Confucian and Legalist Thoughts in The Romance of the Three Kingdoms

I had so much fun writing this. If you love RotK as much as I do, share in the fun!

Dr. Wang is my fave.

=================================

The completion of peace is a hope both universal and unattainable. One of the main constituents in achieving harmony is a well-established ruling authority that oversees. According to Chinese political thoughts of antiquity, there is luan (chaos) without such authority. However, the means to attain authority often breed resentment, and resentment breeds further chaos. In The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, the attributed author Luo Guanzhong expounds on the inevitability of this cosmic cycle. Set in the grand tradition of human ambition, his characters play a dangerous game between politics and morality, exhibiting and accentuating two distinctive political philosophies in their efforts: the Confucian and the Legalist.

When examining The Romance, one must remember that this novel was written during the transition period from Yuan to Ming Dynasty. With natural disasters and rebellions infested in locales, and factionalism coupled with questions of royal succession rampant in the metropolitan government, this period surely reflected the same luan that the novel speaks of. The first line of the book speaks, its ageless truth abounding: “Domains under heaven, after a long period of division, tends to unite; after a long period of union, tends to divide” (The Romance, 1). Until the official establishment of three kingdoms mid-way through the novel, the reader observes a continual pattern of luan as an eventual reality. This is reinforced by not only the structural repetitions of similar scenes that increases predictability (Plaks, 386) but also the seasonal symbols that ineluctably accentuate several motifs, splendor and death alike (Plaks, 389). In any case, two main forces at work are Shu, the legitimate successor of the Han Empire, and Wei, the usurper of the Han throne (as the novel portrays them).

Upon studying the Shu camp, one finds that it is a deliberate embodiment of Confucian ideals in a chaotic age. This is first exemplified in that men of Shu model gentleman's moral autonomy to the rest of the world, despite the imminent luan. One of the defining features of Confucianism is that of “The Mandate of Heaven.” Heaven determines a dynasty's legitimacy; the mandate itself depends upon the dynasty's behavior. However, this did not exempt the dynasty's subjects from loyalty required, even unto death. In spite of the fate being drawn independent of human will, loyalty withholds its validity. Guan Yu is the chief stereotype of this virtue. When shi (power and position) divides, loyalty must divide also. Interestingly, this presents a curious Confucian dilemma. For when Cao Cao begs Guan Yu for mercy at the Battle of the Red Cliffs, Guan Yu has to decide between his fealty to Liu Bei and and the reparation for Cao Cao's excessive grace. One encounters a similar dilemma with the judgment upon Liu Feng. Liu Bei has a choice of executing the punishment upon him as the law demands, or else letting him be spared for the sake of sonship (The Romance, 79). Whereas Guan Yu acts upon his private honor, Liu Bei chooses the legalist solution of public good.

In Wei Dynasty, loyalty exists for the welfare and power of the state. Shi – an important legalist concept – moves from order to chaos, carrying along with it the ethical behaviors of men. After all, an idea constantly recalled throughout the novel is that “order can be restored only by one who is willing to violate them” (Moody, 184). Cao Cao is a human incarnation of this truth: he manifests the “survival of the fittest” at its finest. Legalism justifies Cao Cao's rise to power as the present emperor is weak and incompetent, whereas Cao Cao is a strong, intelligent leader. Striking contrast is Shu's Zhuge Liang, who outright rejects the suggestion of taking the throne, even when willed by Liu Bei himself on his deathbed. It is clear that Zhuge Liang will prove a much more competent ruler than Liu Bei's son Liu Shan. Given the balance of Zhuge's extraordinary ingenuity and enduring faithfulness, one might say that he is “as wise as a serpent but as innocent as a dove.” The loyalty triumphs in the Confucian camp, and as a consequence of that loyalty, Shu never unifies China. The “surfeit of valor” does not accomplish final victory (Plaks, 411), it simply flaunts the fact that when one remains true to his honor, honor is his “own and only reward” (Moody, 183). For one does not succeed owing to his virtues, but neither does one fail because of his wickedness.

Legalist and Confucian ideals again battle with their desirable models of rulers. Confucian Liu Bei, for the majority of the novel, is a quiet, noble, unselfish, benevolent ruler who attracts brilliant and able auxiliaries. However, he is a ruler apt for times of peace, not of war. In his famous “discussion on heroes,” Cao Cao exalts Liu Bei as the only hero of the age besides himself. “Now heroes are the ones who cherish lofty designs in their bosoms and have plans to achieve them. They have all-embracing schemes, and the whole world is at their mercy,” Cao Cao says (The Romance, 21), and looks to Liu Bei as the only man who can match him in character and in combat. Though Liu Bei's Hamlet syndrome will not sell his soul to the devil, even he becomes tainted as the novel progresses, for his honor and humility has turned into a heightened, even hypocritical sense of self-righteousness. As Pang Tong encourages him to go on the expedition of Shu, Liu Bei replies, “My opposite is Cao Cao. He is impetuous and I am long suffering; he is cruel and I am humane; he feigns while I am true. In all particulars I act the direct contrary to him. I refuse to risk the loss of the confidence and trust of the world for a trifling advantage” (The Romance, 60). One cannot be certain whether Liu Bei's ultimate goal is restoration of Han or personal glory.

A wise man once told Cao Cao, “In peace you are an able subject; in chaos you are a crafty hero” (The Romance, 1). Had Han Feizi himself judged, Cao Cao would have proved a perfect legalist ruler – mysterious and charismatic, yet heeding advice from all and employing subordinates according to their abilities. This is a striking contrast to Liu Bei, who adheres to “a small circle of personal intimates” (Plaks, 460). Indeed, Cao Cao blatantly displays his willingness to act immoral throughout the novel. One notable quote is that of justifying his unjustifiable murder of Lu Boshe: “Rather I let down the world than the world let me down!” (The Romance, 4). Ironically, despite his undeniable evil, the reader finds himself praising this chilling Machiavellian for his masterful leadership, incontestable acumen, and tireless willpower.

Though Wei Dynasty is a classic portrait of legalist ideals, the legalist element is not absent from Shu camp in its totality, as we have encountered Liu Bei's decision to follow a legalistic tradition earlier. In fact, Luo Guanzhong describes Zhuge Liang's legalist measures quite at length, fortifying the home base through “strict enforcement of law and order” (Plaks, 447). Zhuge Liang beheads Ma Su and Chen Shi, the beloved and the indifferent alike on the account of disobedience. He punishes Gou An for his negligence, only to be repaid by his betrayal and retreat with victory at hand. Gou An's example not only reveals man's selfish nature but also illuminates limitations of man in the light of ulterior destiny.

At the end of the novel, one finds that the Cao imperial family is avenged upon by their own subordinates – the ever-so trusted Simas. The dying Emperor Rui requests his young son to Sima Yi's care, recalling Liu Bei's last words to faithful Zhuge Liang (The Romance, 106). Sima Yi oaths his allegiance but Sima Yi's grandson Sima Yan later usurps the throne and takes it for himself. In his speech for justification of his act, Sima Yan ironically recalls the usurpation of the Han throne by Cao Cao generations ago (The Romance, 119), though in actuality the rise of Simas is another hypocrisy, for his family had partaken in Cao Cao's deeds. Logically, The Romance can't be viewed as a mere political satire; in reality, it may be an unfurled truth that combines the Legalist view on the way things are, and the Confucian view on the way things should be, its prolonged structures and repeated thematic elements intensifying the drama. In the grand scheme of things, the wicked are ultimately punished – by the wicked. Justice is achieved, though the ends do not justify the means. Nevertheless, goodness remains goodness in spite of its futility. This is the nature of realpolitik.

======================================

Sources

• Moody, Peter R. Jr. “The Romance of the Three Kingdoms and Popular Chinese Political Thought.” The Review of Politics. 37.2 (1975): 175-199.
• Plaks, Andrew H. “San-kuo chih yen-i: Limitations of Valor.” The Four Masterworks of the Ming Novel. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1987. 361-495.
• Guanzhong, Luo & Brewitt-Taylor, C. H. The Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Tuttle Publishing, 1990.