Warring States

Filbert Catkins in January

The Indian civilization of the northwest reminds me of the Warring States (476 – 221 BCE) period in China. The Warring States was a dark interlude in the train of China’s history, which, unlike Western history, is a continuous sequence of dynasties. The government in China today is in a succession of dynasties that goes back at least to the Shang Dynasty whose traditional end was 1122 BCE. The Shangs left a literary legacy of inscriptions on ox scapulae and turtle shells that are an early form of the Chinese characters that are used today. The Shang was followed by the Western and Eastern Zhou dynasties. The Zhou left a few books and lengthy inscriptions on wonderful bronze castings. The Warring States were the last two hundred or so years of the Eastern Zhou. My mentor, Herrlee Creel, was one of the first historians to make use of Zhou bronze inscriptions, and I spent a few delightful years under his direction studying the Warring States, the chaotic period when the power of the Zhou kings was no longer adequate to establish order in the north China plain.

The Warring States is almost always described as a period of cruelty, treachery, and unprincipled ambition. The orderly civilization that Chinese historians saw in records of the Zhou dynasty disintegrated into a cluster of warring small states, each trying to get the best of the others. But the Warring States was the period when the great schools of Chinese philosophy and political theory became established. Confucianism, Daoism, Legalism, and military strategy all evolved rapidly while the states warred. Revenge, spite, and bloody battles are found on every page of the history of the period, along with intense intellectual ferment and a desire to return to the orderly days of the Zhou.

The Warring States period was ended by the leader of the warring states, Chin. Chin unified the states into as single state in 221 BCE, recalling the glory of Zhou. Unfortunately, the first ruler of the unified state was a cruel tyrant and could not hold power. He was replaced by the Han Dynasty, which was the first dynasty for which we have a detailed written history. From the Han on, recording of dynastic history was an important function of government. This began a long succession of great historic dynasties. Although the current regime in China may not be ready to acknowledge it, they are the current representative of a long line of mighty dynasties.

I believe that the modern world that we enjoy today owes as great a debt to Warring States China as it does to the golden age of the Greek philosophers. Surprisingly, Socrates ( 469 BCE–399 BCE) and Confucius (551 BCE – 479 BCE) were almost contemporaries.

But back to the Indians of the Pacific Northwest. Before the coming of the white men, the Bostons as they were called, the northwest Indians lived in idyllic splendor. Unlike the Indians of plains who had to scramble for survival, on the northwest coast, food was abundant. Swarms of salmon, halibut, and sea mammals were easily harvested and preserved. Clams, oysters, crabs, and other seafood were lying on the beach. There was no struggle to survive.

The Indians were able to skip agriculture and move on directly to a settled life of huge long houses and mighty totemic art. And they warred continuously, fighting over territory, fishing grounds, and slaves. They were a collection of warring states. It is easy to speculate on what they could have accomplished if they had a written language, or a more organized religion, or indigenous iron, but that kind of speculation only leads to a round of back patting among Europeans who reaped the supposed benefits.

Salmon Fish Fry

When I look up “fish fry” in the dictionary or in Wikipedia, I don’t find what I expect. The fish at a dictionary fish fry are literally fried. That may be appropriate for points east, but for a northwesterner, it is an appalling prospect. Around Puget Sound and the Strait of Georgia, the proper subject matter of a fish fry is salmon baked over a smoky open fire. J. G. Swan’s recipe, that I have placed in the sidebar, which he recorded at Willapa Bay in the mid-nineteeth century, is almost our exact family recipe for salmon and the recipe for a Salish fish frysalmon roast.

Fish fries are high tradition in our family. I remember going to fish fries when I was a preschooler and my cousin, who is even older than I am, remembers fish fries at our great grandparents house. The family has has been holding fish fries since the days when my great-grandfather first arrived in Washington Territory over a hundred years ago.

My cousin held a small fish fry on the farm last weekend. I called it his potlatch and when I think about it, that may be more fitly chosen than when I first thought of it.

I have to take a moment to say a few things about my cousin. He is six years older than I am. We were raised in a family that was close both in proximity and spirit. Time and mortality has spread us out now, but my great grandparents house, my grandparents house, and my cousins houses were all clustered within a mile radius.  Through adolescence, my cousin led our baby boom cohort through life: a drivers license, girl friends, joining the Marines, living away from the family, getting married, my cousin was always the leader. And, I admit, he was my idol. And as an idol, he always had a minute for me, and I reveled in those minutes. Needless to say, my cousin is a special person to me.

The years could have treated my cousin better. A divorce separated him both from his family and the house and acreage into which he poured his soul. Physical ailments have transformed a robust craftsman into a person forced to factor his physical capabilities into every decision. Still, my cousin is a respected man with many friends.

And a generous man. Fisherman friends gave him a salmon. Not just any salmon, but a sleek, fat monarch that would turn the head of any chef on Puget Sound. My cousin works for the Lummi Nation so it could have come from them. That would have been traditional. In our family, all the best salmon all come from the tribe, and last weekend, instead of hoarding that fine fish for himself, my cousin announced a fish fry.

He roasted the perfect salmon over a smoky vine maple fire, inviting a circle of relatives and friends to join in a festival of mutual good will. If you read cook books and the menus of places like Anthony’s and Ivar’s Salmon House, the wood for roasting salmon is alder, but that is not the tradition in my family. We always use green vine maple. Green vine maple smoke is sweet and gives the salmon a sharper tang than alder. Not that alder is inferior, I have enjoyed many meals of alder smoked salmon, but alder is not vine maple, not the flavor of salmon for this tribe of German descended Bostons.

And for some elusive reason, the vine maple smoke, the fat salmon, and the grace of the tribe around the table, made the occasion a potlatch.