Sources of Chinese Tradition, Volume 2

by Wm. Theodore de Bary

  [Quanxue pian, in Zhang Wenxiang gong quanji, ce 202: ia–b, iiia–b, 2b–3a, 13a–14b, 23a–25a, 27a–b; 203: 9b, 19b, 22a—CT]

  1. A widely held view, of which Ruan Yuan was a leading exponent.

  2. Decorum, rightness, integrity, sense of shame.

  Chapter 31

  RADICAL REFORM AT THE END OF THE QING

  When we attempt to assess the aims and accomplishments of Chinese reformers in the 1870s and 1880s, the comparison to Meiji Japan is almost inevitable. In aims there is a strong general resemblance between the two; in the scope and effectiveness of their reforms a striking difference. Where the Chinese Self-Strengtheners sought to preserve the Confucian Way through the adoption of Western techniques, Japanese modernizers talked of combining “Eastern ethics and Western science” or spoke of preserving their distinctive “national polity” (kokutai) in the midst of an intense program of modernization. Yet, given this general similarity of aims, the process of change in Japan went further and faster than in China, and to a very different result. In the one case there was rapid industrialization, political centralization, educational reform, and social change—all of these involving a much fuller participation of the Japanese people in the national effort, contributing to a degree of unity and strength unprecedented in Japanese history. In China by the 1890s it was evident not only that the Self-Strengtheners had failed to achieve such an effective national unity and concerted action, but also that the very strength they found in local and regional initiatives tended to detract from central leadership and control. The imperial structure was there, as well as nominal allegiance to it, but its effective outreach was limited.

  If to Wang Tao in the first selection below, a great nemesis of reform lay in the “multiplicity of governmental regulations and endless number of directives,” his complaint represented not only a recognition that bureaucratic red tape left little room for reform but at the same time, paradoxically, that unless the court exercised its authority in the direction of reform, local initiatives, lacking such leadership from above, could not contribute to any overall result.

  Under these circumstances, reformers might propose change for the empire as a whole, but individual Self-Strengtheners in positions of limited authority could hardly plan for a truly national program of reform. Within their own spheres of jurisdiction or influence they might inaugurate projects for the modernizing of their personal armies, the manufacturing of arms, the building of ships, the promoting of business, the opening of schools for technical and language training, as well as for the improvement of the more traditional functions of government in China; yet the tendency was for even these worthwhile ventures to take on a strongly bureaucratic character—to become part of an official sub-empire—without, however, enjoying any of the benefits of centralized planning or coordination. The net result is typified by the utter failure of Li Hongzhang’s new army and navy, owing to “squeeze,” corruption, and inefficiency in the supply system, when put to the test by the Japanese in the war of 1894–1895. It was this failure that led directly to demands for more drastic change.

  China’s humiliating defeat in the Sino-Japanese War and the seeming danger of her imminent partition by the foreign powers would have been cause enough for an outcry of alarm and protest. To these factors was added a growing sense of dissatisfaction and frustration among the younger generation of students, who by now had been exposed to reformist writings and had their eyes opened to the outside world. This group was by no means large. The educated class had always constituted a small minority of Chinese, and those affected by new ideas represented a still smaller fraction. Thus, rather than their numbers, it was their role as recruits or members of the bureaucratic elite that gave them influence. Significantly, among the leaders of the reform group were several from the Guangdong region, where, like Hong Xiuquan before them and Sun Yat-sen after, they were stimulated by close contact with the West in Hong Kong and Guangzhou. Increasingly, toward the end of the century, these young men were being challenged and inspired by the brilliant journalism of a writer like Wang Tao. Youthful impressions, once wholly formed by the Confucian classics and native tradition, were now being formed also by the translations of men like Yan Fu (1853–1921), who made available in Chinese the works of Thomas Huxley, John Stuart Mill, Herbert Spencer, and Adam Smith.

  WANG TAO ON REFORM

  Wang Tao (1828–1897) represents a new type of reformer on the Chinese scene. In contrast to the great reformers of the past (e.g., Wang Mang, Wang Anshi) who were scholar-officials, and in contrast also to his contemporaries Feng Guifen and Xue Fucheng, who wrote as officials and worked closely with statesmen like Zeng Guofan and Li Hongzhang, Wang Tao was an independent scholar and journalist. Sometimes, indeed, he is referred to as “the father of Chinese journalism.” His work was done mainly in the ports of Hong Kong and Shanghai, under foreign protection and in close touch with foreigners. For years he assisted the eminent British sinologue James Legge in his translations from the Chinese classics, and with Legge’s help he visited England and Western Europe, observing and writing on developments there. Later, too, Wang visited Japan, where he was well received as a scholar and reformer. When finally he settled down to a career as a journalist, he did so as a man with foreign contacts, a wide knowledge of the outside world, and the kind of freedom to express himself that had been unknown in the past—when not only the right to criticize but even the means (a public press) and the audience (an influential public opinion) were lacking.

  The following is taken from an essay of Wang’s written about 1870, which reiterates many of the earlier reformers’ basic points but carries them even further. There is the argument from cyclical change to the need for adapting to the current situation. There is the assertion that Confucius himself would have advocated change under such circumstances. There is the distinction between the Way of the sages, which must be preserved, and the instruments (weapons, methods) of the West, which should be adopted for its defense. At the same time, Wang insists that change must go deeper and further than mere imitation of the West in externals and suggests, however vaguely, that a thorough renovation of society is necessary. Though his specific recommendations here relate primarily to education, eventually he advocated basic governmental change as well. Consequently the ambiguity in Wang’s use of the term bianfa for “reform” is even more pronounced than in Xue Fucheng’s essay. Though he speaks of adopting from the West only “instruments,” he intends that change should extend not only to technology (“methods”) but to fa in the sense of “basic institutions.” Wang therefore presages, intellectually, the transition from reformism conceived in terms of immediate utility to a more radical view of institutional change. It is still, however, change to be directed from the top down, to be initiated by the imperial court.

  The following excerpt is preceded by a discussion of previous changes in Chinese history that we have already seen echoed by Xue. Here, however, Wang is consciously reexamining Chinese history to refute the assertion of “Western scholars that China has gone unchanged for 5,000 years.” Contending in effect, that China’s stagnation was a comparatively recent development, he then goes on to deal with the present situation.

  I know that within a hundred years China will adopt all Western methods and excel in them. For though both are vessels, a sailboat differs in speed from a steamship; though both are vehicles, a horse-drawn carriage cannot cover the same distance as a locomotive train. Among weapons, the power of the bow and arrow, sword and spear, cannot be compared with that of firearms; and among firearms, the old types do not have the same effect as the new. Although it be the same piece of work, there is a difference in the ease with which it can be done by machine and by human labor. When new methods do not exist, people will not think of changes; but when there are new instruments, to copy them is certainly possible. Even if the Westerners should give no guidance, the Chinese must surely exert themselves to the utmost of their ingenuity and resources on these things.<
br />
  However, these are all instruments; they are not the Way, and they cannot be called the basis for governing the state and pacifying the world. The Way of Confucius is the Human Way. As long as humankind exists, the Way will remain unchanged. The Three Mainstays [Bonds] and the Five Moral Relations began with the birth of the human race. When one fulfills one’s duty as a human being, one need have no regrets in life. On this is based the teaching of the sages. [1: 11a]

  I have said before that after a few hundred years the Way will achieve a grand unity. As Heaven has unified the south, north, east, and west under one sky, it will harmonize the various teachings of the world and bring them back to the same source. . . .

  Alas! People all understand the past, but they are ignorant of the future. Only scholars whose thoughts run deep and far can grasp the trends. As the mind of Heaven changes above, so do human affairs below. Heaven opens the minds of the Westerners and bestows upon them intelligence and wisdom. Their techniques and skills develop without bound. They sail eastward and gather in China. This constitutes an unprecedented situation in history, and a tremendous change in the world. The foreign nations come from afar with their superior techniques, contemptuous of us in our deficiencies. They show off their prowess and indulge in insults and oppression; they also fight among themselves. Under these circumstances, how can we not think of making changes? Thus what makes it most difficult for us not to change is the mind of Heaven, and what compels us unavoidably to change is the doings of men. [1: 11b–12a]

  If China does not make any change at this time, how can it be on a par with the great nations of Europe and compare with them in power and strength? Nevertheless, the path of reform is beset with difficulties. What the Western countries have today is regarded as of no worth by those who arrogantly refuse to pay attention. Their argument is that we should use our own laws to govern the empire, for that is the Way of our sages. They do not know that the Way of the sages is valued only because it can make proper accommodations according to the times. If Confucius lived today, we may be certain that he would not cling to antiquity and oppose making changes. . . .

  But how is this to be done? First, the method of recruiting civil servants should be changed. The examination essays, coming down to the present, have gone from bad to worse and should be discarded. And yet we are still using them to select civil servants. . . .

  Second, the method of training soldiers should be changed. Now our army units and naval forces have only names registered on books, but no actual persons enrolled. The authorities consider our troops unreliable, and so they recruit militia who, however, can be assembled but cannot be disbanded. . . . The arms of the Manchu banners and the ships of the naval forces should all be changed. . . . If they continue to hold on to their old ways and make no plans for change, it may be called “using untrained people to fight,”1 which is no different from driving them to their deaths. . . .

  Third, the empty show of our schools should be changed. Now district directors of schools are installed, one person for a small town and two for a large city. It is a sheer waste of government funds, for they have nothing to do. The type of man in such posts is usually degenerate, incompetent, senile, and with little sense of shame. [1: 12a–14a]

  Fourth, the complex and multifarious laws and regulations should be changed. . . . The government should reduce the mass of regulations and cut down on the number of directives; it should be sincere and fair and treat the people with frankness and justice. . . .

  After the above four changes have been made, Western methods could be used together with others. But the most important point is that the government above should exercise its power to change customs and mores, while the people below should be gradually absorbed into the new environment and adjusted to it without their knowing it. This reform should extend to all things—from trunk to branch, from inside to outside, from great to small—and not merely to Western methods. . . . [1: 14b]

  The advantage of guns lies in the techniques of discharging them; that of ships in the ability to navigate them. The weapons we use in battle must be effective, but the handling of effective weapons depends upon people. . . . Yet those regarded as able men have not necessarily been able, and those regarded as competent have not necessarily been competent. They are merely mediocrities who accomplish something through the aid of others. Therefore, the urgent task of our nation today lies primarily in the governance of the people, and next in the training of soldiers. And in these two the essential point is to gather men of abilities. Indeed, superficial imitation in concrete things is not so good as arousing intellectual curiosity. The forges and hammers of the factories cannot be compared with the apparatus of people’s minds. [1: 15a–b]

  [Bianfa, in Taoyuan wenlu waibian 1: 11a–15b—CT]

  YAN FU ON EVOLUTION AND PROGRESS

  Yan Fu (1854–1921) was best known as an interpreter of Western liberal thought at the end of the Qing dynasty. His translations, which bent the originals to his own reformist agenda, included Thomas Henry Huxley’s Evolution and Ethics (1898), Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations (1901–1902), Herbert Spencer’s A Study of Sociology (1903), John Stuart Mill’s On Liberty (1903), and Montesquieu’s Spirit of the Laws (1909).

  Having received a classical education until age twelve, when his father died, Yan Fu was reduced by his family’s impoverishment to the pursuit of further learning on a stipend at the Fuzhou Arsenal School of Navigation. There he acquired English and developed a strong admiration for the scientific rigor of the technical curriculum. In 1877 he was sent to England for two years’ further study, and there his quest for the basis of Western military power shifted from technology to politics, economics, and culture. He enthusiastically embraced Herbert Spencer’s social Darwinism and found in it the key to the difference between Victorian England—the epitome of Western civilization—and China.

  Returning to China, Yan failed repeatedly to pass the traditional examinations and seemed to be stuck in the position of superintendent of the Beiyang Naval School. After 1905 he rose to a number of advisory and consulting positions, and then in 1911 to the Naval General Staff, but the influence of his publications on currents of thought remained greater than his influence in government. His career as publicist had begun in the immediate aftermath of the disastrous Sino-Japanese War (1894–1895). From 1895 to 1897, amid the flood of reform writings that began to inform educated Chinese about the realities of the modern world, Yan published four powerful essays, including one translated in part here, introducing his new understanding of the world and China’s perilous position in it. His preoccupation with national strength and survival and his embrace of Western learning and institutions as a means to achieve them both influenced and mirrored the tide of emerging Chinese nationalism. In one of the early essays, “Refutation of Han Yu,”2 Yan Fu attacked the power of Chinese emperors as a kind of booty acquired by theft and asserted that an emperor truly concerned to advance the country would allow his people the freedom to do as they pleased so long as they did not harm their fellow citizens. Elsewhere, he pointed out that modern science had discredited the monarchy’s claims to natural legitimacy. His condemnation of the irrationality, exploitation, and paternalism of the imperial institution did not, however, lead to political radicalism. Rather, his sense that China’s survival and progress would require a profound transformation of her people’s ingrained habits and values inclined him to reject political revolution as a remedy. A political upheaval, he believed, would only hinder the real task. Indeed, after the Revolution of 1911, Yan Fu became deeply troubled by the chaos into which China fell. Advocating monarchical government under strongman Yuan Shikai as the only way to preserve minimal order, he also called for the establishment of Confucianism as a state religion. Further disillusioned by the destructiveness of World War I in Europe, he lost faith in the entire project of modernization and rejected the whole New Culture Movement in the May 4 period (see chapter 33).

  ON STRENGTH

&
nbsp; Yan’s most important influence on Chinese thinking at the turn of the century was his view of material progress as driven by Darwinian struggle, especially by competition among nations, which, following Spencer, he conceived as large-scale organisms. Such a conception of cosmic struggle differed radically from the idealistic, universalistic, harmony-oriented tradition of the Chinese elite, whose ideal lay in the past, not the future. In this, his new vision, at once frightening and exhilarating, Yan contrasted the pragmatic dynamism of Western society to the stagnation and formalism of China—a contrast quickly echoed in the widely popular reform writings of Liang Qichao and his colleagues, and later in the New Culture iconoclasm of Chen Duxiu. Yan’s appreciation of Western progress was deeply colored by his belief, shared by reformers and revolutionaries alike, that liberty was the factor most responsible for Western strength and progress.

  Such was the message of his essay “On Strength,” originally published in an unfinished, serialized version in the newspaper Zhibao in 1895. A revised version appeared subsequently in 1901, in a collection of Yan’s writings, and it seems to have been republished at least five times by 1915. The translation below is based on this later version, which had a wider circulation than the first and added a more extensive analysis of the citizens’ strengths and virtues, as well as more concrete recommendations for reform.

  Darwin is an English biologist. Heir to his family’s scholarly traditions, he traveled around the world as a young man, amassing a rich collection of rare and curious plants and animals. After several decades’ exhaustive and subtle reflection upon them, he wrote The Origin of Species. Since the publication of this book, of which nearly every household in Europe and America now has a copy, there has been a tremendous change in the scholarship, politics, and religion of the West. The claim that the revolution in outlook and intellectual orientation occasioned by Darwin’s book exceeds that of Newtonian astronomy is hardly an empty one.