaic man" (and I shall presume "archaic woman" as well) understood mythical events in this way, where along the way did we lose this ability? Here Mallandra has made a bit of a jump. It is not that archaic people had an ability that we do not possess, but that Zarathustra's language provided him (and by this I mean the later scribes who wrote as him) with the ability to present the world in this way. Navajo language also affords story-tellers this ability, a point which Basso drives home in his book Wisdom Sits in Places as a part of his discussion of cultural geography/ecology. What is interesting here is that the infinite, timeless continuity of this language form drives home both the immediacy AND ancient authority of moral teachings. I wonder if there is a similar medium in contemporary society. The closest thing I can think of would be that of cinema.
Now, continuing on to my discussion of Zorastrianism proper. What does everybody think about this concept of twin Divinities, one Evil and one Good? In the Abrahamic religions (the cases with which I am most familiar) God is held up in contradistinction with the Devil, Shaitan, or Iblis... yet parity between the two parties is never inferred in official dogma. However, one gets the sense that at least in folk Christianities, that the Devil holds an equal position in terms of Judgement: the promise of Salvation is met with an equally powerful Temptation. Interestingly, the same imagery that appears in Zorastrianism resurfaces in Christian lore. God is the Light (as in Jesus' claim "I am the Light, the Way, and the Truth) and the Devil is the Darkness. God's retribution is meted out in terms of flame. The examples go on.
Do you think that this imagery is built directly into the human psyche, perhaps as an effect of our species' evolution as diurnal and an ancient recognition of the immense adaptive advantage of fire? After all, we see a similar adoration of fire cross-culturally. Or perhaps this imagery was appropriated by Judaism from Zorastrianism long ago. Or perhaps such similarity is an effect of the manipulative translation and rendering of Zorastrian texts by monotheist-biased scholars.
(p. 39) "One of the initially bewildering features of Zarathustra's exposition is his use of verbal tenses. This difficulty is rooted in the fact that the Indo-Iranian languages possessed a special verb form, the injunctive, which is reserved for the expression of myth and timeless truths. Whereas one tends to regard all events, whether mythological or not, as taking place in a nonrecurring historical order, archaic man understood mythical events, which took place in mythological time, as being everpresent."
Fascinating. This reminds me of the aliens from Slaughterhouse Five. If "archaic man" (and I shall presume "archaic woman" as well) understood mythical events in this way, where along the way did we lose this ability? Here Mallandra has made a bit of a jump. It is not that archaic people had an ability that we do not possess, but that Zarathustra's language provided him (and by this I mean the later scribes who wrote as him) with the ability to present the world in this way. Navajo language also affords story-tellers this ability, a point which Basso drives home in his book Wisdom Sits in Places as a part of his discussion of cultural geography/ecology. What is interesting here is that the infinite, timeless continuity of this language form drives home both the immediacy AND ancient authority of moral teachings. I wonder if there is a similar medium in contemporary society. The closest thing I can think of would be that of cinema.
Now, continuing on to my discussion of Zorastrianism proper. What does everybody think about this concept of twin Divinities, one Evil and one Good? In the Abrahamic religions (the cases with which I am most familiar) God is held up in contradistinction with the Devil, Shaitan, or Iblis... yet parity between the two parties is never inferred in official dogma. However, one gets the sense that at least in folk Christianities, that the Devil holds an equal position in terms of Judgement: the promise of Salvation is met with an equally powerful Temptation. Interestingly, the same imagery that appears in Zorastrianism resurfaces in Christian lore. God is the Light (as in Jesus' claim "I am the Light, the Way, and the Truth) and the Devil is the Darkness. God's retribution is meted out in terms of flame. The examples go on.
Do you think that this imagery is built directly into the human psyche, perhaps as an effect of our species' evolution as diurnal and an ancient recognition of the immense adaptive advantage of fire? After all, we see a similar adoration of fire cross-culturally. Or perhaps this imagery was appropriated by Judaism from Zorastrianism long ago. Or perhaps such similarity is an effect of the manipulative translation and rendering of Zorastrian texts by monotheist-biased scholars.
What is Religion?
As the "Studying Religion" website indicates, no one unified "theory of religion" is likely possible, and no one definition practically useful. However, there is another position that neither the website nor our encyclopaedia reading explores fully, that of understanding "religion" as a political strategy. For, despite its rather amorphous quality, the notion of religion holds considerable power. In classifying a set of practices, beliefs, symbols, or whatever else as a religion, that "religion" can access certain privileges within the context of the liberal state. Charity status and certain tax exemptions are available for new "religions" with a significant number of adherents; such benefits are not offered to (the sitgmatized and denigrated appellation of) "cults".
It is not my purpose here to compare the taxation laws of various countries. Rather, I simply wish to point out that any working definition of religion must take into account the way that groups of human beings make use of similar definitions to pursue political goals. In his course on Indigenous Spirituality, anthropologist David Turner at U of T explained that his initial fieldwork experience with the Aboriginal people of Grute Island, Australia can be understood in this way. Grute Islanders had long practiced a series of rituals and shared a collection of narratives about "the Dreaming" prior to colonial contact. Islanders had never considered these elements "religious", seeing them instead simply as their "way of life". However, faced with increasing antagonism from the missionaries in the 1960s, the Natives of Grute Island invited Dr. Turner to work with them in compiling an Aboriginal "bible", a document containing a systematic description of their history/mythology, practices, and symbolic vocabulary. In order to counter missionary claims about their "barbarity", the Islanders sought legitimize their "way of life" as a "religion" and, in so doing, legitimize their right to keep it. The extent to which the Islanders were successful is not important in this discussion. Regardless, this example demonstrates how "religion" can be deployed as a political strategy.
In conclusion, if we are to take seriously the Encyclopaedia of Cultural Anthropology's claim that "things religious pervade other cultural systems and cannot adequately be studied separate from those contexts", then we also must investigate how those contexts (political or otherwise) infiltrate and shape "religion", and the various attempts we make at defining it.
It is not my purpose here to compare the taxation laws of various countries. Rather, I simply wish to point out that any working definition of religion must take into account the way that groups of human beings make use of similar definitions to pursue political goals. In his course on Indigenous Spirituality, anthropologist David Turner at U of T explained that his initial fieldwork experience with the Aboriginal people of Grute Island, Australia can be understood in this way. Grute Islanders had long practiced a series of rituals and shared a collection of narratives about "the Dreaming" prior to colonial contact. Islanders had never considered these elements "religious", seeing them instead simply as their "way of life". However, faced with increasing antagonism from the missionaries in the 1960s, the Natives of Grute Island invited Dr. Turner to work with them in compiling an Aboriginal "bible", a document containing a systematic description of their history/mythology, practices, and symbolic vocabulary. In order to counter missionary claims about their "barbarity", the Islanders sought legitimize their "way of life" as a "religion" and, in so doing, legitimize their right to keep it. The extent to which the Islanders were successful is not important in this discussion. Regardless, this example demonstrates how "religion" can be deployed as a political strategy.
In conclusion, if we are to take seriously the Encyclopaedia of Cultural Anthropology's claim that "things religious pervade other cultural systems and cannot adequately be studied separate from those contexts", then we also must investigate how those contexts (political or otherwise) infiltrate and shape "religion", and the various attempts we make at defining it.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Sogdiana
There is always the tendency when speaking about ancient people to conflate language with ethnicity. This is very problematic. The idea that "the language makes the people" is a fairly recent one, an ideology about language that really only emerged during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in Europe. This concept was used in two ways. First, it was used to legitimate and facilitate national unification, as in the case of Bismarckian Germany. On the other hand, it was used as a rallying cry for the liberation of subjugated people, such as the Hungarians striving for independence from the Austrian-Hapsburg Empire. In either case, language and ethnicity were imagined as the constitutive elements for the centralized European nation-state. This political architecture is historically and geographically specific, and in no way should it be extended conceptually to include ancient civilizations. I fear that as a result of the fragmentary nature of the historical record, and the brevity of Wood, Marshak, and Negmatov's treatment, the "Sogdians" have been partially misconstrued.
Who exactly are we talking about when we speak of the "Sogdians"? They appear to have been a semi-nomadic group of traders operating across the central stretch of the Silk Road, sharing some sort of affiliation with the city state of Samarkand. Our readings claim that they were at some points Buddhist, Zoroastrian, and Manichean in their religious outlook. Their art-form is likewise eclectic incorporating both style and subject matter from a host of other traditions. By all accounts the Sogdians were a varied group.
All of this evidence would seem to imply that the "Sogdian" identity, constructed here by our readings over the course of a few centuries, was not as centralized as the type of nationalized identities we are familiar with today. Apparently, many other people could speak Sogdian: were these people in some way Sogdian as well? Some Sogdians became Chinese citizens: were they still Sogdians? How could the Sogdians living and trading with the Indian peoples be considered the same as those living so far away in Turfan? My question is, what - if any - were the decisive characteristics that made someone a Sogdian?
I do not wish to imply that "the Sogdians" never existed as a unified concept; I am only seeking to problematize this week's rendering of that concept. Perhaps my concerns have already been addressed through intricate scholarship too specialized to include in a survey course. It would be very interesting to see what kinds of geographical and temporal subdivisions existed within - and were important for - the Sogdian peoples.
Who exactly are we talking about when we speak of the "Sogdians"? They appear to have been a semi-nomadic group of traders operating across the central stretch of the Silk Road, sharing some sort of affiliation with the city state of Samarkand. Our readings claim that they were at some points Buddhist, Zoroastrian, and Manichean in their religious outlook. Their art-form is likewise eclectic incorporating both style and subject matter from a host of other traditions. By all accounts the Sogdians were a varied group.
All of this evidence would seem to imply that the "Sogdian" identity, constructed here by our readings over the course of a few centuries, was not as centralized as the type of nationalized identities we are familiar with today. Apparently, many other people could speak Sogdian: were these people in some way Sogdian as well? Some Sogdians became Chinese citizens: were they still Sogdians? How could the Sogdians living and trading with the Indian peoples be considered the same as those living so far away in Turfan? My question is, what - if any - were the decisive characteristics that made someone a Sogdian?
I do not wish to imply that "the Sogdians" never existed as a unified concept; I am only seeking to problematize this week's rendering of that concept. Perhaps my concerns have already been addressed through intricate scholarship too specialized to include in a survey course. It would be very interesting to see what kinds of geographical and temporal subdivisions existed within - and were important for - the Sogdian peoples.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Han Dynasty
I was very much intrigued by Emperor Wu's poem quoted in Wood. I thought that it might be fun to repeat it here with annotations.
The Heavenly Horses are coming,
Coming from the Far West.
They crossed the Flowing Sands,
For the barbarians are conquered.
Out somewhere in the 'barbaric' wilds, in the exotic west across the deserts there lies the home of the Heavenly Horses. Doesn't this sound like the opening to a Spaghetti Western? Cue the piccolo from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Continuing in the vein of my previous post, we see that the magical and the mysterious is imagined as exterior. Said describes an Orientalism, a construction of the East simultaneously in line with European rationality and European fantasy; interestingly, Imperial China shared a similar Occidentalism. What could it possibly mean that Empire creates magic outside of its borders so that it can appropriate this magic through conquest? I am reminded of Michael Taussig.
The Heavenly Horses are coming
That issued from the waters of a pool.
Two of them have tiger backs:
They can transform themselves like spirits.
The Futurists of Italy might have identified with this passage. Imagine the visual experience of seeing an Arabian stallion at full gallop in a time where speed was hard to come by. Rapid travel is an everyday experience for us thanks to the invention of motorized transportation. To the Han Chinese, watching a horse fly about at high speeds would have been a novel, thrilling, perhaps even erotic experience. What imagery would they have used to describe the experience? The speed and power of a rushing river? The mercurial transformation of ghostly spirits? I bring up the Italian Futurists because one of the conventions they used in their painting was to depict high speed by condensing movement over time into a single image. This yeilded images similar to a photo taken with a low shutter speed: blurred images of trains, scurrying wheels instead of legs. This technique gives the images a liquid, or perhaps ghostly effect. An interesting connection.
The Heavenly Horses are coming;
Jupiter is in the Dragon.
Should they choose to soar aloft,
Who could keep pace with them?
Jupiter? I lack a frame of reference to interpret this stanza. Perhaps Jupiter is the Heaven that Emperor Wu writes of, or perhaps it is an auspicious star ascendent in an auspicious astral house. What is certain, however, is that Jupiter does not refer to a "planet" as Han astrology did not have the telescopic technology to make that determination, nor does it carry the same semiotic value we might attribute to it out of the Classical tradition. As Jupiter was the king of the Olympian gods, so too do we imagine the massive Jupiter as the king of the solar system. How does this differ from Han notions? Where does that "wandering star" fit into the Han cosmic order? Sometimes I think I would enjoy studying ethnoastronomy.
The Heavenly Horses are coming;
Open the gates while there is time.
They will draw me up and carry me
To the Holy Mountain of K'un-lun.
The Holy Mountain is a recurring image throughout many cultures, perhaps even in the contemporary Canadian experience. Both internally and abroad Canada is imagined as a land of vast forests and stunning mountains, high peaks that are exponentially removed from the lowlands of the everyday, work, "the profane". Durkheim might classify them as "sacred" in constrast. Is it so far a stretch to connect Alpine "holiday" with Alpine "holiness"? Further, what is the connection between relative elevation and dominance? Heaven, the seat of the Ruler of the Universe, is imagined as above us; this is an imagery of domination infinitely replicated throughout human experience. The flag above the conquered terrain, the raised throne over the courtroom dais, polite Japanese bows, dogs mounting each other with yelping and snarling. And it is to this position of dominance the Heavenly Horses will carry the Han Emperor. Is Wu really talking about a K'un-Lun mountain, or is he speaking of global supremacy?
The Heavenly Horses have come
And the Dragon will follow in their wake
I shall reach the Gates of Heaven
I shall see the Palace of God.
Acquisition and transfiguration. Only one step removed from cosmetics commericals.
Both in Wood and Waugh we get the sense that despite the temporal, spatial, and social difference seperating us from the Han, we share so much in common with them. Similar motives, similar aspirations. But it was repeatedly impressed upon me that there is an alienly semantics at work in the Han court. What can we make of ritual castration? What can we make of mutual hostage taking? The answer is perhaps not so obvious as we would assume.
The Heavenly Horses are coming,
Coming from the Far West.
They crossed the Flowing Sands,
For the barbarians are conquered.
Out somewhere in the 'barbaric' wilds, in the exotic west across the deserts there lies the home of the Heavenly Horses. Doesn't this sound like the opening to a Spaghetti Western? Cue the piccolo from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Continuing in the vein of my previous post, we see that the magical and the mysterious is imagined as exterior. Said describes an Orientalism, a construction of the East simultaneously in line with European rationality and European fantasy; interestingly, Imperial China shared a similar Occidentalism. What could it possibly mean that Empire creates magic outside of its borders so that it can appropriate this magic through conquest? I am reminded of Michael Taussig.
The Heavenly Horses are coming
That issued from the waters of a pool.
Two of them have tiger backs:
They can transform themselves like spirits.
The Futurists of Italy might have identified with this passage. Imagine the visual experience of seeing an Arabian stallion at full gallop in a time where speed was hard to come by. Rapid travel is an everyday experience for us thanks to the invention of motorized transportation. To the Han Chinese, watching a horse fly about at high speeds would have been a novel, thrilling, perhaps even erotic experience. What imagery would they have used to describe the experience? The speed and power of a rushing river? The mercurial transformation of ghostly spirits? I bring up the Italian Futurists because one of the conventions they used in their painting was to depict high speed by condensing movement over time into a single image. This yeilded images similar to a photo taken with a low shutter speed: blurred images of trains, scurrying wheels instead of legs. This technique gives the images a liquid, or perhaps ghostly effect. An interesting connection.
The Heavenly Horses are coming;
Jupiter is in the Dragon.
Should they choose to soar aloft,
Who could keep pace with them?
Jupiter? I lack a frame of reference to interpret this stanza. Perhaps Jupiter is the Heaven that Emperor Wu writes of, or perhaps it is an auspicious star ascendent in an auspicious astral house. What is certain, however, is that Jupiter does not refer to a "planet" as Han astrology did not have the telescopic technology to make that determination, nor does it carry the same semiotic value we might attribute to it out of the Classical tradition. As Jupiter was the king of the Olympian gods, so too do we imagine the massive Jupiter as the king of the solar system. How does this differ from Han notions? Where does that "wandering star" fit into the Han cosmic order? Sometimes I think I would enjoy studying ethnoastronomy.
The Heavenly Horses are coming;
Open the gates while there is time.
They will draw me up and carry me
To the Holy Mountain of K'un-lun.
The Holy Mountain is a recurring image throughout many cultures, perhaps even in the contemporary Canadian experience. Both internally and abroad Canada is imagined as a land of vast forests and stunning mountains, high peaks that are exponentially removed from the lowlands of the everyday, work, "the profane". Durkheim might classify them as "sacred" in constrast. Is it so far a stretch to connect Alpine "holiday" with Alpine "holiness"? Further, what is the connection between relative elevation and dominance? Heaven, the seat of the Ruler of the Universe, is imagined as above us; this is an imagery of domination infinitely replicated throughout human experience. The flag above the conquered terrain, the raised throne over the courtroom dais, polite Japanese bows, dogs mounting each other with yelping and snarling. And it is to this position of dominance the Heavenly Horses will carry the Han Emperor. Is Wu really talking about a K'un-Lun mountain, or is he speaking of global supremacy?
The Heavenly Horses have come
And the Dragon will follow in their wake
I shall reach the Gates of Heaven
I shall see the Palace of God.
Acquisition and transfiguration. Only one step removed from cosmetics commericals.
Both in Wood and Waugh we get the sense that despite the temporal, spatial, and social difference seperating us from the Han, we share so much in common with them. Similar motives, similar aspirations. But it was repeatedly impressed upon me that there is an alienly semantics at work in the Han court. What can we make of ritual castration? What can we make of mutual hostage taking? The answer is perhaps not so obvious as we would assume.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
First Entry!
Well, here goes my first entry! I guess I'll begin with a quick intro into who I am and why I'm taking this course.
My name is Liam Lawson, and I'm a fifth year student finishing up my degree in socio-cultural anthropology. Over the course of my studies I've become increasingly interested in the anthropology of religion; this course affords me the opportunity to learn about a wide variety of unfamiliar religious traditions. Furthermore, as a socio-cultural anthropologist (as opposed to an archaeologist) it is very rare that I have a chance to study civilizations that no longer exist. I am looking forward to brushing up on my ancient history! Finally, later this fall I will be applying to graduate schools across Canada, Britain, and the United States. One of the requirements of the application process is that I must indicate where I want to do my field work. However, due my enthusiastic interest for all anthropology, I'm having trouble deciding what general area I want to focus on! This semester I am taking several "area courses", hoping that one area will especially spark my interest.
With regards to the reading, it is clear that the "Silk Road" is more than just a path that ancient traders used to get around. First of all, for the Chinese and the Romans these trade routes represented an area beyond "the frontier", a place both geo-politically and symbolically "other" to their respective empires. As such, we can see a sort of ancient "Orientalism" (or for China, "Occidentalism") at work here. I suspect that the Silk road was a place where the higher class citizenry of Europe and China could project their fantasies, fears, and ambitions. This becomes apparent when we consider the zest with which Europe and China sent out adventurers and explorers to catalogue and consume the unknown mysteries of the liminal spaces at the edges of "civilization". And of course this is also the case for our class today! However, while Marco Polo traveled through space to satisfy curious and imaginative minds, we have the convenience of merely traveling through time!
The Silk Road is something of a "Middle Earth" or a "Narnia", despite our best intentions to portray its history accurately and in good faith. Some might recoil at such a romantic treatment, but I don't think such repulsion is necessary. For, just like The Lord of the Rings and The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, the Silk Road is a collection of stories, few of which remain entirely free of fiction, embellishment, or mythology. To use the parlance of symbolic anthropologists, the Silk Road is a collection of "texts". This does not mean that it is impossible to ascertain "truth" about the Silk Road, only that some truths can be found in the fictions. For example, what could it possibly mean that both European and Chinese explorers spoke of a tree that sprouted heads instead of fruit? This fiction leads me to believe that these explorers encountered a commonly circulating myth endemic to the region. Whose myth was this? What role does the myth play in this society? What differences exist between the Chinese and European retelling of this myth?
Finally, of course, the Silk Road was more than just a storybook, more than just piece of land between the Romans and the Chinese. It was an intricate system of cultural and economic trade mediated by a constant flux of ritual, sexual relations, and violence. The Silk Road was, if you will, people and the interconnections between people. Wheelers and dealers, mystics, thugs, explorers, nomads, peasant farms, thirsty camel-riders: people on the move. And this is what differentiates the "Silk Road" as a heuristic device from its constituent ethnic groups. The Silk Road is a story about flows of people, and with these people their commodities and ideas. Culture in motion, or perhaps, the motion of cultures.
My name is Liam Lawson, and I'm a fifth year student finishing up my degree in socio-cultural anthropology. Over the course of my studies I've become increasingly interested in the anthropology of religion; this course affords me the opportunity to learn about a wide variety of unfamiliar religious traditions. Furthermore, as a socio-cultural anthropologist (as opposed to an archaeologist) it is very rare that I have a chance to study civilizations that no longer exist. I am looking forward to brushing up on my ancient history! Finally, later this fall I will be applying to graduate schools across Canada, Britain, and the United States. One of the requirements of the application process is that I must indicate where I want to do my field work. However, due my enthusiastic interest for all anthropology, I'm having trouble deciding what general area I want to focus on! This semester I am taking several "area courses", hoping that one area will especially spark my interest.
With regards to the reading, it is clear that the "Silk Road" is more than just a path that ancient traders used to get around. First of all, for the Chinese and the Romans these trade routes represented an area beyond "the frontier", a place both geo-politically and symbolically "other" to their respective empires. As such, we can see a sort of ancient "Orientalism" (or for China, "Occidentalism") at work here. I suspect that the Silk road was a place where the higher class citizenry of Europe and China could project their fantasies, fears, and ambitions. This becomes apparent when we consider the zest with which Europe and China sent out adventurers and explorers to catalogue and consume the unknown mysteries of the liminal spaces at the edges of "civilization". And of course this is also the case for our class today! However, while Marco Polo traveled through space to satisfy curious and imaginative minds, we have the convenience of merely traveling through time!
The Silk Road is something of a "Middle Earth" or a "Narnia", despite our best intentions to portray its history accurately and in good faith. Some might recoil at such a romantic treatment, but I don't think such repulsion is necessary. For, just like The Lord of the Rings and The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, the Silk Road is a collection of stories, few of which remain entirely free of fiction, embellishment, or mythology. To use the parlance of symbolic anthropologists, the Silk Road is a collection of "texts". This does not mean that it is impossible to ascertain "truth" about the Silk Road, only that some truths can be found in the fictions. For example, what could it possibly mean that both European and Chinese explorers spoke of a tree that sprouted heads instead of fruit? This fiction leads me to believe that these explorers encountered a commonly circulating myth endemic to the region. Whose myth was this? What role does the myth play in this society? What differences exist between the Chinese and European retelling of this myth?
Finally, of course, the Silk Road was more than just a storybook, more than just piece of land between the Romans and the Chinese. It was an intricate system of cultural and economic trade mediated by a constant flux of ritual, sexual relations, and violence. The Silk Road was, if you will, people and the interconnections between people. Wheelers and dealers, mystics, thugs, explorers, nomads, peasant farms, thirsty camel-riders: people on the move. And this is what differentiates the "Silk Road" as a heuristic device from its constituent ethnic groups. The Silk Road is a story about flows of people, and with these people their commodities and ideas. Culture in motion, or perhaps, the motion of cultures.
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