Sources of Chinese Tradition: Volume 2: From 1600 Through the Twentieth Century, Second Edition

The defeat of the Taipings was only one of the more hopeful signs for the Manchus in the early 1860s, after two decades of losses and near-disaster for the dynasty. The foreign occupation of Beijing in 1860 had been followed by a reorganization of leadership at court, with stronger and more flexible men rallying forces loyal to the dynasty and working toward better relations with the foreign powers. The new diplomatic missions established in the capital and foreign concessions in treaty ports up and down the coast, though forced upon the court originally, had now made it both necessary and possible for the Chinese to come into closer contact with Westerners—contact that slowly and imperceptibly widened their horizons on the world. In the provinces, able commanders like Zeng Guofan, Zuo Zongtang, and Li Hongzhang, who had shown great personal resourcefulness and determination in suppressing the rebels and had even demonstrated a readiness to adopt Western guns and naval vessels for use against the Taipings, continued individually to promote modernization projects that would strengthen their military positions and enhance the basis of their own regional power.

If, to Western observers, these developments suggested some hope for China’s future, to the Chinese there were other grounds for encouragement—enough to justify calling this period a “revival” or “restoration” in the life of the nation and the ruling dynasty. In foreign relations, the Chinese could at most be gratified by a respite from the constant pressure of the Western powers. In internal affairs, however, they could observe with satisfaction the restoring of peace and stability after several major revolts (besides the Taipings, the Nian rebellion in Anhui and Shandong in 1853–1868, and the Muslim rebellions in both the southwestern provinces, in 1855–1873, and the northwestern provinces, in 1862–1877); so, too, a gradual improvement in local administration and steps taken to rehabilitate the economy along more or less traditional lines—the encouragement of agriculture, land reclamation and development, irrigation, flood control, tax reform, and so on. The genuine effectiveness of such time-honored measures can be appreciated in terms of their contribution to the traditional agrarian economy (upon which, obviously, so many millions of Chinese depended for their daily life), even if such methods fell far short of meeting the economic challenge of the West.

To conservative Confucians there was reassurance in all this, not only that age-old methods and institutions seemed to stand the test of these times but that men of ability and character had appeared who could make them effective. It was leadership, rather than the techniques or institutions themselves, in which the Confucians placed hope. It was the “noble man,” pursuing virtue and learning rather than power and profit, who would save China. From such a point of view, no more basic or radical a change could take place than that which transformed the people inwardly and united them in support of worthy rulers. To talk of drastic changes in social or political institutions was almost unthinkable, and certainly uncalled for.

On this fundamental point there was virtually unanimous agreement, even among those who felt that the danger from the West prompted fundamental reexamination and reform. They might believe it necessary to adopt Western guns and ships—even to master the languages, the knowledge, the techniques required for the production and use of these weapons—but such measures would be indispensably linked to a regeneration of the national life, a reassertion of traditional values in government, a renewed concern for the livelihood of the people, and a kind of moral rearmament based on self-cultivation and tightened social discipline. A reexamination in these terms tended, therefore, to focus on two types of weakness: military inferiority to the West, which called for the employment of new methods, and moral inadequacy with respect to traditional ideals, which called for self-criticism and an intensified effort to uphold old standards.

Reform along these lines was most strikingly exemplified in the so-called self-strengthening movement. Its immediate objective was a buildup in military power; its ultimate aim was to preserve and strengthen the traditional way of life. In the following selections are presented the views of men prominently identified as exponents of reform on this basis: namely, that the adoption of Western arms could be justified on grounds of utility and practicality, as a means of defending China and preserving Chinese civilization. These reform ideas emerged naturally from the statecraft scholarship discussed in earlier chapters. Self-strengthening itself appealed to one of the heroic ideals in Neo-Confucian teaching: self-reliance, self-discipline, and taking responsibility for the Way and the world on oneself.

Feng Guifen (1809–1874), a classicist, teacher, and official, came to recognize the need for modernization and the importance of scientific studies when he was forced to take refuge in Shanghai from the Taipings and came into contact with Westerners defending the city. Later, as an adviser to some of the leading statesmen of his time, Feng demonstrated an acute grasp of both state and foreign affairs. His essays advocating a wide variety of reforms were highly regarded by some leaders and became increasingly influential toward the end of the century. It was at his suggestion that a school of Western languages and sciences was established in Shanghai in 1863.

Feng had few illusions regarding the ease with which China might undertake reform. He appreciated the difficulty of adopting weapons that presupposed a considerable scientific knowledge and technological development. Even more, he recognized the disturbing fact that Western superiority lay not in arms alone but also in leadership. In his eyes, however, the qualities of character and mind displayed by Westerners were simply those long recognized as essential to leadership within the Chinese tradition. The foreigners’ example might be edifying, and indeed a reproach to the deplorable state of Chinese public life, but it was not a lesson in the sense that China had anything new to learn from the West. The lesson was simply that it had more to make of its own learning.

Such is the two-pronged attack by Feng on Chinese complacency, as expressed in these excerpts from his book of essays, Protests from the Study of Jiaobin (1861). Note again that when a Confucian reformer seeks to make changes, he must come to grips with the civil service system, which was so pervasive an influence on educated Chinese.

According to a general geography compiled by an Englishman, the territory of China is eight times that of Russia, ten times that of the United States, one hundred times that of France, and two hundred times that of Great Britain. . . . Yet we are shamefully humiliated by the four nations, not because our climate, soil, or resources are inferior to theirs, but because our people are inferior. . . . Now, our inferiority is not due to our allotment [i.e., our inherent nature] from Heaven, but is rather due to ourselves. If it were allotted us by Heaven, it would be a shame but not something we could do anything about. Since the inferiority is due to ourselves, it is a still greater shame but something we can do something about. And if we feel ashamed, there is nothing better than self-strengthening. . . .

Why are the Western nations small and yet strong? Why are we large and yet weak? We must search for the means to become their equal, and that depends solely upon human effort. With regard to the present situation, several observations may be made: in not wasting human talents, we are inferior to the barbarians; in not wasting natural resources, we are inferior to the barbarians; in allowing no barrier to come between the ruler and the people, we are inferior to the barbarians; and in the matching of words with deeds, we are also inferior to the barbarians. The remedy for these four points is to seek the causes in ourselves. They can be changed at once if only the emperor would set us in the right direction. There is no need to learn from the barbarians in these matters. [58b–59a]

We have only one thing to learn from the barbarians, and that is strong ships and effective guns. . . . Funds should be allotted to establish a shipyard and arsenal in each trading port. A few barbarians should be employed, and Chinese who are good in using their minds should be selected to receive instruction so that in turn they may teach many craftsmen. When a piece of work is finished and is as good as that made by the barbarians, the makers should be rewarded with an official juren degree and be permitted to participate in the metropolitan examinations on the same basis as other scholars. Those whose products are of superior quality should be rewarded with the jinshi degree [ordinarily conferred in the metropolitan examinations] and be permitted to participate in the palace examinations like others. The workers should be paid double so that they will not quit their jobs.

Our nation’s emphasis on civil service examinations has sunk deep into people’s minds for a long time. Intelligent and brilliant scholars have exhausted their time and energy in such useless things as the stereotyped examination essays, examination papers, and formal calligraphy. . . . We should now order one-half of them to apply themselves to the manufacturing of instruments and weapons and to the promotion of physical studies. . . . The intelligence and ingenuity of the Chinese are certainly superior to those of the various barbarians; it is only that hitherto we have not made use of them. When the government above takes delight in something, the people below will pursue it further: their response will be like an echo carried by the wind. There ought to be some people of extraordinary intelligence who can have new ideas and improve on Western methods. At first they may take the foreigners as their teachers and models; then they may come to the same level and be their equals; finally they may move ahead and surpass them. Herein lies the way to self-strengthening. [60a–61a]

It may be argued: “Guan Zhong repelled the barbarians and Confucius acclaimed his virtue; the state of Chu adopted barbarian ways and [Confucius in] the Spring and Autumn Annals condemned them. Is not what you are proposing contrary to the Way of the sages?” No, it is not. When we speak of repelling the barbarians, we must have the actual means to repel them, and not just empty bravado. If we live in the present day and speak of repelling the barbarians, we should ask with what instruments we are to repel them. . . . [The answer is that] we should use the instruments of the barbarians but not adopt the ways of the barbarians. We should use them so that we can repel them.

Some have asked why we should not just purchase the ships and man them with [foreign] hirelings, but the answer is that this will not do. If we can manufacture, repair, and use them, then they are our weapons. If we cannot manufacture, repair, and use them, then they are still the weapons of others. . . . In the end the way to avoid trouble is to manufacture, repair, and use weapons by ourselves. Only thus can we pacify the empire; only thus can we become the leading power in the world; only thus can we restore our original strength, redeem ourselves from former humiliations, and maintain the integrity of our vast territory so as to remain the greatest country on earth. [61a–62b]

Western books on mathematics, mechanics, optics, light, and chemistry contain the best principles of the natural sciences. In the books on geography, the mountains, rivers, strategic points, customs, and native products of the hundred countries are fully listed. Most of this information is beyond the reach of the Chinese people. . . .

If we wish to use Western knowledge, we should establish official translation bureaus in Guangzhou and Shanghai. Brilliant students not over fifteen years of age should be selected from those areas to live and study in these schools on double allowances. Westerners should be appointed to teach them the spoken and written languages of the various nations, and famous Chinese teachers should be engaged to teach them classics, history, and other subjects. At the same time they should learn mathematics. (Note: All Western knowledge is derived from mathematics. . . . If we wish to adopt Western knowledge, it is but natural that we should learn mathematics). . . . China has many brilliant people. There must be some who can learn from the barbarians and surpass them. [67b–68a]

It is from learning that the principles of government are derived. In discussing good government, the great historian Sima Qian said (following Xunzi), “Take the latter-day kings as your models.” This was because they were nearer in time; their customs had changed from the past and were more similar to the present; and their ideas were not so lofty as to be impracticable. It is my opinion that today we should also take the foreign nations as our examples. They live at the same time and in the same world with us; they have attained prosperity and power by their own efforts. Is it not fully clear that they are similar to us and that their methods can easily be put into practice? If we let Chinese ethics and Confucian teachings serve as the foundation, and let them be supplemented by the methods used by the various nations for the attainment of prosperity and power, would it not be the best of all solutions?

Moreover, during the past twenty years since the opening of trade, a great number of foreign chiefs have learned our written and spoken language, and the best of them can even read our classics and histories. They are generally able to speak on our dynastic regulations and civil administration, on our geography and the condition of our people. On the other hand, our officials from the governors down are completely ignorant of foreign countries. In comparison, should we not feel ashamed? The Chinese officials have to rely upon stupid and preposterous interpreters as their eyes and ears. The mildness or severity of the original statement, its sense of urgency or lack of insistence, may be lost through their tortuous interpretations. Thus frequently a small grudge may develop into a grave hostility. At present the most important political problem of the empire is to control the barbarians, yet the pivotal function is entrusted to such people. No wonder that we understand neither the foreigners nor ourselves and cannot distinguish fact from untruth. Whether in peace negotiations or in deliberating for war, we are unable to grasp the essentials. This is indeed the underlying trouble of our nation. [69a–70a]

One of the first projects of the Self-Strengtheners was to set up schools for the study of Western languages, sciences, and technologies, the first an interpreters school in Beijing in 1861, subsequently expanded to include mathematics and technology. This set off a debate (1867) in which the Self-Strengtheners’ proposals were opposed on grounds of principle by Confucians at court, of whom a Mongol grand secretary, Woren, was the leader. For him Western technology was no substitute for classical humanistic learning and China would be corrupted by doctrines of expediency.

Mathematics, one of the six arts, should indeed be learned by scholars as indicated in the imperial decree, and it should not be considered an unworthy subject. But according to the viewpoint of your servant, astronomy and mathematics are of very little use. If these subjects are going to be taught by Westerners as regular studies, the damage will be great. . . . Your servant has learned that the way to establish a nation is to lay emphasis on rites and rightness, not on power and plotting. The fundamental effort lies in the minds of people, not in techniques. Now, if we seek trifling arts and respect barbarians as teachers . . . all that can be accomplished is the training of mathematicians. From ancient down to modern times, your servant has never heard of anyone who could use mathematics to raise the nation from a state of decline or to strengthen it in time of weakness. . . .

Since the conclusion of the peace, Christianity has been prevalent, and half of our ignorant people have been fooled by it. The only thing we can rely on is that our scholars should clearly explain to the people the Confucian tenets, which may be able to sustain the minds of the ignorant populace. Now if these brilliant and talented scholars, who have been trained by the nation and reserved for great future usefulness, have to change from their regular course of study to follow the barbarians, then the correct spirit will not be developed, and accordingly the evil spirit will become stronger. After several years it will end in nothing less than driving the multitudes of the Chinese people into allegiance to the barbarians.

In response to Woren’s challenge, the Self-Strengtheners at court countered that he had no practical way to deal with Western power and, moreover, that the pursuit of Western studies need not be at the expense of traditional ones.

Your ministers have examined the memorial of Woren: the principles he presents are very lofty and the opinion he maintains is very orthodox. Your ministers’ point of view was also like that before they began to manage foreign affairs; and yet today they do not presume to insist on such ideas, because of actual difficulties that they cannot help. . . .

From the beginning of foreign relations to the present there have been twenty or thirty years. At first the officials inside and outside the capital did not grasp the crux of the matter, and whether they negotiated peace or discussed war, generally these were empty words without effect. . . . Therefore your ministers have pondered a long-term policy and discussed the situation thoroughly with all the provincial officials. Proposals to learn the written and spoken languages of foreign countries, the various methods of making machines, the training of troops with foreign guns, the dispatching of officials to travel in all countries, the investigation of their local customs and social conditions, and the establishment of six armies in the area of the capital in order to protect it—all these painstaking and special decisions represent nothing other than a struggle for self-strengthening. . . .

We too are afraid that the people who are learning these things will have no power of discrimination and are likely to be led astray by foreigners, as Woren fears. Therefore we have deliberated and decided that those who participate in the examinations must be persons from regular scholastic channels. It is indeed those students who have read widely and who understand right principles and have their minds set upon upright and grand purposes—and the present situation is just what causes the scholars and officials to feel pain in heart and head—who would certainly be able to lie on faggots and taste gall [i.e., nurse vengeance] in order to encourage each other vigorously to seek the actual achievement of self-strengthening. They are different from those who have vague, easygoing, or indifferent ideas.

Even though we run the risk of receiving the criticism of the empire, we will not try to avoid it. But the grand secretary [Woren] considers our action a hindrance. Certainly he should have some better plans. If he really has some marvelous plan that can control foreign countries and not let us be controlled by them, your ministers should certainly follow in the footsteps of the grand secretary, exhausting their mean abilities in careful discussions with him, in order to show our harmony and mutual help and to console your imperial anxiety. If he has no other plan than to use loyalty and sincerity as armor, and rites and rightness as a shield, and such similar phrases, and if he says that these words could accomplish diplomatic negotiations and be sufficient to control the life of our enemies, your ministers indeed do not presume to believe it.

Zeng Guofan (1811–1872) and his protege Li Hongzhang (1823–1901) were, in the practical sphere, the outstanding exponents of “self-strengthening” during the latter half of the nineteenth century. Acclaimed as the conqueror of the Taipings, and long governor-general in central China, Zeng was also admired as a scholar in the classical tradition and a Confucian “gentleman” who exemplified the traditional virtues in government: industry, frugality, honesty, and integrity in office and loyalty to the dynasty. He was the type of “noble man” whose learning and personal character inspired the devotion of his subordinates and gave Confucians a confidence that such personal qualities could meet the challenge of the times. Intellectually an eclectic, Zeng minimized doctrinal differences and sought agreement on the ethical bases of action. His support of certain types of modernization for purposes of national defense also reflected a readiness to make compromises for the achievement of practical ends.

In this letter, submitted in March 1871 to the Zongli Yamen, a new but minor institution that handled foreign affairs, Zeng and Li emphasize not only China’s practical need to learn from the West but also the preeminent practicality of the Westerners. They are convinced that Western methods can be mastered only through prolonged and intensive study abroad, and they propose sending a select group of young men for this purpose. In Japan at this time the top leaders were themselves visiting the West and preparing to reeducate a whole nation. The aims of Zeng and Li are much more circumscribed—to train an elite corps with a combination of classical Chinese and Western studies, carefully directed and controlled in the interests of the state. Yet even so modest a proposal met with strong opposition at court before it was put into effect in 1872.

Last autumn when I [Zeng] was at Tianjin, Governor Ding Richang frequently came to discuss with me proposals for the selection of intelligent youths to be sent to the schools of various Western countries to study military administration, shipping administration, infantry tactics, mathematics, manufacturing, and other subjects. We estimated that after more than ten years their training would have been completed and they could return to China so that other Chinese might learn thoroughly the superior techniques of the Westerners. Thus we could gradually plan for self-strengthening. . . . After Mr. Bin Chun and two other gentlemen, Zhigang and Sun Jiagu, had traveled in various countries at imperial command, they saw the essential aspects of conditions overseas, and they found that cartography, mathematics, astronomy, navigation, shipbuilding, and manufacturing are all closely related to military defense. It is the practice of foreign nations that those who have studied abroad and have learned some superior techniques are immediately invited upon their return by academic institutions to teach the various subjects and to develop their fields. Military administration and shipping are considered as important as the learning that deals with the mind and body, and nature and destiny of man. Now that the eyes of the people have been opened, if China wishes to adopt Western ideas and excel in Western methods, we should immediately select intelligent young men and send them to study in foreign countries. . . .

Some may say, “Arsenals have been established in Tianjin, Shanghai, and Fuzhou for shipbuilding and the manufacture of guns and ammunition. The Tongwen College [for foreign languages] has been established in Beijing for Manchu and Chinese youths to study under Western instructors. A language school has also been opened in Shanghai for the training of young students. It seems, therefore, that a beginning has been made in China and that there is no need for studying overseas.” These critics, however, do not know that to establish arsenals for manufacturing and to open schools for instruction is just the beginning of our effort to rise again. To go to distant lands for study, to gather ideas for more advantageous use, can produce far-reaching and great results. Westerners seek knowledge for practical use. . . . If we Chinese wish to adopt their superior techniques and suddenly try to buy all their machines, not only will our resources be insufficient to do so but we will be unable to master the fundamental principles or to understand the complicated details of the techniques, unless we have actually seen and practiced them for a long time. . . .

We have heard that youths of Fujian, Guangdong, and Ningbo also occasionally have gone abroad to study, but they merely attempted to gain a superficial knowledge of foreign written and spoken languages in order to do business with the foreigners for the purpose of making a living. In our plan, we must be doubly careful at the beginning of selection. The students who are to be taken to foreign countries will all be under the control of the commissioners. Specializing in different fields, they will earnestly seek for mastery of their subjects. There will be interpreters, and instructors to teach them Chinese learning from time to time, so that they will learn the great principles for the establishment of character, in the hope of becoming men with abilities of use to us.

A onetime secretary and adviser to both Zeng Guofan and Li Hongzhang, Xue Fucheng (1838–1894) achieved no high rank or position in the bureaucracy (not having competed in the examinations for the higher civil service degrees). He did, however, become an influential advocate of reform through the circulation of his essays and memorials in official circles and, besides assisting in the negotiation of the Chefoo Convention (1876), helped to draft plans for a new Chinese navy.

This excerpt is taken from Xue’s Suggestions on Foreign Affairs (Chouyang chuyi), which was submitted to Li in 1879 and forwarded by him to the Zongli Yamen. Xue argues for reform on the ground that change is inevitable and nothing new to Chinese history. But if he is tempted to accept the idea of progress as a law of history, there is no indication of it here. Rather, his premise is the thoroughly traditional one of cyclical or pulsatory change at calculable intervals, which may be for good or ill but in any case must be coped with, as indeed even the sage kings had to cope with it. A great change in circumstances, therefore, calls for a great change in methods (fa, which can also be understood as “laws” or “institutions”).

Xue nevertheless contends that changes in method do not mean abandonment of the “immutable” Way of the sages. Indeed, it is the use of new methods that will preserve that Way inviolate. Thus a dichotomy is established between ends and means. Here the means Xue has in mind adopting is “the study of machines and mathematics.” Consequently the dichotomy is between the Way and “instruments” (fa, as in the sense of methods). How far he would go toward changing fa in the sense of basic institutions is left unclear.

It is the Way of Heaven that within several hundred years there are small changes and within several thousand years great changes. . . . In several thousand years [under the early sage kings] there was change from a primitive world to a civilized world. From the age of the sage kings through the Three Dynasties there were most truly peace and order. Then the First Emperor of the Qin swallowed up the feudal states, abolished the enfeoffed lords, broke up the well-fields, and destroyed the laws of the early kings. Thus it was two thousand years from the time of [the sage kings] Yao and Shun that the feudal world was changed into a world of [centrally administered] prefectures and districts. . . . As we come down to the present, the European states suddenly rise up and assert themselves overseas because of their knowledge of machinery and mathematics. . . . In ninety thousand li around the globe there is no place where they do not send their envoys and establish trade relations. Confronted with this situation, even Yao and Shun would not have been able to close the doors and rule the empire in isolation. And this likewise is now two thousand years from the time of Qin and Han. Thus there has been a change from a world in which the Chinese and barbarians were isolated from each other to a world in which China and foreign countries are in close contact. . . . When change in the world is small, the laws governing the world will accordingly undergo small change; when change in the world is great, the laws will accordingly undergo great change. [46B]

Sometimes in the succession of one sage to another there cannot but be changes in the outward forms of government. Sometimes when a sage has to deal with the world, sooner or later there must be changes made. . . . Now there is rapid change in the world. It is my opinion that with regard to the immutable Way we should change the present so as to restore the past [the Way of the sages]; but with regard to changeable laws, we should change the past system to meet present needs. Alas! If we do not examine the differences between the two situations, past and present, and think in terms of practicability, how can we remedy the defects? [47a]

Western nations rely on intelligence and energy to compete with one another. To come abreast of them, China should plan to promote commerce and open mines; unless we change, the Westerners will be rich and we poor. We should excel in technology and the manufacture of machinery; unless we change, they will be skillful and we clumsy. Steamships, trains, and the telegraph should be adopted; unless we change the Westerners will be quick and we slow. . . . Unless we change, the Westerners will cooperate with each other and we shall stand isolated; they will be strong and we shall be weak. [47b]

Some may ask: ‘If such a great nation as China imitates the Westerners, would it not be using barbarian ways to change China?” Not so. For while in clothing, language, and customs China is different from foreign countries, the utilization of the forces of nature for the benefit of the people is the same in China as in foreign countries. The Western people happen to be the first in adopting this new way of life, but how can we say that they alone should monopolize the secrets of nature? And how do we know that a few decades or a hundred years later China may not surpass them? . . . Now if we really take over the Westerners’ knowledge of machinery and mathematics in order to protect the Way of our sage kings Yao and Shun, Yu and Tang, Wen and Wu, and the Duke of Zhou and Confucius, and so make the Westerners not dare to despise China, I know that if they were alive today, the sages would engage themselves in the same tasks, and their Way would also be gradually spread to the eight bounds of the earth. That is what we call using the ways of China to change the barbarians.

Some may also say, “In making changes one should aim to surpass others and not pursue them. Now the Western methods are superior, and we imitate them; if we follow others helplessly, by what means then are we to surpass them?” This, too, is not so. If we wish to surpass others, it is necessary to know all their methods before we can change; but after we have changed, we may be able to surpass them. We cannot expect to surpass others merely by sitting upright in a dignified attitude. . . . Moreover, they have concentrated the ability and energy of several million people, have spent millions of dollars, and have gone through prolonged years and generations before they acquired their knowledge. If we want to excel them, is it really possible to do so in one morning or is it not impossible? . . . Mathematics began in China,¹ and yet it has reached its highest development in Western countries. If we compare the ability and wisdom of the Chinese with those of the Westerners, there is no reason to think that we should be unable to surpass them. It all depends on how we exert ourselves.

Alas! There are endless changes in the world, and so there are endless variations in the sages’ way of meeting these changes. To be born in the present age but to hold fast to ancient methods is to be like one who in the age of Shen nong [when people had learned how to cook] still ate raw meat and drank blood. . . . Such a one would say, “I am following the methods of the ancient sages.” But it is hardly possible that he should not become exhausted and fall. Moreover, the laws [or methods] that ought to be changed today can still [in their new form] embody the essence of the laws of the ancient sages. [48a–49a]

Zhang Zhidong (1837–1909) was one of the leading figures in the empire during the last days of the Manchus. A brilliant scholar and official, widely esteemed for his personal integrity and patriotism, he was an early supporter of reform and as a provincial administrator promoted many industrial, railway, educational, and cultural projects. When his Exhortation to Learn (Quanxue pian) was published in 1898, it was hailed by the reformers then in power and given official distribution by the emperor.

Basically Zhang was a moderate who coupled gradual reform with a stout adherence to Neo-Confucianism, defense of monarchical institutions, and loyalty to the dynasty. Avoiding extremes, he backed away from the radical measures of Kang Youwei (see pp. 260–273), on the one hand, and from the reactionary policies that led to the Boxer catastrophe in 1900, on the other. A combination of moderation and shrewdness thus helped him survive politically to play an influential role at court in the first decade of the new century. During this period he was instrumental both in the enactment of educational and civil service reforms (including abolition of the famous eight-legged essay) and in the attempt to revive Confucianism as a state cult.

Zhang’s position is summed up in the catch-phrase “Chinese learning for substance, Western learning for function” (Zhongxue wei ti, xixue wei yong). The terms substance (ti) and function (yong) Zhang drew from the philosophical lexicon of Song metaphysics, in which they stood for the ontological and functional aspects of the same reality. Zhang, following the example of earlier reformers who distinguished between the Chinese “Way” (or Chinese moral “principles”) and Western instruments, used substance in reference to traditional Chinese values and function (i.e., utility, practical application) in reference to the Western methods by which China and its traditional way of life were to be defended in the modern world. In this new formulation substance and function bore no intrinsic relationship to one another as they had philosophically for Zhu Xi, but they were no more incompatible than was Hu Yuan’s combining of classical studies and more specialized, technical studies in his educational curriculum (see chapter 19), of which the Chengs and Zhu approved.

Zhang, who was not naive about the lengths to which Westernization would go (he insisted, for instance, that Western methods of administration were as essential as Western technology) nor wholly mistaken about the difficulties of establishing political democracy in China, may have underestimated the frictions that modernization would create within the new order and the extent to which his liberal reforms would increasingly generate revolutionary pressures. This was especially true among the educated elite, whose common bond was now no longer classical learning but Western-style education. Two years after the death of this venerable statesman in October 1909, the Manchu dynasty itself collapsed.

The crisis of China today has no parallel either in the Spring and Autumn period [i.e., the time of Confucius] or in all the dynasties from the Qin and Han down through the Yuan and Ming. . . . Our imperial court has shown the utmost concern over the problem, living in anxiety and worry. It is ready to make changes and to provide special opportunities for able ministers and generals. New schools are to be established and special examinations are to be held. All over the land men of serious purpose and sincere dedication have responded with enthusiasm and vigor. Those who seek to remedy the present situation talk of new learning; those who fear lest its acceptance should destroy the true Way hold fast to the teachings of the ancients. Both groups are unable to strike the mean. The conservatives resemble those who give up all eating because they have difficulty in swallowing, while the progressives are like a flock of sheep who have arrived at a road of many forks and do not know where to turn. The former do not know how to accommodate to special circumstances; the latter are ignorant of what is fundamental. Not knowing how to accommodate to special circumstances, the conservatives have no way to confront the enemy and deal with the crisis; not knowing the fundamental, the innovators look with contempt upon the teachings of the sages. Thus those who hold fast to the old order of things despise more and more the innovators, and the latter in turn violently detest the conservatives. As the two groups are engaged in mutual recriminations, impostors and adventurers who do not hesitate to resort to falsification and distortion pour out their theories to confuse the people. Consequently students are in doubt as to which course to pursue, while perverse opinions spread all over the country. [202: 1a–b]

I have learned of three things that are necessary for saving China in the present crisis. The first is to maintain the state. The second is to preserve the doctrine of Confucius. And the third is to protect the Chinese race. These three are inseparably related. We must protect the state, the doctrine, and the race with one heart, and this is what we mean by united hearts.

In order to protect the race we must first preserve the doctrine, and before the doctrine can be preserved, we must preserve the state and the race. How is the race to be preserved? If we have knowledge, it will be preserved; and by knowledge we mean the doctrine. How is the doctrine to be maintained? It is to be maintained by strength, and strength lies in armies. Thus, if the empire has no power and prestige, the doctrine will not be followed; and if the empire does not prosper, the Chinese race will not be respected. [202: 2b–3a]

Here Zhang’s understanding of the Three Mainstays (San gang) or Bonds (i.e., strictly hierarchical relations) reflects the increasingly authoritarian view of this concept in late Imperial China, somewhat in contrast to the Han dynasty versions (see chapter 10), which emphasized complementarity more than mere subordination. These formulations had no canonical status in the Five Classics or Four Books but were simply accretions to later Confucian tradition in the imperial age.

The minister is bound to the sovereign, the child is bound to the parent, and the wife is bound to the husband. . . . What makes a sage a sage, what makes China China, is just this set of bonds. Thus, if we recognize the bond of minister to sovereign, the theory of people’s rights cannot stand. If we recognize the bond of child to parent, then the theory that father and son are amenable to the same punishment and that funeral and sacrificial ceremonies should be abolished cannot stand. If we recognize the bond of wife to husband, then the theory of equal rights for men and women cannot stand. [202: 13a–b]

Our sage represented the highest ideal of human relationships. He established in detail and with clarity rules of ritual decorum based on human feelings. Although Westerners have such rules only in abbreviated form, still foreigners have never abandoned the idea of decorum. For the norm of Heaven and the nature of man are about the same in China and in foreign countries. Without these rules of decorum no ruler could ever govern a state, and no teacher could ever establish his doctrine. [202: 14b]

Nowadays scholars who become vexed with the present order of things are angry at the foreigners for cheating and oppressing us, at the generals for being unable to fight, at the ministers for being unwilling to reform, at the educational authorities for not establishing modern schools, and at the various officials for not seeking to promote industry and commerce. They therefore advocate the theory of people’s rights in order to get the people to unite and exert themselves. Alas, where did they find those words that would lead to disorder!

The theory of people’s rights will bring us not a particle of good but a hundred evils. Are we going to establish a parliament? Among Chinese scholar-officials and among the people there are still many today who are obstinate and uneducated. They understand nothing about the general situation of the world, and they are ignorant of the affairs of state. They have never heard of important developments concerning the schools, political systems, military training, and manufacture of machinery. Suppose the confused and tumultuous people are assembled in one house, with one sensible man there out of a hundred who are witless, babbling aimlessly, and talking as if in a dream—what use would it be? Moreover, in foreign countries the matter of revenue is mainly handled by the lower house, while other matters of legislation are taken care of by the upper house. To be a member of parliament the candidate must possess a fairly good income. Nowadays Chinese merchants rarely have much capital, and the Chinese people are lacking in long-range vision. If any important proposal for raising funds comes up for discussion, they will make excuses and keep silent; so their discussion is no different from nondiscussion. . . . This is the first reason why a parliament is of no use. . . .

At present China is indeed not imposing or powerful, but the people still get along well with their daily work, thanks to the dynastic institutions that hold them together. Once the theory of people’s rights is adopted, foolish people will certainly be delighted, rebels will strike, order will not be maintained, and great disturbances will arise on all sides. Even those who advocate the theory of people’s rights will not be able to live safely themselves. Furthermore, as the towns will be plundered and the Christian churches burned, I am afraid the foreigners, under the pretext of protecting [their nationals and interests], will send troops and warships to penetrate deeply and occupy our territories. The whole country will then be given to others without a fight. Thus the theory of people’s rights is just what our enemies would like to hear spread about. [202: 23a–24a]

Recently those who have picked up some Western theories have gone so far as to say that everybody has the right to be his own master. This is even more absurd. This phrase is derived from the foreign books of religion. It means that God bestows upon man his nature and soul and that every person has wisdom and intelligence that enable him to do useful work. When the translators interpret it to mean that every person has the right to be his own master, they indeed make a great mistake.

Western countries, whether they are monarchies, republics, or constitutional monarchies, all have a government, and a government has laws. Officials have administrative laws, soldiers have military laws, workers have labor laws, and merchants have commercial laws. The lawyers learn them; the judges administer them. Neither the ruler nor the people can violate the law. What the executive recommends can be debated by the parliament, but what the parliament decides can be vetoed by the throne. Thus it may be said that nobody is his own master. [202: 24b–25a]

If we wish to make China strong and preserve Chinese learning, we must promote Western learning. But unless we first use Chinese learning to consolidate the foundation and to give our purpose a right direction, the strong will become rebellious leaders and the weak, slaves. The consequence will be worse than not being versed in Western learning. . . .

Scholars today should master the classics in order to understand the purpose of our early sages and teachers in establishing our doctrine. They must study history in order to know the succession of peace and disorder in our history and the customs of the land, read the philosophers and literary collections in order to become familiar with Chinese scholarship and fine writing. After this they can select and utilize the Western learning that can make up for our shortcomings and adopt those Western governmental methods that can cure our illness. In this way, China will derive benefit from Western learning without incurring any danger. [202: 27a–b]

It is the human relationships and moral principles that are immutable, but not legal systems; the Way of the sage, not instruments; the discipline of the Mind-and-heart, not technology.

Laws and institutions are that with which we meet changing situations; they therefore need not all be the same. The Way is that upon which we establish the foundation; it therefore must be uniform. . . . What we call the basis of the Way consists of the Three Bonds and the four Cardinal Virtues.² If these are abandoned, great disorder will occur even before the new laws can be put into effect. But as long as they are preserved, even Confucius and Mencius, if they were to come back to life, could hardly condemn the reforms. [203: 19b, 22a]

If we do not change our habits, we cannot change our methods (fa); and if we cannot change our methods, we cannot change our instruments. . . . In Chinese learning the inquiry into antiquity is not important; what is important is knowledge of practical use. There are also different branches of Western learning; Western technology is not important; what is important is Western administration. [202: iiia]

There are five important factors in the administration of the new schools. First, both the old and the new must be studied. By the old we mean the Four Books, the Five Classics, Chinese history, government, and geography; by the new we mean Western administration, Western technology, and Western history. The old learning is to be the substance; the new learning is to be for application [function]. Neither one should be neglected. Second, both administration and technology should be studied. Education, geography, budgeting, taxes, military preparations, laws and regulations, industry and commerce, belong to the category of Western administration. Mathematics, drawing, mining, medicine, acoustics, optics, chemistry, and electricity belong to the category of Western technology. [203: 9b]

[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]