The Curious Case of “East-West” in Chinese

In Chinese, the term for “things” or “objects” is dongxi (东西), literally meaning “east-west.” This linguistic quirk has puzzled scholars and laypeople alike for centuries. Why do the Chinese refer to goods as “east-west” rather than “north-south”? The answer lies in a fascinating intersection of language, trade, and cultural exchange along the Silk Road.

Historical explanations vary. The Ciyuan dictionary traces the term to a Qing Dynasty scholar, Liang Zhangju, who suggested it was shorthand for “products from all directions.” But a more colorful folk explanation comes from another Qing scholar, Zhai Hao, who recounted a story about the Ming Dynasty’s Chongzhen Emperor. When the emperor posed this riddle to his minister Zhou Yanru, the quick-witted official replied: “South belongs to fire, north to water—if you borrow fire or water at dusk, people will give it freely, but a ‘gift’ isn’t a trade. Only east (wood) and west (metal) can be traded, hence dongxi.” This evolved into the popular “wood and metal” explanation: wooden and metal goods could be carried in baskets, while fire and water could not.

The Tang Dynasty Hypothesis and Competing Theories

Scholars remain divided on when dongxi first became synonymous with “objects.” Some argue for a Han Dynasty origin, but the prevailing theory points to the Tang Dynasty (618–907 CE). During this golden age of trade, Chang’an (modern Xi’an) and Luoyang—the eastern and western capitals—hosted bustling markets. The term dongxi may have emerged from merchants shuttling between the “eastern” and “western” markets, their baskets filled with goods.

Yet recent research challenges this view. Linguists note that before the Song Dynasty (960–1279 CE), dongxi appeared far less frequently than older terms like wu (物, “object”) or dongshi (动使, a northern dialect term possibly distorted by nomadic influences). Intriguingly, early Chinese texts often used “north-south” for trade goods. The History of the Northern Dynasties records requests for “southern goods” (nanhuo), and even today, nostalgic shop names like “South-North Trading” linger.

The Silk Road’s Role in Shaping “East-West”

The ascendancy of dongxi coincided with the Ming Dynasty’s maritime expansion. Zhang Xie’s Studies on the Eastern and Western Oceans (1617) noted: “The west yields treasures, the east yields ores.” This “eastern ores, western treasures” dichotomy soon dominated trade jargon, cementing dongxi as the default term for merchandise. By the 16th century, scholar Su You observed wryly: “People call money and goods dongxi, but men nanbei (north-south)… surely this is folk etymology.”

Notably, the Silk Road—named in 1877 by German geographer Ferdinand von Richthofen—was originally less about silk than horses, spices, and slaves. Early trade might have dubbed it the “Horse and Fur Road” or “Pepper Route.” Yet silk, a marvel of human ingenuity, became the iconic commodity, symbolizing how trade measured not just distance but cultural connection.

Cultural Exchange: More Than Just Goods

The Silk Road was a conduit for far more than luxury items. Foods like cucumbers, grapes, and walnuts crisscrossed continents, while technologies (paper, gunpowder) and ideas (Buddhism, astronomy) flowed both ways. This exchange underpinned what British geographer Halford Mackinder later called Eurasia’s “pivotal region”—a zone where geography and commerce intertwined to shape history.

Yet the road also highlights paradoxes. While China pioneered innovations like the Tiangong Kaiwu (1637), an encyclopedic masterpiece by Song Yingxing (dubbed “China’s Diderot”), the “Needham Question” endures: Why did China’s scientific lead wane post-Renaissance? The answer may lie in shifting trade dynamics: as silver flooded Ming markets, China turned inward, while Europe’s maritime empires accelerated global integration.

Legacy: From Ancient Trade to Modern Metaphors

Today, dongxi endures as a linguistic fossil of the Silk Road’s legacy. It reminds us that trade was never just transactional—it reshaped language, thought, and identity. The term’s journey mirrors broader historical currents: the rise of maritime trade, the interplay of regional dialects, and the enduring human instinct to categorize the world.

As historian Joseph Needham argued, understanding East-West exchange requires bridging “the great gulfs” between disciplines. The Silk Road, with its tangible relics and intangible influences, offers precisely such a bridge. From baskets of dongxi to digital marketplaces, the impulse to trade—and the words we use for it—still traces back to those ancient paths where east met west, and “things” became history.