《韓非子》Vol. 20

Han Feizi delivers a scathing critique of the blind veneration of "filial piety, fraternal duty, loyalty, and obedience" in his chapter "Loyalty and Filial Piety." He observes that while everyone in the world considers the principles of serving one's parents dutifully and remaining loyal to one's ruler as correct, they fail to examine the actual consequences of these principles. It is precisely because people mindlessly emulate the ways of Yao and Shun that regicide, rebellion, and distorted father-son relationships have become rampant.

The text cites historical examples: Yao, as a ruler, abdicated his throne to his minister Shun, while Shun, as a subject, supplanted his sovereign Yao. Likewise, Tang of Shang and Wu of Zhou, as subjects, murdered their rulers and even desecrated their corpses, yet were praised by the world. Han Feizi argues that such actions undermine the proper hierarchy between ruler and subject, and are the root cause of the persistent disorder in the world.

In Han Feizi's view, a truly enlightened ruler should be able to control his ministers, while virtuous ministers should strictly adhere to laws and fulfill their duties in assisting the ruler. The abdication of Yao and Shun, as well as the revolutions of Tang and Wu, in fact disrupt this proper ruler-subject relationship. He particularly emphasizes the "three bonds" — the subject serving the ruler, the son serving the father, and the wife serving the husband — asserting that when these relationships are maintained, the world is orderly; when they are violated, chaos ensues.

Finally, Han Feizi uses Confucius's deferential attitude when meeting Gusou (Shun's father) as an example to argue that even Confucius did not truly understand the proper way of filial piety, fraternal duty, loyalty, and obedience. He contends that promoting so-called "virtuous men" leads to individuals who are neither content to remain subjects nor sons, ultimately undermining social order. Han Feizi advocates "valuing laws over worthies," stressing the importance of rule by law and opposing the blind admiration of so-called rule by virtuous men.

Han Feizi's passage addresses a pointed dilemma: virtuous ministers and filial sons who fail in their duties to rulers and fathers may actually bring harm.

He first observes that fathers desire good sons hoping poverty may turn to wealth and hardship to comfort; rulers seek worthy ministers hoping chaos may be ordered and lowly status elevated. Yet if a capable son doesn't assist his father, the father suffers more at home; if a virtuous minister doesn't support his ruler, the ruler's position becomes more precarious. Such "virtue" only brings harm.

He then critiques historically celebrated sages: Shun seized his ruler's state through virtue, while Tang of Shang and Wu of Zhou exiled or killed their sovereigns in the name of righteousness. These so-called worthies actually endangered rulers yet were praised universally. Ancient martyrs (referring to unconventional sages) neither submitted to rulers at court nor attended to family at home—rejecting both sovereign and kin—thus fostering chaotic times and severed lineages.

Han Feizi particularly condemns Shun: banishing his blind father Gusou and killing his brother Xiang cannot be called benevolence; marrying Yao's two daughters to gain the realm cannot be called righteousness. If, as the Book of Songs states, "All under heaven belongs to the king, all people are his subjects," then Shun was simultaneously a ruler's minister abroad yet his father's sovereign at home, while wedding the ruler's daughters—utterly violating ethics.

He concludes: these martyrs' domestic neglect severs lineages; their feigned service to rulers leaves bones rotting in wilderness, yet they inspire universal emulation—leading all to ruin. Their doctrines of bland non-action (Wuwei) and ambiguous rhetoric Han Feizi deems useless. Living men must serve rulers and support parents, not pursue empty tranquility; they must uphold loyalty, trust, and legal measures, not indulge in nebulous discourse.

This passage expounds profound principles regarding the path of loyalty and filial piety. A filial son serves his father not to contend for family property, just as a loyal minister serves his ruler not to seize the state. If a son constantly praises how diligent and capable other parents are, he's actually disparaging his own parents in subtle ways. When ministers ceaselessly extol the benevolence of ancient rulers, they're implicitly criticizing their current sovereign.

Those who criticize their parents are deemed unfilial, yet those who criticize rulers are paradoxically praised by society as virtuous—this lies at the root of social disorder. Therefore, truly loyal ministers shouldn't persistently speak of Yao and Shun's wisdom, shouldn't glorify the achievements of Tang of Shang or Wu of Zhou, nor should they idly discuss martyrs' nobility. What they should do is maintain their proper roles and devote themselves to serving their ruler.

In ancient times, the common people were simple and guileless, easily motivated by empty fame. But modern people are clever and shrewd, always wanting to act independently and disobey superiors. For such people, rewards must be used to encourage their progress, and punishments to prevent their retreat.

Some argue that figures like Xu You—who declined rulership—couldn't be motivated by any reward, or that notorious bandits like Zhi wouldn't be deterred by any punishment. But governance shouldn't take such extreme cases as standards. A state must be governed by ordinary principles—overemphasizing exceptional cases would harm proper administration.

The highest type of person needs no rewards for motivation, while the lowest type fears no punishments. Yet abolishing the reward-punishment system based on these extremes would mean abandoning fundamental governing principles. Nowadays many ministers disregard state laws while obsessing over diplomatic strategies of horizontal and vertical alliances. Such empty talk can never achieve true kingly accomplishments. True monarchs focus on their own governing Dao (the Way)—thus the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors achieved merit without relying on flashy diplomatic maneuvers.

Han Feizi in this passage elucidates the dangers of a ruler's authority being usurped by ministers and courtiers. He employs an analogy: just as a horse relies on its sinews and bones to bear weight and pull carts, a ruler governs the realm through his commanding presence (wei shi). If ministers seize this presence and courtiers monopolize power, the ruler loses his governing strength—like a tiger stripped of its claws and fangs.

The text cites two historical warnings: the ruler of Song losing power to Zihan, and Duke Jian of Qi being sidelined by Tian Chang—both perished because they failed to reclaim authority in time. Many rulers today, though aware of these lessons, remain blind to the identical threats they face.

Han Feizi observes that true masters of statecraft (fa shu zhi shi) are often marginalized by entrenched ministers. Were rulers to employ such experts, powerful officials could no longer act arbitrarily, and courtiers would dare not flaunt their influence. Yet the opposite prevails: factions of self-serving ministers exclude the worthy, leaving genuine talent neglected.

He concludes by stressing that enlightened rulers must reward merit and appoint based on capability. Only by elevating the truly competent can a state be well-governed. Beneath its surface, this passage warns rulers to vigilantly safeguard their authority, curb ministerial overreach, and discern and employ capable individuals.

This passage from Han Feizi primarily discusses how rulers should select talent and govern the state. In modern terms:

At court, if those who have achieved merit receive generous rewards and the capable hold important positions, then those who rely on personal connections to coast along won’t be able to climb the ranks through cunning schemes. This way, genuine talent can be gathered while those who gain favor through backdoor dealings are driven out.

A common mistake rulers make today is this: their close confidants aren’t necessarily wise, yet when the ruler listens to them, it’s like discussing wisdom with fools. Those in power aren’t necessarily virtuous, yet when the ruler consults their opinions, it’s like debating virtue with mediocrities. The result is that the wise end up taking orders from fools, and the virtuous are judged by the mediocre—when will true talent ever be put to proper use? This is how rulers become deluded.

History offers tragic examples: Guan Longfeng was executed for remonstrating with the tyrant Jie of Xia; Bi Gan had his heart cut out for advising King Zhou of Shang; Wu Zixu was killed for loyally admonishing King Fuchai of Wu. These loyal ministers didn’t err in their counsel—the tragedy lay in the rulers’ inability to distinguish wisdom from folly. If today’s rulers refuse to employ those truly skilled in statecraft but instead heed mediocre officials, what wise person would dare risk death to offer advice? This is the root of great disorder in the world.

Regarding the enforcement of laws: Legal statutes must be clear and fixed, not arbitrarily altered. When justice is impartially applied, officials find it hard to commit wrongdoing. Once laws are established, don’t let smooth talk undermine them. Appoint based on merit, and the people will engage less in empty talk; appoint based on reputation, and the people will chase hollow fame.

A ruler who can verify details within a five-li radius in legal cases may be called a true king. A state that investigates cases within nine li will grow strong. Delayed justice weakens the nation. Govern through penalties, motivate warfare through rewards, and grant generous stipends so officials employ sound methods. Inspect urban misconduct, and cities will harbor fewer evildoers. If luxury goods flood the markets, farmers grow lax, and unscrupulous merchants thrive, the state is sure to decline. When the people have surplus grain, let them exchange it for titles—but only through real contributions. This is how a nation remains strong and enduring.

This passage primarily discusses the principles and methods of governing a state.

It begins with the metaphor of a pipe: a three-inch-wide pipe without a bottom can never be filled. Similarly, if a state grants official titles and ranks without considering merit, it is like a bottomless pipe. The state should confer positions based on actual achievements, as this will inspire the wise and the brave, making the country strong and invincible.

The text emphasizes selecting officials based on tangible accomplishments, which reduces empty talk and strengthens the nation's power. Governing through practical results ensures military victories when deploying troops, whereas indulging in rhetoric leads to national decline. The state should adhere to a single, unified standard for selection (benefits flowing from one source), making it unrivaled under heaven.

Regarding punishments and rewards, it advocates severe penalties and modest rewards. Strict punishments ensure the people abide by the law and reduce crime. Lax penalties, on the contrary, breed more offenses. Excessive rewards create chaos, while measured incentives properly motivate the populace.

Finally, it states that a sage ruler governs by grasping the root principles, not indulging the people's selfish desires, and acting for their benefit. Punishments are not borne from hatred but are fundamental to caring for the people. Clear and firm penalties bring stability, whereas excessive rewards foster deceit. A wise ruler must establish clear rewards to encourage merit and enforce strict punishments to ensure the people obey the law.

The essence of governing the people lies in preventing wickedness before it sprouts; the key to military strategy is subduing the enemy's will before battle. When sages govern, they achieve order by grasping the root; in warfare, victory comes by conquering hearts. To rule a state, one must prioritize crucial matters, unify the people's will, uphold public righteousness while suppressing selfish desires, reward reporting to eliminate wickedness, clarify laws while avoiding excessive complexity. A state that achieves these four will prosper; one that fails will decline.

The foundation of a strong state lies in clear governance, and the basis of a ruler's dignity rests on stable authority. Though both enlightened and foolish rulers hold power and issue decrees, their outcomes differ entirely—the distinction lies in how they are applied. An enlightened ruler wields authority to solidify the sovereign's prestige and unifies governance to stabilize the nation. Law is the root of ruling the realm, while punishment, paradoxically, embodies love for the people. Human nature tends toward comfort and avoids hardship, yet comfort leads to negligence, negligence to mismanagement, and mismanagement to chaos. If rewards and punishments are not enforced nationwide, governance will inevitably falter.

Those who seek great achievements without effort will never accomplish anything significant; states that attempt legal reform but struggle to change old customs will find their people's unrest impossible to govern. There is no fixed model for ruling the people—only principles that fit. Laws must evolve with the times to be effective; policies must align with the era to achieve merit. In times of simple customs, moral education suffices for governance; in eras of cunning deceit, punishments are necessary to restrain. If governance methods remain unchanged while the times shift, chaos ensues; if prohibitions stay rigid while managing the masses, the state weakens.

The sage's way of governance lies in adjusting laws with the times and adapting prohibitions to capabilities. Those who fully exploit the land's potential enrich the state; those who mobilize the people's strength against enemies strengthen the nation. If the path to strength remains unblocked, one may rule the world. The way of kingship requires keen discernment to obstruct wickedness. True kingship does not rely on external stability but ensures internal impossibility of chaos. States dependent on external peace for survival will decline; those thriving through internal stability and legal enforcement will prosper.

Wise rulers govern by emphasizing techniques to prevent chaos: valuing the system of ranks solidifies the ruler's authority. Rewarding merit and employing the worthy leave no opening for wickedness. In states that honor military might, ranks are esteemed; esteemed ranks bring the ruler dignity, and dignity ensures kingship. States neglecting strength in favor of private connections and empty learning debase ranks; debased ranks diminish the ruler, leading inevitably to decline. Thus, the fundamental way to establish a state and employ the people lies in sealing external influences, blocking private channels, and relying on one's own strength—only then can the kingly enterprise be achieved.

The text discusses how the foundation of governing a state lies in clearly defining the boundaries between punishment and reward, and how to use laws to regulate the people's conduct.

For a state to be strong and a ruler to command authority, there is no path that does not rely on strict legal standards. The smooth implementation of laws across the land—where orders are obeyed and prohibitions observed—depends on the ruler's control over the distribution of ranks and emoluments, as well as the establishment of rigorous legal systems. When governance is orderly, the people are at peace; when administration is chaotic, the state is endangered. Only severe laws can align with human nature, while lax prohibitions lose their effectiveness.

By nature, people are willing to exert their utmost efforts in pursuit of profit, while they detest punishment. A ruler who controls rewards and penalties to harness the people's strength should, in theory, face no failures. Yet in reality, prohibitions often fail, and governance descends into disorder—usually because the balance between punishment and reward is mishandled. If the ruler governs the people without adhering to the law, it is as if no law exists at all. Thus, the most crucial task in statecraft is to clearly distinguish the criteria for rewards and punishments.

All rulers enact laws, yet some states flourish while others perish—the difference lies in whether they can clearly demarcate punishment and reward. A truly enlightened ruler masters this "boundary" with precision, so the people revere the law and dare not violate prohibitions, even obeying voluntarily without the need for punishment. The most ideal state of governance prioritizes the prevention of wrongdoing, ensuring that laws resonate with human sentiment and align with administrative needs.

To eradicate covert wrongdoing, the key is to make people supervise one another. The specific method is to implement the "collective responsibility system" (where neighbors share liability for crimes), compelling people, out of fear of implication, not to conceal wrongdoing but to actively expose it. Informants are exempt from punishment and rewarded, while those who conceal crimes face severe penalties. Thus, wrongdoing finds no refuge—even the slightest offenses are reported. This is the effect of the collective responsibility system.

The highest art of governance relies on systems, not individuals. Therefore, a state skilled in statecraft does not depend on the reputation of virtuous men, yet peace prevails within its borders; whereas a declining state, despite deploying patrols and armies, cannot suppress disorder.

This passage discusses the distinction between rule by law and rule by men. It points out that governance based on personal will (rule by men) leads to chaos, whereas reliance on legal statutes (rule by law) maintains order.

Imprisoning criminals in cages (confinement) represents artificial control, while legal sanctions (punishing offenders) follow established procedures. A state that truly understands the Dao of governance should minimize empty rhetoric and strictly enforce its laws. Those achievements that appear compliant with regulations yet are difficult to verify (irregular merits), as well as faults hidden in speech that are hard to detect (unjust punishments), both result in disorder in rewards and penalties.

The text specifically highlights two dangers: one is the difficulty in identifying false achievements (fraudulent merits), and the other is the challenge of uncovering the root causes of faults (hidden errors). If judgments are made solely based on superficial appearances, it leads to dual errors. The consequence is that opportunists (hollow scholars) within the state seek fame through deception, while empty talkers boast and exaggerate abroad, rendering the law ineffective.

The key point is this: once laws are established, they must not be arbitrarily interpreted through personal cleverness (relying on wisdom). If those who enforce the law do not adhere to it, governance cannot proceed properly, the law loses its authority, and punishments become chaotic. Ultimately, this leads to deviations in state administration, where rewards and penalties lack clear standards (confusion in punishments and rewards).

Han Feizi emphasizes that this is not a flaw in the law itself, but rather the disastrous consequence of abandoning legal standards and abusing personal judgment.