In the imperial court of ancient China, the so-called Kowtow-A ritual for the survival of every aristocrat, because the hierarchy was a matter of precise control of the body. Whoever entered the presence of the celestial ruler had to not only bow, but also kneel three times in succession and, each time, make a distinct sound with the forehead on the floor of the palace. The court ceremonies master meticulously monitored whether the impact echoed loudly enough in the hall, because a too faint knock was considered a grave insult to the majesty and could lead to the immediate loss of all noble privileges. To secure the favor of the ruler, ambitious mandarins and princes often polished their foreheads before audiences so that the ritual impact on the cold marble tiles of the Forbidden City also guaranteed the desired acoustic effect. As European envoys in the 18th century, they often used the same techniques to ensure that the ritual impact on the cold marble tiles of the Forbidden City also left the desired acoustic impression. As European envoys in the 18th century, they often used the same techniques to ensure that the ritual impact on the cold marble tiles of the Forbidden City also left the desired acoustic impression. Refusing to make this humiliating gesture because they bowed only to God, the emperor sent them home empty-handed – anyone who did not worship the ruler with all their might did not exist for the Chinese nobility at all.

While European nobles simply inherited their status by sleeping in it, in imperial China the merciless principle of descending nobility applied to the descendants of the dynasties. The son of a duke did not automatically inherit the same rank, but instead slid one step deeper to become a Marquis, whose son in turn became a Count, and after only a few generations the former imperial line returned to the ordinary citizenry. To stop this social descent, the young aristocrats had to toil for years over ancient Confucian texts and undergo the notorious civil service examinations. Those who failed the examinations or were caught in the secret practice of sneaking into the tiny examination rooms lost their claim to palace maintenance, servants, and silk robes in an instant. The system did prevent the court nobility from becoming corrupt, but it drove generations of spoiled princely sons into collective nervous breakdown because no family tree in the world could protect them from a bad grade in the essay on state philosophy.

In feudal Japan, the Tokugawa shoguns enforced a discipline of nobility that resembled a permanent state of high security. At the head of the regional principalities were the Daimyo, The shōgun controlled the vast provinces and was protected by armies of loyal samurai. To keep these powerful warlords in check, the shōgun invented the system of the Sankin kōtaiEvery prince had to reside at the court in Edo – today’s Tokyo – every second year personally and finance the enormous court life there. When the daimyo was allowed to return to his home province after a year, he had to leave his wife and children behind as official hostages in Edo. The annual trips with hundreds of servants, drummers, and bodyguards consumed such gigantic amounts of money that the princes simply lacked the budget to instigate secret uprisings or rebellions. Thus, the Shogun did not tame the warrior caste of the samurai on the battlefield, but through outrageously overpriced duty trips and ruinous court etiquette.

In the Manchu dynasty of the Qing emperors, every subject could, at first glance, tell from the hat how much power and money their counterpart possessed. The ranking system of the so-called Mandarine was divided into nine strict classes, which differed by the elaborately polished buttons on the tip of their conical hats. The absolute upper class of ministers and imperial advisors wore a sparkling, deep-red ruby on their heads, while the lower ranks were graded from coral, sapphire, lapis lazuli, and crystal to simply engraved gold. Anyone who dared to adorn their headgear with a stone, regardless of how little difference it made to their rank, risked not only flogging with the bamboo pole but also immediate banishment to the icy border of Mongolia. In the wind and the weather, the officers held their hats tightly in place, because anyone who lost their official hat in the crowd suddenly found themselves completely naked and without official authority on the street.

The Japanese Tennō For many centuries, he was not considered an ordinary prince or king, but a direct, living descendant of the sun goddess Amaterasu. However, this sacred aura led to the fact that the emperor was completely powerless in his palace in Kyoto for vast stretches of history, while the military Shōgune controlled the actual politics with a heavy hand. The Tennō was not allowed to touch the floor of the palace with bare feet because the earth was too impure for a divine being, and he was carried on silk mats at every step. Even cutting his fingernails or washing his hair was a religious state action that could only be performed while the emperor was asleep in order not to destroy the illusion of untouchable perfection. He lived in a gilded bubble of poetry, calligraphy, and incense offerings—hallowed as the most sacred being in the land, but politically so ineffectual that he wasn’t even allowed to dictate the menu of his own dinner.