The Emperor's Tomb

“The struggle became worse in the Warring States period, which followed,” his teacher had said. “Eventually, after another two hundred years of conflict, seven states emerged, each led by a Hegemon. Their councilors were all brothers of the Ba, Legalists who taught that he who has the greatest force will be paid tribute to by others, while he who has less force will pay tribute to others. The Ba consolidated their influence over the kings, advocating an end to the feudal system. Inherited posts were replaced with appointed bureaucrats, whom the ruler could discharge or even execute at will. Inherited fiefdoms were redrawn into administrative units called counties. Cleverly, by appointing officials who were mere extensions of himself, the Hegemon gathered all power into himself’.”

By the end of the Warring States period, the Ba

had assumed virtual control over the monarchs. Though other technological feats were better known—the discovery of gunpowder, the cultivation of silkworms—Tang believed that the Chinese invention of totalitarianism may have had the greatest impact on the world.

“It was a revolution from above,” his teacher had explained. “The people gave little resistance. Five centuries of incessant warfare had left them prostrate, and no one could argue with the order the Legalists provided. And though all that occurred over 2,500 years ago, to this day all Chinese have an irrational fear of chaos and disorder.”

A decade later the kingdom of Qin conquered the seven surviving states, transforming a backward dukedom and six warring neighbors into the First Empire.

“Qin Shi embedded Legalism in our culture, and it remains part of our culture today, though the concept has changed over the centuries. Those changes are why you and I must talk further.”

And they had, many times.

“Study Mao,” his teacher had advised. “He was a modern Legalist. He understood how the Chinese mind fears chaos—and that, more than anything else, explains both his success and his failure.”

Tang had studied.

Nationally, Mao had wanted to make China united, strong, and secure, just as Qin Shi had done. Socially

, he had wanted China to evolve into an egalitarian society in the Marxist tradition. Personally, he wanted to transcend his own mortality and ensure that his Revolution became irreversible.

On the first goal he succeeded. The second was an utter failure.

And the third?

That was the unanswered question.

Amazing how like Qin Shi Mao had become. Both established new regimes, bringing unity after long periods of bloody turmoil, crushing all local fiefdoms. They were standardizers, social engineers, insisting on one language, currency, orthodoxy, and loyalty. Grandiose building projects became common. They both loathed merchants and silenced intellectuals. They encouraged worship of themselves and invented new titles to match their egos. Qin had chosen First Emperor, while Mao had preferred Chairman. In death, they were lavishly entombed and harshly criticized, but the framework of their regimes had endured.

“That was no accident,” his teacher told him during one of their final conversations. “Mao understood the First Emperor. You should, too.”

And he did.