The giant cachalots have unsurprisingly drawn considerable attention from the public, including some mindless clowns who thought it appropriate to desecrate the majestic carcasses with nuclear disarmament graffiti. Others have even harvested parts of the stranded whales as souvenirs in an act so repulsive it does not bear pondering in depth.
Man’s relationship with the sperm whale is long and fraught. For more than a century, this largest of the toothed whale species was hunted on an industrial scale, primarily for its spermaceti, a liquid wax in the creature’s head that was used for oil lamps across the streets of the developed world.
Another prized commodity unique to sperm whales is ambergris. This brackish substance, produced by the whale’s digestive system, was sought after by perfumers as a fixative to allow their scent to last longer.
Whaling soon became a glorified endeavour, with man pitted against beast on the rough and unforgiving seas. Herman Melville’s Moby Dick – telling the story of a vengeful Captain in pursuit of an infamous white sperm whale that had been responsible for the loss of his leg – was published in 1851 and added to the mythology surrounding what was effectively the mass slaughter of a species.
Fortunately, the invention of gas lighting and synthetic fixatives helped save the sperm whale, in addition to a belated realisation from mankind that it could not so willingly decimate its fellow inhabitants of the earth.
Since the future of the sperm whale was secured, the sheer majesty and gracefulness of the creature has been recognised and explains the almost primeval excitement when us landlubbers come into contact with these deep-sea dwellers.
It is a pity that such encounters are often only possible because of mass strandings such as that seen over the past week, yet hopefully it precipitates a greater appreciation of a species which the world is much the richer for hanging on to.
One Chinese export that appears to be growing in global popularity – certainly it is in the UK – is Tsingtao, a rather find brand of lager with an interesting history of its own.
In 1894, the modernising Japanese began a bold bid to expand their influence away from their homeland by acquiring large swathes of territory across East Asia. Korea was their first target.
Korea was a Chinese vassal state at the end of the 19th century and, as such, had the right to ask China to send troops to its aid should Korean sovereignty come under threat. Whilst the Chinese were not particularly attached to their vassals during this period – and had been prepared to cede influence to Western powers in some instances – the fact that Korea had a border with Manchuria was significant. If Korea fell into enemy hands then the Chinese homeland would come under direct threat, Manchuria also holding a place of particular importance as the birthplace of the ruling Qing Dynasty.
Unlike the Japanese, China’s rulers were stuck in a cycle of inertia under their young Emperor Guangxu, having made significant progress during the previous three decades when the Empress Dowager Cixi effectively ran the country. Oblivious to international affairs and the potential power of the Japanese, Guangxu failed to spend sufficient funds on improving the Chinese Army and Navy.
Japanese and Chinese troops were already stationed in Korea in order to ‘protect’ their own nationals and interests. Buoyed by its own increasing military prowess and the seemingly enfeebled Chinese monarchy, Japan escalated tensions by seizing Seoul in July 1894, establishing a puppet government with the authority to expel Chinese troops. The Chinese belatedly responded by sending a naval force with troops to Korea, only for one of its ships to be sunk by the Japanese Navy in a preemptive strike.
In August 1894, China and Japan declared war on one another. It would begin a humiliating process for Beijing, whose forces were routed on land and at sea by the adventurous Japanese. The Chinese were soon forced out of Korea, with the Japanese crossing the border in October. In November 1894 the strategic harbour of Port Arthur fell and by February 1895 the Japanese had overrun Weihaiwei, home of China’s Northern Fleet.
With defeat inevitable and mainland China under real threat, Emperor Guangxu sued for peace. In April 1895, the Japanese revealed their extravagant demands for an end to the war:
Cession of Taiwan.
Cession of the Pescadores Islands.
Cession of the Liaodong Peninsula.
200 million taels war indemnity (nearly ten times the total of the Japanese state revenue at the time).
With a promise that Japanese troops would march on Beijing should he try and negotiate, Emperor Guangxu ordered his diplomats to accept these disastrous terms and the Treaty of Shimonoseki was duly signed.
Incensed by China’s capitulation and Japan’s brazenness, and the potential strategic implications of the treaty, the Western powers – particularly Russia, Germany and France – put pressure on Tokyo to revoke its demand for the Liaodong Peninsula.
China therefore retained sovereignty over the Peninsula for the time being. However, it would soon become clear that the Europeans wanted to be rewarded for pressuring the Japanese to back off.
In 1897, Kaiser Wilhelm II’s Germany demanded control of Jiaozhou Bay in Shandong Province, including the naval station of Qingdao (Tsingtao). With German warships patrolling the coast, Emperor Guangxu agreed to give the Germans a 99-year lease for the territory. This was soon followed by the Russian acquisition of Port Arthur, the British takeover of Weihaiwei and the concession to the French of Guangzhouwan, an enclave to serve as an outlier to French Indochina.
It was this series of events that led to the Germans creating an indigenous Chinese lager in 1903, albeit based on trusted ingredients from the fatherland. As with Anheuser and Busch in the USA, German immigrants successfully created a national product for China that has stood the test of time.
Perhaps this can be considered one of the consolations of a particularly dark moment in Chinese history.
The reason? China; and, more specifically, Chinese power projection in the South China Sea, a waterway dotted with numerous disputed islets, reefs and atolls. The Philippines is one of the major claimant states to parts of this territory, along with Vietnam, Malaysia and Taiwan. However, China claims that the entire Sea is within its territorial sphere and Beijing has taken concrete steps in recent months to enforce this idea, including extensive land reclamation around the islands it currently occupies.
These actions – which are illegal and have been pitifully opposed by the international community – are unsurprisingly a major cause for concern for the ‘weaker’ claimants, including the Philippines. Over twenty years since Corazon Aquino’s government asked the US Navy to vacate Subic Bay – the eruption of Mount Pinatubo in 1991 had also highlighted a potential vulnerability of the base – the Philippines government now seems open to an American return.
To try and distance themselves from the role of colonial masters, the American administration in the Philippines delegated much of the day-to-day running of the country to intermediaries, members of the indigenous elite who could mediate between the citizenry and the government. This only served, however, to entrench an oligarchic system which would remain in place after the Philippines gained independence.
What is more, the Americans ‘locked the Philippines into a highly restrictive set of trade agreements during the first three decades of the twentieth century, effectively cementing its dependence on the USA’. (Beeson, 2007) This only really benefited the landholding elites, part of that same oligarchy used as a tool by the Americans to impose their will upon the people.
Whilst the Filipinos were undoubtedly happy to see the back of the Spaniards, they were miffed to find one colonial power replacing another. This precipitated the Philippine-America War (1899-1902), effectively a continuation of the revolution started to overthrow the Spanish administration in 1896.
Initially, the naval base at Subic Bay was held by Filipino forces and they even set up an artillery battery there that proved a great frustration to American troops. After several attempts to wrest control of the area from the rebels, the Americans finally managed to destroy the battery in December 1899 and it remained in their possession for the best part of the next 50 years.
During WWII, however, another chapter in the base’s history was written. In 1942 rampant Japanese forces encircled Subic Bay, forcing the evacuation of the base by American and Filipino personnel, who destroyed everything possible on the eve of their retreat. It would take nearly three years and a bloody campaign in the Pacific for the Americans to win back control of this precious staging post. Indeed, Subic Bay would remain a bulwark of American power-projection during the Cold War and was kept extremely busy during the messy conflict in Vietnam.
The end of the Cold War reduced the requirement for the Americans to retain Subic Bay and the Philippines government was keen to regain sole ownership of all its military and naval facilities. The order for the American withdrawal in 1992 now seems premature, however, with China’s insatiable march across the South China Sea potentially upsetting the balance of power in the Pacific before the Americans and their allies can even respond.
Without the constant travails in the Middle East, it is likely that the Obama administration would have followed through with its ‘pivot’ to the Asia-Pacific and provided more consistent and staunch support to its regional allies, who are desperate for a US presence to counter Chinese assertiveness.
Subic Bay needs to be re-occupied by American forces and quickly, if only as a statement of intent far greater than any threatening words. Scaling back in the Middle East is a difficult prospect but something that the next administration in Washington must consider. Peace in the Middle East is a pipe dream, Iran’s nuclear programme is stalled for now and none of the sectarian violence that plagues the region is an existential threat to America, whatever the Islamic State may be capable of on foreign shores.
China is keeping quiet and accumulating voraciously, whilst its neighbours cower at the growing might of the Red Dragon. It is time that America started supporting its true allies, not the faux friends it purports to maintain in the Middle East. The next President has some big decisions to make for sure.
Beeson, M. Regionalism & Globalization in East Asia (2007)