《韓非子》Vol. 8

These two passages from the eighth volume of Han Feizi discuss how rulers should properly understand themselves and govern the state.

Regarding self-awareness, the ancients used mirrors to see their faces because eyes cannot behold one's own countenance; they relied on the Dao (the Way) to correct their flaws because wisdom alone cannot recognize personal shortcomings. A mirror incurs no blame for revealing blemishes, nor does the Dao incur resentment for exposing faults. Take the examples of Ximen Bao, who wore soft oxhide to remind himself to moderate his impetuous nature, and Dong Anyu, who wore taut bowstrings to prompt himself toward greater urgency. Compensating for weaknesses with strengths—this marks the wise ruler.

The world follows three inevitable laws: first, even wisdom has its limitations; second, even strength cannot lift all things; third, even the mighty encounter unconquerable opponents. Even with the wisdom of Emperor Yao, one cannot achieve great deeds without assistance; possessing the strength of Wu Huo (an ancient strongman), none can lift themselves unaided; having the valor of Meng Ben and Xia Yu (legendary warriors), none can endure without proper methods. Thus Wu Huo found a thousand jun weight light yet couldn't lift himself—not because his body outweighed the load, but due to improper posture. Li Zhu (legendary for keen sight) could discern fine hairs at a hundred paces yet failed to see his own eyelashes—not because the distance differed, but by nature's design. Enlightened rulers don't demand Wu Huo lift himself nor expect Li Zhu to see his lashes; they follow circumstances and choose the accessible path, achieving twice the result with half the effort.

Concerning state governance, seven principles ensure stability: first, rewards and punishments based on right and wrong; second, fortune and misfortune tied to good and evil; third, life and death determined by law; fourth, distinguishing worthiness without personal bias; fifth, discerning wisdom without heeding slander or praise; sixth, strict adherence to standards without arbitrary conjecture; seventh, keeping promises without deceit. Six practices endanger the state, including arbitrarily altering established standards and undermining legal norms. Wise rulers understand these principles, employing legal measures to assess ministers' conduct—this constitutes the proper way of governance.

This passage elucidates the principles of state governance and the relationship between rulers and ministers. Through comparative analysis, the author demonstrates how a sovereign should govern to ensure enduring stability.

First, six erroneous approaches to governance are identified: First, exploiting the people's interests; second, delighting in others' misfortunes; third, disrupting others' peaceful lives; fourth, failing to draw close to those one loves; fifth, failing to distance oneself from those one detests. Such practices cause the people to lose joy in living and cease valuing life and death. When people no longer cherish life, the ruler loses respect; when people no longer fear death, decrees cannot be enforced.

The correct method of governance is then proposed: Guide all under heaven to apply their wisdom to righteous paths and devote their efforts to maintaining social order. Thus, action leads to victory, and stillness brings stability. In a well-governed society, the people delight in living, virtuous individuals abound while petty ones dwindle, ensuring lasting peace. Just as Confucius (symbolizing sages) would not appear on a perilous carriage, and Bo Yi (embodying righteousness) would not emerge during a shipwreck, governance itself serves as the state's carriage and vessel.

When the state is stable, wise and upright individuals emerge; when it descends into chaos, strife and baseness prevail. The principles of governance should be as natural as eating when hungry or dressing when cold. Ancient sage-kings recorded these principles on bamboo and silk because they aligned with nature, earning universal compliance across generations. If contrary to fundamental human needs, even mighty warriors like Meng Ben and Xia Yu could not enforce them; if violating natural laws, even the most coherent reasoning would fail to hold.

The passage cites the renowned physician Bian Que's treatment methods: Though piercing bones with a blade causes momentary pain, it brings lasting benefit to the body; though loyal admonitions grate the ears, they serve the state's long-term interests. Gravely ill patients must endure pain for effective treatment; enlightened rulers must accept unwelcome counsel. If patients refuse to endure pain, Bian Que's skills become inaccessible; if states in crisis reject remonstrance, the wisdom of sages remains unobtainable. Thus, long-term benefits remain unrealized, and achievements go unfulfilled.

Finally, certain rulers are criticized: They neither demand sagehood akin to Yao and Shun from themselves, yet expect ministers to display loyalty like Wu Zixu. Had all Shang dynasty subjects been as devoted as Bi Gan, rulers would never err nor states perish. Fantasizing about capable ministers like Tian Chengzi while ignoring practical capacities; wishing all subordinates were like Bi Gan while the state enjoys not a day's peace—such contradictions prevail. Abandoning the Dao of Yao and Shun to establish the laws of Jie and Zhou makes it impossible for people to live securely.

Through contrasting right and wrong approaches, this passage emphasizes that governance must align with human nature and respect natural laws. Rulers must hold themselves to rigorous standards and humbly accept criticism to achieve enduring state stability.

This passage from Han Feizi discusses the art of governance and the conduct befitting an enlightened ruler.

If a ruler only sees his strengths while ignoring his weaknesses, the state will lose its advantages and struggle to achieve anything. Clinging stubbornly to shortcomings makes it difficult for the people to live in peace. Governing discontented subjects with ineffective policies would not work even in Qi. When ruler and ministers are estranged, the ruler cannot command his officials, and the officials refuse to serve him loyally.

A state’s security lies in the soundness of its policies, not in its power; its survival depends on actual conditions, not population size. Qi was once a mighty state of ten thousand chariots, but its reputation did not match reality—its treasury was empty, and its name and substance diverged. As a result, ministers usurped power and even murdered their sovereign. If rewards and punishments are unjust—rewarding the undeserving, empowering flatterers and deceivers, punishing the innocent, and forcing the people to act against their innate nature (humanity’s natural disposition)—then deception is mistaken for truth, and nature for error. In the end, even weak forces can overcome the mighty.

An enlightened ruler who secures his internal affairs will not suffer external losses. If immediate mistakes go uncorrected, grand ambitions become even harder to achieve. When the Zhou replaced the Shang, it was as effortless as picking up something dropped in one’s courtyard. Had the Shang court been without fault, Zhou would not have dared touch even a hair beyond the border—let alone seize the throne.

The way of an enlightened ruler lies in faithfully enforcing laws that align with the people’s will. When implemented, the people will follow them; even if the laws are no longer enforced, they will still long for sage-kings like Yao and Shun. There is no need for ironclad oaths in the present—the Dao of governance will prevail naturally. Nor must one leave future generations even a speck of land—virtue (De) will endure on its own. Only those who establish governance principles in antiquity and ensure their virtue (De) lasts ten thousand generations can be called true enlightened rulers.

Chapter 26 discusses "Guarding the Dao."

When sage-kings establish laws, rewards must be sufficient to encourage good deeds, deterrence strong enough to stop violence, and precautions thorough enough to perfect the system. In a well-governed era, ministers who achieve great merit hold high rank; those who exhaust their efforts receive generous rewards; those who dedicate themselves earn illustrious reputations. Good deeds flourish like spring, while evil withers like autumn. Thus, the people strive diligently and give willingly—this is unity between ruler and subjects.

With such unity, those who contribute will abide by the law as conscientiously as Ren Bi (an ancient strongman) fulfilled his duties; warriors will fight as willingly as Meng Ben and Xia Yu (legendary heroes) died in battle; guardians of the Dao will hold hearts as firm as metal or stone, maintaining integrity like Wu Zixu (a paragon of loyalty). When contributors resemble Ren Bi, warriors fight like Meng Ben and Xia Yu, and Dao-guardians stand unshaken, the ruler may rest easy, and his foundation will remain unshaken.

The ancients skilled at guarding the state used weighty laws to prohibit recklessness and insurmountable norms to curb common faults. Thus, noble and petty alike upheld proper conduct—even the bandit Zhi became as upright as Zeng Shen and Shi Qiu (exemplars of virtue).

This passage from Han Feizi primarily discusses the importance of the rule of law. The general idea is as follows:

A greedy thief would not risk his life to retrieve gold from a deep ravine, because attempting to do so might cost him his life. Similarly, mighty warriors like Meng Ben and Xia Yu would not gain their reputation for bravery without assessing their opponent's strength, and a notorious bandit like Robber Zhi would not profit without calculating gains and losses.

When a wise ruler establishes prohibitions, even warriors like Meng Ben and Xia Yu would not dare to challenge laws they cannot overcome, and thieves like Robber Zhi would not dare to covet what they cannot obtain. In this way, the violent will remain docile, the wicked will reform, fairness will prevail in the world, and the people will follow the right path.

If a ruler abandons the rule of law and loses the people's trust, even a virtuous man like Bo Yi would find himself in danger. Today, there are few like Bo Yi, but wicked people are everywhere. Therefore, legal institutions must be established so that the virtuous do not lose their integrity and evildoers like Robber Zhi cannot commit crimes. This ensures that the strong cannot oppress the weak, nor can the majority tyrannize the minority.

If the world were governed by a sage ruler like Yao, the righteous would not lose their place, and the wicked would find no opportunity—just as entrusting a fortune to the divine archer Hou Yi would mean Bo Yi would not lose it, and Robber Zhi would not dare steal it. Because Yao was discerning, evil could not thrive in his time; because Hou Yi never missed his mark, the fortune would remain secure.

If evildoers were not allowed to live long, the crimes of Robber Zhi would cease. Thus, history would not record traitors like Zai Yu or the Six Ministers, nor tragedies like those of Wu Zixu and King Fuchai, leaving no room for the strategies of Sun Wu and Wu Qi.

The ruler could then enjoy peace in his palace, free from fear of assassination; ministers could live securely in the capital, unafraid of calamity. Taming a tiger cannot rely on cages alone, suppressing evil cannot depend on individuals, and preventing deceit cannot hinge on mere tokens. These are concerns even Meng Ben and Xia Yu would worry over, and challenges even Yao and Shun would find difficult. Thus, cages are not made to guard against mice but to allow even the timid to subdue tigers; laws are not established to restrain virtuous men like Zeng Shen and Shi Yu but to enable mediocre rulers to stop Robber Zhi; tallies are not crafted to prevent honest men like Wei Sheng from keeping their word but to deter the masses from deceiving one another.

We cannot merely hope for loyal ministers like Bi Gan to sacrifice their lives in duty, nor can we naively expect treacherous officials to abandon their schemes. Instead, we must rely on laws that even the timid can uphold and institutions that even mediocre rulers can enforce to govern the state.

This passage primarily discusses how a ruler should govern a state, the principles of employing people, and the importance of rule by law.

The first part addresses the fundamental principles of state governance. For a ruler, the most crucial task is to understand how to preserve the nation and enable loyal ministers to fulfill their duties faithfully. One must recognize that esteemed positions must be rewarded to inspire wholehearted service. A ruler should embody the courage of ancient warriors like Meng Ben and Xia Yu, never compromising integrity out of fear of death, nor being misled by the greed of bandits like Zhi, nor endangering oneself for material gain. Only then can the methods of governance be considered complete.

The second part explores the art of employing people. Ancient rulers skilled in personnel management followed the Dao (the Way) of heaven, aligned with popular sentiment, and maintained clear rewards and punishments. By following the Dao of heaven, they achieved twice the result with half the effort; by aligning with the people's will, their punishments were minimal yet governance effective. With clear rewards and punishments, virtuous men like Bo Yi could never be confused with villains like Zhi. When right and wrong are sharply distinguished, the state becomes well-ordered. Ministers then fulfill their respective duties, each contributing their strengths without harboring resentment or evading responsibility. Enlightened rulers prevent overlapping responsibilities to avoid disputes, prohibit officials from holding multiple positions to ensure specialized skills, and differentiate contributions to eliminate competition. When the strong and weak don't contend—just as ice and charcoal cannot coexist—the world ceases to harm itself. This represents the highest state of governance.

The third part emphasizes the critical importance of rule by law. If one discards legal standards to govern by whim, even a sage like Yao couldn't properly rule a single state. Without compass and square, even master wheelwright Xi Zhong couldn't craft a single wheel. Abandoning measurement standards, even the ingenious craftsman Wang Er couldn't achieve half accuracy. Yet if a ruler of average ability adheres to laws—like an unskilled artisan following compass and square—nothing will go awry. When rulers abandon seemingly clever but unreliable methods in favor of seemingly crude yet dependable ones, they can fully harness human potential and establish meritorious achievements.

Enlightened rulers establish attainable rewards and avoidable punishments. Thus, the worthy are encouraged without suffering tragedies like Wu Zixu, while the unworthy commit fewer crimes and avoid cruel penalties. Like a blind man walking flat ground who never encounters chasms, or a fool maintaining silence who never courts danger—this is how mutual goodwill develops between rulers and subjects. The ancients said human hearts are inscrutable, and joy or anger hard to predict. Hence they used banners to guide vision and drumbeats to convey commands.

This passage discusses how a ruler should employ laws to govern the state and the proper way to handle sovereign-subject relations.

If a ruler abandons simple and clear governing methods in favor of complex and obscure tactics, it will lead to accumulated anger among superiors and growing resentment among subordinates. Managing resentful officials with an angry disposition places both parties in peril.

An enlightened ruler accomplishes three things: establishing standards that are visibly clear, implementing teachings that are easily comprehensible, and enacting laws that are straightforward to execute. When these three principles are established, the ruler remains free of selfish motives, and officials can follow the laws as naturally as watching markers to act, cutting wood along an inked line, or sewing according to stitch patterns. Thus, the ruler avoids abusing authority, officials are not punished for incompetence, and harmony prevails between high and low.

The ancients said: "To never err at all is something even Emperor Yao could not achieve." In governance, one should not rashly bestow titles and emoluments or arbitrarily alter standards of wealth and status, lest the state reach an irredeemable crisis. A wise ruler esteems integrity and shame, promoting benevolence and righteousness. Like Jie Zitui, who refused rewards while following Duke Wen of Jin, preferring to cut flesh from his thigh rather than indulge his appetites. The ruler should delight in seeing officials devote themselves to public service while worrying about those who vie for power out of private desire; officials should find contentment in serving according to their abilities while lamenting being burdened with multiple duties.

An enlightened ruler eliminates officials' grievances by establishing systems that bring sovereign joy—this is the enduring way of governance. Failing to scrutinize private circumstances, handling major affairs recklessly, severely punishing minor faults, persistently nitpicking over trivial errors, casually humiliating others for momentary satisfaction, or even repaying evil deeds that deserve punishment with kindness—like severing a hand only to reattach it with jade—will ultimately invite the calamity of political collapse.

When a ruler sets unattainable standards and punishes officials for failing to meet them, private grudges form. Forcing officials to abandon their strengths to meet impossible demands sows seeds of resentment. Without compassion for their toil or sympathy for their sorrows, praising even petty men in moments of joy while insulting even noble men in fits of anger—such behavior humiliates both Boyi (the paragon of virtue) and Robber Zhi (the infamous bandit), eventually driving officials to rebellion.

Imagine if the King of Yan harbored hatred for his own people domestically while currying favor with the people of Lu abroad. The Yan populace would refuse to serve him wholeheartedly, and the Lu people would never genuinely submit. Those who are hated will not strive to achieve merits, and those who are flattered will not risk their lives in loyal service. Such governance creates fissures as perilous as cracks in a wall—gaping vulnerabilities in the ruler's dominion.

This scripture elucidates the fundamental principles of state governance for rulers.

A ruler who stands isolated, relying solely on ministers harboring ulterior motives, courts grave danger. Like an archer abandoning proper aim to shoot randomly—even an occasional hit demonstrates no true skill—discarding legal statutes to mete punishments in fits of anger may kill many, yet the wicked will never truly fear. Shifting blame from person A to person B only accumulates resentment. Thus in well-governed states, rewards and punishments follow clear standards, never personal whims. Sages establish penal codes but refrain from excessive cruelty, thereby naturally subduing malefactors. Just as arrows must strike the bullseye, rewards and punishments must be precisely measured—this ensures that even if Yao and Shun were reborn or Houyi returned, no tyranny like King Zhou or Jie would emerge, and all ministers could live in peace.

When a ruler fails to repair cracked walls (symbolizing domestic vulnerabilities) yet busily whitewashes exteriors (symbolizing superficial efforts), the structure will collapse in storms. Ignoring imminent disasters while admiring ancient heroes like Meng Ben and Xia Yu’s martyrdom; neglecting internal crises while building distant fortifications; rejecting advice from nearby sages while courting alliances with distant powers—when sudden upheavals occur, even heroes cannot arrive in time, and foreign aid remains out of reach. This constitutes the greatest calamity. Modern rulers seeking lasting stability must avoid empty idealism like the King of Yan, nor blindly venerate ancient sages while overlooking present realities—just as one cannot expect Yue fishermen to save a drowning man in the Central Plains. Achieve this, and ruler-minister harmony will flourish, domestic affairs stabilize, and external prestige grow.

Four pillars underpin great achievements: celestial timing (天时), popular will (人心), capability, and authority (权势). Without proper timing, ten Yao emperors couldn’t grow winter rice; defying popular will, even heroes like Meng Ben and Xia Yu couldn’t mobilize people. Align with timing, and harvests come unbidden; win hearts, and people labor unprompted; deploy talent, and progress flows effortlessly; wield authority, and fame accrues naturally. Like water’s downhill flow or boats’ natural buoyancy, enlightened rulers follow Dao’s patterns, implementing eternal laws.

Capability without authority leaves sages powerless against petty men. Place a one-foot stick atop a mountain, and it overlooks thousand-foot chasms—not because it lengthened, but from elevated position. Jie ruled the world not through virtue but authority; were Yao a commoner, he couldn’t govern three households—not from incompetence, but lowly status. As a thousand-jun weight floats with a boat while lightweight objects sink without one, authority is the ruler’s "vessel."

This passage from Han Feizi primarily discusses the relationship between rulers and ministers and the principles of governance. In modern terms:

A boat floats on water, but even the slightest additional weight can sink it—not because a thousand jun are light while a tiny amount is heavy, but because of the presence or absence of buoyancy. Similarly, status determines influence: a short person standing on high ground can look down on others, and an ordinary individual wielding authority can constrain the worthy.

The ruler is like a boat that requires the collective support of the people; only with their unified devotion can his position remain stable. Ministers must each contribute their strengths and remain loyal to their duties. If the ruler employs loyal ministers wisely, he can achieve lasting stability and great accomplishments. Though ruler and ministers share the same goal, their roles differ. The greatest fear is a lack of response—just as clapping with one hand, no matter how fast, produces no sound. Ministers, in turn, fear being unable to focus—like trying to draw a square with the left hand and a circle with the right simultaneously, neither will succeed.

In an ideal state, the ruler is like a drumstick, the ministers like the drum; skills are the cart, and affairs are the horses. With ample ability, challenges are easily met; with practiced skill, tasks are handled effortlessly. Yet reality often falls short: those who achieve merit lack sufficient strength, trusted aides prove unreliable, and the renowned lack authority. If one only draws close to those nearby without uniting with those afar, reputation will not match reality.

Even with the virtue of a Yao or Shun, or the integrity of a Bo Yi, without the corresponding status, merit and fame remain unattainable. Ancient achievers relied on the efforts of the masses, the support of close aides, the acclaim of distant lands, and the backing of the powerful. Like Mount Tai’s enduring legacy for the state, or the sun and moon’s eternal fame between heaven and earth, Yao and Shun accomplished greatness precisely because they understood these principles.

Chapter 29 speaks of the wisdom of grasping the broader picture: observe the natural patterns of heaven and earth’s movements, the flow of rivers and seas, and govern by law with clear rewards and punishments. Do not let personal bias cloud judgment, do not nitpick minor faults, and do not overstep legal boundaries. Follow the natural order, ensuring fortune, misfortune, honor, and disgrace are determined by the Dao and law, not personal whims. This is like neither pulling a rope beyond its limits nor relaxing legal standards, maintaining stability in governance.

This passage elucidates the fundamental principles of governance, emphasizing alignment with natural order and simplicity in administration to bring peace to the people.

In a truly stable society, laws should be as clear as morning dew, with the populace retaining their innate simplicity—free from resentment in their hearts and complaints on their lips. Thus, there would be no war chariots exhausted from distant campaigns, no banners chaotically fluttering in marshlands, no lives lost to conflict, and no heroes cut short by military exploits. Exceptional individuals need not leave their names in historical records nor inscribe their deeds on bronze vessels; state archives would instead remain tranquil. Hence it is said: The greatest benefit lies in simplicity of governance, the longest-lasting blessing in peace.

Suppose the most skilled craftsman, Lu Ban (Jiang Shi), were to live a thousand years, using compass and square to reshape Mount Tai; or the mightiest warriors, Meng Ben and Xia Yu (Ben Yu), were to wield swords to govern the masses—even with peerless skill and extreme longevity, Mount Tai would remain unaltered, and the people would still resist control. Therefore, the ancient sages who excelled in ruling the world never allowed craftsmen to disrupt Mount Tai’s natural form, nor permitted warriors to violate the people’s innate nature through force.

The truly wise ruler embraces all like heaven and earth: Without vastness, the sky cannot cover all things; without solidity, the earth cannot bear all beings. Mount Tai achieves its grandeur by making no distinctions between good and bad; rivers and seas attain their immensity by rejecting no trickling streams. The sage, emulating heaven and earth’s inclusiveness, ensures all things flourish; drawing from mountains and oceans’ character, the nation prospers. When those above inflict no wrathful harm, and those below harbor no festering grievances—when both preserve their unadorned nature and take the Dao (the Way) as their guide—then enduring benefits accumulate, great achievements are established, a noble reputation is secured in life, and virtue endures beyond death. This is the highest art of governance.

(Note: "Jiang Shi" refers to ancient master craftsmen; "Ben Yu" denotes the renowned warriors Meng Ben and Xia Yu; "Gan Jiang" is the name of a legendary sword. These are allusions frequently used in Han Feizi.)