One of the classic novels (perhaps the classic novel) of Chinese literature is called The Romance of the Three Kingdoms (often abbreviated as The Three Kingdoms). It was written in the 14th century, and it's huge. How huge?
Well, to give you an idea, The Lord of the Rings by Tolkien (a massive book) contains 480,000 words, War and Peace by Tolstoy (a humongous book) contains 588,000 words, and The Three Kingdoms contains 800,000 words. (That's more than the Bible.)
If that's not off-putting enough, an added challenge, especially to western readers, is that The Three Kingdoms has hundreds of different characters. Given that Chinese names, when written in a western alphabet, and without tone marks, can look similar to each other, and tend to mix and blur in the minds of western readers (we can't even tell if a name belongs to a man or a woman), keeping track of all those characters is not easy.
To complicate matters further, in the past Chinese people used to have two names, one given at birth by the parents, and one given later in life by friends, and in the book all the main characters are sometimes referred to using one name, and sometimes the other. It makes you lose the will to live.
(I have an English edition, in four volumes, of The Three Kingdoms, and every time I manage to muster enough courage to pick up the first volume, my heartbeat accelerates, my hands start shaking and I break into a cold sweat. I then put it back on the shelf and I manage to calm down. Phew! That was close.)
The same way most Italians have never actually read The Divine Comedy, most Chinese people have never read The Three Kingdoms. But the same way that most Italians know by heart the first three lines of the Inferno, similarly most Chinese-speaking people know by heart the very beginning of The Three Kingdoms:
The empire, long united, must divide;
long divided, must unite.
Thus it has ever been.
That pretty much sums up the whole novel, which narrates the events in a turbulent period in Chinese history (2nd and 3rd centuries) when the country divided into three separate kingdoms, and then united back again. (China fragmented into separate countries a few times throughout its long history.)
That line also exemplifies the way most Chinese see history. While in the west we tend to see history as always progressing, moving forward in a sort of linear way, the Chinese see it more as going round and round in a circular way, where events alternate and repeat in an endless cycle. I'm not sure either model works all the time, perhaps they're both too simplistic, but it's human to try to find patterns and meaning in complex things like history.
The tension between those two opposing and contrasting forces (unification and separatism) is a constant not only of Chinese history, but European history too, of course. The whole of European history can be seen from this perspective.
On one hand you have the drive to annex nearby territory and/or neighbouring states (usually through violent means), and on the other the struggle against invading armies and the drive for autonomy or independence. History books sometimes seem to celebrate one drive, and sometimes the other (often within the same book).
Ultimately it comes down to a sense of identity, and how people see themselves. Given that we're still right in the middle of the age of nationalism (a movement that started quite early for some countries, but that gathered momentum all around the world from the 19th century), most people see themselves as belonging to a particular nation state. (In the distant past, most people saw themselves as belonging to a particular village or province more than anything else.)
But it's not always that simple. Things can be quite blurry. A common sense of identity can also come from geography, from language, from religion, from ethnicity, or a combination of any of those things.
If you ask a Taiwanese person "Are you Chinese?", you can get any of these three responses:
1. "Yes, I'm a Chinese from Taiwan".
2. "No, I'm Taiwanese."
3. "The face is up here, stop staring at my chest."
(If the interviewee happens to be female.)
There's no right or wrong answer. My wife tends to lean towards the first response.
There are some people in Taiwan who think that in Taiwanese schools they shouldn't teach Chinese history and Chinese literature, as they currently do, but Taiwanese history and Taiwanese literature instead. My wife thinks that's preposterous. She loves Chinese culture, which she feels is her own culture too. But she's also opposed to reunification, further proof that things are not always black or white.
Quick digression. When I’m in Taiwan, one of the most charming experiences for me is the way little kids sometimes either stare at me wide-eyed or say hello to me with a big smile. (Chinese kids are so cute.)
What’s interesting is that you’re also likely to get a hello and a smile from any western person you come across, complete strangers that you’ve never met before in your life. Not so much in Taipei, but it always happens to me in Taoyuan, where foreigners are fewer.
Why do these people say hi to me? I guess that, in a sea of Chineseness (is that a word?), all of a sudden I’m friends with some random dude from Australia. I don’t mind. I have no problem saying hi to strangers. I’d even hug them if they wanted me to. I’ll hug anybody. I’m a hug whore. Well, I’m a whore full stop, but I’m going off topic here.
There's no denying that nationality is the most important factor for most people. So much so that often people claim to be proud of their nationality. I don't want to tell people how they should feel (well, I do, but I try not to), but I don't think anyone can be proud of their nationality (which is not to say that they should be ashamed of it either, of course).
I just think that pride (or the lack of) has nothing to do with nationality. If you work really hard towards a goal, and you manage to achieve it, I suppose you can (and perhaps should) be proud of that accomplishment. But we didn't choose our nationality, let alone work hard for it. It's completely accidental.
I suppose people can (and often do) say "I love my country". I guess that's fine, but even that statement gives me pause. (I'm easily confused by most things. I don't have many certainties, but I'm not ashamed of it. In fact, absolute certainties scare me a little bit.)
Sometimes I've been asked if I like living in England. I certainly like living in Cambridge, but I can't really speak for the rest of England, let alone the rest of the UK. Although, let's be honest, some people in Cambridge can be a bit snobbish and distant. In the words of a former colleague of mine form Glasgow, "they wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire".
(That colleague had a whole host of very colourful expressions, including little nuggets such as "She sucked more cocks than you had pizzas, Marco." I don't think he meant it as a compliment, but personally I find sexual promiscuity endearing, almost charming. For the record, I've had a lot of pizzas. A lot.)
There are only four cities in the world where I spent any significant amount of time (Pescara, Ancona, Cambridge and Taoyuan), and while each one of them has a special place in my heart, at the same time I always felt a little bit like an outsider wherever I am. I don't know why. But it doesn't bother me. I'm a bit of a daydreamer, so no matter where I am, I just let my mind wander freely, thinking about stuff. As long as I'm not cold, or hungry, or in pain, then I'm fine.
The issue of national identity (but also autonomy, which is closely related) was on the forefront here for a while, with things like Brexit but also Scottish independence. I'm quite neutral about Scottish independence (it doesn't really affect me either way, good luck to them), but I'm very much in favour of the EU.
Not just because it allowed me to move here, but also because European integration seems to have brought a period of peace and stability in western Europe. Perhaps there would've been peace and stability regardless, even without the EU, but we can only speculate.
(It's interesting to notice that in the former Yugoslavia people weren't pretending to get along during Communism. They really did get along. Intermarriages were fairly common. And yet it all went really wrong really fast. Scary.)
Brexit was a disappointment. I mean, for god's sake, surely even the most ignorant, xenophobic, football-mad, Union-Jack-tattoo-sporting Brexiteer must be grateful that, at the very least, the EU brought us lots of super-cute blondies from eastern Europe. Aren't we all grateful for that? Even my wife loves them, and I'm pretty sure she's not a lesbian.
I’ve heard people say "I voted Brexit because I want my country back". What do you mean "back"? No one took it away. It's right here, you can touch it. (Incidentally, "it's right here, you can touch it" is also a very good ice-breaker on dates. It works. For both genders.)
I’ve also heard people saying something along these lines: "It doesn't matter if Brexit will damage the economy. That's not why I voted for Brexit." That seems quite stubborn, but perhaps it highlights a crucial point.
The way people see themselves is not only very personal, but often it appeals to things that have nothing to do with reason and logic, things that can be difficult to gauge and define. If that's the case, debate is futile.
It's like when you have a girlfriend and she's mad at you and you ask her "What's the matter?" and she says "If you don't know there's no point telling you". I've always found that response quite frustrating, but perhaps that's the way it is with the EU. You either get the European project or you don't. And if you don't, then there's no point trying to explain it.
