I turn now to my third example where China’s own history and the histories of others seem to converge. I refer to perceptions of what the term ‘status quo’ might mean. The Chinese have learnt how the term was used against them when China is compared with Otto von Bismarck’s Germany as a non-status quo power (Japan since the Meiji was also described in a similar way). What does that mean for China? In Chinese history, the idea of status quo can be seen in the famous opening lines of Romance of the Three Kingdoms (a thirteenth–fourteenth century classical Chinese text attributed to Luo Guanzhong), which states that periods of division must end with unification, and periods of unity must end in division. To most Chinese, division and reunification invariably alternated. One learnt to live with that rhythm of change in political entities as a norm. In that context, the idea of sovereignty as a permanent condition that could be guaranteed by international law was new and something they came to value as a useful way to defend China’s national rights. Can the two ideas be reconciled?

When China was described by the United States as a non-status quo power where Taiwan was concerned, its leaders were unsure what to do or say. Their protestations that the Taiwan issue was an internal matter—an extension of a civil war—went unheeded. A confrontation over Taiwan that pits US guarantees and national credibility against China’s integrity and national honour would be very dangerous indeed. The American and European moral high ground raised the historical analogy of ‘non-status quo’ power—a rising China could be like Germany and Japan. The Chinese have since been concerned enough to pay special attention to the international system operating today to underline their commitment to the status quo. They have made great efforts to show consistency in supporting existing positions across the board. They also wish to affirm that they are content with such a state of affairs, where most nations recognise the People’s Republic of China as the only China and that there is no nation called Taiwan. That way, they can argue that anyone who seeks to change this situation would be the ‘non-status quo’ power and not China. Moreover, the Anti-Secession Act shows that China is prepared to go to war to preserve the status quo. According to the pendulum formula that division followed by unification is the inevitable norm, the Chinese can still contemplate the time when China’s unification is generally accepted.

There are many uses of history. I have selected some examples to suggest that, while the Chinese do not believe that history repeats itself, they have always been keen to use historical analogies in their policy analyses, irrespective of how far back in time they elect to go to draw those lessons. This is not necessarily backward-looking. Chinese practice shows that their ‘timeless’ approach, which sought the most helpful and relevant examples to support their current cause or guide their choice of policy, has been used with care, and often with practised skill. Whether they decided their policies first and then found historical examples to strengthen their case, or whether they searched the records to look for lessons that would be most appropriate for deciding on policy is not always obvious. That all rulers and their officials resorted to the use of history, however, is abundantly clear. Such dependence on analogies from the past often led Chinese elites to act conservatively. This could prove dangerous if it meant that they worked exclusively within their own historical boxes instead of being encouraged to think outside them. There is ample evidence that modern leaders have learnt, sometimes painfully, to adapt quickly to changing circumstances and to use historical analogies more creatively. When they succeed in doing so, it confirms that the practice of closely linking history and policy has served them well.