The Classic of Netting羅織經

I. Reading Men閱人卷第一

The book opens on the proposition that men cannot be trusted. The first half states what it takes to be the human norm — dissembling, self-interest, credit taken and blame passed on; the second half gives four cases from history for the two sources of disaster: failing to see, and failing to be ruthless. A word first about the book’s parentage. The title is real enough. The Old Tang History, in the chapter on the cruel officials, records that “Junchen and his associate Zhu Nanshan and the rest made the Classic of Netting for Informers in one scroll, all of it arranged under heads and branches, setting out how the charges were to be laid.” The Comprehensive Mirror, under the second year of Tianshou (691), says that “Junchen and Wan Guojun, an assessor of the court of judicature from Luoyang, together composed the Classic of Netting in several thousand words, teaching their followers how to net the innocent and weave a case of treason, with every joint and limb of the fabrication laid down.” That scroll was lost long ago. No later bibliography lists it; no old copy of any kind survives. The twelve-scroll book in circulation today first appears in 2003, from a Jilin publisher, under the name of Lai Junchen; its annotator says he obtained a manuscript of it, copied by Wan Guojun himself, from a Japanese friend — a manuscript of which there is no photograph, no catalogue entry, and no third-party sighting. What the histories describe is a working manual of several thousand words about laying charges and using instruments; what this book contains is 2,011 characters of general reflection and not one practical instruction. The pages here therefore read it as a book written under a borrowed name: the attribution follows the modern printing, and the case against it is stated first.

Men’s feelings are mostly put on; the manners of the age are mostly false. How should they be trusted? The Master said: “Fine words, a studied face, excessive deference — Zuo Qiuming thought them shameful, and so do I.” What is shameful is hiding a grudge and calling the man your friend. (The quotation is from Analects V. In the original the two clauses stand as two sentences; here they are run into one.)

Men have many desires and their nature inclines to self. When a thing succeeds they take the credit; when it fails they push off the blame. Not even a sage gets past this, for it is simply what men are. (Where this page reads “for” — a particle of explanation — the other transcription has a graphically similar character that makes no sense; the Wikisource reading is followed.)

Many desires make a man greedy; a bent toward self makes him crooked; and out of that the offence is born. The commoner fears punishment and the clerk fears trouble, and so they may hold themselves in; but let the opening come and the situation shift, and who can say. (“Crooked” is the word for going off the straight; “hold themselves in” is literally to draw in their conduct.)

Harm usually comes of not having seen; disaster comes of not being able to be hard. Duke Huan doted on his attendants, and when he died his body lay uncoffined and his house wept. Fuchai spared Yue instead of destroying it, and in the end lost Wu. No tie is closer than father and son, yet a Yang Guang turning on his father is never wanting; no debt is heavier than a subject’s to his ruler, yet there is no end of a Wang Mang. Hence: men’s hearts are full of deceit and cannot be judged by their surface; the affairs of the world are short of feeling, and the good man ends with nothing to show. Better to trust yourself than another; guard against men and keep no hope of luck. A man who does not school himself in this — how is he to be called wise? (Duke Huan of Qi trusted three favourites; after his death his five sons fought over the succession and his body lay on the bed sixty-seven days unencoffined. Fuchai of Wu defeated Yue and let it stand; Goujian of Yue destroyed Wu. “Guang” is best taken as Yang Guang, the second Sui emperor, whose father died at the Renshou palace under circumstances the old histories treat as parricide; he is paired with Wang Mang, who usurped the Han — a son against his father, a minister against his ruler.)

II. Serving the Man Above You事上卷第二

On being a subordinate. One premise: once those above and those below are of two hearts, trouble follows; so the whole art of serving is the removal of the superior’s doubt. The means are compliance and loyalty — compliance that does not shrink from flattery, loyalty that does not balk at bending. The second half turns the other way: do not be a strong minister, entertain no presumptuous thought, give the credit upward and keep the blame, and put even your ability and courage out of sight.

When the man above doubts, the man below is afraid. Let those above and below be of two hearts, and trouble is certain to arise. (For “of two hearts” the other transcription reads “broken faith”; the reading here follows from the doubt and the fear of the first clause.)

If the man above is proud, settle his mind by falling in with him. If he is anxious, take his trouble away — that is loyalty. Compliance need not shy away from flattery, nor loyalty balk at bending; and though men revile you for it, you must not do less. What he gives you may of course take; your life is in his hands, and how are you to go against that? So the clever man is good at guessing what is wanted above, and the fool holds fast to his own opinion; one prospers and the other comes to grief, and the whole difference lies here.

No ruler is pleased with a strong minister; a subject must put away presumptuous thoughts. The minister who is strong dies; the thought that presumes destroys him. Even the Duke of Zhou went in fear of this — how much more anyone else. (The Duke of Zhou, regent for the young King Cheng, was accused by his brothers of designs on the throne and withdrew to the east.)

There is no ruler who is not wise and no minister who is wholly worthy. Merit goes upward, guilt stays with you. Never let go of watchfulness; never show your wits or your nerve. Cut off even your closest, and when the thing to be done is evil do not decline it. Do this in earnest and you will not merely be favoured — the favour will not fade.

III. Managing Those Below You治下卷第三

The reverse of the last scroll: on being the superior. The premise is that nobody is content to be below, so a slip in the handling ends either in defiance or in usurpation. Authority is built out of ceremony, propped up by punishment, and lost by slackness: allow no private faction, let no one man be the sole favourite, keep your mind hidden and your dealings thin. The second half is method — take a man by what he likes, press him by what he fears, reward to sap his purpose, punish to alarm his heart.

Few men are content to stay below. Handle them without a plan and it is either defiance or usurpation.

Where there is no authority above, disorder grows below. Authority is built out of ceremony, propped by punishment, and lost by slackness. Give no man your private favour; keep your planning out of sight. Let the favour not rest on one man only — sole favour is certain to do harm. Keep your calculations hidden and your dealings not too close, and those below will know there is authority and fear it. (“Out of sight” is a loan for the word “avoid”; some take it as “kept secret.”)

The man below attaches himself to the man above to get what he wants; the man above leans on the man below to make his name. When a subordinate wants something his heart presses forward; promote him slowly, for quickly done it satisfies him. When the superior wants something his face turns as if toward kin; do not refuse the courtesy he shows you, for the man who rebuffs him gets no help.

Every man has something he likes: draw him by it and he is taken. Every man has something he fears: press him by it and he yields. A man of ability worth using is borne with so long as the harm is not great; one who cannot be controlled is put to death however able he is. Do not grudge the reward — it is what brings his ambition down. Time the punishment — it is what startles his heart. Kindness and authority go out together, ability and character are weighed against each other; and if that does not answer, it must be heaven.

IV. Holding Power控權卷第四

On power. The opening sentence is the premise of the whole scroll: power is the thing no man can do without, hard to get and harder to keep, and a matter of life and death. Then comes the question of title — “borrow heaven and act in its name,” making your own business heaven’s business and your opponent a man who has cut himself off from heaven. The rest is how power is taken and kept: in a disordered age use the able, in a settled one the loyal; the name may be given away, the substance must be taken; salary is the halter, an empty title buys the heart.

Power is the thing no man is separate from. To take it is not easy and to keep it is harder still: without wit enough you will not get it, and one flaw in the plan ends in ruin. It is a matter of life and death.

Borrow heaven and act in its name, and the title is in order. To say a man has cut himself off from heaven — that is the enemy’s crime. The people have their kind of folly, power has its kind of cleverness. Where virtue is not made visible, men are hard to attach.

In a disordered age use the able; when things are settled, remove the trouble. In a flourishing age use only the loyal, and the mediocre fall in of themselves. The name may be given away, the substance must be had; let name and substance part company and the power is gone. A man who loves power more than life will stop at nothing; power that will not be yielded is pressed to the last. Timing is the thing — without the moment a man destroys himself; and a man who can go to extremes will wipe out the human ties as well. Salary is the halter: it takes away his power to do real harm. Reward with an empty title, and you have his heart. Do it so, and there is no power that cannot be got, and none that will be lost. (For “flourishing age” the other transcription has a graphically close character; the reading here answers the “disordered age” of the previous clause.)

V. Dealing with Enemies制敵卷第五

It begins by defining the word. An enemy is one whose interest collides with yours and with whom life and death cannot both stand; until you have made him out you cannot tell who your friends are, and until you have him under control nothing gets done. Then the category is prised off its moral hinges — what divides the gentleman from the small man is not the name but the advantage — and handed over to the man above: the crowd’s enemy need not be yours, and your superior’s enemy is your enemy even if he is your friend. The last four clauses are method: confuse, control, frame, corrupt.

Every man has his enemy. An enemy is one whose interest collides with yours, with whom life and death cannot both stand. Until you have made him out you cannot tell a friend; until you have him under control you cannot carry anything through. He is the great harm, and must be cut off.

A gentleman who takes a small man for his enemy becomes a small man too; a small man who makes a friend of a gentleman becomes a gentleman too. The name is empty, and the clever do not count what is said against them or for them; the advantage comes first, and only the foolish go looking to be thought good.

The crowd’s enemy need not be called your enemy; your superior’s enemy is your enemy even if he is your friend. Because a man is your kin you may not say that he is your kin; because he is to be charged, even the kinsman who sided with you is dropped. To muddle an enemy while he does not notice is waiting for the moment. To have him under control before he moves is getting in first. To frame him as a maker of disorder puts him beyond pardon. To ruin him with a charge of licentiousness is nothing to be ashamed of. Of enemies the greatest is the one you do not know you have; of disasters the worst is taking an enemy for a friend. So look at men as at brigands, treat kin as strangers, receive a friend more warily than a foe; and if it makes men hate you, what have you lost, so long as you have kept clear of the harm? (“Frame” is the word of the book’s title: to weave a case.)

VI. Keeping What You Have Won固榮卷第六

For the man who already has the favour: how to keep it. The premise is that favour has a beginning and seldom an end, and that fortune and disaster follow no rule. The method is six rules: never cross the ruler’s order; leave someone to come after you; since no office has a fixed master, change a hundred times to please the man who is master now; cultivate the ruler’s favourite even with no occasion to; look into a man’s clan before you charge him; and never employ anyone abler than yourself. The last paragraph is about reducing envy: show the man above that you have enough, show those below a kindness, and let neither pleasure nor anger be seen.

Favour has a beginning; few have an end. Fortune and disaster follow no rule, and the clever man has fewer disasters. Favour is not something fated: it comes out well only when it has been planned for. Fortune and disaster pick their man, and only care dissolves the fault. (The last word is written in the Wikisource transcription with a character that yields no sense here; the other transcription’s “fault” is followed.)

Never cross the ruler’s order: that is the root of favour, and the clever man will spend his life to keep it standing. Favour lasts only where there is no lack of men to come after; the worthy man takes hardship on himself to leave his heirs the benefit. No office has a fixed master, so change a hundred times to please the one you have. If the ruler has a favourite, you must get in with him even with no occasion. Who has no kin? Before you charge a man, look carefully into his clan. Men are able or dull: never employ one abler than yourself.

Favour is what the crowd envies, and so it draws the crowd’s resentment. Show the man above that you have enough and those below a kindness, and the resentment falls away of itself. A great enemy must be got rid of; a small man is not to be taken lightly; no trouble is to be left lying. Let neither pleasure nor anger leave a trace, think carefully and think far ahead, and men will find you hard to plot against.

VII. Keeping Yourself Safe保身卷第七

Two matched sentences open it: the way of the world is that a man does not harm himself and others harm him; the way of men is that a man does not excuse others and excuses only himself — one clause outward, one inward. The middle is about name and person: where no reputation for virtue is on display, slander has nothing to damage; where a man has no name for uprightness, the crooked do not count him a nuisance. The rest is three pairs of rules: when weak keep alive, when strong fold your wings; be harsh in blaming yourself and light in blaming others; and since neither good nor evil has a settled verdict, do not be the one who stands out.

The way of the world: a man does not harm himself — others harm him. The way of men: a man does not extend forbearance to others — he extends it to himself.

The gentleman is careful of his name, the small man of his skin. A love of reputation fetters what you do; a care for substance loses nothing. Where no name for virtue is on show, slander has nothing to damage; where a man has no name for uprightness, the crooked do not count him a nuisance. Praise a man openly and you put him where he cannot get down, without his noticing; pursue your own ends in the dark, striking at what he does not want known, and you keep yourself whole.

A commoner does not contend with an official; a man of rank does not lay up grudges. When you are weak, stay alive and do not act strong; when you are strong, fold your wings and do not ask to be perfect. Be harsh in blaming yourself — men pity you, and the harm does not come to much. Do not be severe in blaming others; a small kindness may bring a large return.

There is no settled opinion about what is evil, so do not be the man who calls evil evil and stands out for it. There is no settled verdict about what is good, so do not suppose that the man who does good is safe. Pity yourself and men will pity you; throw yourself away and men will throw you away. Let nothing stick in the mind, and harm does not get in.

VIII. Telling the Crooked察姦卷第八

The most naked scroll in the book. It begins by saying that neither the crooked nor the loyal announce themselves; that crookedness requires wits and excludes goodness; and then hands the whole judgement to the man above — whom he employs is loyal though crooked, whom he discards is crooked though loyal. Then time and circumstance: when the situation shifts and the season turns, the names change, and since the name cannot be relied on, only the man above can. The last line closes it: look only to him and to yourself, drop the surface and go after the substance, and the crooked show themselves.

The crooked do not confess themselves and the loyal do not plead for themselves. The crooked bring disaster on the state, the loyal on themselves.

Without wits a man cannot be crooked, and those wits are of the dark kind. With any goodness left he cannot be crooked, because the knowing is still there. (The second “knowing” is written with a character that can be read either as “wits” or as conscience.)

If your wits do not go beyond the crooked man’s you will not beat him by attacking; if your understanding does not reach far enough you cannot keep him off. Loyal and crooked are interchangeable terms. Whom the man above employs is loyal though he is crooked; whom the man above discards is crooked though he is loyal.

Let the situation shift and a man is no longer the same man; let the season turn and what counts as crooked is different. The name cannot be relied on; only the man above can. Crookedness is born out of liking and disliking. A man’s enemy is crooked though he is not; a man’s friend is loyal though he is.

Only where the road is the same do men get the profit of it; where the road differs they get only the harm. If crookedness pays, anyone can be crooked; if loyalty brings disaster, no one finds loyalty easy. That the crooked are many and the loyal few is the fact of the age; that men speak of loyalty and hate crookedness is the face of it.

Look only to the man above and to yourself; drop the face of it and go after the fact; and the crooked show themselves.

IX. Laying Plans謀劃卷第九

The official world drawn as a net of mutual scheming: if the man above does not plan against his ministers, those below are not governed; if the man below does not plan against his superior, he does not rise; if a minister does not plan against his colleagues, his rivals are not removed. A sentence of law is set in the middle: deceiving the ruler is the great crime, and any charge added to it sticks; perverting the law is not tolerated either, but is dealt with only once it has produced a disaster. The last paragraph is a ladder of three steps — a superior uses position, and force of method where position fails; an inferior uses method, and sheer force where method runs out; an equal uses wits, and injury where wits fall short — closing with secrecy, speed, and how a man’s merit is turned into guilt and his words into nonsense.

If the man above does not plan against his ministers, those below may not be governed; if the man below does not plan against his superior, he will not rise; if a minister does not plan against his colleagues, his rivals are not removed. Office has no permanent friends, and disaster is a moment away: this is how the thing stands, and the clever man does not let it slip. To reckon on a distant enemy you must lay your plan today; to clear the thieves out altogether, the plan need have no scruple. (For “a moment” the other transcription has a graphically close character that gives no sense.)

To deceive the ruler is the great offence: lay it on a man and there is no getting out of it. Perverting the law is not tolerated either — but you let it run until it has produced a disaster, and punish then.

A superior plans against his ministers by position, and where position will not serve, by method. An inferior plans against his superior by method, and where method runs out, by force. A minister plans against his fellows by wits, and where wits will not reach, by injury. In business secrecy is everything: what is not secret comes back on you. In action speed is everything: go slowly and another is there first. Turn his merit into guilt and you cut the root away by degrees; set his words out as absurdities and men detest him the more. Keep at it without stopping, and who is left to stand against you?

X. Bringing a Charge問罪卷第十

The scroll that most resembles a manual of procedure — and still contains not one technical instruction. It opens on a point of principle: the root of punishment is not the punishing of a crime but the establishing of one. Then a sequence: report, wait, arrest, examine, deposition. Its premise is the four words “any man can be charged”; its closing stroke is the instruction that the deposition be worked over until nothing is missing and nothing departs from the appearance of truth. The last two paragraphs are about breaking the mind — attack at the weak point, use on a man the thing he most fears, keep no pity, and punish heavily whoever comes to a friend’s aid.

Whether a law is good or bad is not read off its text but off the way it is carried out. The root of punishment is not the punishing of a crime but the establishing of one. (“Establishing” is the word the scroll closes on: “the charge can be made to stand.”)

Any man can be charged; to charge a man you must first settle on the man. A crime does not come to light of itself — report it privately and it becomes visible. The man above will not tolerate the crime: without his word, wait; with it, arrest. That a man protests is normal. Examine him without pity, and do not punish lightly, and there is none who will not confess. Some hold out and die: that is only fear of a heavier charge. No man is without a faction, and in charging one man you may bring in the whole of it. The deposition must have no gap in it: work it over well, but not so as to depart from the look of truth. At this point the charge can be made to stand. (Two readings here follow the printed annotated edition and the second transcription against Wikisource: “does not come to light of itself” and “do not punish lightly.”)

Men differ and so do their minds. Pick the weak one and attack there, and his spirit will break.

Bodies are alike and so are their fears: use on him the thing he fears most and the man gives way. Keep no pity; the man who pities another has no way of proving his own loyalty. Friends are to be punished heavily, and whoever comes to a friend’s aid gets nothing by it but harm.

To charge a man may sometimes be to spare him; hard as it is, it is to be done. (The line is read two ways: that charging others is what keeps you clear yourself, or that a small charge laid first forestalls a large one.)

XI. Punishment刑罰卷第十一

Following on from the last. The first sentence says the book’s name out loud: to put a man to death there is nothing quicker than framing him for rebellion. Then punishment is divided — the body on one side, the standing on the other: the clever fear disaster and the dull fear pain, so the clever are killed with words and the obstinate crushed by circumstance. The middle gives three rules — take a man at what he cannot bear, strike at what he is unwilling to lose, and where evidence cannot be got, make it look true. The last paragraph turns it into a sentence about what is human and what is not.

To put a man to death there is nothing beyond framing him for rebellion; to bring a man to admit a charge, nothing is got without punishment. Punishment has its technique and penalty its variations; use everything, and every man bows his head to it.

The clever fear disaster, the dull fear the rod. To kill a man with a sentence is punishment at its furthest. The quick-sighted recognise the times; the obstinate argue about right and wrong. To meet men with the force of circumstance is where penalty begins.

Death a man can take; pain he can hardly bear — so in punishing take him at what he cannot bear. A man of education cannot bear disgrace, and everyone dreads his kin being drawn in — so in penalising him strike at what he is unwilling to lose. If he will not admit the charge, add one heavier than the first. If the evidence cannot be had, make the false look near enough to true. There are places punishment cannot reach; there is nowhere a fabricated charge cannot reach. Do not worry that the charge has no name to go under; worry that the man above has no suspicion.

The man who is punished is treated as not a man; the man who punishes is himself not punished. Not to be counted a man is to be low; not to be punished is to be high. The low are meat on the block, the high dispose of life and death. A man’s choosing between them — is it not just this? (“Meat on the block” is from the Records of the Grand Historian: “they are the knife and the chopping board, we are the fish and the meat.”)

XII. The Spreading Vine瓜蔓卷第十二

The title is a figure: a prosecution that runs on like a melon vine, one case pulling in a clan and one clan a district. Later ages had a name for it — the “melon-vine sweep,” after the mass proscriptions of the third Ming emperor. The doctrine is two sentences: a case that does not take in many will not show as an achievement, and the injustice that comes of taking them in cannot be helped. The second half takes both enemy and friend apart as temporary things — an official’s friend is the people’s enemy, a friend in prosperity is an enemy in ruin — and concludes that since neither is fixed, power must not be let go, sympathy must not be spent freely, no one is to be let close, and nothing is to be entrusted. The last clause — bait a man and take him — is where the book ends.

A matter that is not great enough startles nobody; a case that does not take in many makes no showing of merit. Above, it is used to buy quiet; below, to win favour. The injustice in it is there from the start and cannot be helped.

He who makes others eminent by his own eminence is eminent; he who brings disaster on others by his own disaster gets disaster. Do not lean on an eminence you did not earn; do not let slip a disaster that is falling on someone else. Where the charge has no substance, another charge will do instead; where no wrongdoing has come to light, someone else’s can be fastened on him. A man who is a trouble to your peace of mind — put him in the enemy’s faction. A man you have a personal grudge against — have him down as crooked.

An official’s friend is the people’s enemy; a kinsman’s friend is the enemy of whoever has the feud — enemies are not fixed. A friend in prosperity is an enemy in ruin; a friend in poverty is an enemy once you are rich — friends are for a season. Therefore power is not to be let go, for letting it go is losing the root; sympathy is not to be spent freely, for spending it freely makes men resent you; no one is to be let close, for closeness breeds suspicion; nothing in the mind is to be entrusted, for entrusting it lays disaster down. The clever man brings no harm on himself; the capable man looks for the gap and makes his name in it. Bait him and take him, and nothing in the business will be found out of order.