Many of Gong’s views bespoke hard-line resistance to the West and conservative Confucian opposition to foreign trade seen as detrimental to the basic economic interests of the Chinese people. At the same time he was a severe critic of the existing civil service examinations system, of the opium traffic, of foot binding among women, of servile conduct at court, of rituals he considered demeaning of ministers, and of superstitious practices at court. Such reformist advocacy, though unavailing at the time, won great respect for Gong among late Qing champions of radical reform.
ON THE LACK OF MORAL FIBER AMONG SCHOLAR-OFFICIALS
The following is excerpted from an essay of Gong’s titled “On Enlightened Rulers and Worthy Ministers” (“Ming liang lun”), in which the degradation of court officials in his day is contrasted to the ancient ideals of enlightened rulership and worthy ministers. The opening lines recollect Confucius’s characterization of governance as depending not on coercion but on an appeal to the people’s sense of shame and self-respect. Likewise, the reference to Lectures from the Classics Mat in the Song recalls Cheng Yi’s insistence on the respect that rulers should show to ministers as colleagues and mentors.
When scholar-officials (shi) have a sense of shame, the state (guojia) is never shamed. For scholar-officials to know no shame, however, is a great shame for the state. Look at the scholar-officials in recent years. By the time they submit their first memorial and begin their careers, only a few among them still have a sense of shame! The longer they serve as officials, the more degraded is their spirit; the more undeserving is their reputation, the more they fawn on their superiors; and the closer they get to the throne, the more skillful flatterers they become. Once they come to fill one of the top positions at court, their position is indeed lofty, but these latter-day ministers have never seen or heard how the great ministers of antiquity conducted themselves, assuming with lofty dignity the role of teacher to the ruler—indeed, this is a role that the ministers of today have never dreamed of! Today the firm integrity of a minister is at an all-time low, and the reason for this is none other than that there is no stimulus to morals and morale at court.
How is morality at court to be stimulated? The first priority is to teach the importance of the sense of shame. . . . [In antiquity] the three high ministers of the state sat down while they discoursed with the monarch on the Way. At the height of the Tang-Song era, the high ministers and Lecturers from the Classics Mat were always asked to sit down [with the emperor] and be served tea. They would see the ruler in one of the side throne rooms, where they could discuss ancient ways at ease, and many of them became great Confucians themselves. In later times, however, when an official has an audience in the morning or evening, he has to kneel for a long period, leaving no time for anything else. I do not know why the former practices were abandoned. But with the present ritual in the throne hall, the ruler and his ministers have been increasingly separated and isolated from each other. . . .
In my humble view, nowadays all that officials engaged in politically important matters really know about are carriages and horses, proper costumes and flowery rhetoric, beyond which they are interested in nothing. All that officials in leisurely posts [such as Hanlin academicians] are good at is calligraphy and the writing of poetry, using the rhymes of other people’s poems; anything else is of no concern to them. In the throne hall, officials watch for signs of imperial pleasure or displeasure as a guide to what they themselves will say. When the emperor smiles and bestows a feast on them as a present, they will be so pleased that they will immediately brag about it to their wives and children as well as to their students. If the emperor is a little displeased, they kowtow their way out of the throne hall and ponder about other ways of winning imperial favor. Are they really reverential in their hearts and in awe of the monarch? If one should ask them whether high ministers should behave in this fashion, they would give a shameful answer: “This is all we can do.” Actually, one can tell what their motivation is. Those who know about carriages and horses and who are flowery in their rhetoric do not read very much. They will say, “I attend to my duties at the public office mornings and evenings. I am already worthy and industrious.” Those who practice calligraphy and write poems sometimes read books, but they are not mindful of their principal responsibility. They feel that every day they remain in their position, they are honored for one more day. When their health fails, they will return to their native place and expect their sons and grandsons to rise through the examinations. This is all they wish for: that their offspring in each generation will learn to adopt passivity as a sign of maturity. Why should one’s family be concerned with affairs of state?
[Gong Zizhen quanji, pp. 31–32—KCL]
INSTITUTIONAL PARALYSIS AND THE NEED FOR REFORM
Gong’s analysis of the evils in governmental administration closely resemble Huang Zongxi’s earlier critique of governance hobbled by excessive concentration of authority, legalistic red tape, fear, distrust and suspicion, and a preoccupation with personal worries at the expense of major matters. In contrast to Huang, however, Gong reveals his susceptibility to the age-old idealistic hope of many Confucians that a wise ruler could turn everything around at once if he would just listen to a wise minister.
Laws and regulations are what the yamen clerks are concerned with, but the Son of Heaven and his officials should go beyond these and plan for the Way of Governance (zhengdao). Inasmuch as the yamen clerks go by laws and regulations and do not dare to depart therefrom, they must be subordinate to the officials and be relegated to a lowly status. The monarch and the officials, in their pursuit of the Way of Governance, should be guided by their vision of what they should do; this is why rulers face south [i.e., in the position of honor] and their authority is exalted. The Son of Heaven should guide his officials to the right way and ask them to co-govern the empire. . . .
[The practice of government today, however, is for the monarch to control the officials closely,] to control them and to rein them in. Any morning or evening the senior officials of the top or the second rank can be deprived of their posts. In the Beijing Gazette one constantly reads of certain officials being reviewed by the Board of Civil Service for punishment, in serious or less serious cases. The officials of the board are skillful in comparing names and realities [i.e., responsibility and performance]. Every month there are cases of the Board of Civil Service deliberating on the conduct of various officials or the censorate deliberating upon the conduct of the Board of Civil Service itself. As to local officials at the prefectural or county level, any moment they may find that their salaries have been reduced, or that they are demoted in rank, or that indeed they are removed from their post. Generally [the court] is merely guessing at what misconduct the local officials have yet to commit, and the decision is never based on analysis of proven fact. As to those officials who were never punished nor considered for punishment, although they may have made important contributions within the bounds of what precedent has proven feasible, what they have accomplished is neither very harmful nor very beneficial. Is this all that can be expected from an official in this prosperous age? I am afraid that in a later generation, insightful writers will say that all our high ministers and other officials are being charged to act like yamen clerks. . . .
In ancient times, the prefects and county magistrates had authority over capital punishment, without having to report to high officials, and high officials could appoint or dismiss subordinate officials on their own authority. This was, of course, the source of innumerable abuses. But today, with the sagacious wisdom of the throne, a selective adoption of the ancient methods will perhaps not result in the officials’ wanton display of power. To adopt ancient methods may indeed provide the exact remedy for our present condition of being tied up [by ordinances, regulations, and the red tape of clerical procedures]. To rectify the situation without going to extremes will perhaps not yield undesirable results. Why then should thought not be given to reform (gengfa)? . . .
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br /> This promises to be the awe-inspiring moment when the sagacious Son of Heaven plans for good government such as occurs only once in a thousand years—to do away with over-elaborate regulations, to simplify tax assessment, to reduce the influence of the yamen clerks. The monarch will hold the principal matters of structure and discipline in his own hands, to advance or dismiss a generation of officials. He will invest in the high officials the authority to do what they should and ensure that all officials will adhere to their proper duties. . . . It will be seen that from the council where the monarch meets with his officials, great and far-reaching plans will arise, and expectations will be high. In the future, in all the empire, people will say that these are purposeful actions of the monarch and ministers of a flourishing age, that these are great undertakings, reflecting generous virtue and definitely not what the yamen clerks, with their self-centered thinking and very limited vision, can ever see.
[Gong Zizhen quanji, pp. 34–36—KCL]
THE SCHOLAR-TEACHER AND SERVICE TO A DYNASTY
In this essay Gong took a courageous stance—venturing to say that a dynasty will decline and fall should it refuse to engage in reform—if it “adheres to the policies of the ancestors and shrinks from listening to the opinions of many people.”
After the Xia dynasty declined, it allowed the Shang dynasty to rise—did Xia not give Shang six hundred years’ time? After the Shang dynasty declined, it allowed the Zhou dynasty to rise—did Shang not give Zhou eight hundred years’ time? There is never an empire that does not decline after eight hundred years. There is, to be sure, the Way that does not decline for millions of years. But by contrast, a dynasty can decline in ten or fifty years. To adhere to the policies of a single family’s ancestors and shrink from listening to the opinion of many among the people is for a dynasty to allow itself to fall and wait for its successor to carry out reform (gaidu).
The policies of the dynastic ancestors cannot always be adequate, while the views of many among the people cannot always be heard. Rather than giving those in the future the opportunity for drastic reform, why not reform on one’s own initiative? One should give some thought to this question: Wasn’t the rise of one’s ancestors made possible by their having revolted against the failures of the preceding dynasty? Wasn’t the rise of the preceding dynasty made possible by their having revolted against the failures of the dynasty before theirs? Why is it that there are numerous ruling families in history? Why is it that Heaven needs to be displeased with one family? Why is it that the ancestral spirit needs to turn away from accepting sacrifice from one family? Bestir yourself! . . . The Classic of Changes says, “When all present possibilities are exhausted, change is called for. Change will lead to unimpededness, which will be of long duration.” This is not a generalization concerning the six or seven [pre-Qin] dynasties beginning with the Yellow Emperor. It is meant to be an admonition for each dynasty.
[Gong Zizhen quanji, pp. 5–6—KCL]
RESPECT FOR THE GUEST
In this essay Gong argues that each dynasty may be the beneficiary of the arts of civilization and of the true Way as conveyed to it by “guests” (i.e., outsiders or survivors of other houses) who represent undying values to be respected by the ruler, intangible assets not the property of any one house. But the ruler cannot share in such moral and spiritual values or respect and employ such persons if the latter lack integrity and, instead of conducting themselves in a self-respecting way, merely act as sycophants and toadies.
In ancient times there were those who surrendered to a ruler, bringing with them sacrificial vessels, musical instruments, or maps of the surrendered country—but no one ever surrendered the Way, for the Way cannot be surrendered. In fact, regarding the skills of the artisans and the methods of the physicians and diviners, no matter how ancient their family or how ancient their office, their techniques cannot be surrendered either. This is not because the new ruler looks down upon one’s skills or because he feels that the ancient Way is not worth his while. Nor is it because the king who dares to suppress an ancient people still does not dare to suppress its ritual and music, its Way and its skills. It is because the Way is indeed extraordinary; it cannot be surrendered. Ritual and music are indeed numinous and cannot be suppressed. . . .
When Confucius edited the Six Classics, he relied on historical sources. History, historical records, and cultivated persons living in retirement (yimin) [including persons who had ties with a former dynasty] were all guests from the standpoint of the Zhou house. They were different manifestations of the same reality. However, some who had the surname of a guest and belonged to the outer court, who did not hold a hereditary position nor live in the comfort of the inner chamber, would behave like servants or concubines, like actors, dogs, and horses, all in pursuit of emolument! Some such scholar-officials would merely behave in an inappropriate way; others would compromise the learning they had acquired; and in the worst cases, they would betray their ancestors. These scholar-officials placed themselves in the ranks of servants and concubines, actors, dogs, and horses—they would certainly meet with the disapproval of gentlemen of independent character.
[Gong Zizhen quanji, pp. 28–29—KCL]
WEI YUAN AND CONFUCIAN PRACTICALITY
THE LEARNING OF STATECRAFT
In 1829 He Changling (1785–1848), formerly Financial Commissioner of Jiangsu, published a large anthology of Qing writings (including memorials, essays, and so on) concerning problems of government, including technical administrative matters, in a large work of 120 chapters. Wei Yuan (1794–1856) was the actual compiler of the work and was the author of its “Preface” and “Editorial Principles” (both dated 1826). A native of Hunan, Wei was a holder of the juren degree [who was] then serving in the personal secretariat of Commissioner He. The preface to the work sets forth the following four principles that were to mark the distinctive approach to the learning of statecraft with which both Wei and his friend Gong Zizhen are identified. These principles were (1) that practical affairs were as important as one’s knowledge of one’s mind-and-heart and hence as important as self-cultivation; (2) that laws and systems are important, even though governance depends on human agency; (3) that knowledge of antiquity, though of fundamental importance, must meet the needs of the present, hence the emphasis on practical affairs; and (4) that although one’s knowledge of all objective beings and things inevitably is seen from the vantage point of oneself, one must still learn from the objective world and especially from the knowledge and opinions of others. Self-knowledge (so stressed by Wang Yangming) is important but not enough; knowledge of others and of external conditions is also essential. One should understand the ideas and motivations of others, so that, as a result of broad consultation and frequent discussion, simpler and more effective solutions may be found for longstanding social and administrative problems. Wei’s articulation of these principles and the writings he selected for this large anthology gave new impetus to Confucian statecraft in nineteenth-century China.
WEI YUAN: PREFACE TO ANTHOLOGY OF QING STATECRAFT WRITINGS (HUANGCHAO JINGSHI WENBIAN)
All affairs are based on [judgments of] the mind-and-heart, . . . but as in the case of a steelyard, though brass markings are needed to make measurements, it is the weight of the object that produces the [resulting] measurement, not the measuring that produces the weight. To speak properly about the mind-and-heart [in relation to affairs] one must seek verification in the facts of the matter.
Laws and systems are based on human agency. As in the case of a big-wheeled wagon that can carry a huge load over a thousand li, without a driver it cannot go forward at all, but even ancient craftsmen with the sharpest eyes and greatest imagination could not build a wagon behind closed doors and expect its wheels to fit the tracks in the road. To speak properly about human agency, one must recognize the need to rely on laws and systems.
Present affairs are based on past history. But as in the case of the Yellow Emperor and his minister Da Nao, before the
y invented the jiazi [sexagenary system of computing days and years] a thousand years could serve as a measure of time, but still [impressive as was their feat in improving the system], last year’s calendar cannot be used for this year. The tools used by great-great-grandfather and great-grandfather are not as suitable for our use as grandfather’s or father’s. The more recent the time, the more telling its influence. The sages have ridden on the trends and circumstances of their times; their spiritual intelligence and statesmanship have arisen therefrom. Properly to speak of past history, one must verify in the present the lessons of the past.
External things are based on one’s own observation, but when two things come together fine points emerge, when two minds come together doubts and difficulties appear, and when the doubts in two minds come together, difficulties can be easily and simply resolved.
The Classic of Odes says:
Wisely arranged are the great plans—
Sages determined them.
What other men have in their minds,
I can measure by reflection.3
Elsewhere in the Classic of Odes [it is said]:
Everywhere I push my inquiries. . . .
Everywhere I seek information and suggestions.4
It can thus be seen that people in antiquity did not dare to rely on their own minds alone and that, moreover, they were good at reflecting upon what was in other people’s minds and emerging therefrom with their own minds enhanced. With a sense of urgency, they eagerly sought out others, even as they gave of themselves. Properly to speak of the self one must look for [opportunities presented by association with] other people and learn from them.
Sources of Chinese Tradition, Volume 2 Page 28