China's feudalistic separatism and the humanitarian influences of the Confucians were bound to provoke an antithesis. This took the form of brief-lived Legalism, which was a Machiavellian expression of hard-headed, practical, authoritarian politicians. These men were interested in the total application of total power. They were hostile to Confucianism and to philosophers in general; they thought there had been too much talk and not enough action, too much permissiveness and not enough direction.
Legalism was quickly discredited. In the Republic of China today it is regarded as a departure from Chinese tradition. However, many parallels can be drawn between the Legalists and the Communists. Rather obviously, Legalism was not destroyed along with those who brought this version of authoritarianism into being. Similar systems of pragmatic political science have come to the fore in other lands and given rise to absolutisms ranging from the Spartans and Alexander the Great down to those of Hitler, Mussolini, the Japanese militarists, Stalinism and Maoism.
One prototype for the Legalists was Shang Yang (died 330 B.C.), a prime minister of Ch'in and the organizer behind that state's drive to imperial power. The Book of Lord Shang sets forth policies he is supposed to have utilized but is of doubtful authenticity. Han Fei, who died in 233 B.C., has left a more reliable record of the theoretical basis for Legalism. A student of the Confucianist Hsun Tzu, who taught that man was born evil (see Free China Review article in December, 1967), Han Fei was favorably received at the Ch'in court. He had been a schoolmate of Li Ssu, the chief minister to the First Emperor of the Ch'in dynasty, and the Legalist machinations of Li finally were to lead to his death.
Legalism originated in the need for a tighter organization of society and resources to serve the state in opposition to its rivals. Power was to be concentrated in the hands of a single ruler. Political institutions were to assure centralized control. As far back as the seventh century B.C., Kuan Chung sought to make Ch'i the strongest state of his time by increasing the power of the ruler. Unlike the Legalists, however, he clung to old moral values and the feudal order.
As the second century B.C. neared an end, the struggle among the warring states had become intense. Political technicians came forward to glorify the state and the exercise of power for its own sake. Like the authoritarians of our time, they held that humankind had no value aside from that expressed in service to the state. Shang Yang and his kind rejected the virtues of humanity and righteousness that the Confucians had demanded of their rulers. War was favored as a means of strengthening the power of the ruler, of enlarging the state, and of assuring a strong, disciplined and submissive people. Feudalism was to be swept away and replaced by a centralized administration headed by an absolute monarch. The system of laws would define in detail the duties and responsibilities of the people and was to be enforced rigidly and impartially. Those who obeyed and served the state well would be rewarded. Those who challenged the system would be severely punished. Agriculture was regarded as the backbone of the state and the supplier of food and armies. Commerce and intellectual endeavors were to be discouraged. Life was to be frugal and the people were to find their purpose in service to state and ruler.
These ideas of Han Fei were implemented by the rulers of Ch'in. The old order of kindness and the Confucian virtues were rejected. At the same time, the Legalists had learned something from the Mo-ists and Taoists. Mo Tzu had stressed uniform standards and the mobilization of society for utilitarian ends. These teachings the Legalists kept while throwing out Mo Tzu's universal love and condemnation of offensive warfare. Legalists took over Lao Tzu's concept of nonaction as a way of government and applied it to the ruler, who was to become a semi-divine figurehead while the legal machinery of the government carried out the functions of the state. All was to be so well-ordered that the monarch could devote himself to pleasure.
Legalism overwhelmed the Confucianists and their objections. The state of Ch'in marched inexorably forward to the domination of China. These are selections from the Han Fei Tzu:
Chapter 50: On the Dominant Systems of Learning
The dominant systems of learning are Confucianism and Mo-ism. Since the days of Confucius and Mo Tzu, Confucianism has differentiated itself into eight schools and Mo-ism into three. These schools contradict and disagree with one another in their respective emphases, each claiming to be the true representative of Confucianism or Mo-ism. Now that Confucius and Mo Tzu cannot come to life again, who is to decide among the various schools of the later ages?
Confucius and Mo Tzu both upheld Yao and Shun (sage kings). Though they disagreed in their respective emphases, yet each claimed to be the true representative of Yao and Shun. Now that Yao and Shun cannot come to life again, who is to determine the genuineness as between Confucianism and Mo-ism? The Yu and Hsia regimes together lasted upward of two millennia. Since it is impossible to determine the genuineness as between Confucianism and Mo-ism, if anybody should want now to scrutinize the ways of Yao and Shun which prevailed three thousand years ago, I should imagine it would also be impossible for him to achieve any certainty.
To claim certainty without corroborating evidence is stupid; to refer to anything that one cannot be certain of is self-deceptive. Therefore, those who explicitly refer to the ancient kings and dogmatically claim the authority of Yao and Shun must be either stupid or deceitful. Such stupid and deceptive teachings and such heretical and contradictory actions as these are not to be adopted by the intelligent ruler.
When the Mo-ists attend to a funeral, the deceased is simply clothed in winter clothes in winter and summer clothes in summer, the coffin is three inches thick and made of soft wood, and mourning is observed for only three months. Regarding the practice as having the merit of frugality, the ruler of the day treats the Mo-ists with respect. The Confucianists, on the contrary, would go into bankruptcy, and even give their sons in pawn in order to accord the proper funeral (to a parent). They would observe three years' mourning till their health breaks down and they have to walk with the aid of canes. Regarding the practice as having the merit of filial piety, the ruler of the day treats the Confucianists also with respect. But as a matter of fact, if one approves the frugality of Mo Tzu one has to reprove Confucius for extravagance; if one approves the filial piety of Confucius, one has to reprove Mo Tzu for his impiety. Now, piety and impiety, frugality and extravagance, are found in the Confucians and Mo-ists respectively, and yet the sovereign respects them both alike.
While stupid and deceptive teachings and heretical and contradictory talk are in conflict with one another, the ruler listens to them all equally. As a result, the scholars of the land have neither any definite theory to expound nor any constant standard for their conduct. Just as ice and burning charcoal do not remain long in the same container and as winter and summer do not arrive at the same time, so heretical and contradictory teachings cannot be expected to prevail simultaneously and result in orderly government. Now that heretical teachings are equally listened to and contradictory talk is absurdly acted upon, how can there be anything else but chaos? Since such is the way the ruler listens to advice, it will also, of course, be the way he will govern the people.
When the learned men today discuss government policies, every so often they say: "Give land to the poor and the destitute, so that even those without property shall not be in want." Now here is a man just like other men. Yet without the advantage of prosperous years or supplementary income, he has of himself become self-sufficient. This must be due, if not to his diligence, then to his frugality. There again is a man just like other men. Yet without the affliction of any famine, or illness, or calamity, he has of himself become poor and destitute. This must be due, if not to his extravagance, then to his laziness. It is the extravagant and lazy people who have become poor; it is the diligent and frugal people who have become rich. Now the sovereign would tax the rich to give to the poor. This amounts to robbing the diligent and frugal and rewarding the extravagant and lazy. It would be quite impossible then to expect the people to increase their exertion and reduce their expenditures.
Now suppose there is someone who on principle would neither enter any city that is in danger nor join the army, and would not give a hair from his shin even to make a major contribution to the whole world. The ruler of the time will respect him for this, honoring his wisdom, exalting his conduct and regarding him as a scholar who despises things but esteems life. The reason that the sovereign offers good fields and large pools, and establishes ranks and bounties, is to induce the people to be loyal unto death. But as long as the sovereign honors the scholars who despise things and esteem life, it will be impossible to expect the people to sacrifice their lives and be loyal to their sovereign to the death.
Suppose there again is someone who collects books, practices the art of speaking, gathers a band of pupils, wears an appearance of culture and learning, and discusses the principles of all things. The ruler of the time will respect him for this, saying: "To show respect to worthy scholars is the way of the ancient kings." Now those who are taxed by the magistrates are the farmers, while those who are maintained by the sovereign are the learned gentlemen. As long as heavy taxes are collected from the farmers while rich rewards are given to the learned gentlemen, it will be impossible to expect the people to work hard and talk little.
Again, suppose there is someone who holds fast to his principles and his reputation, and conducts himself so that none dares encroach upon his person. Whenever any reproachful word reaches his ear, he will draw his sword. The ruler of the time will respect him for this, regarding him as a self-respecting gentleman. But as long as the merit of beheading the enemy in war is not rewarded, while bravery in family quarrels is celebrated with honors, it will be impossible to expect the people to fight hard against the enemy but refrain from having private feuds.
In time of peace the literati and the cavaliers are patronized; in time of war uniformed warriors are employed. Thus neither are the ones patronized the ones used, nor are the ones used the ones patronized. This is the reason why there is disorder.
Furthermore, in listening to a learned man, if the ruler approves his words, he should officially adopt them in his administration and appoint the man to office; and if he disapproves his words, he should get rid of the person and put an end to his heretical doctrine. Actually, however, what is regarded as right is not stamped out as heretical doctrine. Thus what is right is not employed and what is wrong is not eliminated - this is the way to chaos and ruin.
When the sage rules the state, he does not count on people doing good of themselves, but employs such measures as will keep them from doing any evil. If he counts on people doing good of themselves, there will not be enough such people to be numbered by the tens in the whole country. But if he employs such measures as will keep them from doing evil, then the entire state can be brought up to a uniform standard. Inasmuch as the administrator has to consider the many but disregard the few, he does not busy himself with morals but with laws.
Evidently, if one should have to count on arrows which are straight of themselves, there would not be any arrows in a hundred generations; if one should only count on pieces of wood which are circular of themselves, there would not be any wheels in a thousand generations. Though in a hundred generations there is neither an arrow that is straight of itself nor a wheel that is circular of itself, yet people in every generation ride carts and shoot birds. Why is that? It is because the tools for straightening and bending are used. Though without the use of such tools there might happen to be an arrow straight of itself or a wheel circular of itself, the skilled carpenter will not prize it. Why? Because it is not just one person who wishes to ride, or just one shot that the archers wish to shoot. Similarly, though without the use of rewards and punishments there might happen to be an individual good of himself, the intelligent ruler will not prize him. The reason is that the law of the state must not be sidetracked and government is not for one man. Therefore, the capable prince will not be swayed by occasional virtue, but will pursue a courage that will assure certainty.
Now when witches and priests pray for people, they say: "May you live as long as one thousand and ten thousand years!" Even as the sounds "one thousand and ten thousand years" are dinning upon one's ears, there is no sign that even a single day has been added to the age of any man. That is the reason why people despise witches and priests. Likewise, when the Confucianists of the present day counsel the rulers they do not discuss the way to bring about order now, but exalt the achievement of good order in the past. They neither study affairs pertaining to law and government nor observe the realities of vice and wickedness, but all exalt the reputed glories of remote antiquity and the achievements of the ancient kings. Sugarcoating their speech, the Confucianists say: "If you listen to our words, you will be able to become the leader of all feudal lords." Such people are but witches and priests among the itinerant counselors, and are not to be accepted by rulers with principles. Therefore, the intelligent ruler upholds solid facts and discards useless frills. He does not speak about deeds of humanity and righteousness, and he does not listen to the words of learned men.
Those who are ignorant about government insistently say: "Win the hearts of the people." If order could be procured by winning the hearts of the people, then even the wise ministers Yi Yin and Kuan Chung would be of no use. For all that the ruler would need to do would be just to listen to the people. Actually, the intelligence of the people is not to be relied upon any more than the mind of a baby. If the baby does not have his head shaved, his sores will recur; if he does not have his boil cut open, his illness will go from bad to worse. However, in order to shave his head or open the boil someone has to hold the baby while the affectionate mother is performing the work, and yet he keeps crying and yelling incessantly. The baby does not understand that suffering a small pain is the way to obtain a great benefit.
Now the sovereign urges the tillage of land and the cultivation of pastures for the purpose of increasing production for the people, but they think the sovereign is cruel. The sovereign regulates penalties and increases punishments for the purpose of repressing the wicked, but the people think the sovereign is severe. Again, he levies taxes in cash and in grain to fill up the granaries and treasuries in order to relieve famine and provide for the army, but they think the sovereign is greedy. Finally, he insists upon universal military training without personal favoritism, and urges his forces to fight hard in order to take the enemy captive, but the people think the sovereign is violent. These four measures are methods for attaining order and maintaining peace, but the people are too ignorant to appreciate them.
The reason for the ruler to look for wise and well-informed men is that the intelligence of the people is not so much to be respected or relied upon. For instance, in ancient times, when Yu opened the rivers and deepened them, the people gathered tiles and stones (to hit him); when the prime minister of Cheng, Tzu Ch'an, cleared the fields and planted mulberry trees, the people of Cheng slandered and reviled him. Yu benefited the whole empire and Tzu Ch'an preserved the state of Cheng, but each incurred slander thereby. Clearly the intelligence of the people is not to be relied upon. Therefore, to seek for the worthy and the wise in selecting officials and to endeavor to suit the people in administering the government are equally the cause of chaos and not the means of attaining order.
Chapter 49: The Five Vermin of the State
In the age of remote antiquity human beings were few while birds and beasts were many, and men were unable to overcome birds, beasts, insects and serpents. Thereupon a sage arose who fastened trees and branches together and made nests, and all harm was thereby avoided. At this people were delighted and they made him ruler of the whole world, according to him the title "Nest-Builder". Again, the people in those days lived on the fruits of trees and seeds of grass as well as on mussels and clams which smelled rank and fetid and hurt the digestive organs, and many of the people were afflicted with diseases. Thereupon a sage arose who drilled a piece of wood and produced fire (for cooking), and the fetid and musty smell was thereby transformed. At this the people were delighted and they made him ruler of the whole world, according to him the title "Fire-Maker".
Now, if somebody tried to fasten the trees or drill a piece of wood in this present age, he would certainly be ridiculed by contemporary sages. Hence the sage does not seek to follow the ways of the ancients, nor does he regard precedents as the rule. He examines the circumstances of his own time and plans his course of action accordingly.
There was once a man of Sung who tilled his field. In the midst of his field stood the stump of a tree, and one day a hare, running at full speed, bumped into the stump, broke its neck, and died. Thereupon the man left his plow and kept watch at the stump, hoping that he would get another hare. But he never caught another hare and was only ridiculed by the people of Sung. Now those who try to rule the people of the present age with the conduct of government of the early kings are all doing exactly the same thing as that fellow who kept watch by the stump.
When Yao held the empire, his reed thatch was left untrimmed and his roof-beams were not planed. The unhusked kernels of cereals were his food and wild greens made his soup. In winter he wore deerskins, and in summer a garment of rough fiber-cloth. Even the food and clothing of a gate-keeper were no worse than his. While Yu held the empire, he worked with the plow and the spade personally so as to set an example to his people, till his thighs were without fat and his shins without hair. Even the toil of the servant and slave was not more arduous than his. Such being the case, the ancient emperors who abdicated their thrones were, as a matter of fact, relinquishing but the lot of the gate-keeper and parting but with the toil of the slave. Therefore, even though they gave up their empire, there was nothing especially praiseworthy. Nowadays, on the contrary, after even a mere district magistrate dies, his descendants can maintain private carriages for many generations. Hence people value such an office. Thus in the matter of giving up something, people found it easy to abdicate the throne in ancient times, yet find it hard to relinquish the post of a present-day district magistrate. This is because the advantages in each case are so different.
Now people who dwell in the mountains and have to draw water from the gorges give water to each others as a gift at festivals; those who live in swamps and are troubled with too much water hire laborers to open channels for it. Likewise, in the spring following a year of famine one is unable to feed one's younger brother, while in the autumn of a year of plenty even casual visitors are offered food. Not that men neglect their blood relations and love passers-by, but that the material provisions on the respective occasions are so different. Hence the ancient indifference to goods was not due to humanity but to the abundance of goods. Nor are the present-day struggles for possession due to niggardliness but to the scarcity of goods. Men used to decline the position of the emperor lightly, and this was not because of any inner nobility but because the power of the emperor was limited. Men now strive fiercely for portfolios in government, and this is not because of any natural meanness but because the authority of the posts is great. Therefore the sage considers the condition of the times, whether it is one of plenty or scarcity, abundance or meagerness, and governs the people accordingly. Thus though penalties are light, it is not due to charity; though punishment is heavy, it is not due to cruelty. Whatever is done is done in accordance with the circumstances of the age. Therefore circumstances go according to their time, and the course of action is planned in accordance with the circumstances.
Indeed, ancients and moderns have different customs; the present and the past follow different courses of action. To attempt to apply a benevolent and lenient government to the people of a desperate age is about the same as trying to drive wild horses without reins or whips. This is the affliction of ignorance.
Nowadays, the Confucianists and the Mo-ists all praise the ancient kings for their universal love for the whole world, which made them regard the people as parents regard their children. How do we know this was so? Because they say: "When the minister of justice employed punishment, the ruler would stop having music; at the news of any capital punishment, he would shed tears." In this way they commend the ancient kings. But if you maintain that good government will always prevail whenever the ruler and the ruled act toward each other like father and son, you imply that there are never any wayward fathers or sons. According to the nature of man, none could be more affectionate than one's own parents. And yet in spite of the love of both parents, not all children are well brought up. Though the ruler be warm in his affection for his people, how is that necessarily any assurance that there would be no disorder? Now the love of the ancient kings for their people could not have surpassed that of the parents for their children. Since we could not be certain that the children would not be rebellious, how could we assume that the people would definitely be orderly? Moreover, if the ruler should shed tears when a penalty was inflicted in accordance with the law, he might thereby parade his humanity, but not thus conduct his government. Now tearful revulsion against penalties comes from humanity, but necessity of penalties issues from law. Since even the early kings had to permit the law to prevail and repress their tears, it is clear enough that humanity could not be depended upon for good government.
Now take a young fellow who is a bad character. His parents may angry at him, but he never makes any change. The villagers may reprove him, but he is not moved. His teachers and elders may admonish him, but he never reforms. The love of his parents, the efforts of the villagers and the wisdom of his teachers and elders – all the three excellent disciplines are applied to him, and yet not even a hair on his shins is altered. It is only after the district magistrate sends out his soldiers and in the name of the law searches for wicked individuals that the young man becomes afraid and changes his ways and alters his deeds. So while the love of parents is not sufficient to discipline the children, the severe penalties of the district magistrate are. This is because men become naturally spoiled by love, but are submissive to authority.
That being so, rewards should be rich and certain so that the people will be attracted by them; punishments should be severe and definite so that the people will fear them; and laws should be uniform and steadfast so that the people will be familiar with them. Consequently, the sovereign should show no wavering in bestowing rewards and grant no pardon in administering punishments, and he should add honor to rewards and disgrace to punishments - when this is done, then both the worthy and the unworthy will want to exert themselves.
The literati by means of letters upset laws; the cavaliers by means of their prowess transgress prohibitions. Yet the ruler treats them both with decorum. This is actually the cause of all the disorder. Every departure from law ought to be apprehended, and yet scholars are nevertheless taken into office on account of their literary learning. Again, the transgression of every prohibition ought to be censured, and yet cavaliers are patronized because of their readiness to draw the sword. Thus those whom the law reproves turn out to be those whom the ruler employs, and those whom the magistrates suppress are those whom the sovereign patronizes. Thus ruler and ministers are sharply opposed to each other and all fixed standards are lost. Then, even if there were ten Yellow Emperors, they would not be able to establish any order. Therefore, those who practice humanity and righteousness should not be upheld, for if upheld, they would hinder concrete accomplishments. Again, those who specialize in refinement and learning should not be employed, for if employed, they would disturb the laws. There was in Ch'u an upright man named Kung, who, when his father stole a sheep, reported it to the authorities. The magistrate said, "Put him to death," as he thought the man was faithful to the ruler but disloyal to his father. So the man was apprehended and convicted. From this we can see that the faithful subject of the ruler was an outrageous son to his father. Again, there was a man of Lu who followed his ruler to war, fought three battles and ran away three times. Confucius interrogated him. The man replied: "I have an old father. Should I die, nobody would take care of him." Confucius regarded him as virtuous in filial piety, commended and exalted him. From this we can see that the dutiful son of the father was a rebellious subject to the ruler. Naturally, following the censure of the honest man by the magistrate, no more culprits in Ch'u were reported to the authorities; and following the reward of the runaway by Confucius, the people of Lu were prone to surrender and run away. The interests of superior and subordinate being so different, it would be hopeless for any ruler to try to exalt the deeds of private individuals and, at the same time, to promote the public welfare of the state.
In olden times when Ts'ang-chieh invented the system of writing, he called self-centeredness "private" and what was in opposition to "private" he called "public". That "public" and "private" were in opposition to each other was from the beginning well understood by Ts'ang-chieh. It is an affliction due to ignorance that nowadays the interests of the two are regarded as identical.
Moreover, what the world regards as virtue consists of devoted and faithful deeds; what it regards as wisdom consists of subtle and mysterious words. Such subtle and mysterious words are hard even for the wisest of men to understand. If laws are set up for the masses in such terms as to be hard for the wisest to understand, then the people will have no way of comprehending them. Just as men who have not even chaff and bran to fill their stomachs would not aim at wine and meat, and just as those who have not even rags to cover their bodies would not insist upon silk and embroidery, so, in the conduct of the government, if the ruler is unable to handle affairs that are most urgent, he would not strive after matters of only distant concern. Now the business of government consists of the affairs of the people. If in dealing with them the ruler should leave alone the ideas that ordinary men and women plainly understand and adopt the theories of the wisest of men, he would be accomplishing just the opposite of proper government. Assuredly, subtle and mysterious theories are no business of the common people.
Men who hold deeds of devotion and faithfulness to be virtuous will of course honor gentlemen who are not deceitful, but those who do so are themselves also devoid of any means of detecting deception. When the ordinary people, clad in plain cloth, make friends among themselves, they seek out men who are not deceitful, as they have neither the wealth to benefit one another, nor the authority to intimidate one another. Now the sovereign occupies a position of authority over his subjects and possesses the wealth of a state. If only he will make rewards great and punishments severe, intensifying thereby the searching light of his statecraft, then even ministers like Tien Ch'ang and Tzu-han, wicked as they may be, will not dare to deceive him. What need does he have of men who are not deceitful? Today one cannot count even ten men of devotion and faithfulness, yet official posts in the country are counted by the hundreds. If only men of devotion and faithfulness were appointed to office, there would be an insufficiency of candidates, and in that case guardians of order would be few, while disturbers of peace would be many. Therefore the way of the enlightened sovereign consists in making laws uniform and not depending upon the wisdom of men, in making statecraft firm and not yearning after faithful persons, so that the laws do not fail to function and the multitude of officials will commit neither villainy nor deception.
Now the people in the state all talk about proper government. Practically every family keeps copies of the Laws of Shang Yang and Kuan Chung, and yet the state is becoming poorer and poorer. This is because many talk about farming but few follow the plow. Again, people in the state all talk about warfare. Practically every family keeps copies of the books of Sun Wu and Su Ch'i on the art of war, and yet the army is becoming weaker and weaker. This is because many talk about warfare but few put on armor.
The enlightened sovereign therefore employs a man's energies but does not heed his words, rewards men with meritorious services but without fail bans the useless. Accordingly, the people exert themselves to the utmost in obeying their superiors. Farming is hard toil indeed. Yet people attend to it because they think this is the way to riches. Similarly, warfare is a risky business. Yet people carry it on because they think this is the road to honor. Now if one could just cultivate refinement and learning and practice persuasion and speech, and thereby attain the fruits of wealth without the toil of farming and receive ranks of honor without the risk of warfare, then who would not do the same? Naturally, a hundred men will be attending to learning where one will apply his physical energies. When many attend to learning, the law will come to naught; when few apply their physical energies, the state will fall into poverty. That is the reason why the world is in chaos.
In the state ruled by an enlightened sovereign, one would find no recorded literature and the law would supply the only instruction; one would find no injunctions from the early kings and the magistrates would serve as the only instructors; one would find no approval of bravery in achieving private vengeance and killing of the enemy would be regarded as the only courageous deed. As a result, the people in the state would all conform to the law in their discourse, would aim at meritorious achievement in their actions, and would offer their services to the army out of bravery. Therefore, in time of peace the state would be rich; in time of war the army would be strong. These might be called the "kingly resources". When the "kingly resources" were stored up, the sovereign could avail himself of any situation that might arise in the state of the enemy.
This then is the customary experience of a disorderly state: the learned men will exalt the ways of the early kings and make a show of humanity and righteousness. They will adorn their manners and clothes and embroider their arguments and speeches so as to scatter doubts on the law of the age and beguile the mind of the sovereign. The itinerant speakers will advocate deceptive theories and utilize foreign influence to accomplish their selfish purposes, being unmindful of the benefit of the state. The free-lance fighters will gather pupils and followers and set up standards of fidelity and discipline, hoping thereby to spread their reputation but violating the prohibitions of the Five Ministries in the process. The courtiers will congregate in the powerful houses, use all kinds of bribes and exploit their contacts with influential men in order to escape the burden of military service. The tradesmen and craftsmen will produce inferior wares and collect cheap articles, and wait for good opportunities to exploit the farmers. These five types of men are the vermin of the state. Should the ruler fail to eliminate such people as the five vermin and should he not uphold men of firm integrity and strong character, then he can hardly be surprised if within the seas there should be states that decline and fall, and dynasties that wane and perish.
Han Fei died before Ch'in become China. It remained for Li Ssu to give Legalism practical expression in the brief duration of the Ch'in dynasty (221- 207 B.C.). Li was one of the tough-minded leaders who helped King Ch'eng of Ch'in assume the title of First Exalted Emperor in a land that had been united by conquest. As prime minister, Li Ssu persuaded the First Emperor to carry out sweeping changes that completely altered the structure of life and society. Feudal ranks and privileges were abolished and private armies disbanded. China was brought under the direct control of the court through an administrative system of prefectures and counties. Weights, measures and writing were standardized. Feudal barriers were broken down and roads improved. Wars were undertaken against neighboring peoples and China's borders pushed outward. Large numbers of people were forcibly resettled for purposes of defense and gangs of laborers put to work on the Great Wall. Farmers were taxed ever more heavily to pay for all of this.
Uprooted, oppressed peoples plotted against Ch'in in hope of restoring the feudal order. Prime Minister Li Ssu ruthlessly put down opposition. Histories, philosophies and other writings that might reflect unfavorably on the new regime were burned. Critics of the government were put to death. The Legalists presumed that severe and certain punishments would rule out any thought of disobedience or revolt.
The First Emperor's intelligence and energy held his new order together. However, he ruled largely from behind the scenes, placing enormous power in the hands of the few ministers and eunuchs who were allowed to see him. At his death, the Legalists' weakness was exposed. A state built on power alone corrupts those who wield it. In the struggle for control that ensued, Li Ssu and a powerful eunuch, Chao Kao, concealed the death of the emperor and forged orders in his name. They were able to destroy their rivals and seize the government. The Second Emperor became their helpless puppet. But Chao Kao turned on Li Ssu and used Legalist methods to destroy him and his family. When revolts broke out throughout the country, the information was concealed from the court by local officials who feared for their own lives as the bearers of bad news. The government was paralyzed by its own autocracy. The Second Emperor was forced to take his own life, Chao Kao was murdered and the last ruler of Ch'in meekly submitted to the leader of a popular revolt.
Although Ch'in lasted less than 15 years, it had influenced China for all time to come. The unifying measures of Ch'in remained and gradually provided China with a sense of national identity. The old aristocracies were gone and new leaders and families rose to power. However, while succeeding emperors and rulers would use Legalist methods, the Legalist philosophy was never rehabilitated. To this day it has remained as a symbol of what happens to rulers who exploit the people and substitute forces and tyranny for humanity and justice as the guiding principles of government.
One selection from the Memorials of Li Ssu will serve to illustrate the ruthlessness of the Legalists. This one is on the Burning of Books:
In earlier times the empire disintegrated and fell into disorder, and no one was capable of unifying it. Thereupon the various feudal lords rose to power. In their discourses they all praised the past in order to disparage the present and embellished empty words to confuse the truth. Everyone cherished his own favorite school of learning and criticized what had been instituted by the authorities. But at present Your Majesty possesses a unified empire, has regulated the distinctions of black and white, and has firmly established for yourself a position of sole supremacy. And yet these independent schools, joining with each other, criticize the codes of laws and instructions. Hearing of the promulgation of a decree, they criticize it, each from the standpoint of his own school. At home they disapprove of it in their hearts; going out they criticize it in the thoroughfare. They seek a reputation by discrediting their sovereign; they appear superior by expressing contrary views, and they lead the lowly multitude in the spreading of slander. If such license is not prohibited, the sovereign power will decline above and partisan factions will form below. It would be well to prohibit this.
Your servant suggests that all books in the imperial archives, save the memoirs of Ch'in, be burned. All persons in the empire, except members of the Academy of Learned Scholars, in possession of the Book of Odes, the Book of History and discourses of the hundred philosophers should take them to the local governors and have them indiscriminately burned. Those who dare to talk to each other about the Book of Odes and the Book of History should be executed and their bodies exposed in the market place. Anyone referring to the past to criticize the present should, together with all members of his family, be put to death. Officials who fail to report cases that have come under their attention are equally guilty. After thirty days from the time of issuing the decree, those who have not destroyed their books are to be branded and sent to build the Great Wall. Books not to be destroyed will be those on medicine and pharmacy, divination by the tortoise and milfoil, and agriculture and arboriculture. People wishing to pursue learning should take the officials as their teachers.
The books were destroyed. So were the Ch'in dynasty and the Legalists.