The Rise of Modern Chinese Thought

Chapter 1: Heavenly Principle and the Propensity of the Times

In this opening chapter of The Rise of Modern Chinese Thought, Wang Hui explores the intellectual transformation that took place during the Song dynasty, focusing on the emergence and consolidation of the School of Principle (理学, lixue) and its central concept of Heavenly Principle (天理, tianli). This shift is not interpreted merely as a conservative revival of ancient norms, but as a profound reworking of classical resources in response to new historical conditions.

The Lixue Turn and Its Historical Context

The chapter begins by contextualizing the rise of lixue within the social and political upheavals of the Tang–Song transition. The collapse of the Tang dynasty had fragmented the imperial order and disrupted long-standing institutions. The Song elite, in their effort to rebuild both political legitimacy and moral cohesion, turned to the classical tradition not just as a source of legitimacy, but as a framework for constructing a new social order.

Unlike earlier periods that emphasized dynastic charisma or military force, Song thinkers stressed a moral cosmology rooted in principle—an objective, universal structure underlying all phenomena. Wang argues that this framework was part of a strategic reconstruction of political authority. By grounding power in “principle” rather than lineage or conquest, the Song court justified its bureaucratic and legalistic reforms as morally righteous.

Heavenly Principle and the Human World

At the core of lixue is the concept of Heavenly Principle, a metaphysical ordering that governs both nature and society. Thinkers like Zhou Dunyi, Zhang Zai, Cheng Yi, and Zhu Xi argued that by aligning human behavior with this principle, both personal morality and political order could be achieved. Wang interprets this as a reconfiguration of Confucian ethics, infusing it with cosmological determinism and epistemological rigor.

Importantly, the idea of tianli was not passive—it was historically active. It demanded that people and rulers adjust to the “propensity of the times” (时势, shishi). This term appears repeatedly in the chapter, referring to the inherent momentum of historical change. For Wang, lixue thinkers were thus not static guardians of tradition, but dynamic interpreters of a moral order in flux.

Knowledge, Authority, and the Bureaucratic State

Wang links the metaphysics of principle with the Song’s burgeoning bureaucratic state apparatus. The shift from aristocratic to meritocratic governance necessitated a new type of knowledge—a codified, examinable body of moral and political philosophy. Thus, the civil service examination system and the lixue curriculum grew hand in hand.

Zhu Xi’s project of systematizing the classics into a unified canon (especially the Four Books) exemplifies this intellectual-bureaucratic nexus. The authority of the state became inseparable from the authority of principle, and vice versa. Education, self-cultivation, and governance were all made extensions of the same metaphysical order.

Principle and Propensity: A Dialectical Relationship

One of Wang Hui’s key contributions in this chapter is highlighting the dialectical tension between principle and propensity. While principle claims universality and permanence, the notion of historical propensity implies variability, adaptation, and change. Wang emphasizes that Song thinkers did not ignore this tension—they theorized it.

In Zhu Xi’s writings, for example, the idea of gewu zhizhi (格物致知, “investigating things to extend knowledge”) was not an abstract epistemological exercise, but a method of aligning knowledge with the evolving conditions of society. The moral cultivation of the individual was inseparable from understanding the changing world. This emphasis on investigating the “things” of the world foreshadows later debates on empirical knowledge, politics, and reform.

Critique of the Modernist Narrative

Wang critiques modern historiography that treats lixue as a static obstacle to progress or modernization. Instead, he positions it as a dynamic, internally complex response to profound societal transformation. Far from being anti-modern, lixue represented an indigenous modernization effort—one grounded in ethical universalism rather than technical rationality.

Rather than framing Chinese modernity as an importation of Western categories (e.g., science, democracy, nation), Wang urges readers to see how concepts like Heavenly Principle and shishi offered their own ways of thinking about universality, legitimacy, and reform. In this way, the Song intellectual world was modern on its own terms.

Conclusion

The first chapter of The Rise of Modern Chinese Thought sets the tone for the rest of the work: it rethinks Chinese intellectual history not as a derivative narrative trailing behind Western modernity, but as a complex, autonomous field of thought. Wang Hui’s treatment of Heavenly Principle and historical propensity reveals a rich theoretical framework through which Chinese thinkers conceptualized change, authority, and moral order.

This foundational analysis is crucial for understanding how later thinkers in the Qing and Republican periods responded to internal crises and external pressures. By reclaiming the intellectual vitality of the Song, Wang opens the door to a pluralist vision of modernity—one that is not reducible to a single trajectory.

Chapter 2: Heavenly Principle and the Centralized State

In this chapter, Wang Hui deepens his analysis of the School of Principle (理学, lixue), focusing on how its philosophical doctrines became entangled with the political architecture of the centralized imperial state, particularly during the Northern and Southern Song dynasties. Rather than viewing Confucian revivalism as detached moral philosophy, Wang shows how Heavenly Principle (天理, tianli) served both as an ethical ideal and a strategic response to the consolidation of bureaucratic power.

From Moral Cosmology to Political Centralization

Wang begins by examining how Heavenly Principle became not only a standard for individual morality but also a normative justification for centralized governance. The Song dynasty’s consolidation of bureaucratic institutions marked a significant break from earlier aristocratic systems, and this required a new ideological foundation. Lixue provided just that, offering a framework that naturalized political order by rooting it in metaphysical truths.

This development was not incidental—it was intentional and strategic. Thinkers like Zhang Zai, Cheng Yi, and Zhu Xi elaborated a cosmology in which the universe’s moral and natural laws demanded a corresponding political structure. The emperor and his officials were not simply rulers by tradition or military power—they were enactors of principle. The state thus acquired a moral mission, deeply tied to cosmic order.

The Bureaucratic State as Moral Machine

Wang argues that the imperial bureaucracy itself was reimagined as a conduit for implementing Heavenly Principle. Officials were expected not merely to enforce law but to embody moral rectitude. The civil service examinations emphasized not legal knowledge or military strategy, but Confucian texts and moral reasoning, reinforcing this moral-political merger.

This bureaucratic transformation required a disciplined subjectivity: officials needed to internalize lixue ethics through study, reflection, and self-cultivation. In this way, personal morality became state infrastructure. The state was no longer an external force over society; it was embedded in the ethical formation of literati and administrators.

Moral Politics and the Logic of Exclusion

However, Wang also highlights a darker side to this moralized state. Because it was grounded in metaphysical universality, dissent or deviation could be branded not merely as error but as moral failure or cosmic disorder. The very tools that empowered a new administrative elite also became instruments of exclusion and orthodoxy.

This is particularly evident in the political purges of the Song era. Lixue, by claiming access to ultimate truth, allowed its adherents to accuse opponents of violating Heavenly Principle—a charge far more serious than political disagreement. Thus, the moral authority of the state could easily slide into authoritarianism, cloaked in ethical language.

The Role of Neo-Confucian Canonization

A key part of this transformation was the canonization of Confucian texts, especially the Four Books (四书). Zhu Xi’s interpretations became not only dominant within scholarly circles but institutionalized through the state examination system. This institutionalization reduced intellectual plurality and homogenized the criteria for moral and political legitimacy.

Wang emphasizes that this was not merely a philosophical development but a political technology. By standardizing the curriculum and linking it to state service, the Song court ensured a degree of ideological control while also promoting a shared moral culture. This dual effect—centralized power and internalized ethics—was essential to the Song’s relatively stable rule.

Tension Between Universality and Historical Specificity

A recurring theme in the chapter is the tension between abstract universality and historical contingency. While Heavenly Principle claimed to be timeless and universal, its practical deployment was historically situated. The Song state used tianli to justify policies of land reform, taxation, and legal restructuring, often under the rubric of restoring moral order.

Wang argues that this gap between principle and practice created a dynamic, dialectical space in which Confucian thinkers had to interpret, reinterpret, and sometimes subvert their own tradition. The rigidity of moral universality was always negotiated with the flux of historical reality.

Critique of Conventional Historiography

Wang again critiques both Chinese and Western historiography for treating Confucianism—especially in its Song form—as inherently authoritarian or stagnant. He insists that lixue was not merely an ideological tool for ruling elites, but also a site of genuine theoretical exploration, one that grappled with the challenges of legitimacy, justice, and state power.

Rather than separating “ethics” and “politics,” Wang shows that they were mutually constitutive in Chinese thought. The imperial state was imagined as both the executor of principle and a reflection of it. Understanding this logic is key to grasping how Chinese intellectuals thought about power—not as coercion, but as moral responsibility embedded in cosmic order.

Conclusion

Chapter 2 continues Wang Hui’s reconstruction of Chinese thought as a historically dynamic and politically engaged tradition. By exploring the mutual construction of lixue and the centralized state, Wang dismantles simplistic binaries—such as “tradition vs. modernity” or “despotism vs. democracy”—that dominate Western accounts of Chinese political history.

Instead, we see how metaphysical concepts like Heavenly Principle were actively reinterpreted to meet the demands of new institutional realities. In doing so, Song thinkers helped lay the foundation for a statecraft that was not merely technical or legalistic, but deeply moralized and philosophically grounded—a legacy that would shape centuries of Chinese governance and reform.

Chapter 3: The Transformation of “Things”

In this pivotal chapter, Wang Hui explores how the concept of “things” (物, wu) underwent a profound transformation in Chinese intellectual history, particularly from the Song to the Qing dynasty. More than a semantic or philological shift, this transformation signaled a new relationship between epistemology, moral cultivation, and political order.

Rather than focusing on abstract metaphysical principles alone, thinkers began to reengage with the material world—not in opposition to moral philosophy, but as an integral part of it. Wang interprets this shift as an early, indigenous form of knowledge rationalization, one that paralleled but did not mimic Western scientific development.

“Investigating Things”: The Epistemic Project of Lixue

The chapter begins with a detailed examination of the principle of “gewu zhizhi” (格物致知)—“investigating things to extend knowledge”—as formulated by Zhu Xi. This practice, which at first glance seems purely moral or spiritual, actually constituted a rigorous epistemological project. It insisted that knowledge of the world (things) was essential to the cultivation of the mind and realization of Heavenly Principle (天理).

Wang argues that Zhu Xi’s engagement with “things” marks an epistemic openness within Song Confucianism. This is not empirical observation in the modern scientific sense, but a moral-intellectual process of understanding how the myriad things of the world participate in universal principle.

This approach differs from Buddhist or Daoist treatments of “things,” which often stressed their illusory nature. Instead, Confucians like Zhu Xi regarded the physical world as the very medium through which moral truths were realized.

“Things” and the Moral Order

Zhu Xi’s idea of li in wu (理在物中)—principle in things—insists on the inseparability of material and metaphysical. Wang draws out the political implications: if the proper understanding of things leads to moral cultivation, then education, administration, and even economy must be reorganized around this axis of ethical-epistemic inquiry.

The transformation of “things” was thus not only ontological or cognitive, but structural. It underpinned shifts in the organization of knowledge and statecraft, especially as the Song dynasty evolved more complex bureaucratic institutions. Knowledge of “things” became key to managing resources, governing people, and securing legitimacy.

From Song Idealism to Qing Empiricism

Wang next traces how this Song emphasis on principle in things gave way to new evidential and empirical trends in the Qing dynasty. Qing scholars such as Gu Yanwu, Dai Zhen, and others took the investigation of “things” in more empirical directions—moving from Zhu Xi’s cosmological moralism to philological, historical, and geographical studies.

This change is sometimes interpreted as a decline of metaphysics, but Wang resists that narrative. Instead, he shows that Qing scholars were rethinking the meaning of “things” in light of real historical ruptures—such as the fall of the Ming dynasty and the Manchu conquest. Their evidential approach (考证学) was not anti-Confucian, but rather an attempt to ground ethics in concrete particulars and historical facts.

This transformation should be seen not as a linear progression toward science, but as part of a broader reorganization of Chinese intellectual resources, aimed at responding to national crisis and rebuilding authority.

Philology and the Re-Materialization of the Classics

Wang pays special attention to philology, which became the dominant mode of scholarly work in the Qing. By reconstructing the original meanings of classical texts, evidential scholars sought to clarify the “things” referenced in ancient scriptures—ritual tools, geographical locations, ancient institutions.

This work re-materialized the classics. Rather than treating them as timeless metaphors, Qing scholars read them as historical artifacts, embedded in particular material and temporal contexts. This signaled a major shift in how knowledge was legitimized—not through abstract principle, but through textual, empirical, and historical accuracy.

Yet Wang cautions against viewing this as a positivist turn. Many evidential scholars retained a deep moral investment in the classics; their empirical work was a form of ethical restoration, not merely fact-checking.

Political Implications: Statecraft and the Knowledge of Things

Wang argues that the changing concept of “things” had concrete political consequences. As statecraft became increasingly tied to knowledge systems—tax records, land surveys, geographical mappings—the ability to investigate and classify “things” became a key tool of governance.

This epistemological shift enabled more technocratic forms of rule, especially under the Qing. Officials and scholars used evidential methods to redesign systems of taxation, bureaucracy, and social control. Knowledge of things was no longer solely moral—it was instrumental, managerial, and deeply embedded in state rationality.

At the same time, this process intensified the moral burden of administration. Officials were not just bureaucrats but bearers of epistemic and ethical authority. Their capacity to understand and govern “things” was linked to their legitimacy as Confucian elites.

Beyond Binary Narratives

Throughout the chapter, Wang challenges binary narratives—such as idealism vs. empiricism, morality vs. science, or tradition vs. modernity. He shows that Chinese intellectual history developed its own internal dialectics, especially around the concept of “things.”

Rather than being a passive object of thought, “wu” became a site of contestation and synthesis—a place where metaphysical, ethical, and empirical registers were negotiated. This allowed Chinese thinkers to articulate a form of knowledge that was simultaneously moral, cosmic, and concrete.

Conclusion

Chapter 3 marks a turning point in The Rise of Modern Chinese Thought, as Wang Hui shows how a seemingly simple concept like “things” contains vast implications for philosophy, politics, and governance. By reconstructing the evolving meaning of “wu,” Wang highlights a uniquely Chinese trajectory of epistemological development—one deeply embedded in moral concerns and historical crises.

This transformation set the stage for the evidential scholarship of the Qing and laid the groundwork for later efforts to reconcile Confucian values with modern forms of knowledge. It also reveals the complex ways in which thought, state, and materiality intersected in the making of Chinese modernity.

Chapter 4: Classics and History (1)

In this chapter, Wang Hui turns to the early Qing period to examine how Confucian scholars responded to dynastic crisis and political disillusionment. He focuses on key figures such as Huang Zongxi, Gu Yanwu, and Wang Fuzhi, who launched a radical rethinking of the Confucian tradition by reinterpreting the classics through the lens of historical experience.

Rather than clinging to fixed metaphysical principles, these thinkers treated the classics as living documents shaped by and shaping history. Their work inaugurated a shift from moral cosmology to historical critique, laying the intellectual foundation for new modes of political thought and reform.

The Collapse of the Ming and the Crisis of Legitimacy

The fall of the Ming dynasty in 1644 marked not only a political catastrophe but also a profound crisis of moral and epistemological legitimacy. Many scholars found that traditional categories—such as loyalty, virtue, and righteous rule—were insufficient to explain or respond to the trauma of dynastic collapse.

In this moment of rupture, Wang Hui argues, thinkers like Huang Zongxi turned to history itself as the object of reflection. They did not reject the Confucian classics but sought to reframe their meaning historically. This approach allowed them to critique imperial rule and offer alternative visions of statehood, sovereignty, and authority.

Huang Zongxi: Against Autocracy

A central figure in this chapter is Huang Zongxi (1610–1695), often hailed as a pioneer of Chinese liberalism. However, Wang resists anachronistic classifications and instead situates Huang within a broader project of ethical-historical reconstruction.

In his landmark work Waiting for the Dawn (Mingyi daifang lu), Huang critiques the concentration of power in the monarch and proposes constraints through institutional checks and local self-governance. Crucially, Huang’s critique is not based on Western liberal theory but arises from within the Confucian tradition, reinterpreting ancient texts and dynastic histories.

Huang argues that the Confucian model of the sage-king had been distorted into a tool of autocracy. The classics, he contends, do not justify absolute monarchy; instead, they emphasize shared moral responsibility, the importance of ministers, and the dangers of unchecked authority. His work is thus both restorative and revolutionary, using the past to critique the present.

Gu Yanwu: Philology and Political Reform

Another towering figure is Gu Yanwu (1613–1682), who combined rigorous philological work with a strong concern for practical governance. His investigations into ancient texts were not antiquarian exercises but driven by a desire to recover ethical clarity and reform political institutions.

Gu emphasized the importance of “practical learning” (实学, shixue)—the idea that scholarship must serve real-world needs. He critiqued the Song-Ming idealist tradition for drifting too far into metaphysics and neglecting concrete problems. Yet Gu did not reject the Confucian tradition; he sought to anchor it in historical reality, particularly by studying ancient institutions, geography, and administrative systems.

For Wang Hui, Gu’s work represents a fusion of textual scholarship and political urgency. His critical engagement with the classics paved the way for later Qing evidential scholarship, but always maintained a moral core aimed at social improvement and national strength.

Wang Fuzhi: History as Ethical Struggle

The philosopher Wang Fuzhi (1619–1692) presents a different yet complementary trajectory. A committed loyalist to the fallen Ming, Wang developed a rich historical and cosmological philosophy grounded in the dual forces of qi (material force) and li (principle).

Wang emphasized that history is governed by immanent moral dynamics, not external providence. He interpreted the rise and fall of dynasties as consequences of human virtue and failure, rejecting fatalism and supernatural causality.

Unlike some of his contemporaries, Wang did not retreat into nostalgic idealism. His theory of historical transformation was dialectical—change emerged from struggle, contradiction, and the clash of human wills. For Wang Hui, this vision is strikingly modern: Wang Fuzhi foregrounds human agency, material conditions, and the ethical stakes of political life.

From Canon to Critique

A key theme across these thinkers is the destabilization of the canon. While Song-Ming Confucians like Zhu Xi had codified the classics into a fixed curriculum, early Qing scholars approached them as historically contingent, subject to reinterpretation in light of contemporary crisis.

This new method—combining textual rigor with political critique—opened the door to a different kind of Confucianism: one that was self-reflexive, historically conscious, and open to reform. Wang argues that this represents a critical juncture in Chinese intellectual history, where the classics became not just guides for personal morality but tools for analyzing systemic injustice and reimagining political order.

Rethinking Tradition from Within

Wang emphasizes that the critical insights of Huang, Gu, and Wang were not external to the Confucian tradition—they emerged from within it. These thinkers did not discard Confucianism; they reactivated its resources for critique, self-correction, and ethical transformation.

This internal critique challenges modern assumptions that real political thought in China begins only with contact with the West. On the contrary, Wang argues, early Qing thinkers already exhibited a complex, historically grounded political philosophy capable of addressing structural power, institutional design, and the moral basis of legitimacy.

Conclusion

Chapter 4 reveals a powerful episode in Chinese intellectual history, where moral philosophy met historical consciousness in a time of political crisis. Through close readings of Huang Zongxi, Gu Yanwu, and Wang Fuzhi, Wang Hui shows how the Confucian tradition reinvented itself through historical critique, laying the groundwork for later developments in Chinese modern thought.

This shift—from metaphysical timelessness to historically embedded critique—signals a major reorientation. It challenges the myth of static Confucian orthodoxy and introduces a more nuanced, dynamic understanding of how classical texts can function in times of upheaval—as instruments of both ethical restoration and radical innovation.

Chapter 5: Classics and History (2)

In this continuation of the previous chapter, Wang Hui expands the discussion on Qing dynasty scholarship and its engagement with the Confucian classics by focusing on Dai Zhen (1724–1777) and the evidential scholarship (考证学, kaozheng xue) movement. While the first wave of Qing thinkers—like Huang Zongxi and Gu Yanwu—approached history as a source of moral critique, this second wave emphasized philology, textual precision, and empirical methods.

Yet Wang Hui challenges the conventional interpretation that this was a purely positivist or “scientific” turn. Instead, he argues that evidential scholars retained a strong ethical concern and political commitment, even as they grounded their work in rigorous textual analysis. What emerged was a vision of scholarship that sought to reunite ethics, politics, and historical understanding through the meticulous study of classical texts.

Dai Zhen: Ethics Through Textual Rigor

Dai Zhen, one of the most influential Qing scholars, is often seen as a pivotal figure who shifted Confucian inquiry from metaphysics to empirical knowledge. His critiques of Song-Ming idealist Confucianism, particularly Zhu Xi’s theories, were sharp and systematic. He rejected abstract speculation in favor of concrete, historically grounded study.

However, Wang Hui insists that Dai Zhen was not anti-Confucian or anti-moral. Rather, he sought to restore ethical life by freeing it from metaphysical obscurantism. For Dai, moral cultivation should be based on clear understanding of social relationships and historical contexts, not on mystical introspection.

In this sense, Dai’s focus on textual accuracy and historical detail was not a retreat from ethics—it was an attempt to make ethics meaningful and applicable in the real world.

Evidential Scholarship as a Political Project

Wang situates the evidential movement in a larger political and epistemological context. In the aftermath of dynastic upheaval and ongoing social changes, Qing scholars believed that the Confucian canon had been distorted over centuries of misinterpretation. By returning to early texts and recovering their original meanings, they aimed to reclaim the moral foundation of governance.

This project had strong political implications. The evidential scholars were not court ideologues but often operated in the margins, producing scholarship that implicitly criticized prevailing institutions. Their emphasis on ancient systems—rituals, law codes, administrative structures—was not nostalgia but a search for models of legitimacy and ethical order grounded in historical experience.

Thus, kaozheng xue was not only about philology; it was about rebuilding the ethical infrastructure of the state.

The Critique of Lixue and Its Consequences

One major thrust of evidential scholarship was its critique of Song-Ming lixue. Wang Hui notes that Dai Zhen and others accused Zhu Xi and his followers of introducing excessive metaphysics, leading to a detachment from real-world concerns and practical governance.

This critique had wide-reaching effects. It delegitimized the dominant educational orthodoxy and called for a return to earlier, pre-Zhu Xi Confucian texts—especially the Rites and the Zuo Commentary—which offered detailed depictions of ritual, law, and political structure.

This new textual canon encouraged a more pragmatic and institutional understanding of Confucianism, centered not on abstract principle (理, li) but on relationships (情, qing) and practices. Dai Zhen, in particular, emphasized human feelings and social interactions as the basis for ethical life, a position that reintroduced emotional intelligence and practical sensitivity into Confucian moral theory.

Reconfiguring the Classics as Historical Documents

A fundamental insight in this chapter is how the classics were reconfigured from timeless ethical blueprints into historically situated documents. Wang shows how evidential scholars approached the Rites, the Spring and Autumn Annals, and the Book of Documents not just for moral principles but for insights into ancient institutions, practices, and political dynamics.

This reconceptualization transformed the classics into archives of political history—textual resources for understanding how ethical governance had functioned in different dynastic periods. It also meant that scholarship became a kind of political archaeology, through which the past could be mined for models and lessons.

Wang stresses that this did not weaken Confucianism but enriched it, offering new ways to think about law, bureaucracy, economy, and legitimacy in a rapidly changing Qing society.

Knowledge, Ethics, and Sovereignty

Underlying this entire intellectual shift was a rethinking of the relationship between knowledge and sovereignty. The evidential scholars, though not often involved directly in political office, offered a critique of imperial power by highlighting how moral authority must be rooted in historical clarity and institutional justice.

By grounding knowledge in historical facts and restoring the ethical intentions of classical texts, these scholars implicitly proposed a new moral order—one not imposed from above but reconstructed from the foundational practices of the past. Sovereignty, in this view, must be earned through textual and ethical legitimacy, not merely assumed through force or metaphysical appeal.

The Tension Between Method and Vision

Wang Hui also reflects on a deep internal tension in evidential scholarship: while its methods were often narrowly focused on philological precision, its vision remained grand and ethical. This created a productive dialectic: the minutiae of textual study became the means through which broad questions of political and moral life were addressed.

This approach avoided both dogmatism and nihilism. It rejected the abstract absolutism of lixue but also resisted the idea that history was merely a sequence of arbitrary events. Instead, evidential scholars saw history as a source of moral guidance, if only one could study it rigorously and honestly.

Conclusion

Chapter 5 completes Wang Hui’s exploration of the classical turn in early Qing intellectual life. He shows that the evidential scholars, far from being technocratic specialists, were moral and political reformers operating within a Confucian framework—but one retooled for a new era.

Through their commitment to textual fidelity, historical consciousness, and ethical clarity, these scholars transformed the Confucian tradition from a metaphysical doctrine into a historically grounded, politically sensitive moral project. In Wang’s hands, this movement is not a digression from modernity but one of China’s indigenous paths toward it—a form of modern critical thought rooted not in rupture, but in renewal.

Chapter 6: Inner and Outer (1): The Concept of Ritual, China, and Empire

In Chapter 6, Wang Hui delves into the political implications of ritual theory (礼, li) and its role in shaping the conceptual geography of China’s imperial worldview. He explores how ritual served not only as a mechanism of ethical cultivation but as a political and cosmological logic through which boundaries of “inner” and “outer” were defined—both in terms of territory and cultural legitimacy.

Wang focuses particularly on classical commentaries, such as the Gongyang Commentary (公羊传), and shows how the dichotomy between “China” (华夏) and “barbarian” (夷狄) was not simply racial or ethnic, but ritual-based, fluid, and historically contingent. This chapter marks a shift in Wang’s narrative—from internal ethical debates to questions of sovereignty, civilization, and imperial space.

Ritual as Political Technology

Wang begins by asserting that ritual (li) in Chinese thought was never a static tradition but a dynamic and strategic political technology. It structured relations not only within society—between ruler and subject, father and son—but also across the empire—between the central state and peripheral groups.

Drawing on texts like the Book of Rites and the Spring and Autumn Annals, Wang shows that ritual practices were used to distinguish the civilized from the uncivilized, the loyal from the rebellious, and the center from the margins. But these distinctions were not rigid; they could be reconfigured by moral action. A non-Chinese group that adopted proper ritual behavior could be seen as “inner,” while a Han group that violated ritual norms could be rendered “outer.”

Thus, the ritual boundary was not ethnocentric, but ethical and performative. This flexible model enabled a highly adaptive imperial ideology—one that could both integrate and exclude, depending on the political needs of the moment.

The Gongyang Commentary and the Ethics of History

Central to this argument is the Gongyang Commentary, a Han dynasty interpretation of the Spring and Autumn Annals that became influential in late imperial China, especially during periods of political fragmentation. Unlike the Zuo Commentary, which focused on factual records, the Gongyang emphasized the moral judgment of historical events.

Wang shows how the Gongyang perspective treats history not as objective record but as ethical narrative—an interpretive act where ritual order and moral legitimacy determine how events are remembered. It establishes a framework where sovereignty and loyalty are constantly evaluated against moral standards, not simply legal or territorial claims.

The Gongyang tradition also emphasizes the rectification of names (正名, zhengming)—ensuring that language and status correspond to moral reality. For instance, a rebel who appears loyal but disrupts ritual order must be labeled as “outer.” This system of moral categorization informed how the empire viewed both internal dissent and foreign relations.

The Inner/Outer Dichotomy as Imperial Logic

Wang then explores how this inner/outer logic became central to imperial administration. Rather than fixed geographical boundaries, Chinese empires constructed a moralized spatial order: the “center” was defined by ritual and virtue, not by physical location.

This logic allowed for the expansion and contraction of China’s cultural-political sphere without abandoning its central moral framework. Tributary states could be symbolically “inner” if they performed proper ritual obeisance, while rebellious provinces could be marked as “outer,” even if ethnically Han or geographically central.

This fluidity enabled the empire to maintain ideological coherence across vast and diverse territories. But it also posed challenges: as frontier peoples adopted Confucian rituals and as internal elites resisted reform, the categories of “inner” and “outer” became contested and unstable.

The Imperial View of China and the World

Wang argues that this ritual-based worldview underpinned a distinctive conception of world order—one where China did not aim to conquer in a Western imperialist sense, but to establish a moral hierarchy centered on the Son of Heaven.

In this hierarchy, “all under Heaven” (天下, tianxia) was not simply the territory ruled by the emperor, but a cosmological order in which all peoples could potentially be incorporated—if they accepted ritual norms. This universalism was not pluralist, but integrative; it required others to adapt to China’s moral standards in order to enter the imperial fold.

At the same time, this model created asymmetrical obligations: China saw itself as morally superior and therefore responsible for civilizing others, but not necessarily for respecting the political autonomy of other states. Wang emphasizes that this logic shaped China’s diplomatic and military strategies throughout imperial history.

Ritual and the Problem of Rebellion

A final theme in this chapter is the political handling of rebellion and dissent. Ritual categories provided a way to morally frame internal unrest: rebels were “outer” not just because they opposed the state, but because they violated ritual order. Conversely, some external groups could be recognized as legitimate partners if they upheld ritual norms.

This framework was both inclusive and repressive. It allowed for cultural assimilation but also justified harsh suppression of those who were ritually deviant. The moral lens lent ethical cover to coercive power, enabling the empire to portray domination as restoration of order.

Wang sees this as a paradox of imperial moralism: the more the state depended on ritual legitimacy, the more it had to enforce conformity through both persuasion and violence.

Conclusion

Chapter 6 marks a major turn in Wang Hui’s analysis—from internal philosophical debates to the political ideology of empire. By foregrounding ritual as a tool of imperial governance, Wang reconstructs a Chinese theory of sovereignty that was flexible, moralized, and cosmologically grounded.

The concept of inner and outer, far from being a static ethnic distinction, operated as a dynamic system of moral-political classification. It allowed the empire to incorporate, exclude, or discipline both external and internal actors based on their alignment with Confucian ritual order.

This ritual logic would continue to shape Chinese political thinking well into the modern era, and its legacy remains central to debates on sovereignty, cultural identity, and the limits of political inclusion in Chinese history.

Chapter 7: Inner and Outer (2): Empire and Nation-State

In Chapter 7, Wang Hui extends his investigation of the “inner/outer” (内外, nei/wai) distinction into the Qing dynasty’s engagement with global political changes, especially in the 18th and 19th centuries. The chapter focuses on how Qing intellectuals, such as Wei Yuan and others, responded to foreign encroachments and conceptualized the Chinese empire’s position within a newly emerging international order dominated by nation-states.

Wang argues that these thinkers did not simply adopt Western models but reworked traditional categories—such as “all under Heaven” (天下, tianxia), “barbarian” (夷狄, yidi), and “civilization”—in order to formulate new strategies for sovereignty, diplomacy, and self-preservation. This period marks a transitional moment when imperial cosmology collided with modern geopolitics, giving rise to both theoretical innovation and ideological anxiety.

The Crisis of the Tributary Worldview

The traditional Chinese world order was based on the tianxia model, where China occupied the civilizational center and other polities were classified in terms of moral proximity and ritual subordination. This framework began to break down with the advent of European imperialism and the increasing presence of modern nation-states with fixed borders, secular sovereignty, and military-industrial might.

The First Opium War (1839–1842) and the resulting Treaty of Nanjing shattered the illusion of civilizational centrality. Wang argues that this rupture forced Qing scholars to rethink “inner” and “outer”, no longer in ritual-ethical terms but in terms of territorial integrity, commercial control, and international law.

Wei Yuan’s Geopolitical Thought

A key figure in this transition is Wei Yuan (1794–1857), whose work Haiguo Tuzhi (Illustrated Treatise on the Maritime Countries) attempted to integrate Western geographic and military knowledge into Chinese statecraft. Rather than dismissing the West as uncivilized, Wei Yuan recognized its power and sought to adapt Chinese categories to meet the challenge.

Wei maintained a belief in the ethical superiority of Chinese civilization, but he acknowledged that foreign nations had developed techniques of governance, commerce, and warfare that China needed to study. Wang highlights how Wei transformed the “inner/outer” distinction into a practical framework for strategic engagement, not simply exclusion.

Wei’s use of the term “outer” no longer referred only to barbarian ritual inferiority, but now included technologically advanced yet ethically alien polities. This marked a functionalization of the outer—no longer a fixed moral position, but a site of learning, threat, and possible transformation.

The Reorganization of Space and Power

Wang situates this transformation within a broader reorganization of spatial and political concepts. Under the Qing, the empire ruled over diverse ethnic groups through layered systems of administration and symbolic incorporation. But as Western colonial powers imposed fixed borders and demanded treaty ports, China was forced to rethink its imperial geography.

The shift from tianxia to modern territorial sovereignty was not smooth or total. Qing thinkers still saw themselves as heirs to a moral order, yet they had to confront foreign powers that did not accept their centrality or ritual framework. This led to a hybrid geopolitical imaginary, where traditional categories were overlaid with new ones: “China” as both a cultural sphere and a bounded polity; “outer” as both a moral category and a geopolitical threat.

Inner/Outer and Ethnic Administration

Wang also discusses how the inner/outer framework was employed in multiethnic governance, particularly in Qing administration of Mongols, Tibetans, Uighurs, and other non-Han peoples. While ritual incorporation continued, new technologies of rule—surveillance, taxation, military presence—coexisted with older symbolic forms.

This dual system created internal contradictions. Peripheral groups were sometimes closer to the emperor through ritual than Han gentry in rebellious provinces. Wang notes how Qing cosmopolitanism and Han-centric nationalism coexisted uneasily, and how the inner/outer distinction shifted depending on political expediency.

As modern nationalist discourse emerged in the late Qing, these flexible categories began to harden. “China” started to be reimagined not as a tianxia but as a nation-state, with clear territorial boundaries and homogenous identity. This transition was deeply disruptive, as it collapsed the plurality of imperial order into a singular national narrative.

Beyond the Binary: Wang’s Critique of Historical Teleology

A major thrust of this chapter is Wang Hui’s critique of historical teleology—the idea that the modern nation-state is the inevitable outcome of history. He warns against reading Qing political evolution as a linear progression toward Western-style sovereignty.

Instead, Wang insists on the continuities, overlaps, and contestations that characterized the transition from empire to nation-state. The concepts of inner and outer did not simply vanish; they were recast in new forms, sometimes reappearing in modern political ideologies such as nationalism, centralization, and cultural hierarchy.

This challenges the assumption that the emergence of modern China required a clean break with the imperial past. Wang shows that many modern categories—like “sovereignty,” “civilization,” and “border”—were not foreign imports, but evolved through internal adaptation of traditional thought.

The Possibility of Alternative Modernities

Wang closes the chapter by suggesting that the Qing response to global transformation represents an instance of alternative modernity. The reconfiguration of inner/outer relations shows that Chinese thinkers developed their own geopolitical theories, grounded in both classical cosmology and empirical observation.

Wei Yuan and his contemporaries did not passively absorb Western norms; they translated, resisted, and transformed them within a Chinese framework. This points to a modernity that is not simply Westernization, but a dialogical process—a negotiation between tradition and innovation, ritual order and political realism.

Conclusion

Chapter 7 deepens Wang Hui’s analysis of the “inner/outer” dichotomy by situating it in the context of global imperialism and the rise of the nation-state. He shows how Qing thinkers responded to existential threats not by abandoning their tradition but by reworking it to meet new challenges.

The transformation of imperial categories into geopolitical strategies reveals a fluid, complex intellectual terrain where ideas of sovereignty, culture, and legitimacy were being radically redefined. This process laid the groundwork for modern Chinese political thought, but without erasing its imperial roots.

Through careful textual and historical analysis, Wang reconstructs a period of theoretical creativity under pressure—a moment when the fate of an empire gave rise to new forms of thinking that continue to shape China’s political imagination today.

Chapter 8: Confucian Universalism and the Self-Transformation of Empire

In the final chapter of the volume, Wang Hui explores the reformist vision of Kang Youwei (1858–1927) and the ways in which Confucianism was reinterpreted to meet the pressures of a collapsing imperial order and the challenge of Western modernity. This chapter traces the ambitious reconfiguration of Confucianism as a universal doctrine, a response not only to dynastic crisis but to the emergence of the nation-state system and global imperialism.

Through a close reading of Kang’s works, Wang shows how Confucian values were repurposed to support a program of centralized reform, constitutional monarchy, and eventually utopian cosmopolitanism. While Kang’s ideas were bold and forward-looking, Wang also critiques their latent authoritarian tendencies and the ideological risks embedded in his Confucian universalism.

Kang Youwei and the Crisis of the Qing

Kang Youwei rose to prominence during the late Qing dynasty, when internal unrest, Western aggression, and institutional inertia threatened to destroy the Chinese state. His reformist proposals gained traction during the Hundred Days’ Reform of 1898, a short-lived attempt to radically modernize China’s political and educational systems.

At the heart of Kang’s thought was the belief that Confucianism could be modernized—not discarded, but refashioned into the ideological foundation of a reformed state. For Kang, Confucius was not a conservative sage but a visionary reformer, and Confucianism was not a fixed set of rituals but a dynamic, future-oriented system compatible with constitutionalism and science.

Wang Hui stresses that Kang was not simply mimicking Western ideas. Instead, he was undertaking a bold internal transformation of Chinese thought, seeking to globalize Confucianism and position it as a universal ethic for modern civilization.

The Recasting of Confucianism as Religion and Political Ideology

One of Kang’s most controversial innovations was his campaign to establish Confucianism as a state religion, with temples, rituals, and clerical hierarchies. Wang shows how this move was aimed at providing the moral glue for a constitutional monarchy and countering the spread of Christianity and Western secularism.

In this framework, Confucian universalism became both ethical and institutional: it promised to unify the empire around a shared moral foundation while simultaneously embracing modern technologies of rule—schools, bureaucracy, the press. Confucianism was envisioned as both ancient and futuristic, rooted in Chinese tradition but capable of guiding the world.

Yet Wang identifies an important tension here: Kang’s embrace of universalism also masked a deep centralization of authority. The universal truth of Confucianism, once declared, became a tool of political control. Dissent could be framed as heresy, and reform became the prerogative of the enlightened elite.

Utopianism and the “Datong” Ideal

Kang’s most radical vision appears in his posthumously published Book of Great Unity (Datong Shu, 大同书), where he outlines a future world free from political borders, private property, gender hierarchy, and warfare. In this utopia, Confucian values would guide global civilization toward harmony and equality.

Wang reads Datong Shu as an attempt to extend Confucianism beyond the Chinese empire, transforming it into a universal principle of world governance. Kang’s utopia rejects nationalism and imperialism alike, aiming for post-political cosmopolitanism rooted in moral cultivation and technological advancement.

However, Wang notes that this universalism is deeply ambiguous. While Kang opposed Western imperialism, he still believed in China’s moral leadership. His vision of harmony could easily slide into civilizational paternalism, and his model of moral reform was highly dependent on state authority.

Confucian Reform and Authoritarian Possibilities

Wang critically assesses the political structure implicit in Kang’s reforms. Though constitutionalist in rhetoric, Kang’s ideal polity centered on a moral elite that would educate and guide the masses. His reliance on centralized institutions, state religion, and ritual unification carried the seeds of authoritarian modernization.

This contradiction—between moral universalism and institutional centralization—is not unique to Kang. Wang argues that it reflects a broader pattern in Chinese modern thought, where efforts to reconcile tradition and innovation often lead to moralized technocracy.

Kang’s case shows how Confucianism’s internal resources could be mobilized for progressive ends, but also how they could be shaped into ideological scaffolding for control. The danger lies in conflating ethical vision with political monopoly.

The Collapse of Empire and the Rebirth of Ideas

Wang situates Kang Youwei at a historical turning point: the final decades of the Qing dynasty, when the traditional imperial order was disintegrating and new forms of sovereignty were emerging. In this moment of crisis, Kang’s reimagining of Confucianism as both global ethic and national strategy was a profound intellectual gambit.

Yet as the Qing collapsed and the Republic was founded, Kang’s model was sidelined. Confucian state religion was never established, and the May Fourth generation would soon launch scathing attacks on Confucianism as the root of China’s backwardness. Nonetheless, Wang argues that Kang’s legacy deserves re-evaluation—not as a failed ideologue, but as a theorist of transformation.

Kang represents one of the most ambitious efforts to think modernity through Chinese categories, to universalize tradition without capitulating to the West. Even in its contradictions, his work offers a window into how modern Chinese thinkers grappled with the double demand of cultural continuity and global integration.

Conclusion

Chapter 8 concludes Wang Hui’s investigation by presenting Kang Youwei as both the culmination and rupture of modern Confucian political thought. His attempt to turn Confucianism into a universal, institutional, and futuristic doctrine represents one of the boldest self-transformations of the Chinese tradition.

Yet Kang’s vision was also haunted by the very tensions it tried to resolve: between universalism and centralism, ethics and authority, reform and repression. Wang Hui treats these not simply as flaws, but as the deep structures of Chinese political modernity—structures that continue to inform debates over sovereignty, ideology, and moral order in contemporary China.

Ultimately, Kang’s legacy lies not in the implementation of his utopia, but in the possibilities and limits he exposed: the creative force of tradition, the danger of moral monopolies, and the unending effort to imagine a world beyond empire and nation-state alike.