The Yangtze, also known as the “Blue River,” is a civilization river, like its neighbor, the Yellow River (Styphnolobium Huaghensis): they are inseparable from Chinese history and civilization.

The Yangtze is remarkable. All rivers are, of course, but this one is perhaps a little more so than the others: it's the third longest river in the world in terms of length and flow, the second most populated—with 430 million people living along its banks—and the longest to flow within a single country! Its headwaters extend across southern China, connecting Tibet to the Pearl River Delta, and are punctuated by impressive dams such as the Three Gorges Dam, the most powerful in the world. But above all, it is its hidden nature that distinguishes it for me.

It is a very old and enormous tree, whose growth and life have been largely dictated for at least 2,000 years by the humans who live within it. The Yangtze is a tree shaped by humans, for humans; it is a domesticated river. Isn't Chinese civilization, described as a “hydraulic empire,” the civilization of water?

The Dujiangyan irrigation system, created in 256 BC by the State of Qin, diverts water from one of the Yangtze's tributaries to increase agricultural yields in the region. 2,260 years later, this dam is still in place and is considered the oldest hydraulic structure in the world. In the wake of this, the powerful Chinese administration built the first level canal in history, a modestly sized structure that connected two rivers flowing in opposite directions, following the contours of the land. If you are a fan of science fiction, this represents, for the time, an interstellar journey through a “wormhole” where space-time is bent and dimensions are “hacked” to travel faster.

Perhaps even more impressive is the Grand Canal, whose construction began in fits and starts in the 5th century. It is the longest ancient canal, stretching no less than 1,776 kilometers to connect the Yangtze to the neighboring Yellow River, passing through Beijing and many other points. In short, it is a bridge between the rivers.

The various Chinese kings and emperors were the first in history to build canals, dams, and other large-scale structures of this kind to control the vital flow of the river and channel this nourishing power, which normally fluctuates and is uneven over time. And this effort to layer, prune, and shape living things undoubtedly peaked at the end of the 20th century with the construction of the Three Gorges Dam, a colossal structure that wounded the tree and everything it supported: 1.3 million people displaced, historic sites submerged, agricultural land lost, wildlife deeply disturbed... In 1931, the river flooded terribly, killing between 145,000 and 4,000,000 people, one of the greatest natural disasters in history. To attach oneself to a river in such a vital way, by investing in its floodplains, taking its water and its energy, is to make a pact with the Devil.

It was only the railroad, which developed in China in the 20th century, that provided a viable alternative to the Yangtze's waterways. The roads of rain were dethroned by those of steel.

Contemporary concrete structures and technologies allow us to tip this vital but dangerous pact in our favor. But for how long?

Surprisingly, even though the river was largely domesticated in several places, especially in its eastern section, before 1957, humans had not had the audacity to build a bridge across it!

The river also served as a barrier between northern and southern China. Rivers are unique in that they are both transportation routes and natural walls, and this division was readily reflected on the political map when successive vast Chinese empires stopped at the banks of this river or fought battles there in an attempt to extend their borders beyond its course.

One tree comes to mind as a symbol of the Yangtze: the camphor tree, Cinnamomum camphora, which grows throughout the river basin and can reach a great age—over 1,000 years for some individuals—and impressive, majestic dimensions, like the Yangtze itself. This tree has been prized for thousands of years in China and beyond for its aromatic leaves, its wood, which is highly valued by craftsmen, and its oil, which has medicinal properties but can also be poisonous, reflecting the dual nature of the river: sometimes a benefactor, sometimes a destroyer. This tree is sacred in several regions, appears in Tang and Song dynasty poetry, and is a symbol of vitality and good fortune. It is a witness tree, a tree steeped in history.

The Yangtze camphor tree, Cinnamomum Yangtzensis