A Man of Many Masters: Feng Dao’s Unprecedented Career

Few figures in Chinese history provoke as much debate as Feng Dao (882–954), the chancellor who served under five dynasties, eight ruling families, and eleven emperors—including the non-Han Liao dynasty. Born in Jingcheng (modern Hebei), Feng began as a minor official under the Later Tang’s Zhuangzong Emperor before rising to prominence under Mingzong, who recognized his administrative genius. His survival across the bloody transitions from Later Tang to Later Jin, Liao occupation, Later Han, and finally Later Zhou made him both a pragmatic hero and a moral paradox.

The Chaos of the Five Dynasties: A World Without Loyalty

The Five Dynasties period (907–960) was an era of hyper-fragmentation, where warlords-turned-emperors ruled ephemeral regimes averaging just a decade each. With central authority collapsed after the Tang dynasty’s fall, “loyalty” became a fluid concept. As Feng himself noted, demanding unwavering fealty to short-lived regimes was absurd when survival required adaptability. This context explains why contemporaries praised Feng for stabilizing governance amid chaos, while later Confucian scholars—especially Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucians—vilified him as the epitome of shameless opportunism.

The Art of Survival: Feng Dao’s Political Philosophy

Feng’s tactics reveal a Machiavellian pragmatism:
– Diplomatic Fluency: He negotiated with the Khitan Liao during their 947 sack of Kaifeng, persuading Emperor Taizong to spare civilians from massacre by flattering him as “greater than Buddha.”
– Administrative Neutrality: He focused on institutional continuity, preserving bureaucratic systems regardless of who held the throne.
– Moral Flexibility: His famous autobiography expressed regret not for serving multiple masters but for failing to reunify China—a goal he saw as transcending dynastic allegiances.

Critics like the Ming radical Li Zhi defended Feng using Mencius’ dictum: “The state (社稷, soil and grain gods) is weightier than the ruler.” In a land ravaged by war, Feng’s priority was minimizing suffering—a stance that resonated with peasants who revered him as a savior.

The Ten Kingdoms: Cultural Flourishing Amid Division

While the north endured the “Five Dynasties,” southern regimes like Southern Tang and Shu became havens for artists and poets:
– Southern Tang’s Literary Court: Rulers Li Jing and Li Yu (the “Two Lords”) were celebrated ci poets, elevating this lyrical form to new heights.
– Shu’s Scholarly Refuge: Former Tang literati like Ouyang Xiong fled to Sichuan, where rulers patronized the arts but lacked ambition to conquer the north.
– Wuyue’s Quiet Prosperity: The Qian family ruled Hangzhou for 86 years, prioritizing economic stability over expansion.

These states, though culturally vibrant, lacked the military might to challenge the north—a contrast to the Later Zhou’s expansionist vision under Emperor Shizong (Chai Rong).

The Turning Point: Later Zhou and the Rise of Song

Shizong’s reforms—particularly his elite Palace Army—set the stage for reunification. His death in 959 left a power vacuum exploited by general Zhao Kuangyin (later Song Taizu), who orchestrated a “reluctant” coup at the 960 Chenqiao Mutiny. Feng Dao, having died years earlier, missed this pivotal moment, but his career foreshadowed the Song’s central dilemma: how to reconcile pragmatic statecraft with Confucian loyalty.

Legacy: Feng Dao’s Paradox in Chinese History

Feng remains a Rorschach test for historians:
– To Traditionalists: A cautionary tale against moral compromise.
– To Modernists: A proto-technocrat who prioritized governance over ideology.
– To Comparativists: A parallel to figures like Talleyrand, navigating revolution without rigid dogma.

His life encapsulates the Five Dynasties’ defining tension—whether stability justifies moral ambiguity in times of crisis. As China’s next great unification dawned under the Song, Feng’s controversial legacy would haunt debates about statecraft for centuries.

Epilogue: Why Feng Dao Still Matters

In an age of geopolitical upheaval, Feng’s story resonates beyond medieval China. He challenges us to consider:
– Can effective leadership ever be divorced from ethical purity?
– How should societies judge those who negotiate with occupying powers?
– Is continuity of government worth the cost of compromised principles?

The answers remain as contested today as they were in the ashes of the Tang.