## 1. The Scope of the "Political"



On one common reading, a ruler's authority is based in
individual moral charisma (or virtue; *de*). The famous
"Mandate of Heaven (*tianming*)" theory has its
roots in the way that the Zhou people legitimized their conquest of
the Shang. Passages in the *Book of History* tell us that
Heaven (*tian*: the deity of the Zhou people) had transferred
its "mandate" from the Shang to the Zhou leaders, as a
result of the depravity and misrule of the Shang kings. The Zhou
leadership claimed to know this by employing oracle bone divination:
they adopted the Shang practice of divining, but put it to the new use
of justifying political authority, and thus the shift of
Heaven's favor (partly by eliding the difference between the
Shang chief deity and their own). One aspect of this transformation
was transforming Heaven into a moral figure, a god who made judgments
based on the perceived virtue of the leader (Allan 1984). As we will
see below, by the time of the Warring States era and the foundational
texts of Confucian philosophy, there have been further
transformations: Heaven is no longer a figure at all, but closer to an
abstract sense of the normative order of the universe, and its
intentions are no longer accessible via divination. Still, most modern
scholars hold that for the majority of classical thinkers, an ethical
ideal continues to serve as the ultimate justification of political
authority.



It must be acknowledged, though, that there is attention in Confucian
texts to procedural matters and to the norm of "order", at
least partly separate from rulers' virtue. Some interpreters
have argued that this means the Confucians recognized a distinct
species of "political" norms, and that such political
concerns were more important to the Confucians than the achievement of
individual, rarefied ethical states. For example, in his discussion of
under what circumstances Mencius judges a rebellion to be justified,
Justin Tiwald emphasizes that Mencius "puts a great deal of
weight on the essentially procedural requirement that the ruler be
properly *designated* for the task" (Tiwald 2008: 274).
Even more explicitly, Loubna El Amine argues at length in her
*Classical Confucian Political Thought* for the importance of a
distinct sphere of politics. She says that while "the realm of
politics is not completely distinct from the realm of ethics,...
political order, not moral edification, is the end"; and
furthermore that "political order is an end in itself, not a
means toward virtue" (El Amine 2015: 15).



All interpreters agree that there is at least a narrow kind of
political legitimacy in play, of the type that tells one who the
legitimate heir to the throne should be. According to the
*Mencius*, in the earliest days, political power was passed on
via sagely, particularistic assessment of who was most qualified to
rule, coupled with the endorsement of Heaven, as viewed through the
actions of the people. This is how the throne was passed from Yao to
Shun, and from Shun to Yu. This practice quickly fell apart, though,
and in its (supposed) place arose the mechanisms of hereditary
monarchy (MC 5A:5 and 5A:6). This is an ingenious explanation for the
shift that also helps to explain why Confucius was never tapped to
rule in the way that Shun had been. Mou Zongsan has influentially
argued that the shift from sagely judgment on who is best fit to rule,
to hereditary monarchy, is a shift from a holistic form of ethical
authority to what is merely an effective technology for the
administration of power instead of genuine political authority (Mou
1991: 132). In other words, Mou agrees with El Amine on the existence
of a relatively distinct realm of politics, though--writing as a
modern Confucian philosopher--Mou regrets the degree to which
this shallow form of politics is disconnected from justification
deeper than "order", and argues for a re-imagining of
Confucian politics (on which see
 Section 5).



While Mou's argument that Confucian political thought is too
narrow is certainly controversial, all agree that at least some
classical thinkers focus on effective technology for the
administration of power and the maintenance of order, to the exclusion
of ethical concerns. Indeed, one of the better arguments that
Confucians really did refuse to separate the ethical and the political
is simply that so many of the Confucians' critics interpreted
them in this way. Whatever we decide about early Confucians, it is
quite evident that a millennium later, most Neo-Confucians took ethics
and politics to be mutually entailing, as we will see in
 Section 4.


## 2. The Classical Era



A small amount of historical context will be useful before we begin.
The Zhou people conquer the Shang in approximately 1046 BCE, and for
the next several hundred years, the central plains of what is now
China were either ruled directly by the Zhou king, or else by elite
families loyal to the Zhou, in a kind of feudal system. By the Spring
and Autumn era (771 BCE-476 BCE), the power of the feudal lords
had eclipsed that of the Zhou king, but a rough peace still prevailed
with different feudal lords acting as "hegemon
(*ba*)". This system then breaks down and the
pre-Imperial period enters its final stage, the Warring States era
(often dated 475 BCE-221 BCE), which received its name from the
incessant warfare conducted between the realms that established
themselves as independent powers after the effective demise of the
Zhou dynasty. Not only was warfare common in this period; it was also
increasingly vast in scope, as the chariot armies of the elite made
way for much larger conscript-based armies. This change was in turn
related to the increasing abilities of states to raise, organize, and
feed such large armies. Both larger populations and more complex
governmental structures lay behind these developments. All these
inter-related developments, finally, both drove and were shaped by the
era's social and political philosophies. The texts that we
examine here all date from the Warring States era, a period of
pluralistic debate that establishes key terms and questions addressed
by Chinese thinkers for many centuries thereafter. Three general,
provocative treatments of this era are El Amine 2015, Bai 2012, and
Pines 2012, and Hsiao 1979 is a classic account of the subject.


### 2.1 *Guanzi*: Carrot and Stick



The earliest chapters of the *Guanzi*, which were composed in
the state of Qi and date from the mid-4th century BCE, are
among the first theoretical writings on governance. In a famous
passage from "Shepherding the People", we find that
"Success in government lies in following the hearts of the
people". Success is not defined as making the people
happy--we learn elsewhere that success for the ruler is having a
strong state that endures through the ages--but following the
people's wishes turns out to be a necessary condition for
success. Thus:



> 
> 
> When the granaries are full, the people will know propriety and
> moderation; when their clothing and food are adequate, they will know
> the distinction between honor and shame.
> 
> 
> 



Similarly,



> 
> 
> If the ruler can ensure the people their existence and provide them
> with security, they will be willing to endure danger and disaster for
> him. (GZ ch. 1, pp. 54 and 52)
> 
> 
> 



This is not to say that the people should be given free reign. If they
are well fed and put to work at tasks well-suited to them, they are
likely to accord with propriety and moderation, but the author adds
that rulers must "Make clear the road to certain death",
by which he means "having severe punishments" for those
who go astray (GZ ch. 1, p. 55). In another chapter of the text,
possibly by the same author, we find:



> 
> 
> Those who shepherd the people desire them to be controllable. Since
> they desire them to be controllable, they must pay serious attention
> to standards (*fa*). (GZ ch. 3, p. 98)
> 
> 
> 



These "standards" are then enumerated to include honoring
ranks and ceremonial dress, giving salaries and rewards to the
deserving, granting offices, and applying punishments. The
*Guanzi* thus presents us with versions of the two techniques
of governance that will run throughout the texts of the Warring
States: nurturing the people and setting them standards.


### 2.2 *Mozi*: Theological or Utilitarian Justification?



Roughly contemporary with the *Guanzi* is the *Mozi*,
one chapter of which begins:



> 
> 
> In ancient times, when people were first born and before there were
> any punishments or government, in their languages each had a different
> notion of rightness (*yi*). One man had one notion, two men had
> two.... Thus those with good doctrines would keep them secret and
> refuse to teach them. (MZ ch. 11, p. 91, translation significantly
> modified by author)
> 
> 
> 



This of course led to chaos and suffering, the cause of which was the
absence of "a leader to govern". A ruler was therefore
selected, declared the "Son of Heaven", and provided with
a staff of ministers to aid him. The ruler then established the single
idea of rightness that all would heed. The text describes a
comprehensive hierarchy according to which each individual would heed
his or her superior's judgment as to what was "good
(*shan*)", ultimately leading up to the ruler who would
base his judgment on Heaven.



"Heaven (*tian*)" is a difficult term. It once
clearly referred to a religious entity, but eventually comes to be
understood in more naturalistic terms. Which it means in this chapter
is a matter of scholarly disagreement. For the most part, Warring
States philosophers of governance do not appeal to supernatural
standards to justify their claims. Even in the *Mozi*, if one
takes evidence from other chapters into account, the interpretive
dispute over "*tian*" may be moot. These other
chapters record that just as carpenters can use a compass to determine
what is circular, so an understanding of the "will of
Heaven" leads one to reliably judge what is right. The striking
thing about a compass is that no special knowledge is needed to use
it: it is a public, objective standard for circles. If the "will
of Heaven" is to be analogous, then there must be a public,
objective standard for right. Mysterious knowledge of the will of a
deity does not sound like a good candidate for such a public,
objective standard. The text offers an alternative, though: it
regularly speaks of maximally "benefitting (*li*)"
the people as a standard. A neat way of resolving all these loose
ends, then, is to conclude that the "will of Heaven" is a
metaphorical reference to the standard of "benefit".
Proper Mohist governance thus would ultimately be a matter of
utilitarian judgment. 


### 2.3 *Analects* (*Lunyu*) and *Mencius*



Ostensibly a collection of sayings by Confucius and his students, much
if not all of the *Analects* was composed after
Confucius's death, and its various chapters express the
teachings of individuals who identified themselves with
Confucius's legacy. The earliest chapters in the text
(mid-5th to mid-4th century BCE; chs. 3-9)
may well be the earliest written philosophical reflection in China,
but show little direct concern with governance. In one of the most
dramatic shifts in the text, governance takes center stage in a set of
chapters (12, 13, 2) which may date from the last quarter of the
4th century BCE (Brooks & Brooks 1998). The theory of
this segment of the *Analects* has much in common with the
*Guanzi*. Asked about government, "Confucius" is
made to say: "Enough food; enough weapons; the people having
confidence in the ruler" (LY 12:7, p. 91). Of these,
"confidence (*xin*)" is most important.
"Confidence" here means that one identifies with
one's ruler, doing so because he manifestly seeks what is good
for one (see also LY 13:29-30).



The dynamic of people identifying with and modeling themselves on the
ruler permeates the text's understanding of governance. Asked
whether a ruler should kill those who fail to follow the way
(*dao*), Confucius responds:



> 
> 
> You are there to govern; what use have you for killing? If you desire
> the good, the people will be good. The virtue of the gentleman is the
> wind; the virtue of the little people is the grass. The wind on the
> grass will surely bend it. (LY 12:19, p. 94; see also LY 2:1)
> 
> 
> 



Unlike the emphasis put on "punishments" as one kind of
"standard (*fa*)" in the *Guanzi*, the
*Analects* here minimizes the importance of killing. This point
is reinforced in perhaps the most famous saying in the text about
governance:



> 
> 
> Lead them with government and regulate them by punishments, and the
> people will evade them with no sense of shame. Lead them with virtue
> and regulate them by ritual, and they will acquire a sense of
> shame--and moreover, they will be orderly. (LY 2:3, p. 110)
> 
> 
> 



There are only a few passages in the text that stress the continued
need for punishments in a good society, and they all come quite late
in the text: 13:3 is an obvious interpolation, and like the similar
20:2, probably dates to the mid-third century BCE.



In a variety of ways the *Mencius* picks up where
*Analects* 12, 13, and 2 left off. One innovation of the
*Mencius* is to give a name to its preferred mode of
governance: "humane government (*renzheng*)". This
means that one should rule by loving the people like a parent loves
his children: providing for them, educating them, giving them a role
model. The text stresses that while this policy is beneficial to all
involved, one must pursue it out of humane concern rather than out of
cold calculation. Because of the ruler's ability to transform
others through his example, if he acts on the basis of "benefit
(*li*)" alone, his subjects will do so as well, and each
from his or her own, narrow perspective. The result will be chaos and
suffering, rather than order, harmony, and mutual benefit, all of
which would arise from genuinely humane governance (MC 1A:1).



The *Mencius* emphasizes humane governance as well as the
distinction between rightness (*yi*) and mere concern with
benefit, rejecting utilitarian calculation without regard to
rightness. It also opposes coercive authority, recognizing that even
modeling and role-emulation work indirectly:



> 
> 
> You can never win the allegiance of people by trying to dominate them
> with goodness; but if you use goodness to nurture them, then you will
> win the allegiance of the whole world. (MC 4B:16; see also 7A:14)
> 
> 
> 



From other places in the text we can tell that Mencius (or his
followers) knew and disapproved of the Mohists; this passage
criticizes the Mohist practice of directly enforcing a standard of
goodness through hierarchy. The *Mencius* contains numerous
hierarchical ideas (see esp. MC 3A:4), but it has considerable faith
in the people's ability to do good if they are provided for, and
not otherwise (see MC 1A7, 3A3).



Both the *Mozi* and the *Guanzi* stress the need for
objective standards (*fa*), as will many subsequent texts. In
this context *Analects* 12, 13, and 2 and *Mencius*
stand out as not taking *fa* seriously. Even when we come upon
the tool metaphor in *Mencius* (MC 4A:1), it is applied to the
idea of "humane government" rather than to specific,
institutionalizable standards. This is not to say that the
*Analects* and *Mencius* were devoid of any notion of
"standard". Their standard, though, is resolutely
particular, rather than objective and general: the model set by the
ethical ruler. The later *Analects* (e.g., 13:3, a late
interpolation) and the *Xunzi* (see below) recognize a role for
coercion, but authority in the earlier "Confucian" texts
is non-coercive. People follow willingly, initially because the good
ruler provides for them, and increasingly because they come to love
him as a father: they are transformed from individuals into members of
a single, state-wide family.


### 2.4 *Dao De Jing*: Nature and Non-Action (*Wuwei*)



The "Guodian" version of the *Dao De Jing*,
discovered in a tomb in 1993, begins:



> 
> 
> Cut off knowledge, abandon argumentation, and the people will benefit
> a hundredfold. Cut off cleverness, abandon "benefit", and
> there will be no more thieves or bandits. Cut off activity and abandon
> purposefulness, and the people will again be filial.... Exhibit
> the unadorned and embrace the simple. Have little thought of self and
> few desires. (Henricks 2000: 28; cp. ch. 19 of received version
> [DDJ])
> 
> 
> 



In several respects the attitude here expressed mirrors that of the
*Mencius*: explicit discussion of "benefit" is
rejected, though the indirect goal of benefitting the people is
endorsed; argumentation--whether referring to litigation or
logical disputation--is rejected; a simple life with "few
desires" (cp. MC 7B:35) is favored. On at least the first two
counts, Mohism seems the specific target (as it is in the
*Mencius* as well).



Despite these resonances, though, there are also important differences
between the *Dao De Jing* and *Mencius*. Most important
are the differences in their respective positive accounts of what
rulers should do. In the *Mencius*, rulers are enjoined to
follow the way of the ancient kings and establish a humane government.
The *Dao De Jing* is much more reticent about articulating any
specific human standard; indeed, in the received version of the text,
the line which reads "Cut off activity and abandon
purposefulness" in the Guodian version has been updated to
"Cut off 'humaneness' and abandon
'rightness'", thus extending to followers of
Confucius the treatment initially reserved only for Mohists.



The best communities, as far as the *Dao De Jing* is concerned,
are those that form and flourish naturally, with little guidance from
above. Later chapters will add that the community is best if small and
isolated (DDJ ch. 80), as well as providing theoretical justifications
for the success of such communities, as for instance:



> 
> 
> The way is revered and virtue is honored not because this is decreed
> by any authority but because it is natural for them to be treated so.
> (DDJ ch. 51)
> 
> 
> 



Rulers succeed by allowing nature to take its course: by "not
acting (*wuwei*)". Ironically, some of the *Dao De
Jing*'s teachings are appropriated as straight-forward
political advice by certain later thinkers. The *Han Feizi* (on
which see more below), for example, echoes the *Dao De Jing* in
calling for rulers to avoid articulating explicit standards or
desires, but it does so in order to make sure that ministers cannot
pander to the ruler, rather than out of a deeper objection to
standards as such.


### 2.5 *Zhuangzi*: Rejecting Governance



Unlike the *Dao De Jing*, with which it is often lumped as
fellow "Daoist" texts, it is difficult to read the
*Zhuangzi* as concerned with governance or aimed at rulers.
This is not to say that the text advocates anarchism; like all texts
from the Warring States, it seems to take for granted that states will
have rulers. To a greater extent than any other text, though, it is
uninterested in the problems rulers faced and even seems disinclined
to grant rulers any special authority. It is certainly at odds with
those thinkers who believe that people must come to identify with
their states. One gloss for the attitude of the text towards
governance issues, in fact, might be: avoid commitment, accept what
comes.



At the heart of the text is a radical linguistic and epistemological
argument against accepting any one perspective as ultimately,
eternally correct. "Clarity (*ming*)" comes when
one realizes the perspectival nature of all affirmations and denials.
Having attained this kind of clarity, it makes no sense to put oneself
on the line for any one set of evaluations, like "our state must
triumph" or even "it is better for humans to flourish than
plants". In the context of the harsh realities of the Warring
States, these doctrines may well have appealed to many.


### 2.6 *Book of Lord Shang*: Benefit Through Order



The *Book of Lord Shang* (*Shangjun shu*) builds on two
themes that we have already encountered. First, it argues that
"the greatest benefit to the people is order
(*zhi*)" (SJS ch. 7). This is to implicitly accept that
"benefit (*li*)" is the standard by which theories
of governance are judged, but it also places particular stress on the
collective character of "benefit". In a war-torn world, we
are told, only when the state is strong can its inhabitants flourish.
Those who act for their own interests rather than for the
"benefit of the state", therefore, are to be punished (SJS
ch. 14). The text is no friend of those who like to debate and push
their own agendas; it prefers a people devoted to agriculture who are
"simple (*pu*) and easy to direct" (SJS ch. 3). We
can see here, in short, that one result of the fuzziness surrounding
the idea of "benefitting the people" is that if clearer
criteria can plausibly be seen as necessary conditions for benefitting
the people, they take center stage. A prime example is
"order". Disorder, it is natural to assume, is
incompatible with the people's well-being, so rulers could
concentrate on order and allow benefit to follow in its wake.
Especially when combined with the idea that the people tend to be
selfish and not understand what is really good for them, though, a
focus on order can rapidly lead to tyranny.



Another idea we have seen already is that governance demands objective
standards. This is a central theme of the *Book of Lord Shang*.
It repeatedly stresses the importance of public, impartial standards
(*fa*) for application of punishment and reward.
"*Fa*" is often translated "law", but
its uses here and elsewhere are clearly broader than mere penal law.
One kind of standard, to be sure, is the penal statute
(*xian*), but standards take many other forms. The fact that
rewards and punishments are regularly attached to standards makes it
clear that these are normative expectations, and not just ideals. In
another way the "*fa*" are more than ideals: they
are institutionalized. This aspect no doubt explains part of the
appeal of translating "*fa*" as "law",
since we often think of laws as norms that are subject to some kind of
enforcement, unlike ethical ideals.



Finally, the text also insists that there be no debate over what the
standards are nor about when they have been fulfilled: the ruler alone
fixes the standard based on his assessment of the needs of the age. He
should neither imitate antiquity nor follow current standards. What is
crucial is that his standards set out the distinct roles
(*fen*) expected of people, as well as the rewards and
penalties that will enforce these roles. The text adds that the
intelligent ruler will not fail to carry out his own role, on pain of
"harming the standards".


### 2.7 Shen Buhai: Bureaucratic "Non-Action"



Shen became Chancellor of the state of Han in 354 BCE and died 337
BCE. Early bibliographies list a text bearing his name, but all that
remains of it are quotations in other works; the original has been
lost. It is thus difficult to date this material.



Shen's central insight seems to have been that government should
be based not on feudal principles, but on a bureaucratic system. Creel
observes that Shen favored "a system of administration by means
of professional functionaries, whose functions are more or less
definitely prescribed" (SBH p. 55). Rulers should not find good
men and give them responsibility, but instead find the right man for
each role in the system. The role of the ruler in such a theory is
simple: define the needed functions and select men to perform them,
then "do nothing (*wuwei*)". Doing nothing does not
mean to literally abstain from action, but the ruler does nothing more
than keep the system running smoothly. Shen compares the ruler to a
scale:



> 
> 
> ... which merely establishes equilibrium, itself doing nothing;
> yet the mere fact that it remains in balance causes lightness and
> heaviness to discover themselves. (SBH p. 352)
> 
> 
> 



Unlike the *Dao De Jing*, which seems to trust nature more than
man, Shen Buhai trusts man-made institutions more than
individuals' decision-making powers.


### 2.8 *Xunzi*: Transforming the People



Chapter 19 of the *Xunzi* contains one of the Warring States
era's most famous origin stories.



> 
> 
> From what did ritual (*li*) arise? I say: Humans are born
> having desires. When they have desires but do not get the objects of
> their desire, then they cannot but seek some means of satisfaction. If
> there is no measure or limit to their seeking, then they cannot help
> but struggle with each other. If they struggle with each other then
> there will be chaos, and if there is chaos then they will be
> impoverished. The former kings hated such chaos, so they established
> rituals and rightness in order to establish distinctions among the
> people, to nurture their desires, and to satisfy their seeking. (XZ
> ch. 19, p. 201, slightly modified by author)
> 
> 
> 



Ritual (*li*--a different character from that for
"benefit") was important in many chapters of the
*Analects*, but takes on an even more central role here. While
people (unlike animals) have the ability to notice and pay heed to
distinctions (*fen*), they will not do so naturally. Their
desires have to be shaped through on-going ritual education in order
for society to be harmonious and for people to flourish. The text
explicitly links ritual with the idea of "standard
(*fa*)": "To reject ritual is to be without
standards", and "a man without standards is lost and
guideless" (XZ ch. 2, p. 14, modified). Unlike the explicit
regulations for when punishments and rewards are deserved of the
*Book of Lord Shang*, that is, the *Xunzi* takes
standards to come through having been taught ritual by an expert
teacher--by one's immediate teacher, by one's ruler,
and by the sage kings, who originally established the proper set of
rituals. Both texts seek to exploit features of peoples'
psychologies to establish order, both in the name of benefiting the
people. The central difference, which hearkens back to
*Analects* 2:3, is that the *Book of Lord Shang* relies
directly on people's desire for benefit and hatred of harm,
while the *Xunzi* relies on people's ability to care
about "distinctions" in order to transform them. Once
transformed, ritual propriety and shame, rather than direct concern
with benefit, will guide them.



Although Xunzi puts considerable emphasis on the role of standards, he
also famously argues that "There are people who create order;
there are no standards creating order of themselves" (XZ ch. 12,
p.117, slightly modified). A major theme in Xunzi's writings is
that explicit standards are necessarily vague, so that the proper
implementation of them is underdetermined. He also holds that proper
implementation of standards requires a great deal of skill and
technique. Furthermore, he notes that standards sometimes appear to
conflict with one another, and it requires wisdom and experience to
know how to balance such competing considerations. Finally, there is
no fixed way of systematizing the rules. Changes in circumstance
require that the priority of rules will sometimes need to be revised,
and this too requires good judgment. For all these reasons, Xunzi
credits good people with order, not the standards themselves.


### 2.9 *Han Feizi*: Pragmatic Justification of Practical Policies



Like several earlier texts, the *Han Feizi* puts considerable
stress on objective criteria for governance. Rulers are to compare
"names (*ming*)"--that is, explicit statements
of a position's duties--with results and bestow awards or
inflict punishments based on how the two correspond. We also read
that: "A truly enlightened ruler uses standards (*fa*) to
select men for him; he does not choose them himself" (HFZ ch. 6,
p. 24). While the ruler does not choose ministers according to his own
judgment or whim, he still must establish standards in the first
place; he cannot simply rely on tradition or precedent:



> 
> 
> The sage does not try to practice the ways of antiquity or to abide by
> a fixed standard, but examines the affairs of the age and takes what
> precautions are necessary. (HFZ ch. 49, pp. 96-7)
> 
> 
> 



This contrasts with strands in several earlier texts which advocated
conforming with past tradition. In some of these texts, the recorded
or imagined practices of earlier ages are thought to have
epistemological significance: evidence of the insights of the sages.
Others, more skeptical about naturalistic justifications, imply that
observing tradition is our only means of agreeing on a single set of
standards, and without such agreement, disorder looms.



More common than a desire to conform to old practices, though, is the
notion that times change and the good ruler must be prepared to change
with them. New standards are needed for a new age. This is even
endorsed by some of the texts which ground ultimate justification on
the natural order: the underlying patterns of nature may not change,
but their specific applications can, as human society grows and
changes. Other justifications of change are more pragmatic, though,
and the *Han Feizi* is perhaps the most explicit. Here we read
that rulers are enjoined to measure the gains that come from enacting
new standards against the losses that ensue; "... if one
finds gain will exceed losses, one goes ahead with them" (HFZ
ch. 47).



The *Han Feizi* also gives us a clearer idea than any earlier
text of why rule via standard was to be preferred to rule by the wise
and virtuous. Chapter 40 puts readers through the following dialectic.
We begin with the idea, attributed to Shen Dao, that virtue and wisdom
are unnecessary for good governance; everything depends on
"political purchase (*shi*)" and "status
(*wei*)". To this a critic responds that "talent
(*cai*)" is also necessary: give power to the unworthy
and the result will be chaos. The conclusion follows: when rulers are
so good or bad that nothing could change them, we will call that
*shi*-by-nature and set that aside. But such men are rare. The
author is interested in the average ruler, for whom *shi* is
crucial. So in the end we are back to Shen Dao's position as the
only tenable one for the vast majority of rulers--and for all the
rulers for whom the author's advice is going to make any
difference.



Another theme of the text is the conflict between individuals and
public, state interests. We are shown that even for the virtuous,
family loyalties regularly trump state loyalties, and thus:



> 
> 
> Since the interests of superior and inferior are as disparate as all
> this, it is hopeless for the ruler to praise the actions of the
> private individual and at the same time try to insure blessing on the
> state's altars of the soil and grain. (HFZ ch. 49, p. 107)
> 
> 
> 



The author analyzes this as a conflict between "private
(*si*)" and "public (*gong*)"
perspectives, and argues that the two are mutually irreconcilable.



The ruler, in particular, must heed the distinction between
*gong* and *si*. For instance,



> 
> 
> ... For his part the ruler must never make selfish (*si*)
> use of his wise ministers or able men, so the people are never tempted
> to go beyond their communities to form friendships. (HFZ, ch. 6, p.
> 25)
> 
> 
> 



The clear suggestion is that ruler can be blamed if people conspire
against him. In another chapter, we read that



> 
> 
> To fail to heed your loyal ministers when you are at fault, insisting
> on having your own way, which will in time destroy your good
> reputation and make you a laughing stock of others. (HFZ ch. 10, p.
> 49)
> 
> 
> 



While there are certainly some sections of the text that paint the
relationship between rulers and ministers as conflictive--since
the latter tend to look only to their personal concerns, at the
expense of the state's more general well-being--this
chapter, at least, urges a more constructive relationship between
them.


## 3. The Early Imperial Era



In 221 BCE the king of the state of Qin vanquishes his final rival and
declares himself the First Emperor, inaugurating both the Qin dynasty
and China's imperial era. The First Emperor's success was
founded in part on his adherence to social and political ideas akin to
those in the *Book of Lord Shang*, and he endeavors to extend
socio-political standardization and control in unprecedented ways in
the new empire. The Qin dynasty does not long outlive its founder, but
it is followed by the four-century-long Han dynasty in which many of
key characteristics of imperial Chinese state and society are first
established. A lengthy period of disunity follows the collapse of the
Han in 220 CE; over this period and through the succeeding Sui and
Tang dynasties, intellectuals focus less on social and political
philosophy than on issues of spiritual cultivation and abstract
metaphysics: in particular, this is the era when Chinese Buddhism
comes of age. While there certainly is socio-political thinking to be
found (see, for example, Chiu-Duke 2000) it makes sense to focus in
this section on the Han dynasty.



In the area of social and political philosophy, Han dynasty thinkers
make three main contributions. First of all, they seek to better
understand and systematize their inheritance from the classical era.
In part they do this by editing and establishing standard editions of
earlier texts; many of these now-classic texts take their current form
at the hands of Han dynasty scholars. Another important aspect of this
work is establishing categories through which to understand the
classical era authors and debates. Distinctions among "schools
(*jia*)" such as Confucian, Mohist, Standards
(*fajia*, often translated as "Legalist"), and
Daoist (*daodejia*) come from the efforts of Han scholars to
divide up earlier thinkers' approach to governance in particular
(Csikszentmihalyi 2006: xvii; Smith 2003). The second important
contribution during the Han dynasty lies at the intersection of
thought and practice: rulers and the advisers implement a variety of
institutions aimed at realizing socio-political goals that rest on a
synthesis of classical thinking. That is, notwithstanding the efforts
to distinguish various classical schools of thought, much Han thought
and practice was highly synthetic, seeking to harmonize the insights
of all schools. This meant building a state that rests on laws and
other "standards" as well as on rituals and on the ethical
characters of the rulers. Han emperors establish central educational
institutions and initiate the practice of bringing talented scholars
into the government via examination (albeit at a much smaller scale
than in the later Neo-Confucian era).



The third contribution of Han thinkers is their individual
philosophizing about the ways that state and society should be
organized and fit into the larger cosmos; we will briefly consider
three examples. Jia Yi (200-168 BCE) was a statesman and thinker
whose eclectic philosophizing was emblematic of his era. He is best
known, though, for his "Confucian"-sounding ethical and
political writings. For example, he carefully articulates the ways
that a crown prince should be educated, living alongside scrupulously
correct people so as to acquire a correct "second nature",
just as one acquires one's mother tongue. As the prince matures,
he must be open to the realities of the world and to his own
fallibility: Jia prescribes that "Wooden boards are erected, on
which people might censure his actions. He is subject to the drum of
remonstrance" (HCT pp. 12-13). Jia elaborates on the
implied vision of socio-political order in another essay, arguing that
while the common people must be punished when they violate standards
such as laws, high officials are accountable to ritual and ethics
rather than public law. These latter methods enable the cultivation of
a sense of shame, an internal moral compass, which in turn will enable
officials to learn from public remonstration--which is explicitly
legitimate--and to adjudicate wisely in law courts (HCT, pp.
36-7).



Another feature of Han socio-political thought is an emphasis on
"non-action (*wuwei*)". The term is best-known from
the *Dao De Jing*, although the term and, more broadly, the
general ideal of non-purposive, spontaneous action is widespread in
Warring States thought (Slingerland 2003). In the Han we see it
adapted to many different approaches to governance. The Utopian vision
that lies at the heart of the *Dao De Jing* (on at least one
common reading) is still present, but more common is a synthesis of
ritual or legal standards with the idea of non-action. For example,
one official recommends what he takes to have been the approach of the
early sage kings, which was that "In making laws and edicts,
they made sure [those laws and edicts] accorded with human
dispositions and only then put them into effect" (HCT, p. 60).
In this way, people follow the laws naturally, needing no overt
intervention on the part of the state. Texts that brought together an
emphasis on overt standards and ideas like non-action are widespread;
in fact, the earliest extant commentaries on the *Dao De Jing*
are included as chapters--likely added to the text in the
Han--of the *Han Feizi*, which as we saw above is the
epitome of standards-based governance.



Finally, many thinkers in the Han stress the ways in which human
activity fits into and is even shaped by cosmological processes and
patterns. Here is an example of such a naturalistic justification of
the political order:



> 
> 
> The five phases each move according to its place in the
> sequence.... This is the reason that wood rules life, metal rules
> death, fire rules heat, and water rules cold. Human beings have no
> choice but to go by their sequence, and officials have no choice but
> to go by their abilities. (HCT, p. 178)
> 
> 
> 



In such a context astronomical and other portents take on significant
political roles, though the Han also had famous skeptics like Wang
Chong (27 CE-100 CE) who denied their importance. All in all, we
can say that the Han bequeathed to China a normative vision
emphasizing socio-political harmony, even including harmony with the
cosmos, that has room for various objective standards alongside
important roles played by virtuous rulers and ministers.


## 4. The Neo-Confucian Era



The Neo-Confucian era begins in the early Song dynasty, which itself
is founded in 960 CE. A combination of social and political changes
create fertile ground for new socio-political theorizing. The key
marker of social status in the Tang dynasty (618-907) had been
one's pedigree, and the society was organized around something
close to a state-sponsored aristocracy. Seeking its own legitimacy,
the leaders of the new Song dynasty settled on a partnership with a
transformed elite class, now based more in education and claims of
merit than in ancestry. Instead of official families, the elite become
a "community of the educated"; Song society is far more
literate and published than its Tang predecessor, and scholars
generally refer to the new elite as the "literati" (Bol
2008: 31-9). In this fertile soil, the idea that literati should
reflect on the Way and seek to influence their society took root and
grew.



In the mid-twentieth century, a range of scholars argued for two,
closely linked theses concerning the relation of Neo-Confucians to
imperial power. The first was the Autocracy Thesis, according to which
imperial power began to grow in the Song dynasty, eventually reaching
despotic levels in later dynasties. The second was the Inward-Turn
Thesis, which held that Neo-Confucians largely abdicated from
engagement in political affairs, especially after the loss of northern
China (Liu 1988). In recent decades, though, new scholarship has shown
quite convincingly that ministerial and literati power remain
significant throughout the Song, and that Neo-Confucians remain
politically engaged (Bol 2008: 119; Levey 1991: 545f). The nature of
the political engagement does change, however. Rather than seeing
Neo-Confucians as simply advocating an inward turn, it is more
accurate to see them as often favoring a localist, decentralized
approach to governance. Among other things, they come to see non-state
spaces as extremely important to successful change at wider levels of
the state. This is not to say that Neo-Confucians abandon efforts to
educate, direct, and serve the emperor, and strong emperors early in
the Ming and Qing dynasties manage to bring the focus back to
themselves for periods of time. Overall, though, the emphasis of
Neo-Confucian theories of governance is nicely captured in the modern
slogan "think globally, act locally".



According to Neo-Confucians, institutions of governance operate on two
levels simultaneously, one socio-political and the other personal. At
the socio-political level, they are concerned with the practicalities
of keeping order in a large state filled with imperfect people. At the
personal level they are concerned with an individual's moral
character. Someone might think that operations on these two levels
work at cross-purposes, because crafting good institutions and
policies requires that we take human imperfections into account, and
yet a full commitment to improving one's character requires that
we rise above these imperfections. Neo-Confucians disagree. For them,
the continuity of the socio-political with the personal received its
canonical expression in a passage from the classical *Greater
Learning*:



> 
> 
> Wanting to light up the bright virtue of all in the world, the
> ancients first put their states in order. Those who wanted to put
> their states in order first regulated their families. Those who wanted
> to regulate their families first cultivated their selves. Those who
> wanted to cultivate their selves first rectified their heartminds.
> Those who wanted to rectify their heartminds first made their
> intentions sincere. Those who wanted to make their intentions sincere
> first reached understanding. Reaching understanding lies in
> investigating things. (*Greater Learning* 4)
> 
> 
> 



We could understand the continuity described in this passage as a
temporally connected set of steps: first investigate things, then
reach understanding, then make one's intentions sincere, and so
on, eventually putting one's state in order. But in fact the
Neo-Confucians tend to see the steps as mutually constitutive:
investigating things just is reaching understanding, families are
regulated through the very act of personal cultivation, and having
orderly families is part of what it means for a state to be in order.
The implicit relationship between personal cultivation and
socio-political order is captured in the frequently used slogan
"inner sage-outer king": ethics and governance are two
sides of the same coin. In other words, socio-political order entails
the ethical transformation of people in the state, as well as their
leaders; in the language of the text, this is to "light up the
bright virtue of all in the world".



With virtually no exceptions, Neo-Confucians accepted hereditary
monarchy as their form of government. This does not mean that all
monarchs automatically enjoyed full legitimacy, however. Already in
the latter half of the Tang dynasty, Confucian and Buddhist scholars
had begun to claim that the proper moral or spiritual teaching was
passed on in a genealogical fashion (Wilson 1995). Han Yu
(768-824) famously asserted that this transmission of the
Confucian "Way" had been lost for many centuries; Northern
Song progenitors of Neo-Confucianism argued that it was only in their
generation that the Way had been recovered. In other words, legitimate
succession from one monarch to another did not assure that individual
rulers--or even their dynasty as a whole--were following the
Way. Zhu Xi (1130-1200) gives this idea its most influential
formulation when he says that the "succession of the Way
(*daotong*)" comes to those who are able to grasp the
deep truths embedded in the classics by the early sages. According to
this view, the earliest sages both grasped the Way and ruled, but over
time rulers lost this tie to the moral Way. A few great teachers like
Confucius and Mencius understood the Way and tried to steer their
societies in the right direction, even though they were not rulers,
but eventually the succession of the Way was lost until it was
recovered, says Zhu Xi, by the Cheng brothers (Cheng Hao
[1032-1085] and Cheng Yi [1033-1107]).



The idea that the succession of the Way can come apart from the more
superficial succession of monarchy has a number of important
implications, especially when combined with the view of governance
operating at two levels (maintaining social order and achieving moral
transformation). Borrowing a term from classical antiquity,
Neo-Confucians argue that a ruler who is successful at keeping order
but who falls short of achieving broader transformation is a mere
"hegemon" rather than a true "king". It is
better to be a hegemon than a cruel tyrant, to be sure, but even the
successful hegemon still needs to aspire to something greater. The
gatekeepers to these greater achievements, meanwhile, are those
scholars who have attained the succession of the Way. According to
this manner of thinking, therefore, monarchs must accept that leaders
of the literati should be their teachers or even co-rulers, or that
the monarch's central authority should be reined in so that
morally cultivated literati can hold sway over local affairs. Over the
Neo-Confucian period literati had varying degrees of success in
asserting authority derived from the succession of the Way.


### 4.1 Factions and Political Independence



William de Bary, one of the most influential Western scholars of
Neo-Confucianism, has said an important "trouble with
Confucianism" is that it imposed tremendous moral demands on the
Confucian superior person (*junzi*) without providing the
political power to fulfill them. The superior person shoulders the
responsibility of cultivating humane monarchs and fashioning social
and political institutions that work for the public weal, but
Confucians are also committed to a system that gives superior people
very little leverage with which to accomplish these herculean tasks.
They deprive themselves of this leverage in various ways, some of them
obvious (Confucianism embraces powerful and largely unchecked
monarchical government) and some of them subtle. One of the ways of
undermining Confucians' own power is by refusing to pander to
specific constituencies or factions, standing on the side of the right
and the public good rather than with allies or friends of convenience.
Their weakness, de Bary argues, is



> 
> 
> in their indisposition or inability to establish any power base of
> their own.... [E]xcept on rare, momentary occasions, they faced
> the state, and whoever controlled it in the imperial court, as
> individual scholars unsupported by an organized party or active
> constituency. (de Bary 1991: 49)
> 
> 
> 



Indeed, there is no question that the role of the Confucian minister
is complex and often vexed. This section highlights one of its key
dimensions.



Let us start with some context. From late-classical times down into
the early Song, the term "faction" (*pengdang*) was
invariably derogatory, referring to associations of "petty
people" who aimed to use their roles in government to further
their own, selfish ends. There is a certain degree of support for this
understanding of "faction" in even earlier texts, but it
is significant for our purposes that some passages in early texts like
Confucius's *Analects* also suggest that superior people
(*junzi*) can form associations, so long as they do not act in
partisan ways (Levine 2008: 25-6 and 34-5; LY 12:24). A
key question that emerges in the midst of the political and
intellectual wrangling of the Northern Song is whether horizontal
affiliations among equals are in any way appropriate, or whether the
only axis of loyalty is the vertical one, from individuals upward to
the ruler (and beyond, to the Way or to cosmic Pattern
*tianli*]).



We can identify three different positions on this question. The most
common is the long-held view that factions and factionalism are the
exclusive domains of the self-centered; superior people, in contrast,
are individually loyal. The radical alternative to this was the claim,
made most forcefully by Ouyang Xiu (1007-1072), that genuine
factions--which he understands as long-lasting associations
organized collectively to pursue the common good--are only formed
by superior people. The affiliations of petty people are only
temporary, for personal gain (Levine 2008: 47-56; Ouyang's
essay is translated in de Bary and Bloom 1999). Crucially, Ouyang adds
that genuinely superior people will unite around a shared Way
(*tongdao*), so disputatiousness at the ruler's court is
inevitably seen as sign of self-centeredness. Finally, a third
position agrees with the first in using "faction" as a
term for selfish associations that ignore the common good, but agrees
with the second view that superior people can and should collaborate
with one another for their mutual edification: "When superior
people cultivate themselves and regulate their heartminds, their Way
is one of collaboration with others" (Levine 2008: 58). So,
according to this third position, while superior people should not
engage in factional wrangling at court, they should work together to
cultivate themselves and pursue the common good.



What, then, should be done about factions in practice, and about
ministerial disagreement more generally? Again, there are three main
positions. Those who believe that superior people should be
individually loyal tend to argue that the ruler should try to wipe out
all factions. One strong argument for this view maintains that even if
there is a faction of superior people, they will be outnumbered by
factions of the selfish; factionalism itself is destructive, so should
be rooted out (Levine 2008: 46-7). Ouyang Xiu's radical
view holds that the true faction of superior people can be identified
as such, and their one voice--which, after all, is unified around
pursuit of the common good--should be heeded. False factions of
petty people should be suppressed. The third view, finally,
acknowledges that factionalism seems inevitable and calls for a strong
and wise ruler who is able to encourage vertical loyalty and to judge
among the competing ministerial arguments. By relying on the ruler in
this way, this third view is able consistently to maintain that
superior people need not themselves form ministerial factions, even
though they should collaborate to encourage mutual ethical
development.



In his own day, Ouyang Xiu's radical view fails to win out, but
over time the idea that there is one genuine faction becomes
widespread within Neo-Confucianism. Zhu Xi encourages his
contemporaries to support the formation of such a "faction of
superior people", to join it themselves, and even to see that
the emperor himself becomes part of this faction. For Zhu, it is this
faction of superior people--those who have grasped the
"succession of the Way"--who have the ultimate
legitimacy in society, thus even the emperor needs to be properly
educated so that he can strive to join this group. Zhu is also
explicit that it is crucial to maintain the ethical purity of those in
the faction; "if there are those who are wicked and evil, then
you ought to expel them completely" (WJ vol. 21, p. 1244).
Similar views can be found among the leaders of
Neo-Confucianism's most famous faction, the Donglin. This
late-Ming dynasty movement is multi-faceted, including a broad ethical
revitalization movement, a national Confucian "moral
fellowship", and a ministerial faction in Beijing; the whole
movement takes its name from its institutional base in the privately
funded Donglin Academy in southern China (Dardess 2002). The Donglin
faction goes to extreme lengths to promote its cause, driven by its
members' conviction that theirs is a battle of the good and
public-spirited against the evil and self-centered. Donglin partisans
contribute to a toxic political atmosphere in which each side
demonizes its opponents. The crucial moment in the struggle comes when
a Donglin figure issues a public document explicitly accusing a
leading palace figure of gross immorality. In a modern scholar's
words, this document is written in the "language of moral
terrorism": language that is uncompromising, "heated to
the highest possible degree of emotional incandescence" (Dardess
2002: 71). Not long after this comes a violent backlash in which key
Donglin figures are arrested, tortured, and killed, the academy razed,
and the movement crushed.



Reflecting on Neo-Confucian ideas of faction, three observations are
in order. First, returning to de Bary's conception of the
"trouble with Confucianism" with which we began this
section, Neo-Confucian principles make it difficult for proper
Confucian ministers to establish a power-base of their own, in part
because they are not supposed to have special commitments or loyalties
to groups. Second, even if the primary axis of loyalty is vertical (to
the emperor, public good, and more abstract notions like the Way),
horizontal solidarity fits very well with key aspects of Neo-Confucian
views of self-cultivation, such as the part that one's community
plays in developing an ethical "commitment". In this
light, and given the excesses to which the "one true
faction" view can lead, it is tempting to conclude that the
third view of factions described above is most attractive. Finally,
recent scholars have disagreed about the significance of Neo-Confucian
views of faction. One opines that



> 
> 
> had Confucian gentry been able to transmit their local influence to
> the provincial and national levels through legitimized factional
> organizations such as the Donglin academy, it is interesting to
> speculate what sorts of political forces would have been released into
> Confucian political culture;
> 
> 
> 



he goes on to suggest a parallel to "the trend against
absolutist monarchy and toward parliamentary rule in the West"
(Elman 1989: 389). In contrast, another scholar argues that



> 
> 
> the Donglin affair was no harbinger of some possible future
> parliamentarian democracy. Donglin Confucian thought was monarchical
> and authoritarian to its core. (Dardess 2002: 7)
> 
> 
> 


### 4.2 Institutional vs. Character-centered Theories of Governance



Most basically, China's governmental structure in the
Neo-Confucian era has four parts: (1) the emperor, imperial family,
and inner-court attendants like eunuchs; (2) the outer-court
ministers, bureaucracy, and the literati families who staff them; (3)
the common people; and (4) the institutions that help to shape the
ways in which (1)-(3) interact. One of the great debates of the
Neo-Confucian era is about the relative importance or priority of
institutions. This debate takes on many guises, but at bottom is the
sense that there is a tension between two ways of understanding the
structure that undergirds a well-ordered society. One sees
institutions and their component parts (traditions, rules, and
regulations, etc.) as more fundamental. The other sees the people who
direct and belong to the institutions, and particularly the character
of such people (understood as a combination of talents and ethical
dispositions), as more fundamental. Where a philosopher stands on this
issue can help to explain how they align on other critical issues in
matters of governance. Those who tend to see institutions as more
fundamental are more inclined to see legal and regulatory reform as
the primary way of addressing large-scale problems. Those who see the
character of people as more fundamental often think the solution to
such problems lies in moral cultivation and transformation (in
particular, of the emperor himself). To a certain extent, the former
think that institutions should be designed to take human flaws and
shortcomings into account, so that the state does not require large
numbers of people to be virtuous in order to create social order,
while the latter tend to worry that institutions designed for flawed
people will, at least at certain levels, inhibit the kind of
self-improvement that makes government truly transformative. For ease
of reference, let us use the term "character-centered" and
"institutionalist" to refer to these two positions.



On one somewhat simplistic historical account, most Neo-Confucians
advocate a character-centered theory of politics, holding that ethical
cultivation of people and not institutional reform is the most
plausible means of restoring social order. This is supposedly what
precipitated the "Inward Turn" described above,
encouraging individuals to abandon interest in state governance and
focus instead on their own moral self-improvement. This version of
history is not entirely misleading. Neo-Confucians of the Southern
Song frequently blame the fall of the Northern Song on its failed
experiments in institutional reform, especially those of the
institutionalist thinker and statesman Wang Anshi (1021-1086).
And the most famous Neo-Confucian philosophers tended to make
pronouncements more consistent with the character-centered theory,
including the Cheng brothers, Zhu Xi, and Wang Yangming.



But the truth is quite a bit more complicated, and more
philosophically interesting. From the Song dynasty all the way through
the Qing, the Neo-Confucians counted among their ranks many thinkers
interested in "statecraft (*jingshi*)". By the late
Ming dynasty and thereafter, "statecraft" came to describe
almost any method or techniques that could be used for the practical
operations of the state, construed so expansively as to include
mathematics and history. But in the narrower sense common among
earlier Neo-Confucians, it refers to a philosophical position that
aims to address social problems through institutional reform rather
than through dramatic transformations of character. Scholars sometimes
describe these thinkers as belonging to a "Statecraft
School" which includes Song philosophers like Chen Liang
(1143-1194) and Ye Shi (1150-1223), and the Ming
Neo-Confucian Wang Tingxiang (1474-1544) (Niu 1998; Tillman
1982; Ong 2006). It also includes reform-minded Neo-Confucians who
lived through the downfall of the Ming and the rise of the Qing
dynasty, such as Gu Yanwu (1613-1682) and Huang Zongxi
(1610-1695). Even for more character-centered Confucians, what
it meant to say that people's character is more fundamental than
institutions was open to debate.



To understand the nuances of the resulting debates, it helps to begin
by recalling the classical Confucian philosopher Xunzi, famous as a
defender of the character-centered view; as noted above, he holds that
"There are people who create order; there are no standards
creating order of themselves". Discoursing on Xunzi's
claim gives Neo-Confucians opportunities to develop new ways of
explaining how the character of people can be prior to institutions.
One crucial elaboration is made by Hu Hong (1106-1161). On
Hu's view, people enter into the explanatory order of governance
at two levels: first, they are the ones who implement the rules and
regulations. At this level Hu's analysis closely follows
Xunzi's, stressing the necessary vagueness of law and the need
to have skillful magistrates who understand individual laws in a
systematic way. But secondly, the people are also the ones who fix the
rules whenever the rules are not suited to the circumstances. That is,
humans govern not just as executives but as originators too:



> 
> 
> Xunzi said, "There are people who create order; there are no
> standards that create order". I humbly submit that we illustrate
> this by drawing an analogy between wanting to restore order after a
> period of chaos, and trying to cross a river or lake [by boat]. The
> rules are like the boat and the people [i.e. the ruler and his
> officials] are like the steersman. If the boat is damaged and the
> rudder is broken, then even if [the steersman] has seemingly divine
> technique everyone nevertheless understands that the boat cannot get
> across. So whenever there is a period of great disorder it is
> necessary to reform the rules. There has never been a case where one
> could successfully restore order without reforming the rules. (HHJ pp.
> 23-24)
> 
> 
> 



In short, for Hu, people bear credit for successful governance not
just by guiding the institution correctly, but also by creating and
modifying the very rules on which governance is founded. Credit goes
not just to the steersmen but to the shipwrights as well.



Although human discretion may allow people of talent and good
character to update rules or apply them differently in different
contexts, they also allow people who lack talent and good character to
misuse them. In these cases, it helps to set limits to abuses of
authority and leadership by requiring that leaders adhere to rules.
The philosopher who argues for this view most forcefully is Huang
Zongxi, who lived in the late Ming and early Qing. In a remarkable
essay titled "On Standards (*Yuanfa*)", Huang
maintains that we should distinguish between legitimate and
illegitimate standards, where the illegitimate ones are distinguished
by the fact that they are created or modified primarily to serve the
interests of rulers. Huang says that what gives rules legitimacy is
the purpose for which they are fashioned, not just tradition or the
duty to respect the ancestors who fashioned them. When rules are
designed with the interests of the people in mind they tend to be
loose and open-ended, for their purpose is not just to control human
behavior but also to cultivate virtues. People are more likely to
develop virtuous character traits if their orderly conduct is done
willingly rather than under threat, and they are more likely to act
willingly if they are brought up under a regime of rules that protects
their interests. Ironically, it is the rules of self-serving
authorities that require greater and greater stringency. Because they
rely heavily on coercion and work against the welfare of ordinary
people, the policy makers have to create one layer of rules that
govern human conduct, then a second layer of rules establishing
institutions to enforce the first, then a third layer of rules to
enforce those in the second, and so on. The result is a regime with
considerably less flexibility and room for human discretion than the
proponents of the Xunzian principle envision (YF p. 317).


### 4.3 Final Thoughts



According to most Neo-Confucians, revering the emperor meant both
ritual respect for the role of the emperor and obedience to the
legitimate authority of the emperor, but not unthinking loyalty to the
ruler no matter what he might do or say. Ultimate loyalty is owed to
no individual but to the Way, which Neo-Confucians also discuss in
terms of "cosmic Pattern (*tianli*)"--that is,
the ultimate harmony of all things. Neo-Confucians lived in a public
culture in which it was expected, at least in principle, that
ministers show their loyalty by courageously pointing out flaws and
remonstrating with their rulers. And many Neo-Confucians, including
Zhu Xi, quietly or reluctantly acknowledged that there are cases when
one should not obey one's emperor, presumably after all attempts
to dissuade the misguided ruler had been exhausted (Schirokauer 1978:
141-43). We already saw some of this in the Donglin incident,
discussed above; there are numerous other cases in which ministers,
either individually or as a group, seek to upbraid or reform an errant
ruler. Often these disputes revolved around ritual matters, since the
stability of human relationships as expressed through ritual was
central to the overall harmony of the society and cosmos. Throughout
much of the Neo-Confucian era political actors also find it necessary
to justify their proposals through reference to classical texts, which
one contemporary scholar has therefore argued serve a partly
"constitutional" role (Song 2015). Notwithstanding the
various ways in which literati can partly constrain the choices of
rulers, though, there is little question that the power of rulers
remains paramount. And while the deep-seated belief that harmony
relies on the well-being of the people is no doubt responsible for the
peasantry living better lives than they might have otherwise, in the
end Neo-Confucian socio-political thought grants them only one
political outlet: revolt (Angle 2009: ch. 10).


## 5. The Modern Era



The last years of the Qing dynasty, which collapsed in 1911, were
marked by a flourishing of political thought under the twin stimuli of
domestic challenges and encounters with foreign political
philosophies. The Russian Revolution of 1917 added further fuel to the
fire, at a time when the nascent Republic of China was struggling with
both internal and external threats. The nature and sources of
political authority once again were topics of debate. Many now took it
for granted that the goal was some sort of "democracy" in
which the people were (at least in principle) sovereign. But who
counted as "the people", how they were to be led or
represented, and how collective versus individual goals were to be
balanced all were up for grabs. At a broader level, there was a debate
between those who felt the answer lay in one or another
"ism"--that is, an all-encompassing ideology like
Marxism--and those who favored working more pragmatically, via
institution building, on one "problem" at a time. A few
decades later, after the founding of the People's Republic,
similar issues were addressed in the contrast between
"Red" (ideologically and morally pure) and
"expert" (possessing technical expertise). In various
ways, these twentieth-century debates resonated with classical and
Neo-Confucian contention between insitutional and character-centered
theories of governance. Were morally advanced individuals the key to
an ideal society? Or should objective standards of success, coupled
with objective institutions, be society's political foundation?
In cases of conflict, which had priority?



There was certainly no single answer offered to these questions by any
of the groups making up twentieth-century China's political
landscape, ranging from "New Confucians" to nationalists
to liberals to Marxists. However, the "isms" approach won
out through much of the century, and Thomas Metzger has shown that
Chinese political thinkers of all camps tended toward what he calls
"epistemological optimism", which is a confidence that the
one, universally applicable moral and political truth is knowable, and
so great authority should be vested in those gifted individuals able
to perceive this truth (Metzger 2005). Another way to put this would
be to say that there is a strong Utopian strand in much
twentieth-century Chinese political thought, which has both pushed
toward radical solutions and led to dissatisfaction with continued
dissonance or piecemeal progress. Even Chinese liberals have, in many
cases, envisioned harmonious societies in which individual
self-realization goes hand-in-hand with the realization the larger
collectivity, which they often called the "larger self
(*dawo*)" (Zarrow 2021).



Some philosophers in the twentieth century have been more aware than
others of the problems with Utopianism. Mou Zongsan (1909-1995),
a leader of the new Confucian movement, was not only aware of it, but
also offered a particularly creative way out of the recurrent tension
between personal virtue (or morality) and public standards (or
politics). Mou's insight is that the relation between morality
and politics is "dialectical". Rather than seeing a
leader's political virtue as a direct extension of his or her
personal, moral virtue, Mou argues that there needs to be an indirect
relation between them. Politics and political virtue must develop out
of morality, but nonetheless have an independent, objective existence.
This means that human rights, for example, must have a basis in
morality, but come to be measured by standards that are separate from
moral standards. The converse is also true: full moral virtue requires
that which partly "restricts itself (*ziwo
kanxian*)", namely objective structure (Mou 1991: 59).
Objective structures (like laws) are fundamentally different from the
subjectively-felt, internalized morality after which we should all
individually strive. The concrete implication of this is that no
matter what one's level of moral accomplishment,



> 
> 
> insofar as one's virtue is manifested in politics, one cannot
> override the relevant limits (that is, the highest principles of the
> political world), and in fact must devote one's august character
> to the realization of these limits. (Mou 1991: 128)
> 
> 
> 



In short, sages cannot break the law or violate the constitution.
Politics thus has its independence from morality.



Philosophers have differed in their evaluations of Mou's
argument, but it can stand as an instance of the continuing creativity
to be found in contemporary Chinese political thinking (Angle 2012).
China's dynamic society offers a crucible within which new ideas
and new political forms may be forged and tested in coming years. To
be sure, genuinely novel and intellectually challenging ideas do not
form the majority of contemporary Chinese political discourse, but
they are nonetheless present across the entire political spectrum. It
remains to be seen whether robust political values and institutions
will emerge as alternatives to models with which Western political
theorists are familiar, just as we cannot yet foresee what role the
Marxist, Confucian, liberal, and other traditions will play in future
Chinese political thinking. Concerns with harmony and virtue are
unlikely to disappear, but (as Mou's example shows) this by no
means limits the future interest of whatever political institutions
and theories emerge in China.