by Ling Zhang
Along with the remarkable increase in agricultural production, the proliferation of economic specialization, and a burgeoning population whose soaring demands for goods stimulated production, a robust market economy came into shape. Markets of various sizes mushroomed and became an indispensable component of the lives of many people. They were interconnected by roads and waterways and enjoyed exchanges of both capital and commodities. The Song state minted much more copper coins than its predecessors and the dynasties in the next few centuries to satisfy the demand of trade. More than the heavy, bulky cash, however, it was the growth of credit systems, such as paper money circulating within private sectors and various kinds of value-bearing credit certificates the government issued, that facilitated interregional trade and made large business transactions among different markets fluid and secure.8 The flow of capital and commodities was also facilitated by flourishing water transportation throughout China. By linking up with each other, the local, regional, and national waterways formed a vast network, stretching out in many directions. Via this network, commodities were able to surmount geographical barriers and became spatially fluid. As a result, while people in Hebei ate rice produced by the farmers in the lower Yangzi valley, the well-to-do in the cities of south China, like Yangzhou 揚州 and Hangzhou 杭州, wore delicate silk and drank tea from white porcelain cups that were manufactured by Hebei workers.9
Widespread markets and convenient transportation also drew together people. Merchants, service people, and their consumers aggregated to form urban centers. Undergoing a process of rapid urbanization, traditional jurisdictional centers saw the growth of non-political, economic sectors. Meanwhile, there emerged a large number of cities and towns that paralleled old jurisdictional centers and existed mainly for economic purposes. The imperial capital Kaifeng 開封, for instance, boasted more than a million households and was the most crowded city in the world at the time.10 It sat on the Bian Canal and acted as a hub for the streams of people and goods. The scroll “Qingming shanghe tu 清明上河圖,” usually attributed to Zhang Zeduan 張擇端 (1085–1145) in the first quarter of the twelfth century, gives us a vivid depiction of how everyday life was carried out in the suburbs of the city. Taverns, teahouses, and food vendors lined up along streets and on bridges, together with small stalls selling shoes, scissors, and knives. Big boats streamed through the Bian Canal and bridges in busy traffic. Horses, donkeys, camels, carts, and human hands carried bulky goods to marketplaces. This vibrant urban life was not unique to the capital. Even in frontier regions like Hebei, market towns blossomed along waterways. Large cities like Daming in the south and Dingzhou in the northwest became known for their large populations and prosperous economic life.
Blessed with social stability and economic growth, the cultural life thrived in the Song society: arts, literature, book production, popular culture, and nightlife in urban areas all flourished. A major indicator of this cultural vibrancy was a general increase in literacy among the populace. An increasing percentage of the male population was released from traditional economic activities and turned to learning.11 With the increase in paper manufacturing, the wide application of printing technology, and the vigorous book trade, books were no longer the monopoly of state libraries and Buddhist monasteries. Students and scholars could get books fairly easily and at rather cheap prices from the market. Since transportation was more widespread and convenient than before, people corresponded more often by post and even traveled in search of knowledge, teachers, and schools. It seems that by the mid-eleventh century, theoretically nearly every man had the chance to acquire some kind of education and gain a certain level of literacy.
Meanwhile, the diversified economy, especially the commercial sector, required men who were able to read, write, and think. Hence, reading and writing were no longer merely leisure activities, privileges that only the aristocracy could enjoy, means for the elite to cultivate their personal morality and intelligence, or a ladder for a small number of bright young men to ascend from the bottom of the society to earn a political career in the government. Rather, literacy became a practical occupational skill that brought to men an opportunity for employment.
Of course, the rise of reading and writing to prominence was not only a result of economic demands. As the previous chapter addressed, the Song state actively promoted civil culture; it was certainly a major consumer of the talents this culture generated. The young Song state made institutional efforts to demilitarize its governing body and the society and to cultivate a civil culture among its subjects. It took steps like opening schools in every level of its jurisdictional centers and maintaining tax-free land as a means to generate scholarships. Most significantly, the government endeavored to build a bureaucrat apparatus on the basis of civil servants who were men coming from various kinds of family backgrounds and were dedicated to learning. Given such incentives, the younger generation of men pursued personal worth and professional success not just through family ties or military achievement as the elder generations did in the tenth century, especially in regions like Hebei. Instead, they took a literate approach and spent years learning literature, philosophy, and history, with the hope of struggling through “the thorny gates of learning,”12 pass the civil service examination, and earn a position in the government. As the government continued to encourage their political and professional ambitions, more and more families and young men saw learning and the civil service examination as an attractive career path.
In the 1040s, scholar-officials produced by the civil service examination dominated various levels of the Song government. Many of them were not satisfied with individual professional successes or economic gains. They sought to elevate the collective worth of the society by forging a set of Neo-Confucian values. “This culture of ours,”13 as seen in their eyes, sought to restore Confucian teachings and to remedy various transgressions, such as militarism, foreign influences, regional separation and decentralization, and religiosity, which had plagued individuals and the Chinese society for many centuries. These emerging Neo-Confucian scholars believed that they, as a collective whole, could correct faults in every aspect of Song's political, social, and cultural life by promoting Confucian values like loyalty, righteousness, piety, and reason. These men saw various forms of cultural practices not only as the manifestations of, but also as the means to, a resurrection of Confucianism. The “guwen 古文” movement, a renaissance of the classics (lit., ancient style of writing) that was initiated in the ninth century, achieved its height in the 1040s. Its advocators, like Ouyang Xiu 歐陽修 (1007–1072), had gained prominence in various cultural scenes and attracted enormous numbers of followers in young students.14
The Neo-Confucians were also activists in the political realm. They considered building a benevolent, rational Confucian state as an ultimate manifestation of their Neo-Confucian agenda, and serving the state as their individual and collective responsibility. This agenda was more significant than their personal worth and career success. Likewise, the well-being and sustainment of the state was more important than that of any individual. Hence, the ideation of the notion “guojia 國家,” similar to what we call “state,” had supplied the key objective that their individual and collective efforts were dedicated to. These scholarly officials defended the guojia and its interests against any offense or challenge, although that sometimes led to confrontations with their peers in different political factions or even the emperor himself. By the mid-1040s, these Confucian scholars had filled most of the positions at the imperial court and the offices at the provincial and county levels.
The Song state had journeyed a long way to arrive in this Festive Era.15 The substantial growth of the population provided the state with a sizable army that guarded its borders, as well as a large corvée service team that maintained the civil and transportation infrastructure around the empire. The prospering economy larded state treasuries with cash, grain, and fine silk. As mentioned, by 1048, the state recorded 10,723,695 le
gally registered households, or about 54 million people. Its accounting books showed that in 1049, the state obtained a sum of 126,251,964 in revenues, a number that referred to grain, cash, and various kinds of products, regardless of units of measurement.16 This number is a 71-percent increase from the revenue recorded for 1015. It is hard for us to understand what this number really means, but clearly it indicates a large revenue income that supported a remarkable expansion of the state's military and bureaucratic apparatuses. These interrelated apparatuses grew very quickly. By the early 1040s, they had become so large that many in the government considered them redundant and inefficient, with the potential to lead to a political and financial crisis.
By this time, the government was no longer run by aristocracy, but mainly by a huge number of professional bureaucrats. They wielded administrative power and spoke learnedly about governance, but they had no access to military force. They dutifully guarded their individual positions, but were prohibited from encroaching on the business of others. Within the expansive, hierarchical bureaucratic structure, individual political powers designated to official positions were so balanced and eventually diluted that they could not form a singular force to challenge state power and the absolute authority of the emperor. This peculiar governing body effectively prevented a coup d’état by military leaders or regional power-holders, as had happened often in the previous few centuries. By the 1040s, the kind of strongmen like An Zhongrong in the tenth century, mentioned in Chapter 1, had disappeared. The state was no longer worried about separatist forces that had once plagued the state from within. For the Song state, the mid-dynasty did seem a Festive Era.
3.2 The Song's Mid-Dynasty Crisis
The peace and prosperity portrayed above, however, is a remarkably simplified image of Song China, as seen in retrospect by our distant eyes. The 1040s brought a series of political, socio-economic, and environmental problems, each of which in its own way challenged the state's sense of stability.17 Many of the problems occurred in Hebei. The Song state was clearly facing a midlife crisis before the catastrophic flooding of the Yellow River in 1048. The prevailing sentiments of crisis and anxiety shared by the state's ruling members at the time drove many to reflect on the flaws of the state's governance and those of the society and its culture. The movement toward a reform led by statesmen like Fan Zhongyan 范仲淹 (989–1052) and Ouyang Xiu in the mid-1040s was a response to the anxiety and dissatisfactions. Unfortunately, the reform was soon crushed, and the status quo continued. The attempt to reenergize the state eventually yielded to the reality of an inefficient, corrupt government and a society increasingly threatened by financial difficulties and environmental disasters. The following pages will explore the Song's mid-dynasty crisis through two lenses: first, military, financial, and political problems particularly associated with Hebei; second, widespread environmental issues in north China.
Military, Financial, and Political Crisis
In 1038, the Tangut Xixia terminated its tributary relationship with the Song and proclaimed itself an independent empire. Outraged, the Song declared war, and soon found itself being dragged deeply into a costly war on its northwestern frontier, where it was defeated by the Tangut in almost every important battle. The conflict also upset the Song's relationship with the Liao. The Liao capitalized on the situation and displayed a heavy military presence on the Song–Liao border in Hebei, threatening the Song with invasion. Meanwhile, its emissaries showed up at the Song court in 1042 to press the Song to give up its territory in northern Hebei, where key strategic garrisons, frontier ponds, underground tunnels, and state-run trading sites were located.
The prospect of engaging in two wars on two separate fronts terrified the Song. A sense of crisis – about the state's very survival – permeated the court. It drove the emperor and his ministers to seek diplomatic means to handle the Liao and eventually to accept an agreement in 1042, which furthered the humiliating terms imposed by the 1005 peace treaty. According to the new agreement, the Song would increase its annual gift of silver and silk to the Liao, in the official name of a tribute presented by an inferior state to a superior state. The Liao would drop its threats of invasion and, as it enjoyed its political and economic gains, would mediate between the Song and the Xixia. In 1044, after a year-long negotiation, the Song and the Xixia came to a peace agreement. By sending the Xixia a significant amount of silver, silk, and tea, the Song claimed a nominal overlordship over the Xixia and saved itself from total humiliation.18 Peace returned to the Song's two borders. Yet, the impact of the military tensions and diplomatic humiliation was profound and lasting. The Song state became increasing suspicious of its nomadic neighbors and invested more to strengthen its guard. As a result, we see the expansion of armies and the militarization of frontier civilian populations along the state's northern borders.
In Hebei, officials and military commanders believed that the best way to prevent a future conflict with the nomads was to mobilize civilians and organize them into militias. The professional troops, which the state had taken pains to recruit from various parts of north China to suppress Hebei's domestic military traditions, seemed ineffectual when confronting the nomads. By contrast, Hebei's “indigenous men” (tuding 土丁) were considered brave, martial, good at riding and shooting, and were excellent soldiers by nature and tradition. Keen to protect their homeland and their own interests, these local men could rely on family ties and local bases to obtain supplies. As such, it would cost less for the government to recruit men for the militias than for the professional armies.19
In accordance with this idea, in 1040, the imperial court ordered Hebei's Fiscal and Pacification Commissioners to draft men “secretly” without alarming the Liao, in order to revive a long-declining militia, the “Strong Valiants” (qiangzhuang 強壯) in Hebei. By the end of the year, the Strong Valiants militiamen numbered 293,000.20 The other existing militia, the “Righteous and Brave” (yiyong 義勇) was also expanding. By late 1042, it numbered 189,230.21 These militiamen, together with Hebei's professional Imperial Armies and District Armies, raised the total number of Hebei's troops to 770,000 by the mid-1040s.22 This number varied over the course of the rest of the Northern Song; in general, over 450,000 men remained in Hebei's Imperial Armies, District Armies, and Righteous and Brave militia.23 Since 1005, this was the first time that the state drafted soldiers in Hebei on such a large scale.
This drastic conscription induced profound and often negative social and economic consequences. New militiamen were supposed to come from taxpaying, landowning households (zhuhu 主戶). A third to a half of the male adults in Hebei's landowning households were drafted into the Strong Valiants alone.24 More had to serve in the Righteous and Brave militia. As a result, in the mid-1040s, over half of the male population in Hebei's landowning households were registered for some kind of military service. Let us use a number from the late 1070s for reference. At that time, 78 percent of Hebei's registered households were landowners.25 If this ratio was similar thirty years before in the 1040s, it means that about 40 percent of Hebei's male adults were drafted into the militias and had their arms tattooed with a military identity, in part to prevent them from escaping. Looking at this high percentage and understanding that there were also additional Hebei men serving in the professional troops, it is clear that Hebei experienced a radical militarization in the 1040s.
As adult males, these recruits were the main labor force for Hebei's agricultural production.26 Military service took them away from their land and complicated their lives and the livelihood of their families. In the late fall of every year, they were forced away from their land before the harvest was completed in order to begin military training or service, and they were not discharged from duties until farming started again the following spring, when the land desperately demanded labor. Militia service led to a labor shortage, which by extension imposed a heavy burden of economic activities on the rest of the population – the elderly, women, and children.
Given the reduction of its agricultural labor force, Hebei very likely produced less food. Of its limited agricultural production, a great deal of Hebei's products was consumed by the growing military. Hence, not much was left for civilian consumption to improve living standards or to serve as capital for other economic activities and investments. The kind of revolutionary growth in agricultural productivity and technology that scholars have depicted for the contemporary lower Yangzi valley, which depended on heavy investments of manpower and other resources to carry out intensive farming, could not take place in Hebei. Quite the opposite, Hebei's countryside presented a rather bleak image in the late 1040s. “Immense fields lie barren,” wrote Fan Zhen 范鎮 (1007-1088), one despairing Hebei official at the time, “and the population is sparse.”27 Hebei was not given a chance to recover from the harvest failures and hardship caused by multiple natural disasters in the 1030s. Instead, it proceeded into a troubling new decade, in which it was threatened by war and shaken by an anxious imperial state that hastened to re-appropriate and destabilize Hebei's demographic and economic structure. The increase in the state's demands for labor and material supplies ran parallel to the decline in the civilian population and agricultural production, both producing anxiety all around. As some Song officials commented a couple of decades later, the 1040s was the time when the peacefully settled Hebei people began to be uprooted from their land again.28