說難

In general, the difficulty of persuasion does not lie in the difficulty of having the knowledge to make one's case. Nor does it lie in the difficulty of marshalling arguments to express one's ideas clearly. Nor again does it lie in the difficulty of daring to speak freely and exhaustively. In general, the difficulty of persuasion lies in knowing the mind of the one being persuaded, so as to fit one's arguments to it.

If the one being persuaded is motivated by a desire for lofty reputation, yet you counsel him with arguments about substantial profit, you will be seen as base in principle and treated as vulgar — and you will certainly be dismissed. If the one being persuaded is motivated by substantial profit, yet you counsel him with arguments about lofty reputation, you will be seen as impractical and remote from reality — and your counsel will certainly not be adopted. If the one being persuaded secretly pursues substantial profit while outwardly claiming to seek lofty reputation, and you counsel him with arguments about reputation, then he will ostensibly embrace you but in reality keep you at a distance; if you counsel him with arguments about profit, then he will secretly use your advice but publicly discard you. These things must be carefully examined.

Affairs succeed through secrecy; they fail when talk causes leaks. It is not necessarily that the persuader himself has leaked the information, but if his words touch upon matters the ruler wishes to conceal — in such a case, the persuader's life is in danger.

When a ruler openly undertakes some action but actually intends it to accomplish a different purpose, and the persuader not only knows what is being done but also understands the ruler's true motive — in such a case, the persuader's life is in danger.

When the persuader hits upon the right answer in a different matter, and someone clever deduces the truth from external evidence, and the affair leaks out — the ruler will inevitably blame the persuader. In such a case, the persuader's life is in danger.

When the relationship of mutual trust is not yet deep, yet the persuader speaks with the fullest intimacy of knowledge: if his counsel is followed and succeeds, its merit will be forgotten; if his counsel is not followed and failure results, he will be suspected. In such a case, the persuader's life is in danger.

When a man of rank has committed a fault, and the persuader speaks plainly of ritual propriety to expose his wrongdoing — in such a case, the persuader's life is in danger.

When a man of rank has obtained a good strategy and wishes to claim the credit as his own, and the persuader shares in that knowledge — in such a case, the persuader's life is in danger.

When you force someone to do what he cannot do, or try to stop him from what he cannot refrain from — in such a case, the persuader's life is in danger.

Thus: if you discuss great men with him, he takes it as an invidious comparison to himself. If you discuss petty men with him, he takes it as an attempt to trade on your importance. If you discuss what he loves, he takes it as currying favor. If you discuss what he hates, he takes it as testing him. If you make your arguments brief and concise, he considers you ignorant and dismisses you. If you argue at length and in elaborate detail, he considers you long-winded and tiresome. If you summarize affairs and merely outline your meaning, he calls you timid and incomplete. If you deliberate broadly and without restraint, he calls you uncouth and presumptuous.

These are the difficulties of persuasion, and they must be understood.

In general, the essential task of persuasion lies in knowing how to embellish what the one being persuaded takes pride in, and how to efface what he finds shameful.

If he has a private urgency, you must frame it in terms of public duty and encourage him in that direction. If his inclinations tend toward the base, yet he cannot restrain himself, the persuader should adorn the attractive aspects and minimize what he fails to do. If his ambitions are lofty, yet in reality he cannot live up to them, the persuader should point out his errors and expose his faults, while emphasizing how much remains undone.

If he wishes to take pride in his intelligence, then supply him with analogous cases of a similar kind, lay out ample ground for him, let him draw upon your arguments as his own, and feign ignorance to bolster his sense of wisdom. If you wish to introduce words of mutual benefit, you must frame them under a fine name while subtly showing how they serve his private interest. If you wish to present matters of danger or harm, you must make the criticism overt while subtly showing how they touch upon his private concerns.

Praise other men who share his conduct. Plan other affairs that parallel his designs. Where he shares in some disgrace, you must emphatically frame it as harmless. Where he shares in some failure, you must clearly frame it as faultless.

When he takes pride in his strength, do not confront him with his difficulties. When he prides himself on courageous decisions, do not anger him with censure. When he considers his plans clever, do not embarrass him with their failures.

When the broad drift of your argument offends nothing in him, and the specifics of your language grate against nothing — only then may you give full rein to your intelligence and eloquence. This is the method by which one gains intimacy without suspicion and achieves the freedom to speak fully.

Yi Yin served as a cook; Baili Xi served as a slave — each did so in order to gain access to his ruler. These two men were both sages, yet even they could not avoid demeaning themselves in order to advance — such was the depth of their self-abasement! If I now say that one should serve as cook or slave, and thereby gain a hearing to save the world, this is nothing that a capable man of office should find shameful.

When long days have passed and much time has elapsed, and mutual trust has grown deep; when one may plan profoundly without being suspected and may argue and contend without being punished — then one may clearly delineate advantage and harm to achieve results, and straightforwardly point to right and wrong to establish one's own position. To sustain this relationship: this is the completion of persuasion.

In former times, Duke Wu of Zheng wished to attack the state of Hu. Therefore he first married his daughter to the lord of Hu in order to put him at ease. Then he asked his assembled ministers: "I wish to use military force. Who is fit to attack?" The grand officer Guan Qisi replied: "Hu is fit to attack." Duke Wu flew into a rage and had him executed, saying: "Hu is a brother state! What do you mean by proposing to attack it?"

The lord of Hu heard of this and, believing Zheng to be his friend, made no preparations against it. The men of Zheng attacked Hu in a surprise assault and took it.

In Song there was a rich man. The rains came and his wall collapsed. His son said: "If you do not rebuild it, there will certainly be thieves." The father of his neighbor said the same. That evening, the family indeed lost a great quantity of wealth. The household considered the son very clever — but suspected the neighbor's father.

In both these cases, the speakers were entirely correct. Yet the one who spoke from a position of closeness was executed; the one who spoke from a position of distance was suspected. It is not that knowing is difficult — what is difficult is knowing how to position one's knowledge.

Thus Rao Chao's words were entirely correct, and he was honored as a sage in Jin but was executed in Qin. This must be carefully examined.

In former times, Mi Zixia enjoyed the favor of the ruler of Wei. The law of the state of Wei provided: anyone who secretly commandeers the ruler's carriage shall be punished by amputation of the feet.

Mi Zixia's mother fell ill. Someone came in the night by a back route to inform Mi Zixia. Mi Zixia forged the ruler's order and drove out in the ruler's carriage. When the ruler heard of this, he praised him as worthy, saying: "How filial! For the sake of his mother, he forgot even the punishment of amputation."

Another day, he was strolling with the ruler in the orchards. He ate a peach and, finding it sweet, did not finish it but offered the remaining half to the ruler. The ruler said: "How he loves me! He forgoes his own appetite to share with me."

But when Mi Zixia's beauty faded and the ruler's affection waned, and he committed some offense against the ruler, the ruler said: "This is the one who once forged my order to commandeer my carriage, and who once fed me his half-eaten peach."

Thus Mi Zixia's conduct had not changed from what it was at first. Yet the reason he was formerly praised as worthy and later found guilty was this: the shift between love and hate. Therefore, when one is loved by the ruler, one's wisdom is judged fitting and one is drawn closer. When one is hated by the ruler, one's wisdom is judged unfitting, one is found guilty and pushed further away.

Therefore those who would remonstrate, persuade, discuss, and deliberate must not fail to examine the ruler's loves and hates before offering counsel.

Now the dragon, as a creature, is gentle enough that one may approach it familiarly and even ride upon it. Yet beneath its throat are reverse-growing scales a foot across. If anyone should touch them, the dragon will surely kill that person.

The ruler of men likewise has his reverse scales. If a persuader can avoid touching the ruler's reverse scales, he may come close to success.