SCRIPT - Chinese Strategy Against the Northern Steppe, c.600BC to 90AD (19/07/2018)

Chinese Strategy Against the Northern Steppe, c.600BC to 90AD

Introduction

This video will cover the strategies adopted by the early Chinese states against semi-settled or nomadic peoples in the northern steppes, culminating in the 300-year-long struggle between the Chinese Han Dynasty and the nomadic Xiongnu Empire. As the opening act to two thousand years of competition, what Chinese leaders did here influenced future policymakers and as such forms part of China’s strategic DNA. 

 

Geography

The East Asian steppe, consisting of the grasslands of modern Manchuria, Outer and Inner Mongolia and northern Xinjiang, is part of a larger belt that stretches all the way to Europe. Nomad-friendly pasture was located in northern Xinjiang, Outer Mongolia, eastern Inner Mongolia, and the Ordos-Ningxia region enclosed by the bend of the Yellow River. On the other side, settled states had to take into account the 15-inch isohyet, which marks the minimum annual rainfall required for sustained agriculture. Operations and garrisons beyond the line would have to be sustained either by microclimates like oases, or by provisioning from bases: even with this, a typical Chinese army of the time could only campaign for around 100 days.

I. Eastern Zhou (c.600BC to 400BC): Dealing with Semi-Settled Peoples

Nomadism first emerged in 1000BC, but for a long time afterwards Chinese states still dealt primarily with semi-settled peoples who, by not accepting the ruling Zhōu Dynasty’s authority, were considered uncivilized. Grouped under the general terms of ‘Róng’ and ‘Dí’, such peoples lived on marginal lands in small, scattered groups, and as such were vulnerable to external pressure.

China at this time was divided into hundreds of feudal states, all acknowledging the Zhou King’s moral authority but otherwise fighting each other for survival and power. Under these circumstances, winning meant gathering and utilizing resources in a way superior to one’s rivals, meaning other Chinese states. To achieve this, Chinese states could choose between two strategic directions: either go to war and capture more resources; or seek peace and attempt to extract more resources out of existing territory. War was the more straightforward option, but the most successful states based themselves on realpolitik principles: war when the risks were low and the potential profit high, and peace when the opposite was the case.

Therefore, there was no Chinese strategy against the Rong and Di per se. Rather, there was a general Chinese strategy against other Chinese states, of which the Rong and Di inevitably played a part. This ‘part’ saw Rong and Di as potential resources and also as minor enemies whose hostility could nevertheless tip the balance in favor of one’s Chinese rivals. Realpolitik as it pertained to Rong and Di was not just a question of how many resources they had and how easy it was to conquer them, but also whether warring with them would expose vulnerabilities to a Chinese rival, and whether there were easier ways to utilize Rong and Di resources to strengthen oneself, for example, by allying with a Rong state and using their army to deter or crush said rival.

Out of these considerations emerged a situation where Chinese states did fight with and annex Rong and Di, but they also just as easily made treaties, intermarried, and took each other’s concerns into account when executing policy. In other words, there was no cultural norm barring Chinese states from such activity, only the concerns of realpolitik. For all intents and purposes, Rong and Di were just treated like any other minor Chinese statelet of the time.

With one major exception: being outside of the Zhou orbit, Rong and Di were not subject to the same level of diplomatic respect as Chinese states under the Zhou king were. A Chinese state fighting a Rong or Di state did not need to justify himself to the Zhou king, it could break treaties made with them without incurring official sanctions, and it could annex them without generating major blowback from the Zhou King, who could theoretically demand military support from his Chinese vassals. The risks of fighting Rong and Di was therefore always lower than that of minor Chinese states, making the former easier targets. By 400BC most Rong and Di had been annexed into one Chinese state or another.

II. Warring States and Qin (400BC to 200BC): First Contact with Nomads

With the absorption of Rong and Di territory, Chinese states now came into contact with steppe nomads, grouped under the term Hú. At this time nomads were still scattered, small-scale entities, too weak to merit specific attention and so Chinese states’ strategy against other Chinese states remained the main determinant for their attitudes towards the nomads.

A new dynamic was introduced into Chinese-nomad relations, however, when the state of Zhào established a cavalry arm in 307BC modeled on nomadic traditions. Its value in war was quickly proven and soon all Chinese states were seeking horses and pasture for their own cavalry. At the same time, cavalry allowed Chinese states to approximate the mobility and operational depth of nomads, making conquest of the nearby steppe a real possibility. As a result, in order to keep up with each other cavalry-wise, Chinese states almost immediately began conducting major offensives against the nomads, eventually seizing large swathes of the steppe.

Now the question became: how to defend and make these new territories productive without tying down the cavalry needed back in China proper? Diplomacy was of limited value against disorganized and migratory nomads; instead, the response came in the form of ‘long walls’, which were systems of watchtowers, beacons, forts and physical defenses running along favorable terrain, chokepoints and key routes. Operationally, the creation of signaling and logistics infrastructure gave slower garrisoning infantry a chance at concentrating against nomadic incursions; strategically, not only did they block hostile elements from disrupting horse production, they also channeled the movement of people and goods and subjected them to state authority, important since ‘long walls’ were built in non-Chinese areas whose nomadic inhabitants had little in common with their new overlords.

Contrary to use of the concept in later dynasties, ‘Long Walls’ formed part of a broad Chinese offensive into nomadic territory, stabilizing conquered pasture for horse production and serving as a springboard for further advances, should the demand for cavalry grow strong enough. This dynamic reached its apex after the unification of China under Qín in 221BC, who joined the ‘Long Walls’ into a Great Wall and then launched an offensive in 215BC to clear out the Ordos pasture and anchor the Empire’s border at what must have seemed like a ‘natural line of defense’ along the Yellow River. The expedition was a complete operational success, but in hindsight could only be seen as a major strategic mistake. The loss of so much pasture destabilized nomadic society and pushed it into extended crisis, out of which emerged a peer competitor that would haunt China for centuries.

III. Early Western Han (200BC to 130BC): The Heqin Strategy

In ‘typical’ nomadic society where domestically-produced economic surplus is low, there is little room to support non-producers like full-time soldiers. In ‘crisis’ situations, however, desperate nomads are incentivized to leverage their unique martial talents to seize surplus and tribute from others, becoming roving armies where all adult males turn into professional soldiers. Coordination and supply of such soldiers, in turn, stimulates the creation of hierarchies, central government, and imperial administration, laying down the framework for a permanent nomadic empire.

The cumulative effect of Chinese encroachment and especially the Qin’s offensive may have been the direct catalyst for the nomadic ‘crisis’ situation that ended with the founding of the Xiōngnú Empire in 209BC, which, thanks to the dynamics of nomad expansion – successful warlords attracting tribes which in turn add to military strength – now posed a systemic threat to the new Hàn Dynasty from Manchuria to Gansu and beyond, including recovered lands in the Ordos barely 100 miles from the Han capital, Cháng'ān.

The Han army, weakened by fighting the post-Qin civil war, the granting of territories to vassal-kings, and the loss of pasture, was in no shape to pursue a military strategy against the organized Xiongnu, and an attempted offensive resulted in the Emperor’s defeat and near-capture in 200BC.

As a result, the Han proposed the first of several héqīn or ‘marriage alliance’ efforts between the Han and Xiongnu. Recognizing the Xiongnu as equals with their own sphere of influence, the Han would pay tribute as the price for peace at the border. Furthermore, the agreement would be sealed through a Han princess marrying the Xiongnu chányú or his son.

Traditional historiography has castigated heqin as appeasement at best and kowtowing to barbarians at worst, but the practice can be seen as the Han’s two-pronged strategy to manage the Xiongnu threat. The first prong continues the pedigree of Chinese realpolitik where states alternate between war and peace based on their own strength, enemy consideration, and the cost-benefit analysis of fighting.

The key was in identifying who was the primary threat to the Han – and it was likely not the Xiongnu, who had a vested interest in keeping their tributary golden goose alive. Instead, the threat came from the Han’s vassal-kings, who ruled autonomous territories in half the Empire, had their own armies, and harbored designs on independence or the imperial throne. As referenced in the previous section regarding Rong and Di, the strategic question was not merely whether the Han was strong enough to defeat the Xiongnu, but whether in the process of fighting them, the Han would expose itself to a potential strike from its vassals, which given the tremendous expense of a Xiongnu war, was certainly ‘yes’. There was also the question of whether the Han could utilize the Xiongnu alliance against the vassal-kings, which was more ambiguous: in the end, however, the Xiongnu did not decisively intervene in favor of rebellious vassals as they did prior to heqin, which meant that the Han could neutralize the kings as a viable threat by 154BC. By allying with the enemy whose conquest was riskier and less profitable, the Han could therefore focus on the easier and richer enemy, capturing resources that would eventually be turned on the Xiongnu.

The second prong of heqin stems from the Chinese tradition of assessing and manipulating political and cultural institutions as part of a broader strategy. Despite its apparent unity, large parts of the Xiongnu Empire were still governed by autonomous kings who raided the Han regardless of sanction from the Xiongnu chanyu. The Han could have conducted heqin with these kings – but instead, it dealt with the Xiongnu leader and his central government, in the hopes of cementing the chanyu’s role as the chief conduit for tribute and thus giving him the leverage to impose his will on the Xiongnu. This was the same chanyu, in addition, whose person and clan would also be exposed to regular infusions of Han blood and culture. Heqin did not just seek to delay war, it also sought to neutralize the Xiongnu as a threat long-term by at least reducing the cultural distance between the nomads and China, if not outright assimilating the former.

But if the heqin strategy took into account Xiongnu political and cultural cultures, it failed or was unwilling to understand Xiongnu political norms, which was to be the strategy’s undoing. The Han expected absolute peace in return for tribute, but this assumed a powerful chanyu not just able, but willing to restrain his subjects forever. This was unrealistic given the norms that regulated Xiongnu politics: regular policy consultation with vassal lords, a system where said lords decided succession amongst the males of the royal family, and the need for the same lords to demonstrate divine favor through martial feats. Enforcing a concrete ban on China raids, no matter how powerful the chanyu, would have dealt a severe blow to his authority and invited usurpers who promised otherwise. The terms of heqin, or the Han interpretation of said terms, was simply unachievable to begin with.

So Xiongnu raids continued, seemingly piling further humiliation onto Emperors already humiliated by their admissions of equality with the chanyu. And with the vassal-kings gone and no other overt threats to the Han on the horizon, the one argument that heqin defenders had left – that a Xiongnu war would be immensely costly – was slowly losing its persuasiveness.

IV. Mid Western Han (140BC – 80BC): Offense Under Emperor Wu

The accession of Emperor Wǔ of Han in 141BC marked a shift in Han strategy towards war with the Xiongnu in order to secure the northern border. Heqin had not produced satisfactory results for the Han, which had used the years of peace to eliminate the vassal-kings, grow the economy and reconstitute a cavalry force capable of long-distance operations. Everything was ready save for the key question to the whole enterprise: what objective would ‘secure the northern border’?

Initially, the Han took a geographic view of the problem: securing the northern border meant pushing the Xiongnu away from the border. As a concession to fiscal conservatives, the Han first tried a small ambush to capture the chanyu which failed, and from 133-119BC annual campaigns against the Xiongnu, which saw the Han commit tens of thousands of cavalry against enemy forces magnitudes smaller in size, sought to drive out hostile elements, demonstrate Han sovereignty and carve out periods of relative security in order to lay the groundwork for administrative control – from outer to inner frontier: buffer states ruled by surrendered nomads; outposts, defensive lines and military colonies guarding key routes; and finally commanderies serving as administrative, logistic and production bases. These efforts, consuming almost all of the state’s fiscal reserves and annual revenue, successfully denied the Xiongnu staying power south of the Gobi and forced the chanyu to relocate to Outer Mongolia, and even there he was occasionally raided by generals such as Huò Qùbìng. What they did not prevent were large-scale Xiongnu incursions into the north, which occurred with almost annual regularity.

In response, the Han began to consider ways in which the Xiongnu’s offensive capability could be eliminated; the other side of this was significant ‘mission creep’ where ‘security for the northern border’ demanded ever-larger commitments from the Han and the Han economy.

In 138BC, a few years before the commencement of official hostilities, the Han sent Zhāng Qiān on a westward mission to find allies that would outflank the Xiongnu. Zhang returned in 125BC without success but with valuable intelligence on the Xiongnu Empire. As a state comprised of non-productive soldiery, the loss of tribute from the Han ought to have caused the Xiongnu to disintegrate, but that did not happen; Zhang’s report that the cities of the Tarim Basin all paid tribute to the Xiongnu provided the answer to this mystery. Han now saw in a westward expedition the potential to ‘sever the Xiongnu’s right arm’ and began the preliminary to a new campaign by opening of the Héxī Corridor through oasis forts and colonial garrisons, a task that consumed Han energies and revenue from 119 to 104BC.

The campaign to secure the Tarim Basin under Han hegemony initially involved far-ranging ‘show the flag’ campaigns stretching to Ferghana in modern Uzbekistan. In response, the Xiongnu attacked the new Han territories, and the Han replied by sending several armies against the Xiongnu’s regional power base in northern Xinjiang and Mongolia, all ending in abject failure and stalemate. In any case, the establishment and maturation of Han garrisons along the Hexi Corridor were to have the greater effect on the Tarim Basin, as not only did they provide bases from which the Han could begin to militarily and diplomatically erode Xiongnu hegemony, they also stimulated the creation of the Silk Road and further influenced the Tarim towards the Han. By 60BC, Han was secure enough in its hegemony that an official policy coordinator for the Han in the region – Protector-General of the Western Regions – was established.

The gradual loss of the Tarim was a mortal blow to the Xiongnu which, cut off from major sources of tribute, now began to lose cohesion. Major incursions became a thing of the past as Xiongnu lords began fighting each other, and even as an exhausted Han court ended major offensive operations after the death of Emperor Wu, the disintegration of the Xiongnu continued, speeded along by targeted subsidies and heqin offers to defecting lords.

Under the 54-year reign of Emperor Wu, the Han finally secured the northern border from the threat of the Xiongnu. The success of the military option does not invalidate heqin, which was a strategy that worked – insofar as the Xiongnu Empire did not pre-empt the growing danger posed by the Han – given the circumstances of the time. One must also note that if wresting the Tarim away from Xiongnu hegemony was the decisive action that secured Han victory, then the initial drive north – including the celebrated campaigns of Wèi Qīng and Huò Qùbìng – might have actually been of little strategic value. Patience and better intelligence might have saved the Han a monstrous expense, no small point as Emperor Wu’s heavy expenditure could only be financed by state monopolies, the selling of imperial offices, and heavy taxes on economic productivity. Not only did these changes encourage corruption and administrative decay, but also promoted the landholding aristocracy at the expense of the central government, a feature of Chinese regimes for the next thousand years.

V. Late Western and Eastern Han (80BC – 90AD):  Failing to Structure a Peace

The physical conquests of Emperor Wu proved to be temporary. The Han entered into administrative decline and eventually yielded to the Xīn Dynasty in 9AD, and by the time a renewed Eastern Han had time to review the northern situation in 48, the boundary, with the exception of the Hexi Corridor, had largely fallen back to its pre-war state. The Xiongnu had recovered its hegemony in the Western Regions, but this had come too late to prevent the split between Northern and Southern Xiongnu in 48 AD, the result of political rivalries stemming from Emperor Wu’s offensives. Both sides now appealed to the Han for an alliance.

The Han was in sight of their ideal strategic environment: two nomadic confederations, strong enough to police themselves while fearful enough of the Han that they would do so. The problem, of course, was that the Han could not ally with both sides at once and was certainly not interested in reuniting the old Xiongnu Empire. Ultimately, the Han attempted to square the circle by adopting an ambiguous policy: vassalizing and subsidizing the Southern Xiongnu as a buffer state, while making no real attempt to assist the latter in overthrowing the Northern Xiongnu.

Initial Northern Xiongnu displeasure with this arrangement was quickly made irrelevant by the Han recovery of the Western Regions from 70 to 90, and the generous bounties offered to the Southern Xiongnu and other nomads for Northern Xiongnu heads. By 83 the ideal strategic environment finally arrived, with the desperate Northern Xiongnu offering terms of surrender.

But at this moment of triumph, everything unraveled for the Han. Its ambiguous nomadic policy now came back to bite it: the Southern Xiongnu, fearful that a permanent settlement would mean an end to both Han subsidies and its own dreams of unification, began aggressive operations against the Northern Xiongnu, wrecking Han hopes for peace. In 89, the Southern Xiongnu even proposed a joint invasion of the Northern Xiongnu, and the Han, seemingly unconcerned that its policy was now being led around by the whims of a vassal, agreed.

The outcome of the joint attack against the Northern Xiongnu was never in doubt, with the Northern chanyu fleeing to Central Asia with the remnants of his state. But once again, a Chinese state’s operational success would bring about major strategic failure. The Han entrusted the conquered territory to the Southern Xiongnu, who proved incapable of ruling over their mortal enemies. Almost immediately they began losing ground to Xiānbēi nomads, who by the 120s onwards were again invading Han territory as leaders of an Empire even larger than that of the Xiongnu.

The Han now foreshadowed the fate of Rome, with alternating invasions by Xianbei and the Tibetan Qiāng, depopulation of core regions and the rise of Han led, nomad-run armies, and finally general societal collapse during the Three Kingdoms. The Xiongnu ultimately got some revenge on Han when they captured Chang’an in 316, overthrew the Western Jin Dynasty, and briefly ruled Northeastern China as the Former Zhao.

Conclusion

The earliest Chinese states saw the steppe peoples as resources in a broader struggle against Chinese rivals. Strategy-wise they allied and warred according to the demands of realpolitik, but such an attitude became less practical as the Chinese engaged with nomads less amenable to diplomacy and who, in any case, could only expect long-term hostility as inter-Chinese competition demanded the seizure of ever-more horses and pasture. This culminated in the creation of the Xiongnu Empire whose systemic threat was first neutralized by the Han’s heqin strategy, then eliminated entirely through the capture of their tributary bases. Twice in victory, however, the Han failed to structure their hard-won strategic circumstances into a more permanent settlement: first by permitting the slow decay of their position, and second by allowing policy to be driven by client needs. The Han would not get a third chance.

Ultimately, this opening act of Chinese strategic history would generate and reinforce many of the tropes that inform Chinese strategymaking to this day. From Northern Qí’s use of a Great Wall, to neo-Confucian revulsion over heqin, and even modern China’s strategy, whose so-called ‘tributary’ nature the strategist Edward Luttwak sees as stemming from the Han-Xiongnu struggle, the various policies and strategems developed here by leaders deserve as much attention and research as the abstract sentences of Sun Tzu.

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