racing across the field, bumped into the stump, broke its neck, and died. Thereupon the farmer
laid aside his plow and took up watch beside the stump, hoping that he would get another
rabbit in the same way. But he got no more rabbits, and instead became the laughingstock of
Song. Those who think they can take the ways of the ancient kings and use them to govern the
people of today all belong in the category of stump‑watchers! …
When Yao ruled the world, he left the thatch of his roof untrimmed, and the raw timber of his
beams was left unplaned. He ate coarse millet and a soup of greens, wore deerskin in the winter
days and rough fiber robes in summer. Even a lowly gatekeeper was no worse clothed and
provided for than he. When Yu ruled the world, he took plow and spade in hand to lead his
people, working until there was no more down on his thighs or hair on his shins. Even the toil
of a slave taken prisoner in the wars was no bitterer than his. Therefore those men in ancient
times who abdicated and relinquished the rule of the world were, in a manner of speaking,
merely forsaking the life of a gatekeeper and escaping from the toil of a slave. Therefore they
thought little of handing over the rule of the world to someone else. Nowadays, however, the
magistrate of a district dies and his sons and grandsons are able to go riding about in carriages
for generations after. Therefore people prize such offices. In the matter of relinquishing things,
people thought nothing of stepping down from the position of Son of Heaven in ancient times,
yet they are very reluctant to give up the post of district magistrate today; this is because of the
difference in the actual benefits received. …
When men lightly relinquish the position of Son of Heaven, it is not because they are highminded
but because the advantages of the post are slight; when men strive for sinecures in the
government, it is not because they are base but because the power they will acquire is great.
When the sage rules, he takes into consideration the quantity of things and deliberates on
scarcity and plenty. Though his punishments may be light, this is not due to his compassion;
though his penalties may be severe, this is not because he is cruel; he simply follows the custom
appropriate to the time. Circumstances change according to the age, and ways of dealing with
them change with the circumstances. …
Past and present have different customs; new and old adopt different measures. To try to use
the ways of a generous and lenient government to rule the people of a critical age is like trying
to drive a runaway horse without using reins or whip. This is the misfortune that ignorance
invites.
Now the Confucians and the Mohists all praise the ancient kings for their universal love of the
world, saying that they looked after the people as parents look after a beloved child. And how
do they prove this contention? They say, “Whenever the minister of justice administered some
punishment, the ruler would purposely cancel all musical performances; and whenever the
ruler learned that the death sentence had been passed on someone, he would shed tears.” For
this reason they praise the ancient kings.
Now if ruler and subject must become like father and son before there can be order, then we
must suppose that there is no such thing as an unruly father or son. Among human affections
none takes priority over the love of parents for their children. But though all parents may show
love for their children, the children are not always well behaved. … And if such love cannot
prevent children from becoming unruly, then how can it bring the people to order? …
Humaneness may make one shed tears and be reluctant to apply penalties, but law makes it
clear that such penalties must be applied. The ancient kings allowed law to be supreme and did
not give in to their tearful longings. Hence it is obvious that humaneness cannot be used to
achieve order in the state. …
Now here is a young man of bad character. His parents rail at him, but he does not reform; the
neighbors scold, but he is unmoved; his teachers instruct him, but he refuses to change his
ways. Thus, although three fine influences are brought to bear on him ‑‑ the love of his parents,
the efforts of the neighbors, the wisdom of his teachers ‑‑ yet he remains unmoved and refuses
to change so much as a hair on his shin. But let the district magistrate send out the government
soldiers to enforce the law and search for evildoers, and then he is filled with terror, reforms his
conduct, and changes his ways. Thus the love of parents is not enough to make children learn
what is right, but must be backed up by the strict penalties of the local officials; for people by
nature grow proud on love, but they listen to authority. …
The best rewards are those that are generous and predictable, so that the people may profit by
them. The best penalties are those that are severe and inescapable, so that the people will fear
them. The best laws are those that are uniform and inflexible, so that the people can understand
them. …
Edited by Shifa Shengli, 23 August 2011 - 01:09 PM.











