Who Is This Confucius and Why Are They Saying These Terrible Things About Him?

A DEAF COMPOSER from the 1800s and a sage from 25 centuries ago seem strangely inoffensive targets for the Chinese, even on the verge of a New Cultural Revolution. After all, both Beethoven and Confucius are subjects for personal interpretation, reflection and appreciation, and, of course, both are dead. So for China-watchers, most of whom are reluctant to accept the ends, the means of China's Hell-for-the-Revolution-of-it policy grew more confusing with the recent attacks on the sage and the composer. The enemies of the often-paranoid Chinese have never been more elusive--Who is this Confucius and why are they saying these terrible things about him?

The Master was a private citizen who lived around 500 B.C. and trained the sons of gentlemen in the virtues appropriate to the ruling class. His greatest disappointment was his own failure to gain high office and from it, implement his "Way," but he passed on his theories of governing and Goodness through his disciples. Three centuries after his death, Confucius was no longer a moral teacher, but a legendary sage, "The Master"--a status he never sought--and his teachings were finally intertwined with state policy, even though morality was not.

Many of his lessons were passed down in The Analects, selected sayings collected after his death. Mastery of these and other Confucian literature was essential to doing well on the Imperial Chinese equivalent of civil service testing, linking the Confucian tradition with authority itself. Portions of the analects slipped out to the west, occasionally capturing a philosophy in epigram, but more often adding flair to Charlie Chan scripts. Compared with all the politics and the bad jokes about "Confucius say this" or "Confucius say that," what The Master actually said seems relatively harmless.

Many of his sayings are hauntingly familiar, aphoristic observations usually attributed in the West to Benjamin Franklin or some ancient Jewish sage. Truisms like "Practice what you preach," or "He who learns without thinking is lost, but he who thinks without learning is in danger" seem reasonable building blocks for any society. And no one can argue with "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

Some of Confucius's sayings are even potentially revolutionary--"You may rob the Three Armies of their commander-in-chief, but you cannot deprive the humblest peasant of his opinion."

But Confucius was The Master, after all, and his sayings reflect disdain for both the humble peasant and his opinion. "You must practice the manner of gentlemen, not that of the common people," he told one student. "The gentleman is dignified, but never haughty; common people are haughty, but never dignified." As for his Way, The Master said, "The common people can be made to follow it; they cannot be made to understand it."

Moral government was part of The Way, but dissent in its absence clearly was not--The Master said, "He who holds no rank in a State does not discuss its policies." To those with modest power, his disciple Tzu-yu added, "In the service of one's prince, repeated scolding can lead only to loss of favor." And in Imperial China, favor was with-drawn with a vengeance--China's greatest historian, Ssu-ma Ch'ien, was castrated for defending a general who had fallen into the disfavor of a Han emperor. Ssu's action had been morally correct, but he had violated another, more important Confucian precept--"First and foremost," The Master had said, "be faithful to your superiors." Confucians stood by parents, princes, and emperors, right or wrong.

This ethic of blind loyalty was the fatal flaw in the Confucian tradition. A young official served at the grace of the emperor, not China, because, for him, the emperor was the very essence of China. During the Opium War--China's disastrous contact with the naked force of Western imperialism--complete alteration of battle results was common. The deceptions protected individual officers in the eyes of the emperor at the expense of the entire people--but then "the people" was only a vague concept in the Confucian tradition. The ruling hierarchy could not handle conflicts greater than relations between individuals, the relations Confucius had mastered and taught.

So it was not so much what Confucius said that draws the Revolution's wrath as who quoted him 2500 years later when Imperial China collapsed, unable to counter a combination of overpopulation, economic encroachment and modern warfare. The centuries of state Confucianism had established a ruling class that regenerated itself in an endless cycle--only those who had been taught Confucius could do well on the civil service tests and gain power, and only those who had power could afford to teach their sons Confucius.

In the context of this ingrained tradition with its uncompromising demands for subordination, Mao's calls to revolution emerge as more than trite exhortations. A Chinese worker must be urged to "Dare to question"--for 2500 years, Confucians have been telling workers just the opposite. In these times of disturbing stability, of alarming complacency, of unsettling bureaucracy, Confucius is once more being used as a teacher. He warns of mistakes like those in the past.

Like the Bible, Confucius can be quoted to any purpose--perhaps that explains his resiliency. Last week, Chinese newspapers criticized The Master for showing signs of discreet disloyalty to his own rulers. If, as rumors indicate, Chou En-Lai is the target of this latest flurry of revolutionary fervor, this may be a way of announcing suspicions of faithlessness to Mao and China. Confucius will be a long time in dying for the sins of his followers.

But almost 25 years after the Revolution, China has not forgotten Confucius, and probably never will. A generation of children needs more guidance than slogans like "Defeat the running dogs of capitalist imperialism" can provide. And while the children will understand the forces that almost brought China down better than the oppressors, they may come away with the core of Confucian morality intact. As The Master said, "If out of the 300 songs I had to take one phrase to cover all my teaching, I would say 'Let there be no evil in your thoughts.'"