In recent years, Hunan's official circles have been rocked by continuous scandals, especially the recent investigation of Yi Lianhong for serious disciplinary violations, which has once again drawn widespread public attention. At the same time, rumors about the so-called "Seven Princes of Hunan" have begun circulating online, referring to the children of some high-ranking Hunan officials who leverage their parents' authority or influence to amass enormous profits in engineering, capital, and resource allocation, forming an invisible yet efficient network of power and interests.

Regardless of whether this term is exaggerated, the phenomenon it points to is all too familiar: in many Hunan official families, "losing control and failing to educate" their children has become a frequent issue. Many officials are not lacking in personal cultivation, work ability, or even their advocacy of family ethos, yet they repeatedly fail when it comes to their children.

As a Hunanese, I have many relatives and friends working within the system, most of whom are not in high-ranking positions. These families spare no effort in educating their children, investing time, money, and energy, but few truly succeed in keeping their children under control and within boundaries. This phenomenon is not an isolated issue but a recurring structural dilemma.

What puzzles me even more is that after leaving Hunan nearly two decades ago and observing official families in different regions, I found that the phenomenon of "failing to control children" is particularly concentrated and typical in Hunan. This is clearly difficult to explain away as "a few individuals with poor character."

The Traditional Family Ethos Culture of Hunan

When discussing Hunan's family ethos, one cannot avoid mentioning Zeng Guofan.

As a prominent official in the late Qing Dynasty, Zeng Guofan is not only an important symbol of Hunan culture but also a representative figure in Chinese family history for his family precepts. He repeatedly emphasized "diligence, frugality, self-discipline, and avoiding extravagance," stating that "leading troops breeds arrogance, and leading greed breeds luxury." He strictly forbade his descendants from interfering in local affairs or leveraging influence for personal gain. In his family letters, his demands for his children to "be cautious in solitude," "fear power," and "know their place" were almost harsh.

This family ethos was not empty talk. Zeng's descendants maintained a low profile and restraint for generations, rarely engaging in reckless behavior, and the family's reputation endured for multiple generations. Behind this was not Zeng Guofan's "perfect" personal morality but his clear understanding that for a family, power is never a talisman but a high-risk variable.

In the context of the late Qing Dynasty, power was relatively decentralized, and local society exerted strong public opinion constraints on official families. Once a family "lost its virtue," the entire clan often paid the price. In such an environment, family ethos was not just a moral issue but a survival strategy.

The Phenomenon of "Familial Corruption" in Contemporary Hunan

However, in contemporary times, Hunan's official circles present a different picture.

In recent years, several high-ranking Hunan officials have been explicitly cited in their disciplinary notices for "failing to manage and educate family members," "allowing spouses or children to leverage authority or influence for personal gain," and "engaging in large-scale familial corruption." Examples include Peng Guofu, former Vice Chairman of the Hunan Provincial Committee of the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC); Li Weiwei, former Chairwoman of the Hunan Provincial Committee of the CPPCC; and Yi Pengfei, former Vice Chairman of the Hunan Provincial Committee of the CPPCC.

In places like Chenzhou, multiple consecutive municipal party secretaries have been implicated in cases where their spouses or children were deeply involved in engineering, personnel, and project operations. These cases are not isolated incidents but exhibit highly similar patterns: the father exercises power openly, while the children cash in behind the scenes.

Over time, a "semi-public" unwritten rule has gradually formed: to smoothly access certain resources, one must first "grease the wheels" through these privileged channels. This is the real-world soil in which rumors of the "Seven Princes of Hunan" thrive.

Why Has Traditional Family Ethos "Failed" in Contemporary Times?

This is not a sign of Hunan culture's "decline" but rather a reflection of fundamental changes in the power environment on which culture depends.

First, power is highly concentrated, and resources have become immensely profitable.
Since the reform and opening-up, Hunan has seen rapid expansion in capital volumes in areas such as infrastructure, real estate, mining, and finance, with administrative power playing an extremely high role in resource allocation. For children, as long as they can "leverage influence," there is almost no real market risk. This kind of "risk-free business" did not exist in Zeng Guofan's era.

Second, the logic of official careers has shifted from "self-cultivation" to "circles."
The "Xiang Army" spirit in traditional Huxiang culture emphasized responsibility, accountability, and discipline. However, in modern officialdom, it has gradually evolved into a more pragmatic network of "fellow townspeople—circles—resources." Immersed in the machinations of official careers, parents expose their children to "how power translates into opportunities" rather than "why power should be feared."

Third, intergenerational disconnection and demonstration effects compound the problem.
Many officials themselves were not without principles in their early years but gradually compromised in the power environment, turning a blind eye to their children's actions. Once someone around them "succeeds by relying on their father," this path is quickly replicated, creating a herd mentality until systemic control is lost.

Fourth, institutional oversight has long lagged, with family ties serving as a buffer for corruption.
For a considerable period, restrictions on relatives engaging in business, property declarations, and recusal systems were loosely enforced, making the family the safest "haven" for power. The so-called "family bond coercion" is not a problem with emotions themselves but rather the failure of institutions to sever the transmission path between family ties and power.

Conclusion

Therefore, the issue has never been that "Hunanese do not value family ethos." On the contrary, it is precisely because Hunan places great emphasis on family ethos but overly moralizes and de-institutionalizes it that it fails completely in the face of real power.

The lesson from Zeng Guofan is not merely "to emphasize family education" but to maintain a structural reverence for power. He understood that if family ethos cannot be supported by institutions, it will ultimately become nothing more than self-consoling rhetoric.

Today, when revisiting family ethos, what truly needs rebuilding is not slogans but boundaries:
the boundary between family ties and power, the boundary between family and public resources, and the boundary between moral self-discipline and institutional constraints.

If there is anything worth inheriting from Huxiang culture, it might be Zeng Guofan's oft-ignored statement: "Once you enter officialdom, you are a person awaiting judgment."

This statement should have been said to one's sons first.