Recently, in my spare time, I've been trying to learn how to read classical Chinese. Classical Chinese (called wenyuwen in modern Chinese) is the written form of Chinese that was used starting around 500 BC until the early 1900s. As Tom Mazanec at tommazanec.com points out, "it bears roughly the same relationship to modern Mandarin [Chinese] that Latin does to Italian, Sanskrit to Hindi, and classical Greek to modern Greek." My purpose for studying classical Chinese is to understand Chinese culture and language better and, possibly, to be able to read some of the great works in Chinese literature in their original language (although I'm far from that at the moment!). Having studied modern Chinese for the last nearly forty years of my life has helped, but classical Chinese is still not always easy for me to learn.
The textbook I am using--Raymond Dawson's A New Introduction to Classical Chinese--contains a number of passages from the ancient book known as the Mencius. This book contains the sayings and doings of the philosopher known in Chinese as Mengzi (372-289 BC--Mencius is a Latinized version of his name created by the Catholic Jesuits who first translated the book into Latin). Mengzi, considered the second greatest Confucian philosopher after Confucius himself, traveled around China giving his advice to the rulers of the time. During his lifetime, there was no single "China." Rather, China, like ancient Greece, consisted of a number of separate states which were often in conflict with one another. China would not be unified until 221 BC under the first emperor Qin Shi Huangdi.
In the passage from the Mencius I have been studying recently, Mengzi is visiting the state of Qi. The king of Qi sends a messenger to Mengzi to inform him that although the king had planned to pay a visit to Mengzi, he cannot because he has a cold. The king asks, through the messenger, if Mengzi can come visit him. Mengzi responds to the messenger that he too, unfortunately, is sick and therefore cannot go to court to see the king. The next day, Mengzi sets out to pay a visit of condolence to a prominent family. One of his disciples questions whether this is appropriate since previously Mengzi had claimed to be sick. Mengzi replies that now he is better, so there is no reason not to go. After he leaves, a messenger arrives from the king to inquire about Mengzi's illness. A doctor (presumably sent by the king) also arrives. Mengzi's nephew informs the messenger that previously Mengzi was sick, but now he is better and on his way to court. The nephew then dispatches several people to intercept Mengzi on the road and to tell him to go to court. Mengzi then spends the night at the home of a man surnamed Jing. Mengzi's host notes that he has seen the king's respect for Mengzi, but he has never seen evidence of Mengzi's respect for the king--even though respect should be the essential element of the relationship between a ruler and his ministers. Mengzi insists that he does respect the king, and as evidence cites the fact that there is no one among the men of Qi who willing to talk to the king about benevolence and righteousness as he does. His host responds that that is not what he means; what he means is that Mengzi's failure to visit the king is inconsistent with the relevant precepts of ritual behavior. Mengzi responds that a ruler destined for great deeds must have ministers/advisors that he does call to see him, but rather that he goes to see. He then cites the examples of two famous rulers of the past and their chief ministers as evidence.
What strikes me about this passage, regardless of what else we might see from it, is how it very nicely illustrates the fact that Chinese people have been worrying about "face" for a long time. In Chinese culture, "face" (mian in Chinese) refers to a concept similar to "respect"--or, stated negatively, avoiding a loss of respect (diu lian in Chinese, literally, "to lose face"). Reading this passage, it is hard not to suppose that at least one reason why Mengzi declined to visit the king was his desire to avoid losing face by making it seem that he was inferior to the king. He gives an elaborate defense of his actions, but it is hard not to see them as mere rationalization. This same concern for not losing face often explains the actions of many (though not necessarily all) Chinese today. Moreover, it might also explain the actions of the Chinese government, such as its initial unwillingness to acknowledge the seriousness of the corona virus, or to acknowledge those wrongs it has committed in the past or the present. To be fair, though, Westerners are certainly not above criticism for caring more about what others think about them than for the truth. That is one reason we all--Chinese and Westerners--have need of the Gospel.
Image of Mengzi from Wikiquote