Graham on Confucius VI: Doing-One's-Best-For-Others

Scott Bradley

The Master said, 'Tseng-tzu, I have one thread running through my Way.' When the Master went out the disciples asked, 'What did he mean?' 'The Master's Way', said Tseng-tzu, 'is nothing but doing-one's-best-for-others (chung) and likening-to-oneself (shu)'.
(Analects 4/15)

In the previous post we considered some of the implications of "likening-to-oneself". This passage introduces the complementary idea of "doing-one's-best-for-others". Chung, Graham tells us, is formed by the graphs for "center" and "heart". It implies, then, a wholehearted concern for the welfare of others at the center of one's being.

If we were to take Confucianism to the laundry-mat and wash away its fixation with the restoration of an idealized past and its obsession with ritual and an immutable hierarchical social arrangement, all that would remain would be an amazing goodness and humanity. What is there here not to like?

Daoism found something; but its objection was not with the content of Confucian benevolence, but with its imposition as an ideal, and with the means to its realization. Daoism essentially replies, If benevolence is natural to and a fulfillment of humanity, then it will arise in being natural. We need not pursue it, and especially need not impose it on ourselves or others, for to do so would be to kill it in the womb. Only when benevolence is 'forgotten' does it have space to grow and to flourish; for this, and every other virtue, is only a virtue when spontaneously expressed. This is the essential Daoist formula: the sage does this, not because it is the right thing to do, but because it is her nature to do so. The mediation of mind kills true virtue.

Graham distinguishes between these two, explaining that chung is a Confucian virtue, while shu is "a form of analogical thinking". I think we can understand this difference in saying that "doing-one's-best-for-others" is the actual behavioral outcome, the goal, while "likening-to-oneself" is the method for understanding how to do so. The Zhuangzi says the sage has no use for methods, however, and this brings us back to the idea of spontaneity.

We might ask ourselves, however, if the ideal Daoist sage and his spontaneity are not similarly ideals which, though desirable, are not our present reality and are thus an imposition. Does one then purposely try to be spontaneous? That would be other than spontaneous. Alas, I feel compelled to abandon my self-imposed orthodoxy and admit that, while ideal formulas may be helpful, the road we actually walk is a rutted and sometimes overgrown one.

Accommodation, living life in its inherent messiness, always seems to emerge for me as the most authentic way to proceed. There is ample room in my heart, therefore, for the Confucian vision as well as the Zhuangzian.

You can check out Scott's writings on Zhuangzi here.

Graham on Confucius V: Likening-To-Oneself

Scott Bradley

There are several instances in the Analects when Confucius or one of his disciples tells us what is "the single thread" that runs throughout his teaching. It is not often that we are given such a clear summary of a philosophy and thus it behooves us to consider the implications of this one: "Tzu-Kung asked, 'Is there a single word which one could act on all one's life?' The Master said, 'Wouldn't it be likening-to-oneself (shu)? What you do not yourself desire do not do to others.'" (15/24)

This so-called negative statement of the Golden Rule (Jesus's "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.") is as equally powerful as the 'positive' rendering and, from the point of view of Daoism, perhaps even more so. Rather than "doing" anything to anyone, which for Daoism is likely to be an imposition whatever the motivation, how much better to just leave them alone. Both, in any case, are easily manipulated by the justifying mind — we might just as easily tell ourselves that we would want the criticism that we so anxiously wish to dump on someone else. For this to be truly effective it would seem to require, therefore, that we first have a deep and honest understanding of ourselves.

The difference between the rule of Confucius and Jesus is that for the former it essential and for the latter incidental. Jesus might have wanted to be a moral teacher, but having been declared a savior, his moral teachings were rendered secondary. (Which is probably why most his followers seem immune to the implications of that moral teaching.) For Confucius, on the other hand, living in social harmony was the greatest value that humanity could pursue — Heaven could take care of itself. When asked about life after death, he replied that since his interlocutor had yet to learn how best to live, what business had he worrying about death? This presupposes that death and its consequences are universally and inevitably the same. I know I harp on the issue, but the absence of a belief in the need for 'salvation' (whether of the Christian-Islamic variety or of the Buddhist/Hindu variety) completely transforms our perspective on how to go about making the most of this life. At the very least, 'spiritual' pursuit becomes optional, and no "Truth" need be imposed upon others (for their own good, of course).

This "likening-to-oneself" implies an understanding that everyone else is to his- or herself as each one of us is to our own selves. I am the center of the Universe; but then there are approximately seven billion similar centers, as well. We might be One, but we are also necessarily many. This is the working-paradigm and 'larger view' of Zhuangzi — since each is a self-contained microcosm of right/wrong, and there being no known absolute Truth of the matter, then we can enjoy ours (walking one road) while allowing others to have theirs (walking a second road). The larger view, then, is an acknowledgement of the diversity of human expression, rather than an attempt to unify all expressions under the single banner of Truth.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Graham on Confucius IV: Humanism

Scott Bradley

Man is able to enlarge the Way, it is not that the Way enlarges man.
(Analects 15/29)

This celebrated quote from Confucius, taken as a starting point, has profound implications. Understanding Confucius as the 'father' of classical Chinese philosophy, as the one who got the ball rolling as it were, we begin to see many threads of his thought are perpetuated in the weave of even those philosophies which were conscious attempts to break from him. What we see here, despite his arch-conservatism and appeals to a feudal, hierarchical past, is Confucius' profound humanism. The point is the betterment of humanity, and there is no better way to achieve that end than to look to what humanity as manifest requires.

Graham offers this quote as an example of Confucius' apparent disinterest in Heaven as a meddling power. This is clearly implied, but it needs to be said that "Way" (Dao), for Confucius, had little, if any, metaphysical significance; the Way is simply the means by which humanity is able to achieve its natural fulfillment.

What is significant is that 'Heaven' does not give us commandments to obey — tell us how we ought to behave; rather, we discover what works best for humanity through a study of humanity. This is essential humanism, and the antithesis of religion. Such an orientation is hard to sustain, however, given our hunger for absolutes. Neo-Confucianism was (I think) an attempt to provide those absolute guiding principles (li) and thus a departure from the empirical and existential.

My recent critique of Jed McKenna's emphatic declaration of the Truth was largely inspired by his similar departure from the "Drift and Doubt" of an existential Dao. The central question is whether we are to engage with life as it is manifest, a process that will yield a rather messy assortment of 'truths', or are we to impose Truth upon humanity from above. (McKenna, admittedly, arrived at the Truth through existential struggle, but so too might we say of every other religious prophet; except for 'true believers', his is but another "contending voice" which has no more weight than any other.) Philosophical Daoism, for all its criticism of Confucian moralism, perhaps remains the most faithful to his most fundamental humanist point of departure.

On the personal front, this quote exhorts us to "enlarge" our own ways. Finding what works best for us individually, and honestly engaging in the process it suggests, will ultimately "enlarge" us. This is the life "examined", which, though it need not be done, makes for the exciting adventure that life can be — for those so inclined.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Graham on Confucius III: Wu Wei

Scott Bradley

In his discussion of de in Confucius, Graham points out that he "even" uses the term wu wei, "not-doing": "One who put in order by doing nothing, would that not be Shun? What is there that he did? Just assumed a respectful posture and faced south." (Analects 15:5)

Here we begin to see how these two terms complement each other. De, according to Graham, meant for Confucius "the power . . . to move others without exerting physical force." "Doing through not-doing" is thus the exercise of de.

Here, as elsewhere generally, we see that these things are thought to be important because of their political effectiveness. The point was made earlier, but it bears repeating: Classical Chinese philosophy always had the central political aim of the improvement of society. This is because humanity is always understood as social and communal. Even with the 'corrective' introduction of the individualism of Zhuangzi, this orientation is never lost. Indeed, if, as Confucius believed, de and wu wei are necessary requirements for good governance, then their further development by 'Laozi' and Zhuangzi are a re-iteration and deepening of that understanding.

Only for Zhuangzi, it is taken to a new level; if it is true of our communal experience that things change for the better when given the space to do so, so also in our own personal pilgrimages. Once again, we are reminded of his exhortation to "just be empty". Emptiness is never understood outside the context of fullness, however, but as the pre-condition of fullness. The point of wu wei, not-doing, is to get things done. Space is given for things to happen.

Put in the context of current political thought, de/wu wei equate to: "Be change." What is assumed in such an exhortation is that being different makes a difference. This making a difference implies much more than just 'doing one's part', but also implies bringing change to others. How? Through de.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Graham on Confucius II: De

Scott Bradley

The little word de (te), best known as part of the title of the Daodejing (Tao Te Ching), has presented translators with many a headache. The main problem is not so much with finding the right equivalent word, though that poses one, but with understanding what it means in the first place. Graham offers a definition for its use by Confucius which might profitably be taken as the foundation for every other subsequent usage: "the power . . . to move others without exerting physical force." Here is a concept, an orientation, through which the entirety of the classical Chinese philosophic enterprise can be brought into focus.

A curious thing about classical Chinese philosophy is that it is always political. Yes, even philosophical Daoism, the supposedly "quietist" philosophy of hermits and drop-outs, is profoundly political. The most celebrated 'Daoist' work, the Daodejing, is a manual for rulers on how best to rule. And even Zhuangzi, who is said to have refused political office so he could, like a free turtle, drag his tail in the mud, does so, in part, that he might more effectively "move others without exerting physical force."

On the face of it, it seems so obvious that philosophy would always be a political enterprise. That it has often attempted to be otherwise in the West (though, in the end, nothing is not political) is in itself telling. We are, after all, communal beings. Confucius understood everything in this context. Personal ethics could not be abstracted from the network of human relationships. The point was to be a better human being so as to make for a better society. Were he to run for office today, it would be under the banner of "family values".

Zhuangzi is noteworthy for his individualism; he introduced the value of one's own self-realization outside the context of societal conventions, a personal freedom from dependence upon esteem and merit. But never is this forgetful (even when forgotten) of the benefits that accrue to society generally. The freak of "discombobulated de" is identified as praiseworthy precisely because that de extends to the material benefit of many others.

A species of fish spit on each other when the pond goes dry, Zhuangzi tells us, but how much better when there is enough water for them to forget each other in the rivers and the lakes. The best thing one person can do for another, except in situations of distress, is to leave them to find their own unique expression. De tells us, however, that this apparent gap of disinterest and forgetting is in fact spanned by what Graham calls a "charisma" that assists without assisting. It is, in part, respect for personal context, the affirming gift of allowing others to be themselves.

For Zhuangzi, as for Laozi, it is the empty space that gives value to the whole, as a window makes for the usefulness of a room, or as the realization of inner emptiness (qi) allows for light to enter the heart-mind. De is a quality that, like emptiness, gives things space to be and grow.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Graham on Confucius I: Graham First

Scott Bradley

This series will be responses to A. C. Graham's Disputer's of the Tao: Philosophic Argument in Ancient China, a standard treatment of the subject often quoted by sinologists. Ancient China, in this case, refers to the "classical period" (roughly 500-200 BCE), and includes Confucianism, Mohism, Daoism, Legalism, 'Sophism', Yin-Yang, and others.

First, a purely subjective take on Graham himself. Even though many scholars are in strong disagreement with many of his conclusions, all express their differences with respect and deference to his position as a pillar of Western sinology. He was considered a 'good' human being, as well as a great scholar. Both these assessments are beyond my ability to determine one way or the other, though I take them at face value.

Based on my own reading, however, I do have two criticisms to offer. The first is that he tends to take his conclusions beyond the limits of scholarship, formulating opinions that are subsequently expressed as facts upon which to form still other opinions, all under the guise of 'scholarship'. The classic example is his re-editing of the Zhuangzi, moving passages from one chapter to another, while expunging others. The exercise itself is not without merit, but the tentative and speculative character of his opinions is often forgotten in favor of later definitive statements. Throughout the work now under consideration, similar questionable interpretive overlays are frequent. One must therefore be careful to sort out the fact from opinion.

Secondly, and more quibblingly, I frequently find his sentences unnecessarily opaque. Sometimes just a comma helps, but often I am at a loss to decipher his intended meaning, no matter how simple. I find myself asking, a bit like Samuel Jackson in Pulp Fiction, "The English language, do you write it?" Perhaps it just comes down to syntactical differences between British (his) and American English; or perhaps I am just dull-witted.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on Zhuangzi XIV: We Are the Same

Scott Bradley

So far we have been looking at the self/other pairing as seen in the individual self as I/me. But though Ziqi's loss of "me" begins there, it does not stop there. This gives him a sense of the fact that everyone else is just like him; he realizes that his internal self/other pairing is projected onto the world so that his self is paired with everyone else as other. Thus, he identifies himself as one among the myriad of sounds of the forest stirred by the wind.

"Without self there is no other, without other there is no self", Zhuangzi tells us. Could the I/me exist without some other? Perhaps not, but since there 'are' others, how are we to relate to them? Since everyone experiences his internal self/other as an external projection of one's self in contrast to others, we come to recognize that we are the same. You have your self and other; I have my self and other. But since your self is my other and my self is your other, is there any self or other? Are they not really just the same? These are Zhuangzi's questions, and he assumes we will reach the same conclusion as he, that, if we can transcend our own subjectivity, we will realize that they are the same, and this enables a paradigm shift of enormous implications. Suddenly, everything "basks in the full daylight of heaven". Suddenly, all distinctions and boundaries fall away.

This is really not all that unlike Confucius' "single thread" that runs through his entire philosophy, namely the ability to "liken-[others]-unto-oneself" (shu) that led to his version of the "golden rule": "Do not do to others what you would not want done to you". For Confucius this is an ethical consideration, the foundation for which is unclear, despite its undeniable appeal. Zhuangzi's use is quite different, however, though I am having difficulty finding an appropriate label. Perhaps it is ontological, the way things manifest as self-other. Or perhaps it is epistemological, the way our knowing is perspectivally derived and thus undermined by the equally valid perspectives of others. In any event, he, too, suggests we come to realize that others are like ourselves and thereby realize a wider view that transcends our own subjectivity (even if experienced within that subjectivity).

The point is, if we can realize how that we are all the same, we can free ourselves from the narrow "separating pens" of our own subjectivity so as to freely wander among all subjectivities which, in this context, Zhuangzi calls "following along with the present 'this' (subjectivity)".

You can check out Scott's writings on Zhuangzi here.

Ziporyn on the Liji X: More on "The Tao of Self-Guidance"

Scott Bradley

The Dao is self-guidance.
~ The Doctrine of the Mean ~

Let us rip this simple statement out of this and every other context. What is Dao? Self-guidance. I can't think of a more radical understanding of Dao. It is in no way "something out there". It has nothing to do with the ground or Source of Being. It is the purely subjective exploration of one's own inner experience. It is Dao as the development of a personal, individual dao. It doesn't even have anything to do with following a set of principles formulated by others. Oops! there goes Daoism. But if Daoism does not self-negate, it is not Daoism.

It has been pointed out that Zhuangzi was very much an individualist and in a very real sense the father of individualism in ancient China, if only by virtue of the breadth of the influence of his writing. Most every other philosophy, even when advocating self-cultivation, had as its larger motivation the ordering of society. We work on ourselves so as to create the harmony of the Empire. Just like Maoism.

Zhuangzi, on the other hand, suggested a path of personal liberation that might or might not lead to greater societal harmony — the question is moot. We can, like Zhuangzi himself, explore the possibility of more general beneficial outcomes, but to do so comes close to believing that such justifications and defenses are required. They are not. This radical individualism is not contingent on demonstrating its benefits to society. Were it to do so, it would cease to be "self-guidance". (Yet, how could it not benefit society?)

Philosophical Daoism says: Think for yourself. Engage in the experience of being yourself that only you yourself experience. This involves trust. One must trust oneself. Yet there is nothing we do or are that does not involve trust; so why not trust oneself? Ultimately, "depending on nothing", Zhuangzi's release into free and easy wandering, is entrusting oneself to . . . nothing in particular. It is saying Yes in openness to a vast Openness, unspecified and unspecifiable. It is trust in Reality, which is to say, in everything.

As with most things Zhuangzian, this individualism cuts against the grain of our engrained inclinations. There are inevitable moral objections; doesn't this feed into such destructive behaviors as unbridled selfish capitalism? I don't know; let’s ask an unbridled selfish capitalist if he is a philosophical Daoist who has released himself into the vastness where nothing can be lost. I suspect not. His is not Zhuangzi’s individualism, but its opposite — addiction to things.

Again, this Dao is about trusting yourself since Dao is self-guidance. It is not about applying it as some universal principle to impose upon the world. It's all about you.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on the Liji IX: "Dao Is Self-Guidance"

Scott Bradley

Dao is self-guidance.
~ The Doctrine of the Mean ~

Ziporyn understands self-guidance in this context to mean "spontaneous nondeliberate directedness", a meaning suspiciously reminiscent of Daoism's wuwei. Since this document is a Confucian re-working in the light of the Daoist challenge, this should not surprise us. Nor, in the end, is it incompatible with Confucianism generally, or any other similar philosophy directed toward sagehood. The ultimate goal, the achieving of sagehood, is to be so completely what one intends to be as to no longer need to intend it. The sage does the 'right' thing automatically, without any need to weigh options or otherwise think about it. Thus, "Dao is self-guidance" refers to this ideal realized state. But what of how one gets there? This is where Daoism's wuwei is much more radical than anything Confucianism can assimilate.

The Confucian sage has a moral goal beyond spontaneity — benevolence — and spontaneity is not the means for attaining it. This is the "directedness" to which Ziporyn refers. His sincerity-of-purpose (cheng) is to become a paragon of virtue, and is thus value-directed. The Daoist sage, on the other hand, prefers to put his trust in spontaneity itself — come what may. In this sense, her wuwei is non-directed. Confucianism has a moral overlay where Daoism does not.

Such a distinction led Confucianism to the question of "human nature" — is it good, bad or neutral? Since Confucianism seeks the Good, the validity or depth of this "self-guidance" is determined by how much 'good' will spontaneously arise from human nature. Thus "self-guidance" might, in fact, be a battle with oneself and even require the non-spontaneous imposition of external norms (Xunzi). Wherever he falls on the continuum of the innate morality of humanity (even when he affirms the essential 'goodness' of humanity as does Mencius, who nonetheless recognizes that that goodness has been largely obliterated), in the end the Confucian must make use of a most non-spontaneous "directedness". He must work at being 'good'.

The Daoist 'works' at being spontaneous, without worrying about 'moral' outcomes. Because, like the Confucians, we are typically bound by moral considerations, this worries us. We fear that this will lead others to behavior harmful to society. Immoral monsters will pop up everywhere. But Daoism would ask us, I think, "how would it lead you to behave?" This is, after all, about the individual, me. Immediately, we think of some universal application of Daoism to society, a religious philosophy to be applied to the world, yet it is no such thing. It is and can only be a personal dao. It is not a “categorical imperative” the validity of which is determined by its universal applicability, a la Kant. So the real question we need to ask is: "Can I trust myself to follow a path of spontaneous non-directed 'self-guidance'?" My guess is that you can.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on the Liji VIII: Mystical Cheng

Scott Bradley

Unseen coherence means self-completion [spontaneous coming into true being, being perfect as oneself]. Dao means self-guidance [auto-guidance, spontaneous nondeliberate directedness]. For unseen coherence is the end and beginning of each thing. Without unseen coherence there is no thing.
("The Doctrine of the Mean"; Ziporyn)

I have yet to address how this "unseen coherence" (cheng) is the mystical point of entry for this version of Confucianism — and this is its whole point. This is largely because I find it hard to grasp. Ziporyn comments: "Here this unseen coherence as the unseen inner ceaseless commitment to ultimate value takes the place of the Dao of the Daoists as the ground of all particular being . . ." (emphasis mine). The best I can do in trying to clarify this is to think of it as purpose-driven-ness; our purpose is to realize our purpose (benevolence) which we do through the purposeful pursuit of that purpose. This, it seems to me, is antithetical to philosophical Daoism when taken outside the context of our apparent purposelessness. It is in and because of purposelessness that we wander. This, we take as our tentative purpose, as opposed to one fixed by Heaven, one pursued because it ‘works’, not because it is mandated.

After pointing out that though this Confucian Dao, like Daoism's ironic Dao, is unintelligible, Ziporyn tells us: "But it is finally knowable through a subjective attentiveness to one's own value orientation, one's sincerity, which thus becomes the point of contact between the metaphysical and the empirical, the solution to the skeptical epistemology of the ironic tradition." The metaphysical 'why?' of this purpose remains unseen, but we know what it is (benevolence), and in applying it we enter the realm of the unseen. We do not know why benevolence is the ultimate value, but it is (because it is innate?), and thus when we take it as such, we unite with the ultimate. One unites with things as they seem ethically. In Daoism one unites with things as they seem emptily, without ethical or other discriminating commitments.

Should we wish to deal with absolutes we could certainly do worse than this, but history teaches us that absolutes, however wonderfully positive, quickly become the foundational excuse for all manner of oppression.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on the Liji VII: Walking Two Chengs

Scott Bradley

"Unseen coherence means self-completion [spontaneous coming into true being, being perfect as oneself]. Dao means self-guidance [auto-guidance, spontaneous nondeliberate directedness]. For unseen coherence is the end and beginning of each thing. Without unseen coherence there is no thing."
("The Doctrine of the Mean")

It is Guo Xiang's (252-312) take on Zhuangzi that immediately comes to mind at reading the quote above: "[E]very being without exception is released into the range of its own spontaneous attainments, so that each relies on its own innate character, each deed exactly matching its own capabilities. Since each fits perfectly into exactly the position it occupies, all are equally far-reaching and unfettered." (Ziporyn)

The difference, of course, is that Guo's focus is on the unconditional affirmability of each and every being just as it is, for no other reason than that it is. The author of the lines above focuses on the potential of self-completion. Taken together, it is a matter of realizing our unconditional self-completion so as to do the work of becoming self-complete. Or, more broadly, once we realize how that things are perfect, we can set about perfecting them.

Ziporyn speaks to this when he comments: "[W]hatever is is what it is because it is coherent as that thing, and only to that extent. This is the realness of the thing, and everything is real in some sense, even if only as a real fake." I would add that if things are only real because there is coherence, then there is also only coherence because things are real. The realness of things is contingent on nothing. The "fake" is as real as the realized real. The illusory is as real as the real. (Maya is Nirvana.) "Not-one is also One." This, for me, is the point of entry into a self-cultivation free of striving, and thus free of judgmentalism, as applied to self and others.

The Confucian author of "The Doctrine of the Mean" is most likely more concerned with the becoming; cheng (authenticity), for him, is contingent. Yet, his vision of self-cultivation is accessible to philosophical Daoism when coupled with an awareness of non-contingent cheng. We walk two chengs.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on the Liji VI: Political Cheng

Scott Bradley

I am quite taken with this idea of cheng as offering significant insight into the process of self-cultivation. It is primarily a Confucian idea, but I think it also provides a means to better understanding the model of philosophical Daoism. It needs to be said, however, that my exploration of it here is not necessarily a faithful representation of cheng in the documents themselves or of Ziporyn's analysis of them. What I write here might better be described as a response, and then not always one that has properly understood the original intended meaning or appreciates it when it has. No matter — onward.

We have already discussed Ziporyn's quote from "The Doctrine of the Mean"; I offer it again now with his annotations: "Unseen coherence means self-completion [spontaneous coming into true being, being perfect as oneself]. Dao means self-guidance [auto-guidance, spontaneous nondeliberate directedness]. For unseen coherence is the end and beginning of each thing. Without unseen coherence there is no thing. This is why the exemplary person values unseen coherence. Unseen coherence not only brings the self to completion, but also brings things to completion. Completion of oneself is benevolence; completion of things is wisdom. These are the Virtuosities ['virtues', de] of the inborn nature, the Dao of joining the inner and the outer . . ."

I understand "bringing things to completion" as referring to the creation of a harmonious society and by extension, a harmonious world-environment. The self-cultivation of Confucianism, though it may have its beginning in the individual, intends the harmonization of the entire human enterprise, and this includes its environmental context. Is this also the Daoist vision? I think so, but it feels no need to articulate the extended goal since it takes more seriously the idea that these things arise spontaneously as one harmonizes oneself. Confucianism and Daoism are essentially on the same page in terms of desired outcomes, but philosophical Daoism refrains from political ambitions which, in the end, can only lead to the imposition of agendas, and these typically lead to just more coercion.

There is a great deal to unpack here, and this will have to be over the course of several posts.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on the Liji V: Cheng With a Twist

Scott Bradley

The reader might have noticed that these posts about cheng (sincerity, honesty, authenticity) have been more about Mencius' take than that of the Liji; this is because Ziporyn introduces the latter with the former. To this writer, the exploration of the meaning of cheng is profitable irrespective of which philosophy provides us access. In other words, I am more interested in the ideas than I am in their source.

Ziporyn finds in the Liji's sense of cheng "a newly appropriated subjective form of ironic intelligibility as a hiddenness that is indirectly expressed in all actions, and hence omnipresent in that sense." He calls this sense of cheng an "unseen coherence". This is the folding of the ironic Dao of Daoism into the otherwise non-ironic Dao of Confucianism. The question is: How do we make sense of the world (so as to know how to live) when we admit to the ultimate unintelligibility of the world (the ironic Dao)? The “Doctrine of the Mean” and “The Great Learning” of the Liji answer this question by admitting that cheng spontaneously arises out of the nature of humanity and the world and is thus rooted in the "hidden", and not in an articulable analysis of the world which we subsequently follow. In other words, we realize cheng by letting it happen rather than by following some rationalized schema of our understanding of the nature of the world. This is a huge concession on the part of Confucianism, and the antithesis of Xunzi’s approach.

In this, Ziporyn sees the “Doctrine of the Mean” as going beyond Mencius and “The Great Learning” to a cheng with "a metaphysical twist": "Unseen coherence (cheng) means self-completion. Dao means self-guidance. For unseen coherence is the end and the beginning of each thing. Without unseen coherence there is no thing." Cheng spontaneously happens, arising out of that which cannot be articulated. This is the position of philosophical Daoism. But here it is given a moral interpretation. The text continues: "This is why the exemplary person values unseen coherence. . . . Completion of oneself is benevolence; completion of things is wisdom. These are the Virtues [de] of the inborn nature, the Dao of joining the inner and the outer . . ."

Because he gives it a moral meaning (benevolence spontaneously happens), we can say that this "twist" is "metaphysical". Daoism, on the other hand, though it does not dispute this outcome of spontaneity, does not assert it either, or require that it be so; whatever happens is so. In this sense, philosophical Daoism's reliance on spontaneity is non-metaphysical.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on the Liji IV: Still More on Cheng

Scott Bradley

The Dao of Heaven is to be cheng; the Dao of man is to become cheng.
(Mencius, A412)

There are instances when Zhuangzi tells us what the ultimate benefits of following his suggested path are, and if we were hoping for Nirvana, or some other brand of 'salvation' or eternal reward, then we would be sorely disappointed. No, the only suggested benefit to facing squarely our human experience and transcending it in acceptance is to fulfill our allotted years. This implies a great deal more than life span, however; it is a qualitative fulfillment as well as a quantitative one. And this fulfillment is, I would suggest, cheng.

Cheng, as we saw previously, is both the highest value and the means to realizing that value. To be fully who we are, to be authentic, is the goal, and the means to achieving it is authenticity. To be fully integrated into our context, both internal and external, is to do the work of integrating. To realize sincerity, realness, is to practice sincerity. To be honest is to practice honesty. Thus, one is cheng not so much in arriving at 'absolute' cheng, but in practicing cheng in the pursuit of cheng. It may be that 'absolute' cheng is unrealizable, but that is of no great consequence, since the essence of cheng is honesty, and honesty can be realized even as an admission of our dishonesty.

As suggested at the close of the previous post, though “becoming cheng” is the fulfillment of one’s potential, this is not intended, at least in the Zhuangzian vision, to imply that there is some preexistent “true nature” to be realized. The only ‘nature’ there is is the one that we actually are, and that is always in the process of becoming, or as Zhuangzi would say, is always part of the endless transformation of things. This is reflected in the existentialist formula that “existence precedes essence”; there is no ideal essential self, no ‘true self’, to be realized, but only the self that we are at any point in time. In this, philosophical Daoism takes an entirely different path than Buddhism where we are invited to realize our “buddha nature”, the implication of which being that not only is there an essential self, but one that is somehow integral to the ultimate nature of Reality. (I realize, of course, that there are many possible rebuttals to this statement, that the ‘buddha nature’ is no-self for instance, but in the end I do not think that any sleight of mind can escape the fundamentally idealistic character of Buddhism — it knows the answer even if it cannot articulate what that answer ultimately is.)

The question arises, as it always does, whether this really matters in any practical sense. I think it does. Zhuangzi’s Consummate Person “wanders” precisely because she has no fixed destination. She has surrendered into the ever-transforming, and this involves no neatly packaged assurances about the way things really are or in which direction they are headed. All there is is this present following along with whatever Happens. Ideal goals, as Zen readily admits, are antithetical to true liberation.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on the Liji III: More on Cheng

Scott Bradley

The Dao of Heaven is to be cheng; the Dao of man is to become cheng.
(Mencius, A412)

Cheng is usually translated as "sincere" (or as a noun, "sincerity"). However, Ziporyn suggests as equally valid for the use above "real", "integrated", or in the context of his overall theme, "coherent". I would like to suggest another possibility: "authentic".

Despite the incredible mess that humanity has created in its own little backwater of the Universe, the view from Dao tells us that all is nevertheless well. Dao has its own act together, and since there is really nothing that is not Dao, that means that even humanity has its act together. Yes, that is indeed an assertion hard to get one's mind around, but one that I think is unavoidable from the point of view of philosophical Daoism and absolutely necessary to the actual behaviorial outcomes that Daoism envisions as condusive of the greatest enjoyment of life. Wuwei (non-doing), ziran (spontaneity), and Zhuangzi's free and unfettered wandering are all predicated on this implicit trust in the ultimate 'rightness' of things as they are.

Is this a "belief" (something I usually eschew)? Perhaps; but if so, it is, I would suggest, one that naturally arises out of the life experience, and as such requires no defence. Is it a belief to say that life seeks to live? Perhaps; but that life lives requires no proof. (Just as knowing the happiness of fish is self-evidential and lies beyond proof.)

Cheng, in the case of Reality, is being real, a wonderful tautology, to be sure. In the case of humanity, however, it is to become real. Thus, I have suggested "authenticity" as an appropriate stand in. Authenticity is becoming who we are. Becoming who we are is much more a question of seeing and admitting to who we are than it is changing who we are, though the latter is understood to follow naturally from the former. Thus, cheng is "sincerity", honesty. We can see then how that cheng is a necessary requirement for self-cultivation, especially as that is facilitated by self-examination.

Cheng is also "integration", which is essentially Ziporyn's "coherence". The Dao of Heaven is the way all things fit together. All things fit together; this is so ‘true’ that to say it is to miss it. It could not be otherwise (from the point of view of Daoism). In the case of human subjectivity, therefore, it is similarly the realization of integration with the givens of life and the realities of one’s own unique existential expression. It is fitting in with the way things are, or appear to be (it does not matter which). It is thus first the illumination of one’s context (internal and external) and secondly the affirmation of that which is illuminated.

Cheng also implies the fulfillment of one’s potential. In seeing who we are and affirming who we are, we become more of who we are. What is that? For Daoism, it is certainly not realizing one’s “true nature”, for there is no such thing until one becomes it.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on the Liji II: Cheng

Scott Bradley

Despite what might be suggested by the title above, this series will not be an attempt to convey the teaching of the selected documents within the Liji ("The Doctrine of the Mean" and "The Great Learning") or of Ziporyn's take of them; I honestly can't say I that I have sufficiently comprehended either to do so. Rather, my use of them will be anecdotal, as was my use of Xunzi in the previous series.

In his explanation of the role of coherence within these documents, Ziporyn discusses the importance of the term cheng, usually translated as "sincerity", though he suggests that "coherence" might in some cases do just as well, since it entails a uniting of intention with a dao. This is a core value within Confucianism and is understood, I think, as absolutely necessary to a successful course (dao) of self-cultivation. Personally, I see myself as on such a course, and write under the assumption that my readers (should there be any) are similarly so involved. Thus, the nature of cheng may have something of importance to teach us.

"Sincerity" certainly has a great deal to do with the manner in which we engage in self-cultivation, tending toward the nature of our self-examination. However, it also speaks to the overall character of perceived reality generally, and thus our approximating sincerity is a reflection of the sincerity of things as they are. Ziporyn quotes Mencius in this regard: "The Dao of Heaven is to be cheng; the Dao of man is to become cheng." (4A12)

"Sincerity" in the case of reality is to be what it is, which seems fairly unproblematical. As is usually the case with humanity, however, things are more problematical: it is necessary to become sincere, to become what we are. There is a sense in which this is nonsense ("become what we are"?), but then such is the human experience, "a being such that, it is what it is not, and is not what it is", to quote Sartre. Or, as Zhuangzi puts it: our "not-one is also One", which I take to mean that despite our need to become, our not-yet-having-become is in the broadest sense, in the view from Dao, no different than having-become. Whether we have realized sincerity or remain insincere is, in the end, of no great consequence since all things are affirmed just as they are. There is nothing we need become. With this tucked away in our consciousness, we are free to proceed with our becoming without the burden of guilt and judgmentalism, a situation that seems to me at least, suggestive of love — love for oneself and thus for others.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on the Liji I

Scott Bradley

The Liji ("Book of Rites") is a vast Confucian compendium containing two documents, "The Doctrine of the Mean" (Zhongyong) and "The Great Learning" (Daxue) from the late Warring States Period to Early Han. These, Ziporyn tells us (Ironies of Oneness and Difference), are clearly attempts to incorporate and thereby co-opt the Daoist introduction and prioritization of Yin, the embedding of all value and knowledge in the fundamentally unknowable.

A brief restatement of Ziporyn's basic thesis is in order. This book overall is an examination of how early Chinese philosophy tried to make sense of the world so as to know how best to live in it. He calls this "coherence". Coherence is a model in many respects different from similar attempts to explain the world found in Western philosophy. I do not completely understand how this is so, but as an example we can see that Western philosophy tends toward trying to explain the world (asking the 'what?' of things — objectivity) whereas Chinese philosophy tends toward an understanding how things cohere and harmonize (asking the 'how?' of things so as to know how best to live — subjectivity).

This coherence, as exemplified in Confucianism, is what Ziporyn calls "non-ironic". Though we cannot know Heaven, we can still know how best to live by harmonizing with what it has wrought, namely human hierarchical relationships and tradition. There is a straight-forward, articulable Dao (Path of study and consequent behavior). The proto-Daoists (principally "Laozi" and Zhuangzi) overturned such a view when they pointed out that all our values and knowledge, however practical, have no ultimate foundation, since they are embedded in xuan — darkness, obscurity, mystery. Yet still we require to find a way to best live, and thus they suggested an "ironic coherence", one that harmonizes with the reality of our adrift-ness. Thus, Zhuangzi, for example, provides a model of coherence based on our living in a world essentially incoherent (unintelligible). He suggests a sensible way to live in the context of an essentially non-sensical world.

Not surprisingly, Confucianism was not about to take this lying down, and thus either denied the need to prioritize the unknowable (Xunzi) or incorporated the ironic into an otherwise non-ironic model (the Liji and Yin-Yang metaphysics), thereby co-opting it.

This attempted return to the non-ironic is, I think, consistent with the basic human inclination to "take the mind as teacher"; we hate doubt and love certainty. In this sense, Daoism cuts against the grain of our evolved humanity; so much so that Daoism itself constantly slips back into the non-ironic.

That Ziporyn uses the ironic as a fulcrum to understanding the sweep of early Chinese philosophy is itself telling. (Calling Confucianism "non-ironic" itself prioritizes the "ironic".) There really is no escape from our embedding in Mystery.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on Xunzi VII

Scott Bradley

In this, the final post of this series, I return again to the more general issue that I raised in the second post of the series, namely, how do I engage Xunzi, not in a confrontational manner, but in one that is able to affirm his thought despite my disagreements.

Were I strictly scholarly (within my limits) this would probably not be an issue; the scholar takes neutral ground and simply wishes to understand. But I must admit to being sectarian as an advocate for the position of Zhuangzi whom Xunzi set about to refute. But Zhuangzi's position is one that aims at ending sectarianism. The challenge, therefore, is not to defend Zhuangzi in a refutation of Xunzi, but to realize the freedom from sectarian opinion that Zhuangzi advocated.

Assuming that Zhuangzi in some way approximated his own ideal, at least in his writing, if not in his life, then we can say that disagreement and refutation are not inconsistent with his philosophy, since he often does just that to make his points. This leaves us with the more subtle and difficult possibility of a simultaneity of refutation and affirmation. Or put simply: it's the attitude that matters.

Keeping this in mind, I find comments on the back face of Ziporyn's Ironies of Oneness and Difference quite helpful:

Mere awareness of how many different ways human beings can think and have thought about these categories is itself a game changer for our own attitudes toward what is thinkable for us. The actual inhabitation and mastery of these alternative modes of thinking is an even greater adventure in intellectual and experiential expansion.

I cannot think of a better apologetic for this present enterprise.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on Xunzi VI

Scott Bradley

In this post we will take a speculative look at the possibility that Xunzi and the author of the Tianxia (33rd) chapter of the Zhuangzi might have been mutually informing each other as likely contemporary members of the Jixia Academy in the state of Qi (late 4th cen. B.C.E.). They certainly share a Confucian point of view and, more strikingly, an understanding of Truth as that which unites the many truths.

In the Xunzi we read: "Human problems all derive from obsession with a single corner of things which obscures the Greatest Coherence. When ordered, these all return to the norm, but when doubts arise, over alternatives between them, there is confusion. In the world [tianxia] there are not two Daos, and the Sages are not of two minds." ("Dispelling Obsessions"). In Tianxia we are similarly told that the "ancient Art of the Dao" is one Dao that has been obscured by "nook and cranny scholars" who have seen only one corner of the whole.

Ziporyn calls this "a whole/part epistemology". "The question to be adjudicated when confronted with conflicting claims is not which is true and which is false, but rather which is more complete." This seems on the surface to reflect Zhuangzi's all-inclusiveness, but lacks the ironic dimension that negates any final 'true' Whole. Ziporyn goes on to say: "In Xunzi's case, there may be some claims which have no place in the whole and must be eliminated completely, although he clearly makes an attempt to be as all-embracing as possible in his inclusiveness." The question arises, by what criterion are some daos then rejected? The answer is, by that "truth" which Xunzi holds in reserve, that is, his own.

Laozi and Zhuangzi are among those who are subsequently "eliminated" as being incompatible with, and thus unable to be successfully incorporated into, the Whole. Their negation of the very possibility of an intelligible Whole makes this inevitable.

The author of Tianxia, on the other hand, has a very positive take on both Laozi and Zhuangzi and is somehow able to include them as part of his Whole, despite their only grasping one corner of it. How he can do this, given their aforementioned negation of any coherent Whole, is not clear. However, others, especially Huizi, are eliminated from participation in the Whole, and in this the author is consistent with Xunzi.

In contrasting Zhuangzi with Xunzi (and Zhuangzi's later interpreters), we see that Zhuangzi saw chaos (unintelligibility) as primal and thus doubt as unavoidable, whereas Xunzi, like most of us, could live with neither. Xunzi walks one road — his own; Zhuangzi walks two — his own which also allows him to walk that of the present other.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on Xunzi V

Scott Bradley

Part of Ziporyn's discussion of Xunzi is in the context of the debate whether he believed there to be only one normative Dao, or whether there are many possible daos, though only one among them is 'best' given the human condition.

This ambiguity is in part the consequence of Xunzi's apparent belief that it is humanity that creates The Great Coherence, Dao. In this sense, "man is the measure of all things" since he selects out and unifies those elements of reality (various coherences) which best serve his purposes. This is consistent with his statement that "it is only the sage who does not seek to understand Heaven." Since it is humanity who determines how best to live in the context of the world's givens, the unknowable is dismissed as irrelevant. Thus, from the point of view of philosophical Daoism, Xunzi was on the right track in his understanding of the subjective nature of truth (humanity decides what truth is, makes it so — it does not exist outside of this determination) but goes astray in thinking that such a truth is not also a non-truth given the larger context of ultimate incoherence. Xunzi does not allow that his Great Coherence is also part of a Greater Incoherence, but this should not surprise us since it is precisely this ironic Dao of Daoism that he wished to overturn.

This belief that it is humanity who creates Dao can be seen in the following statements: "Laws cannot stand on their own; types cannot function by themselves. When they attain the right person they exist, when they lose the right person they vanish." (44/12/2) "The exemplary person forms a triad with heaven and earth, is the unifier of the ten thousand things, is the father and mother of the people. Without the exemplary person heaven and earth are not ordered, ritual and rightness have no consistency, above there is no true ruler or teacher, below no true father or son: this is called utter chaos." (28/9/63ff)

Again, this is curiously in agreement with the Daoist point of view that Dao is essentially a perspective, only Xunzi requires that there can only be one correct perspective, one of Confucian persuasion. Whereas Daoism contextualizes its perspective in the chaos from which it emerges (does not forget the unhewn from which its perspective is hewn) thereby relativizing its own perspective, Xunzi sees chaos as something to flee and forget, enabling the absolutizing of one perspective.

In this regard the closing story of the Inner Chapters, the death of Chaos (Zhuangzi 7:15), is especially telling. Not willing to allow Chaos to remain such, his friends attempt to humanize him by daily giving him one of the seven holes of humanity; on the seventh day Chaos dies. Xunzi similarly wishes to kill off Chaos through the assertion of the human. How one can do so without acting in bad faith, ignoring and sublimating the obvious, is hard to fathom.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.