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In their pursuit of actual and fabled Eastern riches, the quest for a sea route to Asia by, initially, the Iberian seafaring nations became a European obsession in the fifteenth century (in order to circumvent the domination of the land routes by Muslims and their Genoese and Venetian merchant allies). I have coined this phrase to name that project of which there were two competitive initiatives: one led by the Portuguese and the other by the Spanish (the latter initiative may also be referred to as the Columbian Project for reasons that will become clear in a moment). Preliminary success was first achieved by the Portuguese when in 1488 Bartolomeu Dias, Portuguese sea captain, sailing down the western coast of Africa eventually doubled the Cape of Good Hope (albeit sailing no further into the Indian Ocean). The consummation of this tentative opening of a European sea route to Asia would therefore be left to another Portuguese seafarer, Vasco da Gama, who managed to sail to India in 1497—the first European to do so. Despite this success by the Portuguese, it is the Columbian Project, however, that finds pride of place in most Western history books. This is not without reason. For, while in terms of its immediate objective it was an unsuccessful project, in time it would turn out to be of monumental macrohistorical significance for the entire planet. It was masterminded and led by a Genoese mariner—an ambitious and enterprising commoner who began his life with the baptismal name of Cristoforo Colombo, to later become Cristóbal Colón, and who we generally know today as Christopher Columbus—while in the employ of the sovereigns of Spain, Queen Isabella I of Castile and her husband King Ferdinand II of Aragon. After much persistence against considerable political odds, initially, he eventually received the authority (privileges and prerogatives) from the monarchs to embark on his bold and imaginative quest for a European sea route to the East by sailing west complete with the pompous title of “Admiral of the Ocean Sea” crowning his ego.
In their pursuit of actual and fabled Eastern riches, the quest for a sea route to Asia by, initially, the Iberian seafaring nations became a European obsession in the fifteenth century (in order to circumvent the domination of the land routes by Muslims and their Genoese and Venetian merchant allies). I have coined this phrase to name that project of which there were two competitive initiatives: one led by the Portuguese and the other by the Spanish (the latter initiative may also be referred to as the Columbian Project for reasons that will become clear in a moment). Preliminary success was first achieved by the Portuguese when in 1488 Bartolomeu Dias, Portuguese sea captain, sailing down the western coast of Africa eventually doubled the Cape of Good Hope (albeit sailing no further into the Indian Ocean). The consummation of this tentative opening of a European sea route to Asia would therefore be left to another Portuguese seafarer, Vasco da Gama, who managed to sail to India in 1497—the first European to do so. Despite this success by the Portuguese, it is the Columbian Project, however, that finds pride of place in most Western history books. This is not without reason. For, while in terms of its immediate objective it was an unsuccessful project, in time it would turn out to be of monumental macrohistorical significance for the entire planet. It was masterminded and led by a Genoese mariner—an ambitious and enterprising commoner who began his life with the baptismal name of Cristoforo Colombo, to later become Cristóbal Colón, and who we generally know today as Christopher Columbus—while in the employ of the sovereigns of Spain, Queen Isabella I of Castile and her husband King Ferdinand II of Aragon. After much persistence against considerable political odds, initially, he eventually received the authority (privileges and prerogatives) from the monarchs to embark on his bold and imaginative quest for a European sea route to the East by sailing west complete with the pompous title of “Admiral of the Ocean Sea” crowning his ego.
The Columbian Project, whose historical antecedents lay in the early phase of the European Renaissance and involving three small ships the Santa María, the Pinta, and the Niña sailing from the Spanish port of Palos on August 3, 1492—the same year in which, not coincidentally, the centuries-long Reconquista launched by various European kingdoms to retake the steadily weakening nearly 800-year old Islamic Iberia culminated in the reluctant but peaceful transfer of the last Muslim stronghold of Granada in Spain to the Spanish monarchy—inadvertently linked together, for both good and ill, the three continents of Africa, the Americas, and Eurasia in a process that historians call the Columbian Exchange.
The Columbian Project, whose historical antecedents lay in the early phase of the European Renaissance and involving three small ships the Santa María, the Pinta, and the Niña sailing from the Spanish port of Palos on August 3, 1492—the same year in which, not coincidentally, the centuries-long Reconquista launched by various European kingdoms to retake the steadily weakening nearly 800-year old Islamic Iberia culminated in the reluctant but peaceful transfer of the last Muslim stronghold of Granada in Spain to the Spanish monarchy—inadvertently linked together, for both good and ill, the three continents of Africa, the Americas, and Eurasia in a process that historians call the Columbian Exchange.
It is important to point out here that from a macrohistorical perspective, the Columbian Project incorporated within it not simply the ambitions of one person and the monarchy that backed him but was also driven by three European-inspired sub-projects that had evolved within the crucible of the roughly 800-year long blood-soaked crusade against the Muslims, the “racial project” (enslavement, dispossession, and colonization of other peoples and lands), the “capitalist project” (merchant capitalism), and a “religious project” (Christian proselytism), and the execution of which, over time, would effectively render the Americas a geographic, economic, and cultural extension of the European peninsula and thereby laying the groundwork for the economic domination to come of the planet by a hitherto historically marginal and ethnically diverse peoples, the Europeans. Note too that the Columbian Project, in terms of both motivation and facilitation, was also a product of the European encounter with the Islamic Civilization—see the Great East-to-West Diffusion)—and the manner of the formation of the planet earth. This last point is in reference to the existence of the high-speed stratospheric winds known as the jet streams that snake around the planet without which there would be no trade winds / westerlies, necessary for long distance ocean navigation at a time when seafaring depended on sailing ships.
It is important to point out here that from a macrohistorical perspective, the Columbian Project incorporated within it not simply the ambitions of one person and the monarchy that backed him but was also driven by three European-inspired sub-projects that had evolved within the crucible of the roughly 800-year long blood-soaked crusade against the Muslims, the “racial project” (enslavement, dispossession, and colonization of other peoples and lands), the “capitalist project” (merchant capitalism), and a “religious project” (Christian proselytism), and the execution of which, over time, would effectively render the Americas a geographic, economic, and cultural extension of the European peninsula and thereby laying the groundwork for the economic domination to come of the planet by a hitherto historically marginal and ethnically diverse peoples, the Europeans. Note too that the Columbian Project, in terms of both motivation and facilitation, was also a product of the European encounter with the Islamic Civilization—see the Great East-to-West Diffusion)—and the manner of the formation of the planet earth. This last point is in reference to the existence of the high-speed stratospheric winds known as the jet streams that snake around the planet without which there would be no trade winds / westerlies, necessary for long distance ocean navigation at a time when seafaring depended on sailing ships.
Folks, it would not be out of place here to draw your attention also to the significance of the Great European West to East Maritime Project in terms of what I call comparative world history. Specifically, a comparison with the “Chinese Indian Ocean Project” launched by the founder of the Ming Dynasty, Yong-Le and executed by his general Cheng Ho. In 1368, a mendicant Buddhist monk of peasant origin, by the name of Hong-wu, would establish what historians now refer to as the Ming dynasty.[1] Of particular interest here is the third emperor in this dynasty, Yong-Le. He would undertake a number of major economic and political projects during his reign; among them a revival of the imperial tradition of Genghis Khan’s famous grandson Kublai Khan (the ruler of the entire Mongol Empire, including China, whose unification was one of his major accomplishments) to project China’s power beyond its borders, even into the Indian Ocean basin—recall, for instance, Kublai Khan’s ill-fated attempts to invade Japan; and twice no less, in 1274 and 1281. The most well-known of these efforts to date with respect to the Indian Ocean region was the dispatch of huge Chinese fleets under the command of Cheng Ho, the Chinese Muslim general, to show the Chinese flag to the various potentates and in the process institute among them at least a nominal form of vassalage.
Folks, it would not be out of place here to draw your attention also to the significance of the Great European West to East Maritime Project in terms of what I call comparative world history. Specifically, a comparison with the “Chinese Indian Ocean Project” launched by the founder of the Ming Dynasty, Yong-Le and executed by his general Cheng Ho. In 1368, a mendicant Buddhist monk of peasant origin, by the name of Hong-wu, would establish what historians now refer to as the Ming dynasty.[1] Of particular interest here is the third emperor in this dynasty, Yong-Le. He would undertake a number of major economic and political projects during his reign; among them a revival of the imperial tradition of Genghis Khan’s famous grandson Kublai Khan (the ruler of the entire Mongol Empire, including China, whose unification was one of his major accomplishments) to project China’s power beyond its borders, even into the Indian Ocean basin—recall, for instance, Kublai Khan’s ill-fated attempts to invade Japan; and twice no less, in 1274 and 1281. The most well-known of these efforts to date with respect to the Indian Ocean region was the dispatch of huge Chinese fleets under the command of Cheng Ho, the Chinese Muslim general, to show the Chinese flag to the various potentates and in the process institute among them at least a nominal form of vassalage.
Given the might of the Chinese naval power that these expeditions placed on display (although outright military aggression was never on their agenda—since deference rather than territorial conquest appeared to be their chief goal—they were, as Finlay 1995 reminds us, “armed to the teeth”), almost all the territories and kingdoms that Cheng Ho visited (over a total of seven expeditions were undertaken: in 1405, 1407, 1408, 1413, 1416, 1421, and 1431) agreed to send envoys to China with tribute; even Japan fell into line for a while. At the same time, these expeditions also undertook to suppress piracy, which China viewed as an affront to the orderly business of securing and maintaining its overlordship. By the time of the penultimate Ming expedition to India in 1417 and the last to East Africa and the Persian Gulf in 1431 (see Chang 1995, for details of these expeditions), it was clear to everyone within the entire Indian Ocean region as to who indeed was the naval superpower. If there were any doubts in this regard, then a fleet on one’s doorstep of about 300 ships (some equipped with bombards and the largest of the ships could boast 3000-tons capacity), with some 28,000 heavily armed men, had miraculous powers of concentrating the mind.[2] (See Finlay [1995] on details of how some recalcitrants were put in their place. Here, compare also to today’s Chinese saber rattling going on in the Indian Ocean area, as it attempts to renew its dominance of the past, to the alarm of countries such as Japan, the Philippines, Vietnam, and so on. Folks, some things never change; such as the desire to build empires, as an extension, often, of nationalism gone awry.)
Given the might of the Chinese naval power that these expeditions placed on display (although outright military aggression was never on their agenda—since deference rather than territorial conquest appeared to be their chief goal—they were, as Finlay 1995 reminds us, “armed to the teeth”), almost all the territories and kingdoms that Cheng Ho visited (over a total of seven expeditions were undertaken: in 1405, 1407, 1408, 1413, 1416, 1421, and 1431) agreed to send envoys to China with tribute; even Japan fell into line for a while. At the same time, these expeditions also undertook to suppress piracy, which China viewed as an affront to the orderly business of securing and maintaining its overlordship. By the time of the penultimate Ming expedition to India in 1417 and the last to East Africa and the Persian Gulf in 1431 (see Chang 1995, for details of these expeditions), it was clear to everyone within the entire Indian Ocean region as to who indeed was the naval superpower. If there were any doubts in this regard, then a fleet on one’s doorstep of about 300 ships (some equipped with bombards and the largest of the ships could boast 3000-tons capacity), with some 28,000 heavily armed men, had miraculous powers of concentrating the mind.[2] (See Finlay [1995] on details of how some recalcitrants were put in their place. Here, compare also to today’s Chinese saber rattling going on in the Indian Ocean area, as it attempts to renew its dominance of the past, to the alarm of countries such as Japan, the Philippines, Vietnam, and so on. Folks, some things never change; such as the desire to build empires, as an extension, often, of nationalism gone awry.)
Now, what is of capital significance of all this is that with the death of Yong-Le in 1424, the Ming dynasty withdrew itself from the Indian Ocean (it would authorize only one more expedition, the one in 1431) for a number of reasons—but all internal to Chinese politics. The implications of this major historical turn of events from the perspective of the European foray into the Indian Ocean, inaugurated by the Portuguese more than three decades later, should be self-evident; however, if one is still uncertain it is well described by Finlay: “A precondition for da Gama’s voyage marking an epochal turning-point was the prior retreat of the Chinese navy from the Indian Ocean, an unwitting withdrawal from a contest for world dominion.” With some exaggeration he goes on to say: “[m]uch of world history may be said to revolve around this Chinese retreat; and Western advance” (p. 96). Still, to some extent he is correct; for, this fact is incontestable: that insofar as the eventual European domination of Indian Ocean commerce was among the critically instrumental factors in the rise of Europe, then surely the Chinese did a great service to the rise of global European imperialism; for, one cannot envisage the Portuguese maritime swagger (punctuated as it was with military aggression and gratuitous barbaric cruelty) in the Indian Ocean had the Chinese been around when they first arrived.
Now, what is of capital significance of all this is that with the death of Yong-Le in 1424, the Ming dynasty withdrew itself from the Indian Ocean (it would authorize only one more expedition, the one in 1431) for a number of reasons—but all internal to Chinese politics. The implications of this major historical turn of events from the perspective of the European foray into the Indian Ocean, inaugurated by the Portuguese more than three decades later, should be self-evident; however, if one is still uncertain it is well described by Finlay: “A precondition for da Gama’s voyage marking an epochal turning-point was the prior retreat of the Chinese navy from the Indian Ocean, an unwitting withdrawal from a contest for world dominion.” With some exaggeration he goes on to say: “[m]uch of world history may be said to revolve around this Chinese retreat; and Western advance” (p. 96). Still, to some extent he is correct; for, this fact is incontestable: that insofar as the eventual European domination of Indian Ocean commerce was among the critically instrumental factors in the rise of Europe, then surely the Chinese did a great service to the rise of global European imperialism; for, one cannot envisage the Portuguese maritime swagger (punctuated as it was with military aggression and gratuitous barbaric cruelty) in the Indian Ocean had the Chinese been around when they first arrived.
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[1] Chinese name variations of prominent personages stem from the practice of acquiring new names, such as with the acquisition of new positions (e.g., on becoming an emperor); or with the establishment of new dynasties; and so on. Moreover, the existence of two forms of romanization of Chinese names, Wade-Giles and the newer Pinyin does not help matters. For the present account, the following name/spelling variations (based mainly but not only on Encyclopedia Brittanica) are relevant: Genghis Khan (c. 1162–1227): also spelled Ching-gis, Chingis, Jenghiz, and so on. Also known as Temüjin (Temuchin). He established the dynasty that his grandson, Kublai Khan, later proclaimed as the Yuan dynasty (1206–1368—also known as the Mongol dynasty) and of which Kublai Khan would be the first emperor. Kublai Khan (1215–94): also spelled Khubilai, or Kubla Hung-wu (1328–1398): also spelled Hongwu—also known as Kao-ti, T’ai Tsu, and Chu Yuan-chang (Zhu Yuanzhang). Cheng Ho (1371–1435): also spelled Zheng He; and who was also known as Ma San-pao, Ma Ho, San Bao. His family claimed that they were descendants of an early Mongol governor of Yunnan and a descendant of King Muhammed of Bukhara. The family name Ma came from the Chinese rendition of Muhammed. Yung-lo (1360–1424; third emperor of the Ming dynasty from 1402–1424): also spelled Yonglo—also known as Ch'eng Tsu, T'ai Tsung, Wen Ti, and Chu Ti [Zhu Di].
[2] To fully appreciate the might of the naval power these expeditions represented for the time period, consider this comparison by Finlay (1995): The Portuguese Army that attacked Morocco and captured Ceuta in 1415 numbered about 12,000; the fall of the Muslim province of Granada in 1492 had been achieved with 20,000 men, while the French invasion of Italy in 1494 under Charles VIII had involved about 28,000 soldiers. The usual number that made up a field army in the early sixteenth-century in Europe ranged roughly from 25,000 to 30,000 men—vide, Philip II’s Spanish Armada, for example, that was sent to invade England in 1588, it had aboard a total of about 29,500 soldiers. As for the size of the European ships, they were absolutely no match for the Chinese ones: the largest of Vasco da Gama’s ships, for example, could only displace 300 tons at the most and carry 170 men (versus 600 men for Cheng Ho’s 3,000-ton ships). Even in the case of the Spanish Armada, the sizes of their ships were wanting: the largest had a capacity of only 1,294 tons. Clearly then, as Finlay, concludes, the Ming Indian Ocean expeditions “were the largest long-distance enterprises before the modern age, dwarfing anything that the most powerful European state could produce” (p. 95).
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