Reviving the Ethics of Concealment to Build a Just Society
----A boy betrayed his grandfather. What kind of education produces such behavior? What kind of human nature, what kind of ethics, are we seeing? What kind of nation is this?
By DU Hongwei (杜鸿威)
【Editor’s Note: The story of nine-year-old Yu Jiangtao (鱼江涛), who reported his grandfather’s possession of poppies and was publicly rewarded, has stirred public discomfort, reminiscent of past tragedies in which family loyalty was sacrificed for ideological compliance. Du Hongwei criticizes the boy’s commendation, viewing it as a violation of the “Doctrine of Concealment,” an ethical and legal principle rooted in Confucian and Western traditions that prevents family members from testifying against each other. This doctrine, essential to family cohesion, prioritizes private bonds over public authority to maintain moral structure and human dignity. Citing historical examples like Zhang Hongbing’s regret after reporting his mother during the Cultural Revolution, Du emphasizes that reporting family members erodes fundamental ethical boundaries. He argues that forcing such betrayals disrupts natural law and could unravel society’s moral fabric, concluding with a hope that Yu avoids a life shadowed by guilt and internal conflict.】
This morning, I came across a social media post titled “A Boy in Yuxi, Yunnan Reports His Grandfather’s Opium Poppy Stash and Receives an Award—But Netizens Are Furious with Him!” The story is about a nine-year-old boy named Yu Jiangtao (鱼江涛) who, upon discovering a few opium poppies in his grandfather’s bedside drawer, remembered what his teacher had taught him about drugs. Immediately, he called the police to report his grandfather.
“Hello, I found drugs in my grandpa’s bedside drawer,” he said.
“Do you know what kind of drug it is, little friend?” the officer asked.
“Poppy.”
The police arrived promptly, and Yu Jiangtao even met them at the village entrance to guide them to the house. Upon arrival, the grandfather explained that he had kept these four poppies, which had been given to him by a friend over a decade ago but had never used them. The police confiscated the poppies and proceeded to educate both the boy and his grandfather on drug-related dangers. Yu Jiangtao was honored for his actions and awarded the title of “Anti-Drug Little Guardian” along with a certificate and a prize. Standing on stage, beaming with pride as he received his award, he basked in the applause from teachers, classmates, and police officers.
Reading this news made me physically nauseous. I couldn’t even finish my breakfast.
In a similarly divisive era, the spring of 1970 in Guzhen County, Anhui Province, saw the execution of a local doctor accused of “disloyalty to Chairman Mao.” This case drew significant controversy—not because of the crime itself but because the accusation was made by the doctor’s own child. The physician, Fang Zhongmou (方忠谋), a well-regarded doctor, was condemned after his son, Zhang Hongbing (张红兵), a prominent Red Guard, accused him of speaking ill of certain leaders. As a result, his mother was sentenced to immediate execution. Later in life, Zhang Hongbing lived under the heavy weight of regret and pain, haunted by nightly nightmares, reliving that brutal night from 1970. He would dream of holding his mother’s hand, pleading with her, “Mother, please don’t go—I’m sorry, so sorry.”
Today, there is at least some comfort in knowing that the public response to Yu Jiangtao’s story was largely one of disapproval.
Why do people condemn this boy? It’s because his actions conflict with an intrinsic moral compass—a belief in the natural law that values family loyalty. In many countries worldwide, laws prevent situations like those faced by Zhang Hongbing or Yu Jiangtao, precisely because legal systems are meant to preserve some warmth in human relations. Without it, humanity risks moral collapse. This is why laws in most civilized societies do not require reporting family members. This principle is known as the “Doctrine of Concealment.”
The doctrine has roots in China, stemming from Confucius’s idea of familial loyalty, or qin qin xiang yin (亲亲相隐), from the Analects of Confucius: “Lord Ye said to Confucius, ‘In our community, there is a man of upright character. When his father stole a sheep, the son testified against him.’ Confucius responded, ‘In our community, the upright act differently. A father conceals for his son, and a son conceals for his father. This is the essence of uprightness.’” Confucius held that refraining from reporting or condemning a family member was consistent with moral ethics.
Concealment laws are also common in Western tradition, notably in ancient Roman law, which prohibited children from reporting their parents and vice versa. This allowed families to maintain a natural right to protect one another. Yes, the Doctrine of Concealment increases the costs of law enforcement, but its societal benefits far exceed its costs by preserving family integrity and social harmony. Without it, we risk tearing at the very fabric of society, as witnessed in the fervent years of ideological purges when family bonds turned to ashes.
This doctrine is, at its core, a defense of private rights against public authority, the final humane boundary left by public power. Laws forbidding family members from testifying against each other reflect the closest of blood bonds, an instinctive natural law that should be protected. Forcing a father to betray his son is tantamount to demanding he take his own life. Such acts fundamentally disrupt social ethics and violate human rights, leading to a widespread erosion of morality.
Concealment laws uphold natural rights. We know that law is the minimal requirement of morality; above the law lies the inherent rights of the individual. After overturning the concept of divine monarchy, Thomas Hobbes redefined the state as a construct designed to protect these inherent rights to avoid a state of “war of all against all.” Therefore, the state exists not by divine will but by the collective agreement to protect individuals. When law and the state’s purpose are at odds, it is the state’s duty to safeguard individual rights, as natural law supersedes man-made laws.
Since the purpose of the state is to protect the individual, no one should be forced to incriminate themselves, nor should one be obliged to testify against family. By respecting familial bonds, the state preserves individual dignity and the moral structure of society. Forcing self-incrimination or reporting against family violates the natural rights endowed by nature, balancing public and private rights in a just society.
More unsettling than young Yu Jiangtao reporting his grandfather is the public commendation he received for it. The police bestowed him with a “Little Anti-Drug Guardian” title, an award he accepted with a proud smile amidst thunderous applause from his teachers and classmates. But what kind of country is this? What kind of education is this? What sort of humanity and ethics are we instilling? This reminds me of Dante’s Divine Comedy, and I wonder—are we in the Inferno now? And if so, what circle?
Finally, I hope that young Yu Jiangtao, as he grows older, gains self-awareness and rises above this psychological shadow, sparing himself a lifetime of spiritual torment, like Zhang Hongbing, who lives in a personal hell of remorse and anguish.