A Thousand Pieces of Gold Page 6
On finding his name on the list of those to be banished, Li Si wrote a powerful memorial to the throne pleading against the ordinance. He began by pointing out that several ancient kings in the past had profited greatly from the use of foreign scholars. According to Shiji, Li’s letter continued:
At present, Your Majesty collects jade from the Kun Mountains, enjoys the treasures of Shui and Ho, dangles pearls bright as the moon, and wears a Tai-oh sword on his belt. He rides horses from Xian-li and waves banners decorated with green phoenixes. He plays on drums made by stretching the skin of crocodiles. Of all these treasures, not one was produced by Qin. Yet Your Majesty delights in them. May I ask why?
If only products from Qin are allowed in Qin, then these luminous jades that brighten the night would not decorate your court; and art objects made from rhinoceros horns or elephants’ tusks would no longer be available. Beautiful girls from Zheng and Wei would not fill your inner palaces; and the fastest-running horses would be absent from your stables.
The music of Qin used to consist of the beating of earthenware pitchers, pounding on jars, plucking of the strings of the zheng, and thumping on bones while crying Wu! Wu! Such was Qin’s method of pleasing the ear and the eye.
Today, the people of Qin seem to have abandoned this ancient way of making music and adopted the lilting melodies of Zheng and Wei. Once more, may I ask the reason why?
The answer is because we choose to enjoy whatever is best and pleases us most!
However, this appears not to be the case when it comes to the selection of men. Without considering their qualifications or capability, let alone their honesty or deceitfulness, non-Qin scholars are being stripped of their office and sent away.
Can it be that feminine beauty, music, pearls, and jade are perceived as being weightier and of higher importance, while human beings are of less concern? [Note that Li Si considers women as commodities rather than human beings.] Such is not the conduct to govern that which lies within the four seas, nor the correct strategy to adopt for controlling the feudal lords….
By blindly driving out all foreign officials without first determining their loyalty, you are forcing them to use their talents to serve the rulers of other states. Your policy is tantamount to guo zu bu qian, “binding your feet to prevent your own progress.” It will cause future scholars to turn away form Qin and retreat before ever thinking of turning westward. Hence you will be providing weapons to bandits and preparing banquets for robbers.
Of products that are not produced in Qin, there are many that should be treasured. Of scholars that were not originally from Qin, there are numerous who are loyal and true. In the long run, your ordinance will harm your own people and benefit your enemies. It is definitely not the way toward stability and safety for your state.
Swayed by Li Si’s eloquence and analytical logic, King Zheng rescinded his order and recalled Li Si. When His Majesty’s new dictum was announced, Li Si had already left Qin’s capital city and was halfway back to Chu. The king’s messenger finally caught up with him hundreds of miles southeast of Qin. Li Si was delighted to hear of King Zheng’s change of heart and returned to Qin immediately. Shortly afterward, Li Si was promoted to the rank of chief justice and in 221 B.C.E. became prime minister.
Unlike King Zheng, who was dictatorial, impetuous, emotional, and deeply superstitious, Li Si was rational, methodical, cold, and calculating. Twenty-one years older than the monarch, Li Si acted as a father figure to the young king, who turned to the older man increasingly for advice after the downfall and suicide of Lu Buwei. Many of the great deeds attributed to the king alone were probably carried out with the able assistance of his minister. In a memorial written shortly before he died, Li Si enumerated his manifold services:
I sent out secret agents, equipped them with gold and precious gems, and ordered them to travel to different states to befriend and counsel the feudal lords. Eventually, I was able to help His Majesty annex the six states, capture their kings, unite the country, realize for him the imperial heritage, and establish him to be the Son of Heaven [as the emperor was known in those times].
I helped to drive out the Huns to the north and the Yues to the south. I reformed the policies and standardized the laws, weights, measures, and the written characters. I laid out roads and highways and inaugurated regular imperial tours of inspection for His Majesty. I relaxed the punishments and lowered the taxes.
Li Si served the state of Qin for a total of thirty-nine years and was to play a pivotal role at the deathbed of his sovereign.
With hindsight, I have come to realize that resentment of foreigners is not peculiar to Qin, London, Hong Kong, or Los Angeles but is universal. Locals everywhere wish to preserve their own turf and reserve the best jobs for themselves and their children.
In the 1960s the United States had a special visa category for visiting scholars, called an exchange visa. At the conclusion of their work contract, foreigners who entered America on this type of visa were obliged to leave America for at least two years before reentry. One of the unstated purposes of this type of special visa may have been to prevent foreigners from competing with locals for permanent positions at prestigious universities and other desirable technical institutions.
In Hong Kong today, despite the fact that most of the domestic jobs are filled by alien maids and butlers, there is a movement pending to prevent foreigners from working as chauffeurs. Drivers traditionally receive higher wages than domestic workers, and the locals wish to keep the more lucrative jobs for themselves. Throughout history, despite the fact that particular incidents may appear to differ in specific details, the same human impulses seem to repeat themselves over and over again.
Although the desire to keep out “foreigners” has led to exclusionary policies in many countries throughout history, Li Si correctly foresaw long ago that such conduct would be counterproductive. He likened it to guo zu bu qian, “binding your feet to prevent your own progress.”
“In the long run,” Li Si had predicted in his famous memorial to King Zheng, “your ordinance will harm your own people and benefit your enemies. It is definitely not the way toward stability and safety for your state.”
CHAPTER 5
Clapping with One Hand Produces No Sound
Gu Zhang Nan Ming
Recently, I read a wonderful example of the current use of the proverb gu zhang nan ming, “clapping with one hand produces no sound.” President Jiang Zemin, the seventy-five-year-old leader of mainland China, was asked about China-U. S. relations. He responded by quoting, “Gu zhang nan ming, ‘it takes two hands to clap, or clapping with one hand produces no sound.’”
This proverb was written by the brilliant philosopher Han Feizi, extrapolated from a couplet that says, “Regardless of how fast you do it, clapping with one hand will produce no sound.” The Western equivalent would be “It takes two to tango” or “One cannot negotiate alone.”
After the publication of my autobiography, Falling Leaves, I received many letters from readers. Among them was a Chinese psychoanalyst who wrote that my struggles with my family members fell into a recognizable pattern:
As for your brother Edgar, he was obviously jealous of you. You two were in the same class at medical school! Do you remember how envious Li Si was of his classmate Han Feizi when they were both being taught by Xun Zi? The best thing you did for yourself was when you cut yourself off from Edgar. Otherwise you would still be clapping with one hand. Remember that no matter how hard you do it, gu zhang nan ming, “clapping with one hand will produce only silence.” For a relationship to exist between two parties, both have to participate. Many fail to understand this fundamental fact.
Han Feizi was born a prince in Haan. Burdened with a speech impediment, he turned to writing as a means of self-expression. He and Li Si were exactly the same age, and both studied under the Confucian philosopher Xun Zi. During their time together, Li Si grew increasingly jealous of his classmate. Li Si was born poor, whereas Han Fe
izi’s first cousin was the King of Haan. Although both were excellent students, Li Si recognized that his fellow pupil was more talented.
When they completed their studies, Li Si traveled to Qin to seek employment while Han Feizi went home. After losing a series of wars, Haan pursued a policy of appeasement toward Qin and was almost bankrupt. Concerned over the weakness of his home state, Han Feizi repeatedly urged his cousin, the King of Haan, to reform the government. His ideas were ignored. In his frustration, he wrote a book of essays outlining his programs.
He was a proponent of the Legalist School of philosophy. As such, he disagreed with the Confucian concept of regarding the past as the ideal and using the past to discredit the present. He wrote,
In the state of a wise ruler, there is no need for books and bamboo slips. The law is the only creed. We do not need to quote the sayings of ancient kings as our guides. The appointed officials are our models.
In order to rule effectively, Han Feizi listed three principles that the king had to adopt. The first was shi (absolute power). The second was shu (method). In this context, it is interesting to note that some of the shu (governing methods), such as hukou (system of requiring every household to be registered with the local government in Communist China), has been handed down virtually unchanged since the time of the Warring States. The third was fa (law).
Surprisingly modern in some aspects, the Legalist School made the rule of law the foundation of its new philosophy of government. The law was to be universal and was to be obeyed by everyone, regardless of rank or blood. This was far different from the feudal system during the Warring States, in which the king of each state was a law unto himself. He, his family, and the nobles they appointed had unlimited powers over those under them. Han Feizi was a fierce opponent of feudal privileges and their hierarchic social structure. He wrote,
Let the laws be recorded in writing, displayed within the government offices, and made known to the people.
He taught that the laws must be kept constant. All affairs could be carried out only within the scope of the law, and the law was to be the highest standard of behavior in the world. Laws should be established so as to do away with private standards:
Private standards and private opinions tend to confuse the laws. If devious scholars should pursue their education while harboring hidden agendas, then the more intelligent ones will criticize while the lesser ones will cast doubt. What gives good government is law; but what causes chaos is private standards and private opinions. After establishing the law, no one should be allowed to question the law or to have private opinions.
His writings came into the hands of King Zheng, ruler of Qin and future First Emperor of China.
According to Shiji,
Someone sent Han Feizi’s writings to the King of Qin. When he read them, he said, “Ah! If I could only meet the man who wrote this and come to know him, I would die without regret.”
Li Si replied, “These essays were written by my classmate. His name is Han Feizi.” At that time, Li Si had been in Qin for fourteen years and held the high post of visiting minister. Fearing that the brilliant Han Feizi would again overshadow him if he were also to work for the King of Qin, Li Si devised a devious plan.
Not long afterward, at the urging of Li Si, Qin attacked Haan on a pretext. As part of the peace negotiation, Li Si insisted that his classmate Han Feizi be dispatched to Qin as the emissary representing the state of Haan. Therefore, in the year 233 B.C.E., Han Feizi went to Qin and was presented to King Zheng.
Shiji continues:
The King of Haan sent Han Feizi as an emissary to Qin. Although the King of Qin was much pleased with the brilliant scholar, he dared not trust him sufficiently yet to use him.
While in Qin, Han Feizi submitted a petition to King Zheng. In eloquent terms, he asked Qin to desist from continuing its military campaign against Haan and to attack Zhao instead. Hearing of this, Li Si submitted a counter petition to the king, urging him not to agree to the suggestions of Han Feizi. He suggested that he himself be sent as Qin’s emissary to see the King of Haan and make an attempt to lure the latter to visit Qin. In one stroke, Li Si hoped to imprison the King of Haan in Qin and place Haan at the mercy of Qin.
King Zheng duly sent Li Si to Haan, but the King of Haan would not grant him an interview. At great peril to himself, Li Si submitted a petition to the King of Haan in which he tried to dissuade the king from granting safe passage to the army of Zhao, which was threatening to invade Qin. This was the petition in which Li Si quoted the proverb chun wan chi han, “when the lips are gone, the teeth are cold.” Li Si claimed that the war of Qin would become the war of Haan because Zhao would eventually invade them both. In the 1960s Chairman Mao used the same proverb and the same argument during the Vietnam War.
Despite his best efforts, Li Si was not granted an interview and returned to Qin empty-handed. Shiji continues:
Soon after returning to Qin, Li Si grievously slandered his fellow student by saying to the king, “Han Feizi is one of the princes of the ruling House of Haan. His heart will always be with Haan and not with Qin. Such is the nature of man. If Your Majesty ignores his advice and sends him home after having detained him for such a long time, he will use what he has learned here against us and bring disaster upon us. The wisest course of action is to punish him for breaking the laws.”
King Zheng agreed and put Han Feizi in prison. Shocked and depressed, Han Feizi requested that he be allowed to see the king and plead his case in person. This was denied. At this critical juncture, Li Si sent a messenger, who brought the jailed Han Feizi poisonous wine and induced him to commit suicide.
Later the king regretted his actions and sent a special envoy to pardon the scholar. Unfortunately, it was too late, for Han Feizi was already dead.
Han Feizi died at the age of forty-seven as a result of his classmate’s envy and treachery, but his thinking was to exert an enormous influence on the future policies of King Zheng and Li Si himself. There was a prevalent belief then that a mythical golden age had existed in the past during an indeterminate period of history. Although nobody had evidence that there ever really was such a Garden of Eden, all the great philosophers were in agreement that society had degenerated since that time. Confucius himself was always quoting the ancient sage rulers and exhorting his followers to turn back and learn from that bygone era of ideal government.
Instead of following the Confucian philosophy of using the past to criticize the present, Han Feizi believed in discounting the past, emphasizing the present, and adapting to change. He opposed feudalism and promulgated the unification of China under a single supreme ruler. Though he believed in the rule of law and taught that the law must be constant and obeyed by everyone, he made one fatal exception: he did not include the supreme ruler himself.
Because the supreme ruler wrote the laws and could arbitrarily change them, the laws were therefore designed to serve, not the people, but the supreme ruler himself. Because of this crucial omission, Han Feizi’s “rule of law” became his deeply flawed “rule of the emperor.” The welfare of the ruler would take precedence over the welfare of the people.
Eventually, the people came to regard the emperor’s laws as an instrument of terror to keep them in subjugation for the sole benefit of the ruler. The rule of law was perceived as being established by the ruler for himself and not by the people for the people. As such, the system was destined to fail.
There was no doubt that Han Feizi was a brilliant thinker. Why, then, was he not aware that in order for the rule of law to succeed there could be no exceptions? Perhaps he was aware but could not say so. In a total dictatorship such as the state of Qin during the third century B.C.E., advocating that the king be placed under the same rule of law as everyone else would probably have resulted in punishment by death. Nevertheless, it is interesting to note that 2200 years ago, Han Feizi had already suggested that the law should be universal and be obeyed by everyone alike. It would be the highest method o
f conduct for “all under Heaven.”
Although Han Feizi proposed the “rule of law” for “all under Heaven,” everyone in China knew that this “rule of law” did not include the king. Since ancient times, an alternate name for a Chinese monarch was tian zi, “son of Heaven.” As such, a special pronoun, zhen, was created and used only by the king for self-designation, in place of the common pronoun wo (I). The implication was that the king was not like everyone else. Both his title and name indicated that he was special and different, even supernatural.
In the West, there has been a long-standing conviction that “laws make the king; the king does not make the laws.” The western Christian belief in an almighty God who was higher than the king has traditionally, by serendipity, subsumed political power under a higher framework of reference. There is no such precedence in China to provide for the sovereignty of a rule-based legal system. In China the “son of Heaven” was always above the law. He was the one mandated by Heaven to rule and was therefore accountable to no one but himself.
To have a leadership that is enlightened and responsive to the wishes of the people, China needs first to adopt a set of laws that are sovereign to the power of the ruling party. Otherwise, gu zhang nan ming, “clapping with one hand will produce no sound.” Unfortunately, history has taught us that it is only too easy for a supreme ruler to become corrupted by unlimited power and adulation. This was the final legacy of Mao Tse-tung.
The majority of Chinese would probably agree that the most dominant figure in twentieth-century China was Mao Tse-tung. They would also draw a clear distinction between the “Great Mao” of his prime and the “tyrannical Mao” of his declining years. Before 1949, Mao was the passionate revolutionary whose vision brought about the unification of China. His achievement elevated him into becoming the supreme ruler. Mao’s every word was worshiped, and he gradually turned into a despot more powerful than any previous emperor.