A Scholar-Official’s Unconventional Passion

In the pantheon of late Qing dynasty figures, Li Hongzhang (1823–1901) is often remembered as a pragmatic diplomat and military modernizer. Yet his private writings reveal an unexpected devotion: a profound reverence for agriculture and the mythical Emperor Shennong, China’s legendary “Divine Farmer.” Amidst diplomatic crises and military reforms, Li meticulously documented his agrarian philosophy, even composing a lavish poetic tribute—The Ode to Shennong—that celebrated farming as the bedrock of civilization. This lesser-known facet of his legacy offers a window into how traditional Confucian elites reconciled ancient agrarian values with the pressures of modernity.

The Cult of Shennong in Imperial China

Long before Li’s era, Shennong’s mythos permeated Chinese statecraft. Credited with inventing the plow, identifying medicinal herbs, and establishing market systems during the 3rd millennium BCE, Shennong symbolized the Confucian ideal of benevolent governance through agrarian welfare. Emperors performed ritual plowing at Beijing’s Xiannongtan (Altar of Agriculture), while literati praised farming in poetry—though rarely as fervently as Li.

By the 19th century, this tradition faced existential threats. Western industrialization and opium imports destabilized rural economies, forcing intellectuals to reconsider agriculture’s role. Li stood apart by arguing that technological modernization (like his Jiangnan Arsenal projects) must complement, not replace, agrarian foundations—a stance echoing ancient nongben (农本, “agriculture as root”) philosophy.

The Ode That Shocked the Literati

Discovered in multiple copies across Tianjin and Guangzhou, Li’s Ode to Shennong (dated variably between 1869–1879) broke conventions. Unlike typical scholarly works extolling Confucius or Mencius, its 300+ lines glorified agrarian labor with startling intimacy:

> “All our wealth comes from thee: / All the funds of our banks. / All the strength of the Government… / The beauty of our women. / The hard sinews of the workers.”

Li’s diary records contemporaries’ bewilderment. One colleague remarked he seemed “a rustic farmer at heart” rather than a scholar. The statesman retorted that true literature should amplify voiceless laborers—a radical departure from literati norms that prioritized abstract philosophy over practical livelihoods.

Ritual Plowing as Political Theater

Li’s 1879 visit to Xiannongtan reveals how he weaponized agrarian symbolism. While preparing for critical northern negotiations (likely concerning Russian border disputes), he insisted on performing ceremonial plowing—an act typically reserved for emperors. His diary defends this as moral leadership:

> “The Divine Farmer blesses all people, not just the Emperor… High officials must demonstrate reverence through action.”

This performance carried sharp critiques. By lamenting opium (“The poppy is wrong”) in his Ode and condemning corrupt officials who “steal more than thieves,” Li positioned agrarian purity against the era’s social decay—a subtle challenge to the Qing court’s failures.

The Agrarian Mandate in a Changing World

Li’s agrarian advocacy wasn’t nostalgic conservatism. He pioneered modern cotton mills, imported American crop varieties, and advocated scientific farming—blending Shennong’s legacy with industrial pragmatism. This duality mirrored his broader reform philosophy: adopting Western techniques while preserving Chinese cultural essence.

Critically, he framed agricultural modernization as patriotic duty. The Ode proclaims:

> “By bringing crops to fruition, we raise / A Nation, / A People, / The Middle Kingdom!”

Such lines reveal how Li instrumentalized Shennong’s myth to legitimize industrialization—positioning farm productivity as the foundation of national strength.

Legacy: From Imperial Fields to Food Security Debates

Though Li’s Ode was omitted from official anthologies, his agrarian ideals endured. 20th-century rural reconstruction movements echoed his calls for technological uplift, while contemporary China’s “agricultural civilization” discourse revives nongben rhetoric. The Xiannongtan rituals he cherished are now UNESCO-listed intangible heritage.

Most strikingly, Li’s writings prefigure modern debates about sustainable development. His warning against opium—a cash crop that devastated food security—resonates in today’s struggles with agricultural commercialization. The Ode’s closing lines seem eerily prescient:

> “Shennong, you never taught us sloth / Nor subterfuge.”

In an age of climate crises and food insecurity, Li Hongzhang’s agrarian vision—once dismissed as eccentric—emerges as a provocative meditation on how civilizations might balance progress and preservation. His ink-stained hands, which drafted unequal treaties with Western powers, also penned perhaps the Qing dynasty’s most passionate defense of the soil that sustained China’s soul.