The Uses of Confucius

Why another translation of Confucius? There have been so many versions that one must be suspicious of still another attempt to bring life to the sayings of the man known in China as Kongfuzi (Master Kong), a title the Jesuits later Latinized as Confucius.

The conversations between Confucius and his disciples--the second most translated text from China, after the Daoist text attributed to Laozi (Lao Tzu)--that were recorded in a classical idiom in Chinese are notoriously difficult to translate while preserving meaning, subtleties of nuance and style. Ezra Pound’s translation earlier this century was a public success but a critical disaster because of his ignorance of the commentarian tradition. D.C. Lau’s philologically precise version for Penguin Classics remains a critical success but is stylistically stiff. Now the noted Sinologist and anti-Maoist gadfly Simon Leys has successfully brought textual precision and literary style together to capture the grace, brevity and precision of the epigrams in this well-crafted translation.

Born in the 6th century BC, Confucius lived during a time of great social disorder. The feudal system in China was collapsing, and in its place, Confucius proposed a government based less on heredity than on morality and merit. Yet moral and political visions of the highest virtues often were produced by those who failed in terms of the power relations of their times. Confucius’ ideas frequently faced opposition. His attempt and inability to reinvent Chinese society were consequently discussed and reflected upon in discussions among his disciples and became fables that provided lessons of morality and character building.

Confucius’ continual reinvention for more than 2,000 years speaks volumes for the value and provocative nature of his teachings. The “teachings of the sage” have become an educational fortress with millennial walls. His visions of the highest good, however, have been seen as cultural obstacles by 20th century revolutionaries and were first attacked by Republican revolutionaries in 1915 and again by messianic Maoists in 1966. His advocacy of conservative character building, harmonious family life, obedience to the worthy, acknowledgment of a teacher as a moral guide and the priority of elites as public servants were viewed as archaic and counterrevolutionary.

Today, however, many powerful Chinese, from Singapore politicians such as Lee Kwan-yew to Hong Kong bankers and Beijing Communists, now see the uses of morality, civility and culture as symbolic mortar to rebuild political consensus and avoid partisan bickering. Confucianism is being rediscovered by Chinese, Korean, Japanese and Vietnamese leaders.

In his excellent rendition of conversations between Confucius and his disciples, Leys avoids the stereotypical Confucius and attempts to bring the man to life. His translation reveals the careful scholarship of a philologist like Lau, but his prose avoids the mechanical cadences that frequently result from too little literary flair. Leys seeks to salvage Confucius from what has been made of him, particularly from the suppression his ideas faced in his own time and during the anti-Confucian cultural revolutions in the 20th century, when the cry “Down with Confucius” resounded from many of the best and brightest Chinese intellectuals. Leys also deserves credit for trying to save Confucius from the exaltation his views elicited from emperors, examiners and contemporary Pacific Rim pundits, who see in his virtuous words the civilizing tools needed to yoke authoritarian Asian politics to modern economic growth and, thereby, to avoid what they perceive as the chaotic amorality of Western liberal democracies.

The Chinese bureaucratic tradition, built around the sayings of Confucius and his repertoire of classics, was reinvented many times during the last 2,000 years. Confucian tradition is not easily summarized. It stresses the creative and charismatic origin of what was transmitted. The authority of the master merged with its more conservative cultural chain of transmission. Thereby, obedience to Confucius’ ideals became a routine part of Chinese political and social ideology. A distinction should be drawn between a Confucian tradition that stressed creative dialogue and one that represented obedience. Although today we tend to separate these aspects of Confucius’ teachings into the categories of transmission and charisma, as Max Weber perceptively did, the two strains were usually found together.

To control interpretations of his teachings was to control the articulation and justification of dynastic power. Imperial scholars and officials, accordingly, were indispensable handmaidens of the ruling dynasty. The historic connection between Confucius and political discourse suggests the power these texts had over political behavior and expression in imperial China. But the “Analects” is not the only form of teaching closely associated with Confucius.

The “Spring and Summer Annals,” a collection of comparable teachings, must also be considered. Although modern scholarship, Leys included, has concluded that Confucius was not the source of the “Annals,” for most of Chinese history they were regarded as an integral part of Confucianism. Hence, to reconstruct the uses and abuses of the “Analects” in imperial China, one must also discuss the “Annals.” Each painted a different portrait of the man.

In addition to the images of sage and teacher that Leys documents, one of the lesser and neglected images of Confucius that emerged over time was that of judge and “uncrowned king.” If the “Analects” seemed to stress Confucius’ conservative role in the transmission of ancient wisdom, the “Annals” presented a more activist man who had challenged his times.

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The master’s doctrine of “praise and blame” were read into both the “Annals” and “Analects.” Imperial scholars frequently drew on the “Analects” to express their political views. One late imperial scholar, anxious about corruption in the Qianlong emperor’s court about 1780, drew the “Analects” into this line of political reasoning:

“Doesn’t the ‘Analects’ say, ‘He who acts out of self-interest arouses much resentment’? Or, ‘If one can govern the country by observing ritual and showing deference, there is no more to be said. If one cannot govern the country by observing ritual and showing deference, what’s the use of ritual?’

“I say, if good men make up a government, then for a hundred years they can triumph over cruelty and eliminate murders. If there is a king like this, then the age will become benevolent. Is this not a warning that evil must be changed to good? Without benevolence and humility, then contention to see who will profit and who will lose leads to war! Contention over right and wrong also leads to war. Such evils are committed in different ways, but they all lead back to the same results: chaos!”

In the 19th century, as the last dynasty declined, many tried to restore a sense of grandeur to Confucius. They saw in the “Analects” and “Annals” evidence to rehabilitate an activist vision of Confucius that had been lost due to the unrelenting onslaught of imperial ideology. They sought, like Leys, to restore the man behind the imperial facade. The ancient portrait of Confucius as “uncrowned king” was revived. In the hands of such commentators, episodes in the “Analects” took on an esoteric and prophetic meaning that scholars had once thought unacceptable. The “Analects” was cited to confirm this apocalyptic vision:

“The Master was trapped in Kuang. He said: “King Wen [founder of the Zhou dynasty] is dead, is civilization not resting now on me? If Heaven intends civilization to be destroyed, why was it vested in me? If Heaven does not intend civilization to be destroyed, what should I fear from the people of Kuang?”

In this passage, Confucius acknowledged his historical mission as the cultural repository of values from high antiquity. Later interpretations augmented these beliefs with the writings of Mencius, who, almost two centuries after Confucius, played a role in the development of orthodox Confucianism. Mencius had stressed the “Spring and Autumn Annals,” as in this excerpt from the book “Mencius”:

“The world fell into decay, and the Way became obscure. Perverse speech and oppressive deeds again arose. There were instances of ministers who murdered their rulers, and of sons who murdered their fathers. Confucius was fearful and compiled the ‘Spring and Autumn Annals.’ The annals represents the affairs of the Son of Heaven. Therefore, Confucius said: ‘It will be on account of the ‘Annals’ that people will know me. It will be due to the ‘Annals’ that people will condemn me.’ ”

When presented as an “uncrowned king,” Confucius became the mouthpiece for political and institutional reform both before and after the Western powers made their presence felt in south China. The past was held up to the present when both Western liberal values were sought and, later, vilified.

Although he fails to mention the “Annals,” Leys is too savvy to dismiss the use of the teachings of Confucius purely to legitimate political power, as was done by the most authoritarian leaders. Grand Inquisitors can, after all, turn the values of any political culture into rhetoric, even Confucius’ ideals of a wise and thoughtful gentleman.

What is intriguing, however, is not the betrayal of such ideals. That is common enough. Even in their betrayal, however, ideals are left in place as abiding models. Even Grand Inquisitors in China--whether “Confucianized” despots, Maoist tyrants or Deng’s dictatorial reformers--have recognized the need to articulate their power through the very ideals they betrayed.

This is why, in Leys’ terms, Chinese, Mongol and Manchu emperors exalted Confucius and why conservative politicians, wealthy bankers and industrial tycoons continue to do so. Fortunately, because he was a misunderstood, and therefore minor, figure in his own time, the master and his ideas have survived manipulation by his more victorious followers.