Li: The Social Interaction Protocol

In the previous lecture, we said that status is the first principle of social participation. Even if you only want to do the simplest thing with another person, such as asking for directions or borrowing a pen, the moment the other side is a living, breathing human being, your brain has to run a positioning program in the background: Who is he? Who am I? Does he take me seriously? Will this sentence make him lose face? When he failed to pick up my cue just now, did he not hear me, or did he look down on me?

Ordinary people are still relatively easy to read. But suppose the person opposite you has an eccentric temperament, like a burly man from a primordial tribe who shoves a bloody raw fish into your hands the moment you meet. Your brain may instantly overload: should I accept it or not? If I accept, does that mean I submit to him? If I refuse, will he draw a knife on the spot?

If every interaction had to be guessed through like this, it would be exhausting and dangerous.

Do not worry. Human beings found an engineered solution to this problem thousands of years ago. In Chinese, we call it li.

Li is not merely “politeness.” Nor is it the middle-aged male team-building mysticism of who sits in the seat of honor at dinner, whom the fish head points toward, and who proposes the first toast. The essence of li is a social interaction protocol.

Li Reduces Interaction Friction #

Imagine several people who have never met before sitting down to discuss business.

Without li, everyone can only act by guessing. Some people may think things through carefully; others will charge in.

The leader on one side has not yet spoken, but a junior employee on the other side jumps in first and calls President Wang “Old Wang.” President Wang sees this as a loss of face and simply ignores him. The other side’s leader freezes as well, wondering whether Wang’s silence means disagreement, incomprehension, or posturing. How can the discussion continue?

With li, all parties can follow a process: introduce identities first, use honorifics where appropriate, shake hands, exchange a few pleasantries, invite people to sit, offer tea, state the purpose of the meeting, and give the other side a place to speak. These actions look standardized, but doing them and not doing them are not the same, because in the background they send one confirmation packet after another:

I see you. I know that you are a person with a position. I also understand the rules. I will not suddenly attack you. We are now entering a predictable relationship. We are here to discuss business, not to fight over status.

This is what li does: it reduces friction, synchronizes emotion, and provides certainty.

So li is not a lack of freedom. On the contrary, without li, people are least free.

Li Is an Executable File for Order #

China calls itself a land of li, but many modern people understand li only as politeness or etiquette and assume it is nothing more than fake courtesy. In fact, the original Chinese meaning of li was hierarchical order.

Consider the three opening sentences of Sima Guang’s Zizhi Tongjian: “The greatest duty of the Son of Heaven is li; the greatest matter in li is distinction; the greatest matter in distinction is name.”

Here, “distinction” means one’s rightful status and proper role: the position each person occupies and the rights and obligations that correspond to it. “Name” means title, such as duke, marquis, minister, or grandee. The whole sentence means that the most important thing under Heaven is that the hierarchical order of ruler and minister, upper and lower, must not be overstepped.

Does that not oppress people? Not exactly. What Sima Guang truly wanted was not simply to maintain the authority of the Son of Heaven, but to maintain order. Only when everyone respects status and rulers, ministers, superiors, and subordinates each keep to their place can society avoid chaotic situations like the partition of Jin by the three clans.

The fundamental purpose of li is to provide society with a determinate order. The deeper reason li exists is not identity hierarchy itself. Sons of Heaven and feudal lords are long gone. The real reason is the status instinct in the human mind.

If everyone were an intelligent agent without ego-attachment, society would need only the free market. Everyone would carry a supply-side mentality: you pay, I deliver, and price does the talking. No rules beyond free exchange would be needed. But the human heart has a dark side. Someone will default, cheat, or even rob, so society also needs coercive management, which is law. Yet law is costly to execute, and in many situations it is too heavy a tool.

If you ask a friend for a small favor, you cannot say, “I will pay you three hundred at market price.” If a colleague cuts you off in public during a meeting, you cannot immediately reply, “I reserve the right to pursue legal liability.” If two companies dividing a quick order had to spend three days asking lawyers to draft contracts and guard against each other, efficiency would collapse.

Teacher Wang Yuquan once offered an insight [1]: in China’s acquaintance society, a mechanism has evolved in which multiple companies in a regional technology industry chain can form long-term trust relationships beyond legal contracts and collaborate deeply with high efficiency. Today I help you with a task; tomorrow you introduce me to an order. Many things get done naturally.

That mechanism is li. Li exists in the middle ground between market and law. It is not enforced by police, yet it can restrain instinct. It may not be written into a contract, yet it can make cooperation smooth. Why? Because li translates abstract values into concrete actions.

“Respecting others” is too abstract. Looking at someone while they speak, not interrupting, and responding to their main point make it concrete.

“Equality” is too abstract. Queuing, taking turns to speak, and not humiliating people because of rank make it concrete.

“Trust” is too abstract. Taking a task and delivering on time, reporting problems instead of hiding them, and finding a chance to return a favor after benefiting from one make it concrete.

“Love” is too abstract. Allowing a pause during an argument and giving important moments a ritual make it concrete.

The economist Geoffrey Brennan and the political philosopher Philip Pettit have a useful formulation: beyond the invisible hand of the market and the iron fist of law, there is a third hand quietly moving people. Everyone pursues the respect, approval, and good opinion of others, and this itself forms an independent social incentive mechanism. They call it the economy of esteem [2].

The ancient phrase was not merely “a land of etiquette,” but “a land of li and righteousness.” Li is the executable file of values. It is the transaction protocol of the economy of esteem.

East and West Package It Differently #

Some people think li is uniquely Chinese, but the West has no shortage of li: handshakes, queues, ladies first, table manners, court procedure, parliamentary rules, academic citations, business dress, professional boundaries, respect for privacy, forms of apology, weddings, and funerals are all li.

The difference between East and West lies only in packaging. China made li into a general operating system, a super-concept that can govern society, ethics, politics, and self-cultivation at the same time. The West split it into a pile of modules called etiquette, manners, civility, protocol, ritual, professionalism, and privacy.

Or from another angle, traditional Chinese li places more emphasis on the person in relationships: what is our relationship, and how should I behave within it? Modern Western li places more emphasis on the person with boundaries: where are your boundaries, and how do I avoid infringing on your rights and dignity? One side fears people scattering apart; the other fears people being swallowed up. They differ in emphasis, but they can understand each other.

For example, the American sociologist Erving Goffman studied face-to-face interaction. His subjects were Westerners, yet he also proposed the concept of “face,” meaning the positive social value a person claims for himself in interaction. Goffman said the core function of interaction ritual is to maintain this face order [3]. Is this not exactly what Chinese people mean by “giving face”?

Modern Li Turns Toward Boundaries and Dignity #

In today’s society, everyone is formally equal. Some traditional forms of li, such as kneeling and formal morning greetings, have long disappeared. Apart from certain provinces, dinner seating is no longer so strict either. Does that mean li has decreased? Not really. Li has merely been redistributed.

Past li concentrated on identity, hierarchy, and relationship. Modern li is increasingly distributed toward the boundaries and dignity that every person equally possesses:

Forwarding someone’s chat records without consent is a violation of li. Arriving fifteen minutes late to a meeting without explanation is a violation of li. Using someone else’s idea without attribution is a violation of li. Making subordinates drink with clients at dinner is a violation of li. Invading a child’s boundaries with the phrase “this is for your own good” is a violation of li. Using familiarity as an excuse for unlimited demands is a violation of li. Today’s li is privacy, informed consent, punctuality, transparency, professional norms, procedural justice, and privacy permissions.

Ancient acquaintance societies needed li, and modern stranger societies need li too. The Japanese social psychologist Toshio Yamagishi argued that the li of strong-tie networks provides assurance, while the li of open societies provides trust [4].

Neither is merely ritual performance. Both are interfaces for cooperation.

The Seven-Layer Protocol of Li #

Now let us examine the technical details of this interface. We might as well imagine li as a technical protocol, just like an internet communication protocol. To provide shared expectations, you must define which input corresponds to which output, what the default values are, where permissions end, and how exceptions are handled. We can divide the protocol of li into seven layers.

The first layer is identity confirmation: who are you, who am I, and what is our relationship?

When you meet someone and call him “Teacher Wang,” “President Wang,” “Old Wang,” or “Little Wang,” you are declaring the type of protocol between you. Confucius said, “What is necessary is surely the rectification of names; if names are not correct, speech will not be in order.” Identity determines relationship, and relationship determines the mode of interaction.

The second layer is status confirmation: arranging order.

This means who sits first, who speaks first, who presides, and who makes the final decision. In some places, dinner rituals specify the host seat, the principal companion, the deputy companion, who toasts first, and who summarizes at the end. Outsiders may find it excessive, but clarifying status reduces conflict and uncertainty. Modern organizations are the same. Even with equality, sequence matters. At the beginning of a meeting, the host says, “Today Zhang sets the direction, Li fills in the technical details, I will take notes, and before we leave we need three decisions.” This is not bureaucracy. It prevents everyone from fighting for the microphone.

The third layer is the handshake procedure, which specifies how interaction begins and ends.

On the internet, two machines must first perform a handshake before they communicate: they exchange confirmation signals saying, “I am online and ready.” Humans do the same. Handshakes, invitations to sit, tea, greetings, small talk, farewells, and seeing guests out all synchronize the parties and mark the stage of the encounter. Without an opening ritual, people feel uneasy. Without a closing ritual, people feel suspended. If you suddenly turn around and leave mid-conversation, the other person does not experience it as “information exchange complete,” but as “I was just erased.”

The fourth layer is the semantic protocol. Any information must be wrapped in li before it can be sent.

You may think bare information is best, but bare information easily produces ambiguity. The three words “you are wrong” may be benevolent guidance, but they may also be humiliation, provocation, or a casual reminder within an intimate relationship. You must wrap the message according to a protocol, such as, “I understand what you mean, but there may be a problem here.” Only then can the other person know what you mean.

Li does not suppress truth. Li lets truth be heard.

The fifth layer is the error-repair protocol. People inevitably say the wrong thing and do the wrong thing. The key is how to repair it.

Oral apologies, explanations, compensation, asking forgiveness, toasts of apology, written apologies, and public clarifications are all social mechanisms of error repair. A real apology does not prove that I am innocent. It repairs the status you suffered damage to.

Why is social media so hostile today? Because it has screenshots, pile-ons, and old-account dredging, but no decent error-repair protocol. In a society without li, one offense is permanently recorded. With li, a relationship has a restart button.

The sixth layer is the emotional protocol: how should I express emotion, and what should I feel?

Funerals give grief a form. Weddings give joy a form. Apprenticeship ceremonies give respect a form. Graduation ceremonies solemnly recognize a person’s transition of identity. This is not formalism; it condenses consensus. Without ritual, emotion is scattered. With li, emotion is organized into a public fact.

What is the benefit? It lets you know that what you feel at this moment is also felt by others. Your grief, joy, and respect are not lonely private experiences, but are jointly witnessed and recognized by the group. That confirmation itself is support.

The seventh and most essential layer is shared expectation. The most fundamental li is what everyone knows to do without saying it aloud.

When someone speaks in public, the shared expectation is not to interrupt at will. When an elder steps forward, the shared expectation is to show some response. When acquaintances meet, the shared expectation is to greet each other. Why? Because only coordination makes cooperation possible.

Game theory has an important concept called the focal point, the signature idea of the economist Thomas C. Schelling [5]: even without full prior communication, people can coordinate because everyone tends to choose a natural, prior, commonly expected solution. That solution is the focal point. If you and a stranger agree to meet in New York on a certain day but do not set a time or place, where would you go? The experimental result was strikingly concentrated: most people answered, “At noon, under the clock at the information booth in Grand Central Station.”

The ultimate function of li is to provide social focal points. As a person who understands li, society expects you to follow the process. Following the process tells others that you still respect all parties and do not intend to start trouble. Refusing the process is a breach of li, and breaches of li trigger conflict.

As long as everyone follows the process of li, social conflict can be minimized and cooperation maximized.

The Reliability Layers of Li #

You may ask: if li is so important, why do some close acquaintances seem to ignore it completely, speaking bluntly and even teasing each other harshly? This is a second-order effect.

Li can be divided into four layers according to the thickness of reliability.

The behavioral layer consists of forms of address, pleasantries, seating, tone, and gestures. It prevents accidental injury and establishes the initial expectation.

The relationship layer consists of friends, spouses, teachers and students, and long-term partners. Once the relationship is sufficiently stable, the behavioral layer of li can be compressed. Good friends can omit all formal courtesy. At that point, low formality itself becomes a signal of intimacy.

The emotional layer is higher than the relationship layer. A doctor may speak sharply, and a teacher may be stern with a student, but as long as you confirm that the other person’s intention is genuinely for your good, you can see through the surface form of the relationship.

The more reliable layer is the institutional layer. If institutions are sufficiently certain and everyone truly has law to rely on, then many affairs no longer require first finding connections or greeting the right people.

So li is not rigid. It is flexible. But that does not mean you may ignore li simply because your heart is full of goodwill.

Handrails on a Bridge #

In the Chinese tradition, Confucianism speaks of li, while the Qin system speaks of fa, or law. Many people think law is more advanced. In fact, that is not necessarily true: the Qin system is only two thousand years old, while the Zhou system reaches back three thousand years to the present. Li is more basic than law. Besides, the Qin system’s fa was not the rule of law in the modern sense.

Li is a rule, but it is a warm rule, so it is more like a protocol.

Li allows others to be with you without constantly remaining in a defensive posture. Li allows you to quickly build cooperative certainty in uncertain interpersonal environments.

Li is not a wall. It is the handrail on a bridge. It does not guarantee that you can cross, but it lets you dare to walk. It cannot make the human heart pure, but it can reduce mutual suspicion. It lets strangers stand side by side, lets disagreement have a voice, gives mistakes somewhere to go, and gives trust the soil it needs so that it does not have to start from zero every time.

Coda Poem #

When instinct has no reins, speech turns into spear and blade.
Markets set the price, and law tidies up the aftermath.
Fortunately there is a layer of li, placing people before all else.
The bridge is narrow, so the heart must be wide; meeting need not mean defense.

Notes #

[1] Wang Yuquan, “The Capability Circle Nurtured by Shenzhen Is the Cultural Code of Chinese Manufacturing,” Global Trend, July 8, 2020.

[2] Brennan, Geoffrey, and Philip Pettit. The Economy of Esteem: An Essay on Civil and Political Society. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004.

[3] Goffman, Erving. Interaction Ritual: Essays on Face-to-Face Behavior. Chicago: Aldine, 1967.

[4] Yamagishi, Toshio. Trust: The Evolutionary Game of Mind and Society. Tokyo: Springer, 2011.

[5] Schelling, Thomas C. The Strategy of Conflict. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1960. See also: Game Theory 3: Harmony Is Precious.