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Inheritance and Renewal: The Cultural DNA of a Prosperous Nation and Strong People

China Institutes of Contemporary International Relations

January 1, 2021

传承与自新：国盛民强的文化基因

中国现代国际关系研究院

Inheritance and Renewal: The Cultural DNA of a Prosperous Nation and Strong People传承与自新：国盛民强的文化基因

Note: this document was translated using machine learning technology. Learn more.

Originally Written By
China Institutes of Contemporary International Relations中国现代国际关系研究院
Publisher
Current Affairs Press时事出版社

Chapter Seven

第七章

Inheritance and Self-Renewal: The Cultural DNA of a Prosperous State and a Strong People

传承与自新：国盛民强的文化基因

The renowned Qing dynasty scholar Gong Zizhen once said: “To destroy a nation, you must first destroy its history; to exterminate a people, you must first exterminate its culture.” Culture is the soul of a state and a nation, playing a fundamental role in its rise and fall, its order and chaos. When culture is strong, the state is strong; when culture is weak, the state is weak; when culture perishes, the state perishes. The continuity of culture is the foundation upon which states and nations exist, endure, and develop. This continuity is not mechanical or static — it is accompanied by transformation and renewal. Throughout the long river of human history, every culture that clung to the old ways and refused to change ultimately met its end, becoming an archaeological relic or a silent exhibit in a museum. Chinese culture, however, has continuously pushed out the old and brought in the new, embracing all that is good from other traditions. It has not only preserved its own distinctive national character but has also kept pace with the pulse of the times, providing powerful and sustained support for the development and security of the state and the nation.

Whether as an ancient civilization with a history stretching back millennia or as a modern multi-ethnic state, China’s cultural core has remained unbroken throughout. The remarkable capacity of its culture for continuity and self-renewal is the fundamental reason why the Chinese nation has endured repeated hardships without being crushed, survived repeated calamities without declining, and withstood repeated shocks without fragmenting. It is also the inner driving force that has impelled generation after generation of Chinese sons and daughters to pass the torch forward, sacrificing themselves one after another in pursuit of lasting peace and stability for the state.

The Deep and Distant Wellspring of Chinese Civilization

China is one of the world’s four great ancient civilizations, and Chinese culture is the only culture in world history to have continued unbroken for more than 5,000 years. Among the other ancient civilizations, Babylon had already vanished by the 16th century BCE, leaving behind only the windswept, war-torn lands of Mesopotamia. Egypt still exists as a state in name, but its territory has been occupied successively for more than 3,000 years by Assyrians, Persians, Macedonians, Romans, Arabs, Ottoman Turks, and Europeans. Its indigenous people and language were extinguished under the relentless assault of foreign cultures, and the inscriptions left behind by ancient Egypt became indecipherable “heavenly script” requiring painstaking decipherment to yield even a rough meaning. Ancient India, ancient Greece, and ancient Rome fared no differently — states that once shone brilliantly were ground to dust by the wheel of history, their cultures either withering away, transforming beyond recognition, or coming to an abrupt end. Only Chinese culture is renowned throughout the world for its identity and continuity. Chinese people at home and abroad hold annual ancestral memorial ceremonies to honor the Yellow Emperor and the Yan Emperor, leaders of the Huaxia tribes more than 4,000 years ago. The bamboo strips unearthed from the Qin-dynasty tomb at Shuihudi in Yunmeng County, Hubei Province — more than 2,000 years old — bear written characters that differ only slightly from modern Chinese. Poetry written by Tang dynasty people and lyrics composed by Song dynasty people more than 1,000 years ago are still recited today to express the joys and sorrows of everyday life. The lunar calendar and the sexagenary cycle of heavenly stems and earthly branches, which appeared as early as the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties, are still in use today. The festival customs of the Spring Festival, Qingming, the Dragon Boat Festival, and the Mid-Autumn Festival, along with the rituals and traditions surrounding weddings and funerals that have been passed down through the generations for hundreds and thousands of years, have become the secret code by which Chinese people find their “fellow countrymen” in the busy, crowded global village.

This unbroken, continuous cultural lineage is the very root of the Chinese nation’s ability to remain “united in body and spirit” across thousands of years. From the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors to the establishment of the Zhou dynasty; from the wars of the Spring and Autumn period to the First Emperor of Qin’s unification of the realm; from the Han through the Sui and Tang dynasties; from the Song, Yuan, Ming, and Qing to the present-day People’s Republic of China — the form of the state has changed, institutions have undergone reform, sovereign power has seen both continuity and succession, and the social organization of production has transitioned from traditional to modern. Yet “China” as a cultural community has never disappeared. Instead, it has grown and strengthened through the constant collision and fusion of “center” and “periphery.” The national identity, personal identity, and historical identity formed on the basis of this community are both clear and stable, and they constitute one of the core elements of what we now call “national security.”

The extinction of a culture is the gravest security crisis a state and a nation can face. The ancients once drew a distinction between the fall of a dynasty and the extinction of a culture. They held that dynastic succession was merely a “change of surname and title” — one ruling group replacing another — and would not shake the “fundamental foundations of the realm.” Cultural extinction, by contrast, meant the collapse of a value system and institutional order, leading to moral decay, social chaos, the loss of behavioral norms, and sustained turmoil and strife, reducing people to the level of demons and rendering the state ungovernable. Looking across history, it was precisely when “foreign peoples” representing different cultures threatened the orthodoxy and central position of Chinese culture that the most intense, widespread, and prolonged resistance arose. When the Song fell to the Yuan and the Ming fell to the Qing, the dynastic transitions between the Han-dominated Huaxia people and other rising minority peoples all provoked widespread fear among the people of the Central Plains of “national subjugation and ethnic extinction.” The Qing army’s entry into the passes was particularly significant: the regent Dorgon, seeking to distinguish the compliant from the resistant, issued the “Queue Order,” requiring Han people to change their dress and hairstyle. The Han people regarded this as an attempt to “overturn Huaxia civilization” and “sever the cultural lineage,” and it sparked comprehensive resistance across all social strata. The culturally flourishing Jiangnan region even raised the cry “our heads may be cut off, but our hair shall not be shaved,” in defiance of the Qing army’s policy of “keep your hair, lose your head; keep your head, lose your hair.” Some who had previously been dissatisfied with the darkness of late Ming society and had been prepared to surrender to the Qing immediately changed course, and people in counties that had already submitted rose up in armed revolt, hoisting banners against the Qing. Large-scale armed struggle spread across nearly the entire country. The Qing army suppressed this brutally, perpetrating atrocities such as the “Three Massacres of Jiading” and the “Ten Days of Yangzhou.” Yet this failed to suppress the popular fury. Only when the Qing government gradually consolidated its power and began to study Huaxia institutions, use the Huaxia written language, and fully “Sinicize” itself was it gradually accepted as the inheritor and successor of the “Central Plains dynasty,” and only then did the conflict over dress and hairstyle slowly subside.

Beyond external threats and shocks, imbalanced development within a culture itself can cause it to lose its vitality, thereby endangering the foundations of national security. The “culture” in “culture” does not refer solely to the humanities, arts, classical texts, and poetry; it also encompasses modes of production, inventions and discoveries, and institutions of politics, military affairs, and social governance. Institutional culture, material culture, and a rich and diverse spiritual culture together constitute the full content of culture. When these three aspects develop in a balanced and mutually reinforcing way, culture tends toward openness and self-confidence, maintaining an upward momentum. If any one of these aspects is neglected or falls markedly behind the others, culture will gradually turn inward, narrow, and arrogant, and will risk stagnation. If culture is likened to a bronze tripod, then material, institutional, and spiritual culture are its three legs — if the legs are of unequal length, the tripod will easily topple. In the late Qing period, China gradually fell behind the West, and in the process of being forced to “open its eyes to the world,” it repeatedly discovered the conservatism and “unsuitability for the times” of its own culture. This was not because Eastern and Western cultures were inherently superior or inferior to one another, but because Western culture at that time was in an ascending phase of balanced development, while Chinese culture was in a period of relative stagnation due to its imbalanced development.

This imbalance manifested most acutely in the privileging of human relations over technical skills, and of moral principle over science and technology. There was excessive self-satisfaction with the advancement of spiritual culture, a denigration of the importance of material culture, a contempt for transformations in productive technology, and a neglect of the ossification and rigidity of social institutions. In 1792, Lord Macartney led a British diplomatic mission to China, bringing carefully selected gifts intended to showcase the power of the British Empire. These included steam engines, cotton-spinning machines, carding machines, and looms — representing the most advanced productive forces in the world at the time — as well as howitzers, mortars, carbines, and repeating pistols, representing the transition from cold weapons to firearms. The mission had hoped to make a show of strength and thereby achieve its goal of opening trade with China. But to their great disappointment, the Qing court — from the emperor down to the officials — showed no interest in any of these things, dismissing them as useless “ingenious trifles and clever contrivances,” and even hinting politely that it was precisely because Britain was a “barbarian petty state” that it placed such misguided value on these objects. As for the precision instruments simulating celestial movements and the latest globes charting the routes of the great voyages of discovery that the British had brought, these were simply placed in the “Western Pavilion” of the Old Summer Palace, becoming toys in the collection of the Qianlong Emperor. Unwilling to return empty-handed, Macartney made one last effort, inviting the Grand General Fukang’an to watch a demonstration by European musketeers, hoping that as a professional military man he would recognize the power and epoch-making significance of these new weapons. But Fukang’an indicated that it made no difference whether he watched or not — “it seems there is nothing particularly remarkable about it.” This experience of visiting China shattered Macartney’s previous impression of China as “powerful and prosperous.” The various accounts published by members of the British mission after their return home also caused the “China craze” that had gripped Europe for nearly two centuries to cool abruptly. British politicians and the public alike began to realize that while praising China’s courteous Confucian culture and its mature political experience was not entirely inaccurate, China also possessed a material and institutional culture that was clearly behind the times. This stark contrast made the Qing Empire appear in the eyes of the British and Europeans as “a dilapidated first-rate warship” — staggering in size and with its frame still standing, but liable to sink at the slightest blow.

Regrettably, the Qing government itself did not recognize in time the dangers posed by this imbalanced cultural development. Only after suffering the heavy blows of two Opium Wars in succession did the Qing government resolve to launch the “Self-Strengthening Movement,” earnestly studying the “ingenious trifles and clever contrivances” and “the way of craftsmen and artisans” it had previously looked down upon. It also spent enormous sums purchasing warships and established the large-scale Beiyang Fleet, hailed as “the finest in Asia” — only to suffer a catastrophic defeat at the hands of Japan in the First Sino-Japanese War, with the entire fleet annihilated. Only then did the Qing government further recognize that having material culture without the corresponding institutional culture meant it could only limp forward in agony.

The turn of the millennium at the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th century was truly the “darkest hour” for the Chinese nation and Chinese culture. China was experiencing “the greatest upheaval in three thousand years.” The self-confidence of the “Celestial Empire” had plummeted to its nadir, beset by internal troubles and external threats, with the land of China shrouded in darkness yet the cock still crowing without cease. Yet it is precisely in such moments that the resilience and capacity for self-renewal of a culture become most apparent. Cultural reflection and awakening became the harbinger of defending national security and driving the nation to rise from humiliation and strive to catch up.

In the late Qing period, the Self-Strengthening Movement officials represented by Zhang Zhidong put forward the view of “Chinese learning as the essence, Western learning for practical use.” Without abandoning or repudiating the moral and ethical system of Chinese culture, they acknowledged the excellence of Western political institutions and the sophistication of its industrial technology, arguing that in order to save and strengthen China, it was necessary to learn from Western institutions and social organizational methods and to carry out reform. During the Republican period, the “New Culture Movement” arose, further broadening the ideas and methods of cultural transformation. It called for discarding the dross of thousands of years of cultural tradition that was incompatible with the development of the times, breaking free from the feudal autocratic system that was excessively bound to Confucian thought, and championing democracy and science while advocating new morality and new literature. The October Revolution in Russia sent Marxism into China with a single cannon shot, and political and social theory originating in Europe began to combine with the Chinese practice of national salvation. These efforts to transform culture and society — some successful, some failed, some supported, some obstructed — all without exception served the self-strengthening and development of the Chinese nation. At the critical moment when Chinese culture faced crisis, they painstakingly explored, step by step, and ultimately opened a path of adjustment, adaptation, and renewal.

This courage to reform by dissecting one’s own deep-seated ailments, this capacity to learn by drawing on the strengths of others to compensate for one’s own weaknesses, and this open-minded willingness to use the stones of other mountains to polish one’s own jade — these are the fundamental reasons why Chinese culture has been able to continuously shed its old skin without dying, and to continuously enrich itself without running dry. The continuity and self-renewal of culture is the secret of our state and nation’s indomitable perseverance and unbroken continuity.

In Tiananmen Square stands the solemn Monument to the People’s Heroes, its gilded inscription reading: “Eternal glory to the people’s heroes who, from 1840 onwards, laid down their lives in the many struggles against domestic and foreign enemies for the independence of the nation and the freedom and well-being of the people!” The year 1840 marks not only the starting point of the modern Chinese nation’s descent into crisis, but also the starting point of the self-renewal and transformation of Chinese culture and society. From that time forward, traditional culture was imbued with a modern spirit, absorbing new ideas and realities, and continuing to play its role in forging consensus, mobilizing the people, and guiding the direction in the great cause of national rejuvenation.


＜ The Monument to the People’s Heroes in Tiananmen Square, Beijing

Love of Family and Nation

In the Yiyong Hall of the Donglin Academy in Wuxi hangs a famous couplet written by the Ming dynasty scholar Gu Xiancheng: “The sounds of wind, rain, and reading — all sounds reach the ear; affairs of family, state, and all under heaven — all affairs merit concern.” Legend has it that Gu Xiancheng grew up in poverty and often borrowed books from neighbors. One day he happened to encounter a great Confucian scholar returning home from the capital. The scholar, moved by Gu’s diligence and wishing to test his talent, offered the first line of the couplet as a challenge. Without a moment’s hesitation, Gu Xiancheng produced the second line — not only perfectly matched in form, but grand in scope, revealing at such a young age an ambition to embrace all under heaven and share in the nation’s burdens. This astonished the people of the surrounding villages. The couplet was widely celebrated and became a motto for countless scholars in later generations, inspiring one generation of passionate patriots after another.

“Affairs of family, state, and all under heaven” is the most direct expression of the “love of family and nation” in Chinese culture. In the Chinese conception, the state is the family writ large, and the family is the state writ small — the two are inseparable. Each individual, as a member of a family, naturally bears the obligation to ensure the continuation and flourishing of the clan; as a member of society, one also feels a conscious responsibility for the security and development of the state. This is a social and moral norm that evolved gradually from simple interpersonal norms, originating earliest in the patriarchal clan system of the Western Zhou, in which family and state were structurally unified. The Zhou Son of Heaven enfeoffed the feudal lords according to the closeness of their clan blood ties, and the lords in turn enfeoffed the ministers and knights in descending order, expanding clan relationships into a concentric-circle form of political organization, cultivating political identity through clan identity. The Zhou rites emphasized “honoring the honored” and “cherishing the cherished” — that is, individuals enjoyed different rights and bore specific obligations according to their rank and the closeness of their relationships.

Chapter Seven

＜ Yiyong Hall, Donglin Academy, Wuxi, Jiangsu Province

After the Qin and Han dynasties, the commandery-county system replaced the feudal enfeoffment system, and the bureaucratic system replaced the aristocratic system. But the patriarchal clan system did not disappear; on the contrary, it was further developed by Confucian thought into the ethical norms of “ruler and minister, father and son,” and elevated into the spiritual conviction and moral pursuit of “family, state, and all under heaven.” Confucianism advocated “serving the ruler with loyalty, serving one’s parents with filial piety, serving one’s elder brothers with fraternal respect, and serving one’s friends with faithfulness.” Loyalty, filial piety, fraternal respect, and faithfulness were the basic principles of being human and the foundation for active engagement with the world. Viewed vertically, fulfilling family obligations was the starting point for fulfilling social responsibilities — as the saying goes, “If one cannot manage one’s own household, how can one govern the state and the realm?” Going further to shoulder responsibility for the state and society represented an elevation of one’s life’s purpose, which is why Mencius said, “When poor, cultivate virtue in oneself alone; when successful, extend virtue to all under heaven.” Viewed horizontally, responsibility encompassed but was not limited to the clan defined by blood ties; rather, it extended outward from oneself, reaching ever further:

Inheritance and Self-Renewal: The Cultural DNA of a Prosperous State and a Strong People

“Treat the elders of others as you treat your own elders; treat the children of others as you treat your own children”; “do not cherish only your own kin, do not nurture only your own children” — and thereby achieve the unification, harmony, and good governance of all under heaven. This vertical and horizontal expansion bound the individual, the family, society, and the state tightly together into an inseparable whole, forming the bedrock of the Chinese nation’s distinctive sense of identity and its pursuit of values.

Even after the feudal dynastic era ended, institutionalized Confucianism dissolved, and the social order underwent earth-shaking transformation, this love of family and nation was still transmitted as a cultural gene, settling into a stable social consensus. It displayed characteristics sharply different from the Western cultural tradition, which emphasizes a clear separation — even an antagonistic divide — between the individual and the state.

In essence, the sentiment of family-state unity is a sense of responsibility to “take all people under heaven as one’s own charge.” Scholars and literati held it up as their moral touchstone. The renowned Northern Song literary figure Fan Zhongyan wrote in his “Yueyang Tower Preface” the immortal lines: “Be the first to bear the sorrows of the realm; be the last to enjoy its joys” — a standard for the ages. His contemporary, the Neo-Confucian philosopher and educator Cheng Yi, who lectured in Luoyang, also maintained that “scholars must not neglect the affairs of the world,” arguing that the affairs of the realm, like the affairs of the family, always need someone to attend to them, and that shirking one’s responsibility only adds to the burden of others. Scholars in particular must combine the study of the sages with active engagement in the world, working diligently to benefit the people and share the burdens of the state and society, in accordance with the teachings of the sages. This moral pursuit made no distinction based on a person’s status or station in life. The Southern Song poet Lu You was dismissed from his post in the third year of the Chunxi reign period (1176 CE) for offending powerful officials, and lay ill in the outskirts of Chengdu, with his career and life at their lowest ebb. Yet he still took as his model Zhuge Liang, the Chancellor of Shu Han, who “gave his all until death,” and wrote the celebrated line: “Though my station is lowly, I dare not forget my concern for the state.” Lu You subsequently entered and left government service several times, was repeatedly demoted, and ultimately died as a commoner. On his deathbed he still could not forget the great cause of national unification, admonishing his descendants: “When the imperial army reclaims the Central Plains, do not forget to tell your father at the family memorial.” In the late Ming and early Qing period, the scholar Gu Yanwu lived through turbulent times, witnessing foreign peoples ravaging the Central Plains and bringing untold suffering to the people. He urgently called for exploring “the sources of order and chaos in the state, and the fundamental plans for the livelihood of the people,” and put forward the proposition that “even the humblest commoner bears responsibility for the preservation of all under heaven.” He further explained that “all under heaven” was not the dynasty of any one family or surname — the foundation of the realm was the survival of the people and the continuation of the nation’s culture — and declared: “To rescue the people from misery and open an era of lasting peace for ten thousand generations — this is the mission of our generation.” In the late Qing and early Republican period, Liang Qichao, grieved by the weakness of the state and its internal and external humiliations, further developed Gu Yanwu’s proposition into the rallying cry “Every citizen bears responsibility for the rise and fall of the nation,” calling for “the self-renewal of our generation” to seek the rejuvenation of China.

In practice, the unity of family and state brought the aspirations of individual development into alignment with the aspirations of social progress, making the lasting peace and stability of the state the highest form of individual self-realization. The Confucian classic The Great Learning states: “The ancients who wished to illuminate virtue throughout the realm first governed their states well; wishing to govern their states well, they first regulated their families; wishing to regulate their families, they first cultivated their own persons; wishing to cultivate their own persons, they first rectified their minds; wishing to rectify their minds, they first made their intentions sincere; wishing to make their intentions sincere, they first extended their knowledge; the extension of knowledge lay in the investigation of things. When things are investigated, knowledge is extended; when knowledge is extended, intentions become sincere; when intentions are sincere, the mind is rectified; when the mind is rectified, the person is cultivated; when the person is cultivated, the family is regulated; when the family is regulated, the state is well governed; when the state is well governed, all under heaven is at peace.” Cultivating the self, regulating the family, governing the state, and bringing peace to all under heaven — this was not only a progressive expansion of the space and sphere of real life, but also a cumulative elevation of life’s purpose, ultimately reaching the ideal realm of “resting in the highest good” through one’s contributions to family, state, and all under heaven. The great Northern Song Confucian Zhang Zai devoted his entire life to advocating “practical learning,” emphasizing its application to real-world affairs. Building on the framework of self-cultivation, family regulation, state governance, and universal peace, he further proposed that the mission of the scholar-official was “to establish the mind of heaven and earth, to secure the livelihood of the people, to carry forward the learning of past sages,

Monument to the Nanyang Overseas Chinese Motor Transport Corps Who Fought Against Japanese Aggression, Xishan Park, Kunming, Yunnan Province — and to open an era of lasting peace for ten thousand generations.” This not only won broad social recognition at the time but was also embraced by scholars of later generations as the highest ideal of life, which they strove earnestly to put into practice. In fact, realizing one’s life’s worth in the great cause of serving the state and the people was not the exclusive preserve of the literati and scholars — it was the most heartfelt sentiment and the broadest consensus among all Chinese sons and daughters. From Wen Tianxiang’s “Since ancient times, who has not died? Let my loyal heart illuminate the pages of history” at the end of the Southern Song, to the revolutionary martyr Zhao Bosheng’s “My death gives life to the nation; my death is glorious; though my body dies, my spirit lives on” in the modern era; from the high official Lin Zexu’s passionate declaration “If it benefits the state, I will give my life for it — how could I let personal fortune or misfortune sway me?” to the people’s good soldier Lei Feng writing in his diary “to devote my limited life to the unlimited service of the people” — the ideals and convictions behind all of these flow from the same unbroken source.

More importantly, within the value system of “family, state, and all under heaven,” there is a clear order of priority between state and family: the state comes before the family, and the family is subordinate to the state. When the state faces calamity, when society encounters crisis, and when an individual cannot be loyal to both family and state at once, Chinese people have often chosen to sacrifice the family for the state, giving expression to the sublime spirit of sacrificing the lesser self to achieve the greater self. It is precisely this cultural consciousness that has enabled the Chinese nation, whenever it faces peril, to rapidly mobilize all social strata and concentrate all resources to meet external threats. It is also this value orientation that has allowed Chinese society — which appears loose and peaceful in ordinary times — to reveal astonishing resilience and the power of unity when crisis strikes. When the Han dynasty’s Central Plains regime was threatened by the Xiongnu, Huo Qubing resolved to protect the borders and the people, declaring with passionate conviction: “If the Xiongnu are not destroyed, why should I speak of home?” When the Northern Song was destroyed in the Jingkang Humiliation and the Song court retreated south to a precarious existence, Yue Fei wished to enlist and fight the enemy but feared that his aged mother had no one to care for her, and hesitated in anguish. His mother, understanding the greater cause, personally tattooed the four characters “serve the state with utter loyalty”[1] on his back, encouraging him to put the state and society and all the people first, and not to be held back by concern for his own small family. In the late Qing naval battle against Japan, the warship commanded by Deng Shichang was struck by the enemy. He gave up the chance to escape and died heroically together with more than 200 officers and men aboard, believing that “though I die, the prestige of the navy will not diminish — this is how I repay the state,” and that his death was well worth it. After the late Qing period, with the state beset internally by warlord strife and externally by the encroachments of Western imperialist powers and the full-scale invasion by neighboring Japan, “the Chinese nation had reached its most perilous moment.” Countless patriots, in order to save the nation, left behind wives and children and sacrificed their family fortunes for the national cause — moving stories abound. The revolutionary pioneer Lin Juemin, on his way to lay down his life for the nation, wrote a deeply moving “Letter to My Wife,” urging her that “even in your grief, keep the people of the world in your thoughts,” and earnestly asking her to understand and support his choice to sacrifice the happiness of their small family in order to seek lasting happiness for all people under heaven. The anti-Japanese war general Cai Bingyan consoled his parents in a family letter: “If the state cannot be preserved, how can the family survive?” — giving voice to the heartfelt cry of countless sons and daughters of that era. At the most difficult moment of the War of Resistance Against Japan, more than 3,200 overseas Chinese in the prime of their lives from various Southeast Asian countries gave up their relatively peaceful and comfortable lives to serve on the Burma Road — known as the “highway of death” and the “lifeline of the War of Resistance” — escorting vehicles transporting military supplies for the war effort. More than 1,800 of them gave their lives. They were not soldiers — they were ordinary mechanics, repairmen, drivers, and construction workers — yet they built a monument to the nation with their own flesh and blood.

Society has generally responded with strong positive affirmation to such acts of sacrificing one’s life for righteousness and giving up the small family for the greater good, spontaneously holding them up as moral exemplars to be celebrated across generations. Whether a renowned scholar or a village child, anyone who has made contributions and sacrifices for the state, for justice, and for the people will be praised in the historical record and revered in daily life. Shrines to loyal martyrs and righteous heroes are found throughout the country in great numbers, and local gazetteers devote special chapters to recording the deeds of local worthies. Even someone as ordinary as the cowherd Wang Erxiao — whose story of cleverly stalling Japanese invaders and sacrificing himself to cover the escape of his fellow villagers — has been remembered, turned into a song, and passed down by word of mouth to this day. Conversely, those who disregarded national righteousness and the interests of the state, who were cowardly or concerned only with their own selfish interests, have generally been regarded as “spineless” traitors, nailed to the pillar of historical shame for a long time to come. This moral and value orientation is most vividly displayed at the Yue Fei Temple on the shores of West Lake in Hangzhou: Yue Fei, who served the state with utter loyalty, is honored by the people as “King Yue” and sits enthroned in the main hall; while Qin Hui and others who secretly colluded with the enemy and framed Yue Fei and had him imprisoned are cast as kneeling statues placed before Yue Fei’s tomb, subjected to the condemnation and contempt of posterity for eternity. Even in the Qianlong reign of the Qing dynasty, when the newly appointed top imperial examination graduate Qin Dashi visited the Yue Fei Temple with friends, a friend teased him as a “descendant of Qin Hui” and told him to go and kowtow in apology to King Yue. Left with no choice, Qin Dashi wrote a couplet at the temple to defend himself: “Since the Song, men have been ashamed of the name Hui; standing before this tomb, I am mortified to bear the surname Qin.”


传承与自新：国盛民强的文化基因

The moral pursuits of the intellectuals and the positive feedback of the general public formed a virtuous interaction, causing the concept of family-state unity, the consensus that “only with a state can there be a family,” the sense of mission that “every citizen bears responsibility for the rise and fall of the nation,” and the spiritual pursuit of serving the state and the people to sink ever deeper into the hearts of the people as history unfolded. These became the “adhesive” binding Chinese society together, as well as the “invisible Great Wall” and firm psychological line of defense for safeguarding national security.

A Naturally Multi-Ethnic State

“Hua” is an alternative name for China. China is also called “Zhonghua,” Chinese people are called “Huaren,” the Chinese written language is called “Huawen,” and the Central Plains are called “Huaxia Shenzhou.” It is not uncommon in the world for a state and a nation to have an alternative name — Iran, for example, is also known as “Persia,” and Japan refers to itself as the “Yamato people.” But the difference is that both “Persia” and “Yamato” carry inherently racial and blood-based connotations, whereas “Hua” and “Huaxia” are distinctive cultural concepts.

The Book of Documents states: “Those with ceremonial caps and robes adorned with colorful patterns are called Hua; a great state is called Xia.” The ceremonial caps and robes adorned with colorful patterns represented advanced productive forces and a complete institutional system — an expression of cultural superiority. “Huaxia,” therefore, means “a great civilized state.”

Huaxia was not itself a single ethnic group, but rather a core civilizational sphere of the Central Plains composed of multiple tribes. Corresponding to it were the minority peoples living around the periphery of this core civilizational sphere, whom the Chinese called Yi, Rong, Man, and Di. These terms originally carried no discriminatory connotation; they straightforwardly described the ways of life and production of these groups. Some were hunting peoples who carried bows and arrows (Yi); some were nomadic peoples who lived and traveled alongside their herding dogs, cattle, and sheep (Di, Rong); some spoke languages mutually unintelligible with those of the Central Plains, with a cacophony of dialects but no written script (Man). They rarely ate cooked meat, did not cultivate grain crops, “wore their hair loose and fastened their garments on the left, cut their hair and tattooed their bodies, made no distinction between father and son, and lived together in the same room” — they were clearly behind the Central Plains region in both material and spiritual culture. Tracing back to the origins, the distinction between Huaxia and the Yi, Rong, Man, and Di lay not in race but in the culture they practiced. The self-identity of the Huaxia people did not depend on blood ties but was rooted in cultural identity and shared institutions.

The Huaxia people took shape during the Xia and Shang dynasties, flourished during the Zhou, and experienced their first cultural crisis — the “collapse of rites and music” — during the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods. The states of the Central Plains (the “諸夏,” or Huaxia states) fought one another in turn, while peripheral tribes took advantage of the chaos to raid and plunder, and the Yi and Di gradually encroached upon the core civilizational sphere, creating a situation in which “the southern Yi and northern Di were pressing in, and China’s thread of continuity was as thin as a gossamer strand.” This “thin as a gossamer strand” meant it was as fine as a thread in the wind, on the verge of snapping. During this period, the still-young Huaxia culture and the relatively advanced agricultural way of life of the time faced unprecedented threats. In order to defend the central position of the core culture, rebuild the political order, and restore unity among the “Huaxia states,” the Confucian school represented by Confucius put forward the concept of the

Inheritance and Self-Renewal: The Cultural DNA of a Prosperous State and a Strong People

“distinction between Hua and Yi,” strongly emphasizing the cultural differences between the Huaxia people and the surrounding peoples. At the same time, it also held that Huaxia and the Yi and Di were intermingled and mutually transformable — as the saying goes, “When the Yi and Di enter China, they become Chinese; when the Chinese enter the Yi and Di, they become Yi and Di.” This meant that as long as the Yi and Di accepted the advanced culture, they would become part of the Huaxia people; conversely, if the Huaxia states abandoned their ritual institutions, they would transform into Yi and Di.

The state of Wu in the Spring and Autumn period was a feudal state of the same clan as the Zhou royal house. The ancestor of the Wu rulers, Taibo (also written “Taibo”), was the uncle of King Wen of Zhou and the eldest son of the family — his lineage and status could not have been more distinguished. When the Grand King of Zhou (Taibo’s father) intended to pass power to his youngest son, Taibo, not wishing to cause fratricidal strife among his brothers, voluntarily withdrew to the then-remote and uncivilized Jiangnan region (the “Jing Man” territory), calling himself “Gou Wu,” and, like the local Man people, “cut his hair and tattooed his body” as a way of signaling that he had forfeited the right to inherit the throne.[2] The successive rulers of Wu after Taibo followed this precedent, “cutting their hair and tattooing their bodies,” and gradually adopted the way of life and customs of the local Jing Man tribes. As a result, Wu came to be excluded by the Central Plains states and was no longer recognized as a member of “Huaxia.” A similar situation befell the state of Yan. The founding ancestor of Yan, Duke Shao, was a kinsman of the Zhou royal house, also of the Ji surname, and was paired with the Duke of Zhou as co-regent during the reign of King Cheng of Zhou. His descendants were enfeoffed in Yan, where they lived intermingled with local Rong and Di tribes, and the differences in their way of life from the Central Plains gradually widened, to the point that they too were excluded from the “Huaxia states.” The Zuo Zhuan also records a story about the interactions between the state of Qi and the state of Lu. Although Qi was a small state in Shandong, it was a descendant of the Xia dynasty, with ancestors traceable to Yu the Great, the Xia king. By the reckoning of the three dynasties’ lineage, it was by blood the most orthodox of “Huaxia.” The ruler of Qi held the title of “Duke,” one of the higher ranks among the feudal lords. In the twenty-seventh year of Duke Xi of Lu, Qi sent a diplomatic mission to Lu, and the envoy performed the rites using Yi ritual forms. The people of Lu looked down on this and called them “Yi,” and even in the historical record refused to acknowledge Qi’s status as a duchy, directly referring to its ruler as “Viscount” — a demotion of several ranks. Not content with this, the Lu historian took the trouble to note in the terse historical record an explanation: the reason for this demotion of the Qi ruler was that they did not practice Huaxia ritual propriety.[3] Not being confined to a narrow conception of the state had a profound and far-reaching influence on the formation and unification of the multi-ethnic state and on its internal security.

It is thus clear that the distinction between “Hua” and “Yi” — and by extension the determination of who is “one of us” and who is “the other” or even “the enemy” — was based on cultural standards, not on race or blood ties. This principle was carried forward across the subsequent thousands of years, with only the emphasis shifting in different historical periods. Sometimes the intermingling and fusion of Hua and Yi was stressed; at other times the need to guard against Yi and defend the central position of Huaxia culture was emphasized. But the standard for distinguishing Hua from Yi never changed. Liang Shuming held that “this is the orthodox tradition of Chinese thought… not the supremacy of the state, not the supremacy of race, but the supremacy of culture.” It was precisely this tradition of cultural supremacy that ensured China never fell into a narrow conception of ethnicity throughout its long historical process, never

First, it shaped China’s distinctive ethnic structure, enabling the Chinese nation to consistently maintain an open and pluralistic configuration and an all-embracing spirit. The Huaxia people were originally an alliance of agricultural tribes in the Yellow River valley. By the Western Zhou period, a relatively complete system of ritual and music had taken shape, and the feudal system, the patriarchal clan system, and the well-field system were implemented. Because these institutions adapted to the development of productive forces, the two formed a virtuous interaction, causing the advanced nature of the Central Plains’ mode of production and life to become increasingly prominent and to spread gradually to the surrounding regions. States previously regarded as Yi, Rong, Man, or Di — such as Chu, Qin, and Wu — were considered part of Huaxia after adopting the economic, political, and social institutions of the Central Plains, greatly elevating their level of civilization. During the dynastic successions of the feudal era that stretched across a thousand years, some “Yi and Di” regimes that had conquered the traditional Huaxia core civilizational sphere by force and established their rule — such as the Northern Wei and the Qing — were ultimately accepted as orthodox Chinese dynasties because they comprehensively adopted the advanced Huaxia culture. Some historically peripheral peoples, such as the Xiongnu, Xianbei, Di, Qiang, Tangut, Khitan, and Jurchen, all joined the great family of the Chinese nation through a continuous process of exchange and integration with the Central Plains region, and China’s historical territory thus showed a tendency to expand continuously.

What is particularly admirable is that the process by which the Chinese nation formed and grew was not a one-way assimilation of the Yi and Di by the Huaxia people, but rather a process in which the various peoples, through collision and fusion, drove the continuous enrichment and renewal of Chinese culture. The Book of Rites — Royal Regulations states: “The peoples of the five regions — the Central States, the Rong, and the Yi — all have their own natures, which cannot be altered.” This recognized the objective existence of the different characteristics and differences of each people, and did not advocate complete assimilation; instead, it promoted “improving their education without changing their customs, unifying their governance without changing what is appropriate for them” — that is, emphasizing the unification of government decrees and the cultivation of ritual norms, but without forcibly changing the original way of life of the people in each region. Conversely, the mainstream culture would also actively absorb and learn from the excellent cultures and customs of other peoples. During the Warring States period, King Wuling of Zhao promoted “Hu dress and cavalry archery,” drawing on the short-sleeved clothing of the so-called “Hu people” and their emphasis on cavalry and crossbows in combat, reforming the drawbacks of Huaxia soldiers’ long, wide-sleeved garments that were unsuitable for combat and their reliance on infantry with limited mobility. This strengthened military power and created favorable technical conditions for the state’s strength and security. Moreover, although the Han-dominated “Huaxia” prided themselves on the advanced nature of their culture, they were not excessively attached to bloodlines. They neither excluded intermarriage with the “Yi and Di” nor pursued the “physical elimination” of other peoples. As early as ancient times, China had formed the tradition of “not extinguishing the sacrifices of a conquered state” — that is, when a state was destroyed, whether of the same or a different people, the members of that state’s noble clan would not all be killed. On the contrary, after the new order of rule was established, the nobles of the conquered state would be given appropriate political status, the newly submitted people would be given means of livelihood, and they would gradually become part of the new state and social system — only in this way could “all under heaven submit wholeheartedly.” It is precisely for this reason that the Chinese nation gradually formed a pluralistic and unified configuration with a core cultural identity while each component retained its own distinctive character.

Second, the culturally supreme conception of Hua and Yi shaped China’s distinctive ethnic relations. Although the various peoples differed in strength, they were relatively equal in conception, and discrimination based on innate bloodlines never occupied the mainstream. Among the ancient emperors and the rulers of the three dynasties, Shun was an Eastern Yi person and King Wen of Zhou was a Western Yi person, yet this did not prevent later generations from venerating them as enlightened Huaxia rulers. Hou Ji’s descendants Gong Liu and Gugong “were both born among the Rong and Di” and had Rong and Di blood, yet they were also revered as ancient sages because of their achievements and virtue. It is clear that orthodoxy was not determined by blood lineage — as long as one accepted Huaxia culture, one would not be discriminated against on account of blood. Xunzi also said: “The children of the Gan, Yue, Yi, and Mo peoples are born with the same voices, but grow up with different customs — it is education that makes them so.”[4] He held that Huaxia and Yi and Di were no different at birth, and that the differences in culture and customs that manifested as they grew up were mainly the result of receiving different education and cultivation. He emphasized that it was learning and education acquired after birth, not innate nature, that caused differences between people, and that there was no inherent hierarchy of high and low. Although Confucius believed in the distinction between Hua and Yi, this was ultimately an emphasis on the central importance of the ritual and music system, not a judgment of superiority or inferiority based on bloodlines. According to scholarly research, among Confucius’s seventy-two disciples, Yan Yan, Di Hei, Zuo Renying, Gongsun Long, Ren Buqi, Qin Shang, Qin Zu, Rang Si Chi, and others were all of Yi and Di origin. Confucius himself once said he wished to go and live among the Nine Yi peoples. Someone advised him that the Nine Yi lands were culturally backward and very isolated — how could one possibly live there for long? Confucius replied: “If a gentleman goes to live there (he will bring culture and ritual with him) — how can it be said to be backward and isolated?”[5] Most representative of all was the flourishing Tang dynasty, when the emperor himself had Xianbei blood; many of the generals holding military power at court were also from minority peoples, among the more notable being the Turkic Zhishi Sili, the Tiele Qibi Heli, the Baekje Heichi Changzhi, the Goguryeo Gao Xianzhi, and the Khitan Li Guangbi,

all of whom held high positions. Among them, Zhishi Sili married into the imperial family, and Qibi Heli was buried at the Zhaoling mausoleum of Emperor Taizong of Tang after his death, receiving honors and treatment that many Han officials could not obtain.

The Huaxia, as the dominant people, relied primarily on their advanced culture to attract surrounding peoples, rather than on military plunder. The surrounding peoples, in turn, identified with the culture of the dominant people and voluntarily “internalized” it, thereby forming a centripetal ethnic configuration. During the Spring and Autumn period, the state of Jin, as one of the Huaxia states, frequently came into conflict with the neighboring northern minority peoples. When Duke Dao of Jin came to power, he wished to resolve the border threat once and for all and intended to attack and destroy the surrounding Rong and Di peoples. When the Jin minister Wei Jiang learned of this, he dissuaded Duke Dao, arguing that pacification and reconciliation were preferable to military campaigns, and elaborated on five benefits of “making peace with the Rong”: the nomadic peoples did not value land but valued goods and property, so border trade could be developed with them; without war, the people could peacefully engage in agricultural production; maintaining peace on the periphery would avoid the expenditure of military supplies and fighting personnel; once on good terms with the Rong and Di, and once the Rong and Di came to admire Jin’s ritual institutions, this would demonstrate Jin’s status as the orthodox Huaxia state and have a deterrent effect in the competition among the feudal lords; and most importantly, from past experience, only by dealing with the Rong and Di through the method of winning them over with virtue could lasting peace and harmony on the border be maintained. Both Jin and the Rong and Di would benefit — why not do so?[6] Duke Dao of Jin was successfully persuaded and began to implement the policy of making peace with the Rong. The result was exactly as Wei Jiang had anticipated: Jin’s national power grew rapidly, it restored its hegemonic position, and its prestige among the Huaxia feudal states was also enhanced. Duke Dao wished to richly reward Wei Jiang, but Wei Jiang declined, saying: “Making peace with the Rong and Di is a blessing for the state.” Thereafter, “winning others over through virtue and education” and “using gentle means to bring distant peoples into the fold” gradually became the preferred policy of the Central Plains regimes in handling relations with surrounding peoples. Only when subjected to raids would they strike back, as the saying goes, “when they come, punish and repel them; when they leave, guard and defend against them.” If a Yi or Di tribe admired Central Plains culture and was willing to acknowledge the advanced nature of the Central Plains regime and show respect and submission in ritual and institutional terms, then “receive them with ritual and courtesy, and maintain ties without severing them.” Central Plains regimes rarely demanded that minority peoples who “admired righteousness and paid tribute” bear economic obligations; on the contrary, they regarded improving the productive forces of minority regions, maintaining their stability and unity, and narrowing the gap between them and the Huaxia core civilizational sphere as their own moral responsibility, and viewed this as one of the basic conditions for the lasting peace and stability of the state.

For the minority peoples, the advanced culture and mode of production and life of the Central Plains region itself held powerful attraction, while the open character of the “Huaxia system” further generated a powerful centripetal force. Any group willing to submit could be incorporated into the Huaxia sphere; Huaxia identity generally signified orthodoxy and legitimacy. Thus throughout history, many minority regimes actively sought — or even fabricated — evidence to prove that they were descendants of Huaxia. The Tuoba clan of the Xianbei people of the Northern Wei claimed to be descendants of the Yellow Emperor; the Yuwen clan, also Xianbei, traced their genealogy back to the Yan Emperor; the Xiongnu Helian Bobo found clues in the Records of the Grand Historian and declared that his family were descendants of the Xia royal house, simply adopting “Xia” as his state’s name; the Mongol regime adopted “Yuan” as its state name, drawing from the meaning of “following the correct beginning of the Spring and Autumn Annals and embodying the great Qian Yuan of the Book of Changes,” to show that although they were not of Huaxia stock, they were also versed in Huaxia culture. The characteristic of cultural supremacy — of cultural identity taking precedence over racial identity — shaped the open, pluralistic and unified structure of the Chinese nation, formed relatively equal relations among the various peoples and the tradition of “harmony over war,” and in turn gave rise to an economically interconnected network. This became the fundamental reason why a multi-ethnic state could achieve unification and maintain lasting cohesion, and it also explains why Chinese people regard it as entirely natural for multiple ethnic groups to form a single state. Whether in terms of ethnic structure or identity, China is fundamentally different from the modern European nation-states formed on the basis of blood and race.

But it must also be acknowledged that China’s ethnic relations have not been without moments of tension and antagonism. Looking across history, the intensification of ethnic contradictions and the transformation of the “distinction between Hua and Yi” into a “strict guard against Yi” have generally coincided with periods when Huaxia culture was in crisis and the Central Plains regime was beset by internal and external troubles. The Eastern Jin’s retreat south, the chaos of the Five Barbarians; the coexistence of Song and Jin, with the Song court in precarious exile; the Mongol cavalry sweeping across the land, turning the realm into pasture; the rise of competing warlords at the end of the Ming, with the Qing army driving south — all of these provoked social currents emphasizing “the distinction between Hua and Yi and the strict defense of that boundary.” On one hand, this was a form of self-protection for Huaxia culture; on the other, it was the Huaxia people’s way of forging internal unity by clearly defining “who we are” and “who the enemy is” in order to resist external threats. Conversely, when the Central Plains regime was consolidated and national power was strong, and the superiority of Huaxia culture went unchallenged — as during the height of the Han and Tang dynasties — the position of “Hua and Yi as one” and “the king has no outsiders” was generally emphasized.

In the late Qing period, Chinese society underwent convulsive change, and the forceful intrusion of Western culture brought an unprecedented crisis to Huaxia culture. Patriotic individuals who took the family, state, and all under heaven as their charge lamented on one hand that Huaxia culture had lost its advanced character and that China had fallen to the level of the Yi and Di — that the West “attacks China’s lack of the Way with its possession of the Way, and so China is in peril” (in the words of the late Qing diplomat Guo Songtao) — while on the other hand they cried out to “restore China,” with Peking University professor Liu Shipei even proposing the adoption of a “Yellow Emperor calendar” to awaken the national consciousness of their compatriots. The psychology of anxious bewilderment and contradictory struggle was laid bare in all its complexity on the question of Hua and Yi. As the crisis deepened, the elite class ultimately broke through the traditional conception of Hua and Yi in determining “who is Huaxia,” viewing all of China as a single entity and treating foreign cultures as “Yi.” Liang Qichao pioneered the concept of the “Chinese nation” (Zhonghua minzu), arguing that in the face of national survival, one should “unite all the peoples of the interior and the dependencies to stand against the peoples outside… combining Han, Manchu, Mongol, Hui, Miao, and Tibetan to form one great nation.” Thereafter, the “Chinese National Grand Unity Association” and the “Five Peoples National Progress Association” were established one after another, and a traditional, multi-ethnic cultural community began its slow transformation toward a modern state, forged in the fire of resistance against overseas aggression and fierce collision with an alien culture.

Today, the “distinction between Hua and Yi” has exited the historical stage. But for a multi-ethnic state like China, it still carries profound lessons for development and security: maintaining the advanced nature of the state’s material culture, institutional culture, and spiritual culture, and shaping and promoting Core Socialist Values, is the fundamental way to maintain ethnic unity and strengthen the sense of national identity and cohesion.

Civilizing the People, Governing the State with Virtue

During the Spring and Autumn period, Duke Jing of Qi was very fond of one of his concubines; she bore him a son named “Cha,” and Duke Jing intended to pass the throne of Qi to Cha. However, his eldest son, Yangsheng, had already been established as crown prince. Some ministers, seeking to curry favor with Duke Jing, urged him to set aside the elder son in favor of the younger. When the senior minister Yan Ying of Qi learned of this, he remonstrated with Duke Jing, saying this could not be done: for a person of lower status to replace one of higher status was a great harm to the state; setting aside the eldest son in favor of a younger one was the root of calamity. Moreover, Crown Prince Yangsheng had already come of age, his virtue was complete, and he was deeply beloved by the people of the state — setting him aside would be contrary to ritual propriety.[7] Yan Ying’s argument rested on the principle of “governing the state through ritual propriety.” “Ritual” was a complete set of behavioral norms for maintaining social order. Adhering to ritual would produce a good social atmosphere in which the ruler was upright and the ministers loyal, fathers were kind and sons filial, elder brothers were friendly and younger brothers respectful, and husbands and wives lived in harmony — and only then could the state achieve stability, strength, and lasting peace.

But Duke Jing of Qi could not take Yan Ying’s earnest remonstrance to heart, and insisted on setting aside Crown Prince Yangsheng and establishing Cha as heir apparent. After Duke Jing died, Crown Prince Cha could not command the allegiance of the people and was killed by the Tian clan, plunging Qi into turmoil. At this point the people of Qi recalled Yan Ying’s earlier remonstrance and praised him as a worthy minister, saying he possessed great wisdom and foresight.

In fact, “governing the state through ritual propriety” was not merely Yan Ying’s personal view, but the consensus of some politicians and thinkers of the time. Guan Zhong, the chief minister of Qi, once said: “Ritual propriety, righteousness, integrity, and a sense of shame are

the four pillars of the state; if the four pillars are not upheld, the state will perish.” He held that “ritual” and “virtue” were the foundations of national security, and called for competition among states to focus on the contest of morality and ritual propriety, rather than on the display of brute force and military might. Confucius regarded “ritual” and “virtue” as the ideal standard for governing the state, pointing out: “Lead the people with government decrees and regulate them with punishments — the people will avoid wrongdoing but have no sense of shame; lead the people with virtue and regulate them with ritual propriety — they will have a sense of shame and will moreover conform to what is right.” The general meaning is: using government decrees to guide people and penal law to regulate them is not without effect in governing the state, but it is not the best approach — the people merely seek to avoid punishment, but in their hearts have no sense of right and wrong. The more ideal approach is to guide people with virtue and to educate and regulate them with ritual propriety — in this way they will not only refrain from wrongdoing, but will also have a standard of right and wrong in their hearts and a sense of shame, and will spontaneously form a stable and good order, enabling the state to achieve the goal of “good governance.” Xunzi also elevated “ritual” to an exalted position, holding that “a person without ritual cannot survive; affairs without ritual cannot succeed; a state without ritual cannot be at peace.”

China’s earliest fully formed ritual system — the Zhou rites — underwent major collapse and transformation during the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, but this in no way prevented the various feudal states and schools of thought of the time from emphasizing ritual propriety and moral virtue. Some went further, arguing that it was precisely the “collapse of rites and music” that had caused the unending strife and warfare among the states, and that only by rebuilding the ritual system could all under heaven return to peace and order. This current of thought continued to flow down through the ages. After the Qin and Han dynasties, Confucian thought gradually attained a predominant position in social ideology, further enriching the content of ritual propriety and moral virtue and developing the systematic concept of “governing the state through ritual” and “virtue as the primary means, punishment as the supplement.” This became an important component of China’s traditional political culture and also shaped a distinctive conception of national security.

In terms of the security of sovereign power, the “virtue” and “conduct” of the ruler and the ruling group directly bore upon the legitimacy of governance. Although the ruler received the Mandate of Heaven, the “Mandate of Heaven” was not immutable. The will of the people was the reflection of the Mandate of Heaven: “Heaven sees as the people see; Heaven hears as the people hear”; “what the people desire, Heaven will surely follow.” If the ruler lost virtue, if the government failed to fulfill its duties and responsibilities, if it could not enable the people of the realm to live and work in peace and contentment, or if it even harmed the interests of the people, then it would lose the “Mandate of Heaven,” triggering social turmoil and the succession of sovereign power. Mencius called the virtuous conduct that conformed to ritual norms “benevolence,” and held that the founding rulers of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties were able to win the realm because they practiced benevolent governance; when their regimes were later overthrown, it was also because the rulers’ conduct was “not benevolent” — this was the law governing the rise and fall of states. As the saying goes: “If the Son of Heaven is not benevolent, he cannot protect the four seas; if the feudal lords are not benevolent, they cannot protect their states; if the ministers are not benevolent, they cannot protect their ancestral temples; if the scholars and commoners are not benevolent, they cannot protect their own bodies.”

Yu the Great, the founding ruler of the Xia dynasty, led the people in controlling floods, saving the nine regions of the realm from the ravages of inundation and sparing the Huaxia people from untold suffering — and so the Mandate of Heaven fell to him. But Jie, the last ruler of the Xia dynasty, was perverse in conduct and dissolute in behavior, wallowing in extravagance and luxury, and imposing crushing levies and exactions on the people. A minister advised Jie to show concern for the people’s livelihood, warning that otherwise the state might face ruin. But Jie was unconcerned, believing himself to be the bearer of the Mandate of Heaven, like the sun in the sky: “When will the sun perish? Only then will I perish!” The people, utterly unable to endure any more, pointed at the sun and cursed Jie: “When will you perish? We would rather perish together with you!” The Shang dynasty, responding to the will of the people, overthrew the rule of the Xia. The “Tang-Wu Revolution” was regarded as a righteous war, one that “followed the will of Heaven and responded to the hearts of the people.” But by the end of the Shang dynasty, King Zhou committed the same error as Jie, squandering vast social wealth to satisfy his private desires, building “pools of wine and forests of meat” in his palace, utterly disregarding the people’s suffering. Having lost his virtue, he no longer enjoyed the Mandate of Heaven, and was ultimately replaced by “Zhou” — a small state of barbarians from the western frontier. Jie of Xia and Zhou of Shang are both classic examples of rulers who lost the legitimacy of their rule by practicing tyranny and disregarding the people’s livelihood.

During the Spring and Autumn period, Duke Jing of Qi went on an excursion to Maiqiu, where he encountered an old man of 85 years of age. Such longevity was extremely rare at the time — the man was an “auspicious omen among people” — and Duke Jing hoped to receive his blessing. The old man then offered Duke Jing this wish: “I hope, my lord, that you will never give offense to the common people.” Duke Jing was very displeased upon hearing this, thinking: “It has always been the common people who give offense to the ruler — how could a ruler ever give offense to the common people?” At this point, a minister at Duke Jing’s side reminded him: “My lord, you are mistaken. Have you forgotten Jie and Zhou? Were they not destroyed precisely because they gave offense to the people?”

Governance through ritual and virtuous administration set idealized demands on those in power. On one hand, those in power needed to strive to elevate their own moral standards, regulate their own conduct, restrain their own private desires, and ensure that their words and actions conformed to the standards of the “sages and worthies,” so that they could bear the responsibility of educating all under heaven through their virtue. Confucius once instructed Ji Kangzi on the way of governance, pointing out that “governance” (政) means “rectitude” (正) — those in positions of authority must walk the right path in order to guide society toward a good atmosphere; if they cannot walk the right path, the people will not follow their commands, and governance will have no foundation from which to proceed.[8] On the other hand, those in power must place the issue of the people’s livelihood in a position of paramount importance, regard the people as the foundation of the state, and achieve stability of the state by strengthening this foundation. Only by doing both of these things simultaneously could the legitimacy of governance be maintained and the foundations of the security of sovereign power be consolidated. Later, this requirement expanded to become the moral standard for the entire ruling group. Although reality may not always have lived up to the ideal, at least in principle, all social strata reached a high degree of consensus that “those who win the hearts of the people win the realm.” In the widely beloved local opera The Ninth-Rank Sesame Official, there is a popular line: “An official who does not serve the people’s interests had better go home and sell sweet potatoes!” This is precisely an expression of that social consensus.

This political and cultural tradition has its positive aspects, and has been continuously renewed and transmitted across every historical period, remaining to this day an important principle of governance and administration. After the founding of the People’s Republic of China, the Communist Party of China, as the ruling party, further elevated the concept of “governing with virtue” and “governance that wins the people” that had been transmitted across thousands of years, and for the first time turned it into reality. On one hand, it has consistently upheld the mass line as its working guideline, always placing the interests of the people first — “everything for the people, everything relying on the people” — and deeply rooting the foundations of sovereign power among the people. On the other hand, it has also constantly emphasized the discipline and self-purification capacity of the organization, and the vanguard and exemplary role of party members. Since the founding of the People’s Republic of China, successive generations of leaders have treated strict governance of the Party as a matter of great importance, requiring party members and cadres to put in greater effort and diligence, accept stricter constraints, consciously submit to the supervision of the people, and regard the recognition and affirmation of the people as the inexhaustible source of the legitimacy of governance.

In terms of external security, the tradition of emphasizing ritual propriety and moral virtue manifests as a strategic characteristic of opposing violence and cherishing peace, an extremely cautious attitude toward war, and a rejection of military expansion. Therefore, throughout China’s long history, one finds no political manifestos or works “ambitiously” aimed at expansion through military force — such as Japan’s Meiji Imperial Precepts, Germany’s The Kaiser’s Secret Plans for World Domination, or Russia’s Testament of Peter the Great. Instead, one finds an abundance of expositions on non-war, just war, and the victory of benevolence, and on winning all under heaven through the “soft way.” Liu Xiang of the Han dynasty wrote in his work Shuoyuan — On Military Affairs: “In governing all under heaven, the sage puts cultural virtue first and military force second,” emphasizing that an enlightened ruler governing the state prioritizes propriety before force, and that military force is only a secondary option. Traditional military strategists, in their works specifically devoted to the philosophy and art of war, also stated at the outset that “military force is a dangerous instrument, to be used only when there is no alternative”; and a considerable portion of their content emphasized the destruction that war causes to state development and the lives and property of the people, admonishing that “an enlightened ruler is cautious about this, and a good general is vigilant about it — this is the way to secure the state and preserve the army.”

Inheritance and Self-Renewal: The Cultural DNA of a Prosperous State and a Strong People

Therefore, wars launched for private selfish desires are unjust and will in turn cause unexpected harm to national security. The Discourses of the States — Discourses of Yue, Part Two records the story of Yue’s campaign against Wu: in the third year of King Goujian of Yue’s reign, he wished to annex the neighboring state of Wu and discussed this with his ministers. Fan Li expressed opposition, saying that war itself was an action contrary to morality, that the state’s army was in truth an instrument of extreme danger that could not be deployed lightly, and that military campaigns were the last resort — the worst of all strategies. Those who were fond of resorting to military force and who pursued war relentlessly all came to bad ends in the end. Now, without a compelling reason, to take the initiative in raising troops would likely be harmful to the state![9] But Goujian had made up his mind and did not heed Fan Li’s advice; he raised troops to attack Wu and was ultimately routed, nearly losing his state. This led to the well-known story of sleeping on brushwood and tasting gall that followed.

The use of military force required a legitimate justification conforming to moral standards — the so-called principle of “a just cause for sending troops” — otherwise it could not win the support of the people and public opinion. Many war mobilizations also needed to proceed from the standpoint of justice and benevolence. At the end of the Qin dynasty, during the struggle between Chu and Han, Liu Bang wished to attack Xiang Yu but had few supporters and was therefore very worried about being unable to win. Dong Gong of Xincheng, upon hearing of this, made a special trip to meet Liu Bang on the road where the Han army was passing, and said to Liu Bang: I have heard that the sages teach that virtue is used to conquer the realm — those who follow virtue will flourish, and those who go against virtue will perish. Now that the King of Han is raising troops to attack Chu, what righteous justification do you have? If you have none, even if you win by luck, how can you convince all under heaven? Liu Bang was struck to the heart and had no reply. Dong Gong continued: Xiang Yu has acted without virtue, and you, King of Han, are justified in attacking him. But if you cannot uphold justice, if you do not make clear his transgressions, and simply raise troops in this way, then you are merely acting for private gain, and your virtue is not much different from his. Xiang Yu once joined you in supporting the Righteous Emperor, but later broke faith and betrayed his superior, killing the Righteous Emperor. This is precisely his transgression. You should not put your ambitions for hegemony before justice; instead, you should first hold a mourning ceremony for the Righteous Emperor, have the three armies wear mourning, and at the same time make known to the feudal lords your intention to avenge the Righteous Emperor — only then will yours be a righteous army, and you will surely win support. Liu Bang, upon hearing this, was deeply convinced, and proceeded accordingly, and indeed won the response of multiple forces.

But traditional strategic thought also held that even if a just war was won, this should not be treated as an achievement to be celebrated. For “those who delight in war will perish, and those who profit from victory will be disgraced” — treating military victory as an achievement to be flaunted causes people to overlook the cruelty of war itself and the enormous harm it causes. Those who are bellicose and single-mindedly seek to gain advantage through military superiority will sooner or later bring about their own destruction and disgrace. Only those who “keep military force in readiness but do not use it,” who can subdue the enemy without fighting, and who can ultimately win the admiration and respect of neighboring states through their advanced culture and ritual virtue — only such states possess the legitimacy of a civilized state.

Inheritance and Self-Renewal: The Cultural DNA of a Prosperous State and a Strong People

Looking at the practice of national security, the external wars China has conducted throughout history have mostly been passive and defensive in nature; even when forced to go to war, as long as the initiative could be grasped, the tendency was to seek to keep the war within certain limits. After the founding of the People’s Republic of China, although the conception of national security was influenced by Western political theory and underwent a process of modernization, the traditional culture of “non-war” was preserved and has continued to play a positive role. In the 1950s through the 1980s, China fought only three border wars; whether fighting a stronger enemy from a position of weakness or a weaker enemy from a position of strength, all were without exception defensive counterattacks in nature — a typical expression of China’s cautious and responsible attitude toward war. Correspondingly, China regards doing its domestic construction well and pursuing common development with regional states as the cornerstone of safeguarding national security. In dealing with neighboring states, it takes good-neighborliness, friendship, and equal cooperation as its basic orientation, and has creatively put forward the principles of “amity, sincerity, mutual benefit, and inclusiveness” and the new-era “concept of righteousness and interests” — a concentrated expression of the bearing and spirit of a great traditional civilized state that cherishes ritual propriety and moral virtue.

All Under Heaven Belongs to All

Sun Yat-sen, the pioneer of China’s democratic revolution, left behind many calligraphic works throughout his life. The most numerous and frequently appearing among them were the four characters “all under heaven belongs to all” (天下为公). Someone has made a rough count: from the founding of the Republic of China in 1912 to Sun Yat-sen’s death in 1925, he wrote these four characters on more than 30 occasions in various settings — presenting them to friends such as Feng Yuxiang, Chen Duxiu, and Zhang Xueliang; encouraging the young students of Fudan University; and using them to celebrate the founding of New Youth magazine. “All under heaven belongs to all” — these words embody the hopes of Sun Yat-sen and countless revolutionary pioneers for a bright future for China and the world. They are the resounding vow of patriots who gave their lives for the people in the nation’s hour of peril, and they represent the deeply rooted cultural conviction and political ideal that the Chinese people have transmitted from pre-Qin times to the present day, across hundreds and thousands of years.

The saying “when the great Way prevails, all under heaven belongs to all” — here “all under heaven” (天下) is a concept of extraordinarily rich content, formed by the layering of traditional philosophical, geographical, political, and cultural perspectives, comprehensively shaping the angle and manner in which China looks inward at itself and outward at the world. Philosophically, “all under heaven” and “Heaven” form a mutually reflecting whole; “all under heaven” encompasses both “earth” and “people,” operating strictly according to a complete order prescribed by the “Way of Heaven.” The core of this order is harmonious coexistence — it acknowledges only a differentiated interior and does not recognize an incompatible exterior. Geographically, “all under heaven” has no clear boundaries; it encompasses both the “nine regions” and the “four seas.” In other words, it includes the “China” inhabited by the Huaxia people and the dwelling places of other peoples influenced and radiated by Huaxia civilization, broadly forming a concentric-circle structure of “Huaxia states on the inside, Yi and Di on the outside” — distinguishing only by geographical proximity, not by divisions between peoples. Politically, “all under heaven” is unified under one rule, with an indivisible center of power, for “there are not two suns in the sky,” so “there are not two kings on the land” — “all land under heaven is the king’s land; all people within the borders are the king’s subjects.” The “Son of Heaven” resides at the center of all under heaven and, entrusted by the Mandate of Heaven, exercises governance; he must both act as “the king who has no outsiders” — impartial and selfless — and follow the will of Heaven and the hearts of the people, in order to maintain the orthodoxy of power. Culturally, “all under heaven” is universal — not only do all the myriad people share a common nature, but the civilizational values and order used to arrange life are also applicable everywhere under heaven. “All under heaven” is also pluralistic: “the harmony of yin and yang does not favor one type; sweet dew and timely rain do not favor one thing; the ruler of all the people does not favor one person” — while upholding the premises of selecting the worthy and capable, practicing faithfulness and cultivating harmony, and achieving the great unity of all under heaven, the differences among different regions and different individuals are acknowledged and respected.

传承与自新：国盛民强的文化基因

This complex conception of “all under heaven” transcended the narrow boundaries of state and nation from the very beginning, looking directly outward to the broad world. From the end of the 19th century to the beginning of the 20th century, the fierce collision of Eastern and Western civilizations comprehensively reshaped China’s worldview and values. The traditional “all under heaven system” and the tributary system built upon it collapsed, and the concept of “all under heaven” gradually receded from the political and geographical realms, retreating to the philosophical and cultural domains. In order to align with the world, China accepted the discourse of the modern nation-state underpinned by Western culture. But the traditional concept of “all under heaven” has continued to exert a subtle and pervasive influence on Chinese views of national security and even world peace.

At the domestic level, the concept of “all under heaven” has caused the idea of “great unification” to take deep root in the hearts of the people, forming the broadest social consensus. Safeguarding unification and opposing separatism have become the baseline of national security. From the legendary era of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, “the harmony of ten thousand states” and “the unification of all under heaven” were important elements in praising the achievements of sage rulers. Although the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods experienced a prolonged great fragmentation, the politicians and thinkers of the various states still regarded “unification” as the primary path to obtaining orthodox power and as a political vision that had to be pursued. Confucius spoke of “great unity” (大同); Mozi advocated “upward conformity” (尚同); Mencius argued for “settling on one” (定于一); Laozi extolled “the Way returning to one” (道归于一); Xunzi put forward “the four seas as one family” (四海共一家). The core ideas of all of these were broadly similar. The Legalists went further, putting forward numerous practical measures for enriching the state and strengthening the military and unifying all under heaven, laying the foundation for Qin’s creation of a centralized imperial state. Thereafter, the wheel of Chinese history rolled forward through cycles of order and chaos, division and unification, but one trend line was quite clear: the periods of division grew shorter and the periods of unification grew longer; by the Ming and Qing dynasties, unified regimes could often endure for hundreds of years. Moreover, the eras of national prosperity and peace recorded in the historical record — such as the Rule of Wen and Jing, the Zhenguan Governance, the Kaiyuan Flourishing Age, and the Kangxi-Qianlong Flourishing Age — all occurred during periods of unified dynasties. Even in the turbulent eras of division, each regime regarded itself as the cultural center and the orthodox power, never forgetting that “Han and traitor cannot coexist, and the royal house cannot be content with a corner.” In the Three Kingdoms period, Wei, Shu, and Wu divided the realm into three, standing in a tripartite balance; yet Wei repeatedly sent troops south across the Yangtze, Shu Han exhausted the full strength of the state in multiple northern expeditions out of Qishan, and Wu launched multiple northward campaigns — none was willing to give up the hope of reunification.

Inheritance and Self-Renewal: The Cultural DNA of a Prosperous State and a Strong People

The concept of “all under heaven” was rooted in Huaxia culture, but the consensus on “great unification” was not exclusively held by the Huaxia people. Every group that accepted Chinese culture regarded “unification” as the source of political orthodoxy, and minority regimes were no exception. After the fall of the Western Jin, during the era of the Sixteen Kingdoms of the Five Barbarians, the Former Qin regime established by the Di people swept through the north, forming a north-south standoff with the Eastern Jin. The Former Qin ruler Fu Jian did not stop there, repeatedly expressing his political ambition to “merge the six directions into one family” and “establish the great cause of unity,” ending the state of division under heaven. Fu Jian often said to people: whenever I think that all under heaven is not yet unified, I am so worried I cannot eat; I have never dared to relax or wished to live out my life in ease and comfort, precisely because I have not yet established the great cause of unity under heaven! The Xiongnu Helian Bobo, who established the Xia state at the same time, also declared that he would “unify all under heaven and rule over ten thousand states,” and named his capital “Tongwan City” (City of Unified Ten Thousand) to proclaim his grand ambitions. Shi Le, the founding emperor of the Later Zhao regime of the Jie people, had always loudly proclaimed his Hu bloodline and took pride in it. But in his later years, when reviewing the achievements and failures of his life, he repeatedly lamented that the greatest regret of his life was that the Wu and Shu regions (the south) had not yet been pacified, and that he had not, like the First Emperor of Qin, re-established the unified system of “the same script, the same axle gauge” — “I fear that posterity will feel that I, as emperor, lacked proper legitimacy and had not received the Mandate of Heaven!”

Since the late Qing period, in the sustained struggle against imperialism, feudalism, and bureaucratic capitalism, the boundaries of China as a modern state were gradually forged, and the question of national unification and territorial integrity was placed in a position of paramount importance. From the desperate fighting and steadfast defense of “every inch of territory soaked in blood” during the War of Resistance Against Japan, to the new China’s border self-defense counterattacks and the successive recovery of sovereignty over Hong Kong and Macao, to the putting forward of the Total National Security Paradigm with its strong emphasis on safeguarding territorial sovereignty and security — all of these represent the unceasing efforts of Chinese sons and daughters to safeguard and achieve national unification. “Unification” is the common conviction of the Chinese people, the fundamental interest of the Chinese nation, and the inviolable red line of national security.

Inheritance and Self-Renewal: The Cultural DNA of a Prosperous State and a Strong People

At the inter-state level, after the traditional concept of “all under heaven” shed the negative elements that had fallen behind the times — such as “Huaxia-centrism” — it retained the positive elements of harmonious coexistence, mutual appreciation of each other’s beauty, and “when the great Way prevails, all under heaven belongs to all.” These became deeply engraved cultural codes of the nation, influencing China’s interpretation of international security and global development issues. Chinese people believe in the unity of Heaven and humanity, holding that the Way of Heaven lies in balance and harmony, not in conflict and opposition. They therefore naturally identify with and accept “all under heaven as one family” and “within the four seas, all are brothers.” This is the exact opposite of the Western mode of thinking, which emphasizes the opposition of Heaven and humanity and sees the world in black and white. In modern times, because the West gained a relative advantage in the realms of material culture and institutional culture, the international relations system established on the basis of Western culture rapidly expanded to encompass the entire globe, drawing China into it as well. But China does not accept the logic of “zero-sum competition” between states, nor does it believe that there truly exist in the real world “irresolvable mortal enemies or absolute heretics and adversaries.” Instead, it has consistently believed that brief conquest and suppression cannot bring absolute security, and that only cooperation for mutual benefit is the right path for states to coexist over the long term.

In the mid-20th century, the iron curtain of the Cold War descended and the shadow of nuclear war hung over the entire globe. China joined the socialist camp, and at the same time creatively put forward “mutual respect for sovereignty and territorial integrity, mutual non-aggression, mutual non-interference in internal affairs, equality and mutual benefit, and peaceful coexistence” as the main principles governing relations between states. These five principles were first put forward in handling the historical legacy issues between China and India concerning the Tibet region, and were later gradually recognized and accepted by various states. Their cultural and philosophical foundation lies in the concept of “all under heaven” — the idea of harmonizing the ten thousand states and finding great commonality amid small differences. At the time, an Indian journalist asked: given that states differ in size and strength, how could peaceful coexistence possibly be achieved? Premier Zhou Enlai explained: all states, regardless of size or strength, and regardless of their social system, should have the right to choose their own path of development and way of life. With mutual respect, non-aggression, and non-interference, the situation of one state threatening or invading another can be avoided, and peace and security in the international community may become a reality. This is traditional Eastern wisdom and a political conviction transmitted across a thousand years. It also explains from another angle why Chinese people do not believe that a strong state must seek hegemony, and do not believe that the rise of one state must necessarily come at the cost of the decline of another. Since the 21st century, as China’s national power has grown and the balance of power among the world’s major states has shifted, some American scholars and politicians have begun to hype the “Thucydides Trap” and talk at length about the supposed inevitability of “great power conflict.” Meanwhile, the Chinese have been actively exploring the establishment of a “new type of major-power relationship” — this is not a diplomatic tactic or a propaganda line, but the projection into the real world of a worldview deeply embedded in the cultural DNA.

The great historian of China, Qian Mu, once said: “The traditional spirit of Chinese culture is rooted in the individual self and reaches directly to all under heaven. It seeks only a way for people to live together, to harmoniously resolve all problems among humanity, and to aspire to the great ideal of all under heaven as one family, all of China as one person, and the great unity of universal peace.” China’s goals and ideals on questions of security and development are certainly grounded in the family and the state, but they are not limited to the state. Before connecting with the world, China pursued the establishment of a great harmonious society of “all under heaven belongs to all,” in which people do not cherish only their own kin and nurture only their own children. When integrated with the world, China pursues the realization of a Community of Common Destiny for Mankind in which all states coexist peacefully and develop hand in hand. China has never separated its own security from the security of the world, nor has it ever set China’s development in opposition to the development of other states and peoples in the world. In his congratulatory message at the opening ceremony of the 2018 Xiangshan Forum, President Xi Jinping called for using cooperation to promote development and using cooperation to promote security, and for working to build a Community of Common Destiny for Mankind. This is both China’s contribution of Chinese thinking and Chinese solutions to world peace, and the rebirth and elevation of the traditional concept of “all under heaven” — of “harmonious coexistence and the great Way belonging to all” — in the new environment of the times.

References

  1. Xu Zhuoyun, Explaining China: A Continuously Changing and Complex Community, Guangxi Normal University Press, 2015 edition.
  2. Xu Zhuoyun, The River of Ten Thousand Ages, Hunan People’s Publishing House, 2017 edition.
  3. Ge Zhaoguang, Here in China: Reconstructing Historical Narratives About “China”, Zhonghua Book Company, 2011 edition.
  4. Ge Jianxiong, Unification and Division: Lessons from Chinese History, Commercial Press, 2013 edition.
  5. John K. Fairbank, China: Tradition and Transformation, World Knowledge Press, 2001 edition.
  6. Zhao Tingyang, The All-Under-Heaven System, China Renmin University Press, 2011 edition.
  7. Xiao Gongquan, A History of Chinese Political Thought (2 vols.), Commercial Press, 2016 edition.
  8. Zhang Liwen, Traditional Culture and Modernization, China Renmin University Press, 1987 edition.
  9. Qian Mu, An Introduction to the History of Chinese Culture, Taipei Zhengzhong Book Company, 1973 edition.
  10. Qian Mu, Understanding the Chinese National Character and Chinese Culture Through Chinese History, Jiuzhou Press, 2011 edition.
  11. Sun Longji, The Deep Structure of Chinese Culture, Guangxi Normal University Press, 2006 edition.
  12. Liang Shuming, The Essential Meaning of Chinese Culture, Taipei Zhengzhong Book Company, 1973 edition.
  13. Hu Shi, Reflections on Chinese Culture, East China Normal University Press, 2013 edition.
  14. Yu Yingshi, The Scholar and Chinese Culture, Shanghai People’s Publishing House, 2013 edition.
  15. Ge Zhaoguang, Lectures on Ancient Chinese Culture, Fudan University Press, 2006 edition.
  16. Lü Simian, A History of Chinese Culture, New World Press, 2008 edition.
  17. [Japan] Wang Ke, From the “All-Under-Heaven” State to the Nation-State: Cognition and Practice in Historical China, Shanghai People’s Publishing House, 2020 edition.

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Culture and National Security / China Institutes of Contemporary International Relations. — Beijing: Current Affairs Press, April 2021.

(Total National Security Paradigm Series)

ISBN 978-7-5195-0423-6

Ⅰ. ①Culture… Ⅱ. ①China Institutes… Ⅲ. ①National Security — Research — China
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(For printing quality issues, please contact the publisher’s distribution department for replacement) Cataloging-in-Publication (CIP) Data Cover Design: DZhang Zhiqi Studio This series of books attempts to stand at the height of the two broader landscapes — the strategic overall landscape of the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation and the Great Changes Unseen in a Century — as well as the two configurations of the New Development Pattern and the broader national security configuration, and, grounded in the special historical juncture of the convergence of the “two centenary goals,” to comprehensively and with broad vision understand national security from different angles and dimensions.

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Total National Security Paradigm Series

  • Geography and National Security
  • History and National Security
  • ● Culture and National Security
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This book introduces the cultural inheritance and development experiences of the world’s various peoples — from India’s caste system to Japan’s “circle culture,” from the Russians’ innate sense of insecurity and anxiety to the bewilderment of the Arabs and the resilience of the Jewish people — in the hope of helping readers decode the cultural keys to national security and gain a more comprehensive and profound grasp of the profound thought of the Total National Security Paradigm.

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1 Later vernacular fiction rendered this as “serve the state with utmost loyalty.” According to the History of the Song — Biography of He Zhu: “When Yue Fei was imprisoned in the Court of Judicial Review, He Zhu was first ordered to interrogate him. He Zhu brought Yue Fei to the courtroom and questioned him about the evidence of his rebellion. Yue Fei bared his back to show him, and on his back were the old tattooed characters ‘serve the state with utter loyalty,’ deeply embedded in the skin. Upon investigation, no evidence was found to substantiate any of the charges, and He Zhu perceived his innocence.”

1 后世话本小说传为”精忠报国”。按《宋史·何铸传》记载：”速飞系大理狱，先命铸鞫之。铸引飞至庭，诘其反状，飞祖而示之背，背有旧涅’尽忠报国’四个大字，深入肤理。既而阅实俱无验，铸察其冤。”

2 Records of the Grand Historian — House of Wu Taibo: “Wu Taibo and his younger brother Zhongyong were both sons of the Grand King of Zhou and elder brothers of Wang Ji Li. Li was virtuous and had a sagely son, Chang. The Grand King wished to establish Li and thereby pass power to Chang. Thereupon Taibo and Zhongyong both fled to the Jing Man territory, tattooed their bodies and cut their hair, showing they were no longer available for succession, in order to yield to Li. Li was duly established as Wang Ji, and Chang became King Wen. Taibo fled to the Jing Man territory and called himself Gou Wu. The Jing Man people admired his righteousness, and more than a thousand families came to follow him; he was established as Wu Taibo.”

2 《史记·吴太伯世家》：”吴太伯，太伯弟仲雍，皆周太王之子，而王季历之兄出。季历贤，而有圣子昌，太王欲立季历以及昌，于是太伯、仲雍二人乃奔荆蛮，文身断发，示不同用，以避季历。季历果立，是为王季，而昌为文王。太伯奔荆蛮，自号勾吴。荆蛮义之，从而归之者千余家，立为吴太伯。”

3 Zuo Zhuan — Duke Xi, Year 27: “In the spring of the twenty-seventh year, the Duke of Qi Huan came to pay court, using Yi ritual forms, and was therefore called Viscount. Duke [of Lu] looked down on Qi, [because] Qi was not respectful.”

3 《左传·僖公二十七年》：”二十七年春，杞桓公来朝，用夷礼，故曰子。公卑杞，杞不共也。”

4 From Xunzi — Encouraging Learning. Gan was the name of a Spring and Autumn period state, later annexed by Wu; Yue was a Zhou dynasty feudal state; Yi refers to the minority peoples of the eastern regions within ancient China; Mo refers to the minority peoples of the northern regions within ancient China.

4 语出《荀子·劝学篇》。干，春秋时国名，后被吴国并吞；越，周代诸侯国；夷，指代古代中国境内东方的少数民族；貉，指代古代中国境内北方的少数民族。

5 Analects — Zi Han, Chapter Nine: The Master wished to go and live among the Nine Yi peoples. Someone said: “They are uncivilized — how would you manage?” The Master said: “If a gentleman were to live there, what uncouthness could there be?”

5 《论语·子罕第九》：子欲居九夷。或曰：”陋，如之何？”子曰：”君子居之，何陋之有！”

6 See Zuo Zhuan — Duke Xiang, Year Four. The Duke (Duke Dao of Jin) said: “Then is there nothing better than making peace with the Rong?” (Wei Jiang) replied: “Making peace with the Rong has five benefits: the Rong and Di move about and value goods over land — land can be traded with them, that is the first. The border regions will not be alarmed, and the people can work their fields in peace, and the farmers will succeed in their work, that is the second. The Rong and Di will serve Jin, and the four neighbors will be shaken, and the feudal lords will be awed and won over, that is the third. Using virtue to pacify the Rong, the army will not be wearied, and weapons and armor will not be worn out, that is the fourth. Taking warning from Hou Yi, and using virtue and moderation, those from afar will come and the roads will be safe, that is the fifth. My lord, please consider this!”

6 见《左传·襄公四年》。公（晋悼公）曰：”然则莫如和戎乎？”（魏绛）对曰：”和戎有五利焉：戎狄荐居，贵货易土，土可贾焉，一也。边鄙不耸，民狎其野，穑人成功，二也。戎狄事晋，四邻振动，诸侯威怀，三也。以德绥戎，师徒不勤，甲兵不顿，四也。鉴于后羿，而用德度，远至途安，五也。君其图之！”

7 Yanzi Chunqiu — Volume One, Inner Chapters, Remonstrances Part One, Eleventh Remonstrance: Duke Jing Wishes to Set Aside the Legitimate Son Yangsheng and Establish Cha, and Yanzi Remonstrates.

7 《晏子春秋·卷一》，内篇谏上第一，景公欲废嫡子阳生而立茶晏子谏第十一。

8 Analects — Yan Yuan, Chapter Twelve: Ji Kangzi asked Confucius about governance. Confucius replied: “Governance means rectitude. If you lead by being upright, who would dare not be upright?”

8 《论语·颜渊第十二》：季康子问政于孔子。孔子对曰：”政者正也。子帅以正，孰敢不正？”

9 Discourses of the States — Discourses of Yue, Part Two: In the third year of King Goujian of Yue’s reign, he wished to attack Wu… Fan Li remonstrated: “Courage is contrary to virtue; military force is a dangerous instrument; contention is the last resort in affairs. To scheme contrary to virtue, to delight in using dangerous instruments, to be the first to act against others — such a person will be destroyed by others in the end. Licentious and dissolute conduct is forbidden by the Supreme Lord. Those who act first in this way will not prosper.” The King said: “No! This is a second opinion. I have already decided!”

9 《国语·越语下》：越王勾践即位三年而欲伐吴。……范蠡进谏曰：”夫勇者，逆德也；兵者，凶器也；争者，事之末也。阴谋逆德，好用凶器，始于人者，人之所卒也。淫佚之事，上帝之禁也。先行此者，不利。”王曰：”无！是贰言也，吾已断之矣！”

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