The Chinese Communist Party’s inner core, the Politburo Standing Committee, consists of seven men. Officially, they all swear allegiance to what is known as “Xi Jinping Thought.” But behind them hum the three unseen ones: Confucius, Laozi, and Sunzi. They lived more than two thousand years ago, yet they still speak to the Chinese from the beyond.
That the Communist Party has embraced these ancient sages may seem strange. When Mao seized power in 1949, their legacy was viewed as an obstacle to revolution. During the Cultural Revolution (1966–1976), Confucius was denounced as a reactionary, and Mao’s frenzied Red Guards took the opportunity to destroy much of China’s old culture. The mystic Laozi was branded a man of superstition, and the military theorist Sunzi was at times dismissed as a representative of “feudal warfare.”
But history has proved stronger than ideology. China has never managed to cut its ties to its roots.
Confucius was born in Qufu, in Shandong Province, about 2,500 years ago. The city lies a few hours southeast of Beijing by train. The temples erected in his honor were destroyed many times — most recently during the Cultural Revolution — but now they shine brighter than ever. Tourists and school groups flock there, and colorful ceremonies are held with official blessing. Xi Jinping himself has quoted Confucius in speeches, declaring that “traditional Chinese culture is the soul of the nation.” In practice, the old sage has become a useful symbol for the Party in difficult times.
As a moral philosopher, Confucius cared little about heaven; his concern was how people should conduct themselves on earth. “A country is governed through ritual,” he said, “but it is governed best when the people know their place.”
The ideal society, in Confucius’s view, was a clear hierarchy. Those lower on the ladder must obey those above, for rank and order mattered more than individual freedom. At the same time, he emphasized the importance of education and knowledge, traveling from place to place to teach eager young students.
To today’s authoritarian leaders, this sounds like sweet music. That is why they polish the dust off old Confucian temples, and his birthday, September 28, is celebrated with colorful processions across the country.
At this year’s celebration in Qufu, the provincial governor delivered the main speech and led the ritual ceremonies, while others read aloud from The Analects, the collection of Confucius’s sayings. Traditional music and dance were also performed. The event was broadcast not only to millions of Chinese viewers but to several other countries as well.
The commotion was almost as great at Beijing’s powerful Confucius Temple, built in the early 14th century and used for solemn rituals for seven hundred years. Many emperors of the past came here, which gave it enormous prestige.
Laozi, the father of Daoism, lived around the same time as Confucius, but seemed his opposite in every way. He loved a simple and natural life, without ceremony, bowing, or scraping, and wanted rulers to govern as little as possible. “The one who interferes destroys; the one who lets things be allows all to flourish,” says the Daodejing, the slim volume he and his followers left behind.
It is difficult to reconcile Laozi with a party that insists on a strong state and now surveils its citizens more closely than ever. Yet Xi and his ideologues find him useful — especially his belief that each person must follow their own path, their dao. For China too must follow its own path, Xi’s path, rather than copying the West. Officially it is called “socialism with Chinese characteristics.” When Daoism is dressed in national costume in this way, it becomes harmless — and thus tolerated.
It also helps that Daoism appears as a peaceful faith. It lives in temples, philosophy, and culture but poses no threat to Party power. According to China’s official Daoist Association, the country has around 170 million Daoists. That number is probably exaggerated, but the boundaries are vague. In any case, we are speaking of millions.
If you’re in Beijing, you should visit perhaps the most important Daoist sanctuary of all: Baiyun Guan, the White Cloud Temple, founded during the Tang dynasty more than a thousand years ago. The temple is famed for its large courtyards, graceful pavilions, sculptures, and an impressive collection of ancient Daoist texts. It is busy year-round, especially during the Spring Festival, when thousands come to burn incense, buy lucky charms, and pray for health and prosperity.
And then there is Sunzi, the strategist who wrote The Art of War. He too lived around 500 BCE. His little book is required reading for every Chinese officer. “The greatest victory is the one achieved without battle,” he wrote, adding: “Know your enemy and know yourself, and you will not fear a hundred battles.”
Another of his sayings: “If you are near, make it seem that you are far; if you are far, make it seem that you are near.” And one more: “When you are strong, appear weak; when you are weak, appear strong.”
His principles of warfare are applied far beyond the battlefield — by Chinese diplomats in negotiations, by Party strategists in economic policy, and by businesspeople navigating competitive markets. At airports you can find The Art of War in sleek modern editions, marketed to executives and politicians.
Sunzi, in short, is fashionable again. When China pressures small neighboring states without firing a shot, builds economic networks through the Belt and Road Initiative, or conducts cyber operations against rivals, it follows Sunzi’s teaching that the best commander is the one who wins without fighting. At the same time, he reminds readers never to underestimate the enemy — a notion that still shapes China’s approach to the United States.
Throughout their history, the Chinese have lived with these three. The emperors of the Han dynasty (206 BCE–220 CE) made Confucianism the state ideology, while Daoism became a source of popular faith and philosophical resistance to overrule. Under the Tang dynasty (618–908), Laozi was venerated as the imperial ancestor.
Sunzi was studied by generals in every era. During Mao’s time, his teachings were revived as proof of China’s own military genius, though the Chairman freely mixed them with modern theories of “people’s war.”
For today’s Communist Party, figures like Marx, Engels, Lenin, and Stalin feel remote. Few, if any, still read them. Even Mao is fading from memory. His portraits are largely gone, and Xi Jinping rarely quotes him. Yet with these “three invisible ones,” the Party manages to build bridges to China’s past without casting aside Marxism — a foreign import — entirely.
Confucius and Laozi were humans, not gods. Yet the Chinese regard them as sacred sages, especially Laozi, who in many Daoist traditions is seen as an immortal deity.
Sunzi, by contrast, never inspired a major religious cult, though shrines in his honor exist. In China, the boundaries between religion, philosophy, and folk belief are far more fluid than in the West. Burning incense or erecting a statue of Confucius or others is not necessarily a profession of faith — it is a path toward harmony and good fortune.
The Communist Party’s charter states that its members must be atheists and not adhere to any religion. Yet it is no secret that many live double lives, with altars and incense sticks in their homes. A 2023 Pew Research Center survey found that around six percent of Party members — about six million people — identified with a religion. The real number is probably much higher.
“There are ways to mow the grass again and again,” says an old Chinese proverb, “but the roots will always send up new shoots.”
Sunzi was studied by generals in every era. During Mao’s time, his teachings were revived as proof of China’s own military genius, though the Chairman freely mixed them with modern theories of “people’s war.”
For today’s Communist Party, figures like Marx, Engels, Lenin, and Stalin feel remote. Few, if any, still read them. Even Mao is fading from memory. His portraits are largely gone, and Xi Jinping rarely quotes him. Yet with these “three invisible ones,” the Party manages to build bridges to China’s past without casting aside Marxism — a foreign import — entirely.
Confucius and Laozi were humans, not gods. Yet the Chinese regard them as sacred sages, especially Laozi, who in many Daoist traditions is seen as an immortal deity.
Sunzi, by contrast, never inspired a major religious cult, though shrines in his honor exist. In China, the boundaries between religion, philosophy, and folk belief are far more fluid than in the West. Burning incense or erecting a statue of Confucius or others is not necessarily a profession of faith — it is a path toward harmony and good fortune.
The Communist Party’s charter states that its members must be atheists and not adhere to any religion. Yet it is no secret that many live double lives, with altars and incense sticks in their homes. A 2023 Pew Research Center survey found that around six percent of Party members — about six million people — identified with a religion. The real number is probably much higher.
“There are ways to mow the grass again and again,” says an old Chinese proverb, “but the roots will always send up new shoots.”
……. …
P.S. Some readers may wonder where the Buddha is in this story — but since he was born in India, he’ll have to wait his turn.
