《抱朴子外篇》Vol. 33

This passage presents Ge Hong (Daoist name Baopuzi) of the Eastern Jin Dynasty's scathing critique of the political corruption during the late Eastern Han period. Ge Hong observed an unprecedented moral collapse and social decay:

The eunuch faction in power at the time monopolized state affairs, abandoning the Dao (the Way) and nurturing corrupt Qi (vital energy), while trampling upon humaneness and De (Virtue). These officials formed cliques for personal gain, amassing wealth yet refusing to aid the poor—the entire bureaucracy became thoroughly corrupt. Official positions required bribery, and legal victories depended on money. Though those in high positions had the authority to recommend talent, they consistently overlooked truly virtuous and capable individuals.

Appointments were made based on personal connections, with favors granted only to inner circles. They completely disregarded historical lessons from exemplary ministers like Zang Wenzhong and failed to emulate Xie Hu's model of impartiality. Consequently, virtuous scholars like Liezi lived in poverty while noble philanthropists like Zheng Ziyang found no imitators. True talent went unrecognized, while sycophants prospered—a situation that would have silenced Fan Ji (virtuous consort of King Zhuang of Chu) and drawn sighs from Feng Tang (upright Han official).

The prevailing social climate rewarded mediocrity while suppressing virtue. People envied the accomplished, ostracized the incorruptible, framed the loyal, and rejected nonconformists. The obsequious thrived while the principled suffered—as if raising jackals while slaughtering qilin (auspicious unicorns), or cultivating thorns while felling fragrant sandalwood.

Most absurd was the complete inversion of values: libertines were praised for their "magnanimity," the malicious were lauded as "upright and honest," hypocrites were called "wise and perceptive," smooth-talkers were deemed "brilliant," the arrogant were labeled "extraordinary," drunkards and libertines became "authentic and free-spirited," the avaricious were romanticized as "transcendent," slovenly vagrants gained reputations for "approachability," and heretics were paradoxically crowned "erudite scholars."

(Note: The historical figures mentioned—Zang Wenzhong, Xie Hu, Liezi, Zheng Ziyang, Fan Ji, and Feng Tang—represent various moral exemplars or cautionary tales from Chinese history.)

This passage presents Ge Hong's scathing critique of societal corruption in his Outer Chapters of the Master Who Embraces Simplicity, employing stark contrasts to expose the inverted moral values of his era.

Those who mock the philosophies of Zhuangzi and Laozi are paradoxically praised as open-minded and enlightened. Opportunists who abandon principles to pander to vulgar tastes are hailed as extraordinary talents. Sycophants currying favor with the powerful through shortcuts are applauded for their adaptability, while ignorant fame-seekers basking in undeserved glory are celebrated as visionary.

True virtue suffers grotesque distortions: bribe-paying officials are lauded as valuing righteousness over wealth; factionalists masquerade as literary companions; charlatans pretend to be spirit mediums; fortune-tellers boast prophetic powers; reckless bravado is mistaken for general's valor.

The contrast with genuine nobility is stark: those with unblemished character and clear spiritual vision neither fawn nor compromise their integrity, standing resilient as pine trees in winter storms. These individuals speak truth to power when serving in office yet maintain rigorous self-cultivation in retirement—only to be dismissed by society as pedantic fools. Diligent officials caring for the people are ironically scorned as petty bureaucrats.

In this toxic climate, the wise choose reclusion while the capable feign stupidity. The lowborn cling to power, the oppressed submit against conscience. Sages withhold their wisdom, warriors sheathe their valor, loyal ministers retreat into forced seclusion—while treacherous villains seize the stage.

The inevitable consequence is societal collapse: disorder spreads between rulers and subjects, banditry runs rampant. Eunuchs monopolize power while mediocrities dominate office. Loyalists face persecution under false accusations of factionalism, like small sparks igniting wildfires or tiny cracks unleashing tidal waves. Impregnable cities crumble before peasant uprisings, strategic passes fall to reed boats. Elite armies scatter at rumors of battle, soldiers discard armor in panicked retreat.

The text depicts the scene of a nation's decline: weapons scattered everywhere, enemy blades pressing against the palace gates, and foreign garments (the left-lapped robes of northern tribes) flaunted within forbidden halls. Where solemn court halls should stand, crops and weeds now grow wild; jade staircases are overrun with brambles and thorns. Towering palaces that once reached the clouds have become dens for foxes and hares, while the grand processional way (the "Xiangwei" where imperial edicts were displayed) has deteriorated into paths prowled by tigers and leopards.

The Eastern Chambers (the crown prince's residence) lie in ashes, and the people suffer as though plunged into abysses or scorching flames. Such perpetrators of national ruin will be recorded in history as criminals. Virtuous historians will offer no kind words for them, nor will stone steles bear their praises. Why is this so? Simply because they abandoned the way of employing worthy and capable advisors.

(Contextual note: This passage reflects Ge Hong's contemplation on the causes of political collapse. Through stark contrasting imagery, it illustrates how abandoning the principle of meritocracy leads to state disintegration. Terms like "Xiangwei" and "Eastern Chambers" refer to specific ancient palace structures symbolizing centers of state power.)