Tag: Confucianism

Xunzi’s Take on Human Nature

As one of the few debates all humans can contribute to, the argument over the basic tendency of human nature towards good or bad appears across  philosophical communities, cultures, and time periods. Confucian culture is no different with two of its most recognized sages representing opposing sides of the debate. Arguing for human nature as good is Mengzi, a Confucian scholar, who is often called the ‘second Sage,’ after only Kongzi (Confucius) himself.1 In opposition to Mengzi is Xunzi, who claimed human nature was at its core bad. Though who was, or rather is, correct continues to be discussed to the present day, Xunzi’s central claim contains a major flaw that could be used to finally settle the debate within the Confucian context.

In the Xunzi, a collection of dialogues authored by the man of the same name, the sage begins chapter twenty-three with a bold, fallible statement.

‘People’s nature is bad. Their goodness is a matter of deliberate effort’.2

At first this appears as a fair argument that naturally opposes the claim that human nature is at its base good. If we do not begin with goodness in our nature, then it follows that we must acquire it somehow; to acquire most anything, an individual must deliberately seek it out, which implies a desire for change. However, Xunzi neglects to explain why human beings make this effort to change their nature. He simply claims that it is the influence of teachers and rituals that cause one’s nature to improve.3 This response only delays the need to find a root for humanity’s goodness because logically we must then ask where these edifying rituals come from.

Xunzi’s response in a similar fashion is not defensible. He claims that ‘ritual and the standards of righteousness…are produced from the deliberate efforts of the sage’.3 Yet if a sage is just another human, where did their ability to become good come from? Upon looking deeply, Xunzi argument points towards some people spontaneously acquiring a good nature and then working to teach others. As an explanation for the origin of all goodness in human nature, it is quite unsatisfactory.

What’s more is that in comparison to Mengzi’s argument, Xunzi’s is weaker and relies on similar paths to virtue. Mengzi’s essential claim is, as already mentioned, that ‘There is no human that does not tend toward goodness’.4 Mengzi rests this argument on the description of each of the virtues as sprouts that can be tended to through our actions. So unlike with Xunzi, there is an origin to goodness; we are born with the ability for it, given the proper effort and environment. This aspect of Mengzi’s philosophy also explains why humans try to be good—we have a natural tendency toward it. Which brings us to the similarity of the two paths to Confucian virtue. According to both Xunzi and Mengzi, achieving virtue is a matter of self-cultivation, meaning that it takes a deliberate effort. In either case, an individual chooses to become better, but in Mengzi’s explanation we find a reason for these efforts.

Though initially the two sides of the debate over human nature’s inherent tendency appear evenly matched, at least in the Confucian context, one side is clearly more justifiable than the other. If being good takes deliberate effort either way, then it there must be a cause and a reason for our ability to embody it. Xunzi’s claim does not provide sufficient justification for why human nature can shed its original evil nature. Beyond that, it is much more comforting to think of humanity as more caring and good, than self-serving and violent.

Bibliography

Ivanhoe, Philip J., and Van Norden, Bryan W., (Eds.) Readings in Classical Chinese Philosophy. Hackett Publishing Company, Incorporated, (Cambridge 2005).

  1. Bryan Van Norden, Introduction to Classical Chinese Philosophy, p. 99. [↩]
  2. Ivanhoe and Van Norden, Readings in Classical Chinese Philosophy, p. 298. [↩]
  3. Ibid., p. 300. [↩] [↩]
  4. Ibid., p. 145 [↩]

Ogyu Sorai and the Recurring Motif of the Debasement of the Ruling Class

Ogyu Sorai (1666-1728) was a Japanese Confucian scholar influential in the Tokugawa period. His most influential work, Discourses on Government (Seidan), laid out a vision for reform of the government along Confucian principles. Sorai’s impetus for writing Discourses on Government was a growing sense of Japan’s moral degradation. According to Sorai, the natural hierarchy of Japanese society was being flipped on its head with the merchant class getting richer than the Samurai and Daimyo.[1]  Sorai observed that the Daimyo had become moral debased, corrupted by luxury and decadence. The Daimyo had become sedentary in Edo and started to expect the state to pay for their decadent lifestyles. Sorai observed that this occurred because there were not institutions (seido) regarding clothes, housing and food, so there was no established way to suppress luxury.[2] The situation was doubly tragic according to Sorai since the lifestyle of the Daimyo became a financial burden for the Shogunate and, by becoming accustomed to luxury, the morally debased Daimyo were not less efficient rulers of their territories. In fact, Sorai recommended that people from the lower classes, who had endured many hardships should regularly be rotated into bureaucratic roles. He wrote “Why is that during a period of prolonged peace, men of ability are found only in the lower classes, while men of the upper class grow increasingly stupid? As far as I can see, men’s abilities are developed only through hardship and tribulation.”[3]  In my opinion there is a clear aspect to which Sorai’s language is gendered. With the trend of Daimyo marrying women from the Kyoto court nobility, they had adopted feminine luxury, and had become emasculated by the now more economically successful merchants. I’ve noticed that there is a recurring motif not just in the history of the Sino sphere, but world history, that of the upper/ruling class becoming gradually, over generations, accustomed to foreign luxuries, becoming morally/sexually debased as a result, and then the state, which was founded on according to high moral principles, inevitably collapses. This motif most strikingly appears in explanations for the collapse of the Roman Empire, which was founded on such pure virtues like the rule of law and equality between citizens. Once the empire stopped expanding, military and political rules became sedentary accustomed to Persian luxury goods and lost their civic and military virtue. In Chinese dynastic history a recurring motif is that of the early rulers of a dynasty winning the mandate of heaven due to their pure morals and sagely ways. However, over generations, the emperors become sedentary, become sexually deviant, and lose the mandate of heaven because of their lax morals. Until modern Western enlightenment political theory, I believe it was taken for granted by most that the state was at its core a moral entity, and the health of the state was a matter of adhering to rule that was morally virtuous (however defined). I believe Sorai wrote the Discourses on Government with a sense of urgency for this reason, that he did not want to he the Tokugawa Shogunate descend into unrecoverable moral chaos and collapse.

[1] Lidin O.G. (2014) Ogyū Sorai: Confucian Conservative Reformer: From Journey to Kai to Discourse on Government. In: Huang C., Tucker J. (eds) Dao Companion to Japanese Confucian Philosophy. Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy, vol 5. Springer, Dordrecht p.178

[2] Ibid. p.175

[3] Tiedemann, Arthur. Sources of Japanese Tradition : 1600 to 2000, edited by Wm. Theodore De Bary, et al., Columbia University Press, 2005. p.236

‘I cannot but sigh at this’: He-Yin Zhen’s Use of Confucianist Ideas and Methods

He-Yin Zhen (1886-1920?) was a Chinese anarchist feminist, advocating the feminist struggle as equal to or even superseding ‘the nationalist, ethnocentric or capitalist modernisation agendas’.1  After moving to Tokyo in 1907 with her husband, fellow activist Liu Shipei, they began publishing the anarcho-feminist journal Natural Justice.2 In this journal, Zhen’s anarchist sentiments became more pronounced. Her suspicion of state logic and all institutions of social hierarchy led her to argue for the removal of government, replaced instead with the instalment of communally owned property.3 For Zhen, the ‘goal of women’s struggle is no more and no less than the restoration of universal justice for all’.4

In her 1907 essay, ‘On the Revenge of Women’, Zhen detailed the tools and ideas with which women are made unequal to men. She specifically argued that Confucian scholarship was one of the main instruments of male tyrannical rule through looking at four of the Confucian ‘Five Classics’: the Book of Songs, Book of Changes, Book of Rites, and Spring and Autumn Annals.5 However, I will argue that He-Yin Zhen employs Confucianist methods and ideas in her critique of Confucianism. 

The first reason why she believed Confucianist scholarship had played a major role in the oppression of women is through its insistence that women maintain obedience and consequently made ‘subsidiaries of men’.6 She argued: ‘Does this not amount to controlling women so that they cannot be free?’7

She gave further examples in Confucian classics such as the expectation that women remain faithful to one man unto death8 and that women are often blamed for bringing disorder to both families and to the state9 . She claimed that through scholastic traditions such as Confucianism, men had monopolised learning and allowed women to ‘internalise patriarchal values’10 

Eventually, she concluded that ‘all Confucian teachings are teachings that kill people,’ because they have led to the ‘draconian suppression and control of women’11 . 

However, I would argue that throughout this critique of Confucian teachings, she based some of her arguments on the concepts and ideas that Confucian teachings use. For instance, Zhen highlighted a quotation by Zheng in Annotations to the Mao Tradition of the Songs as an example of women being blamed for disorder being brought to the state:

‘The man is yang, so when he plots and schemes he benefits the country. But the woman is yin, and when she schemes she disrupts the country.’12

Zhen argued that ideas like these perpetuate ‘deviant teachings as “yang initiates, yin harmonizes”’.13 These teachings have caused ‘the relationship between men and women’ to become ‘one of absolute inequality [through cosmic abstraction]. I cannot but sigh at this’14 . Yet, Zhen herself used cosmic abstraction such as yin and yang to support her own ideas. In her section on ‘Women Suffering Death by Cloistering’, she argued that forcing women to cohabitate in harems was a punishment equivalent to death. She cited a Han official, Xun Shuang, who wrote: 

‘I heard that as many as five to six thousand women are gathered in the harem […] The qi [vital energy] of harmony is disturbed, leading to frequent calamities and freakish omens. […] all women who were neither betrothed by the proper ceremonies nor consummated their unions should be released […]. This would alleviate their forlorn sorrow and return yin and yang to harmony’.15

By citing quotations that use the logic of yin and yang to argue for the improvement of female conditions, she relied on the same ‘deviant teachings’ as those Confucian scholars she tried to disprove.

Strands of Confucianist ideas were also evident in Zhen’s critique of the ruling parties. In describing the process of accumulating women for their harems, she wrote that ‘[…] the Ming […] were even more relentless than the alien races in drafting maidens’.16  She described the Ming rulers as examples of ‘despotic sovereigns [who] committed against women heinous crimes of cruelty’.17 This critique fell in line with the idea of ‘virtue politics’, a specific mode of politics that Confucians pursued. Sage-kings were given the responsibility of being teachers for their subjects and to uphold a moral order, or the Way, which would translate to sociopolitical harmony – failure to rule according to the Way was perceived as a failure to rule.18 Zhen’s attack on the morality of Ming rulers drew on the Confucian tradition of critiquing the moral disposition of rulers if they did not uphold the Confucian expectation of being a benevolent ruler.

Zhen continued to discuss the importance of virtues in the subjugation of women. She proposed that men knew ‘docility was not a good virtue but nonetheless made women abide by it. Does this not imply that they were banishing women from the realm of the human?’19 By posing this question, Zhen evidently believed that following good virtues was a fundamental aspect of being human. There are parallels between this belief and the teachings of Confucian philosopher Mengzi. In his writings, Mengzi noted that human nature is good, as every human ha[d] the potential to develop that goodness. He wrote: ‘Benevolence, righteousness, propriety and wisdom are not welded to us externally. We inherently have them’.20 When Zhen claimed that by deviating from good virtue, we are deviating from being human, she made the same assumption that Mengzi did: human nature is inherently good. 

In the areas of cosmic abstraction, virtue politics, and human nature, Zhen followed the Confucian methods and ideas that she attempted to denounce. It is clear that Zhen’s ideas could not be extricated from the indigenous Chinese traditions and philosophies that she was surrounded by. Whether this was accidental or intentional in order to better convince her contemporaries by using the mode of thinking they have become accustomed to, Zhen could not completely separate her own, albeit radical, work from the intellectual traditions and tools of the time. 

 

  1. Sharon R. Wesoky, ‘Bringing the Jia Back into Guojia: Engendering Chinese Intellectual Politics’, Signs 40 (2015), p. 649. [↩]
  2. James St. Andre and Lydia H. Liu, ‘The Battleground of Translation: Making Equal in A Global Structure of Inequality’, Alif: Journal of Comparative Poetics 38 (2018), p. 381. [↩]
  3. Lydia H. Liu, Rebecca E. Karl, and Dorothy Ko (eds), The Birth of Chinese Feminism: Essential Texts in Transnational History (New York, 2013), p. 107. [↩]
  4. Ibid, 108. [↩]
  5. Ibid, 122 [↩]
  6. Ibid, 129. [↩]
  7. Ibid, 130. [↩]
  8. Ibid, 133. [↩]
  9. Ibid, 141. [↩]
  10. Peter Zarrow, ‘He Zhen and Anarcho-Feminism in China’, The Journal of Asian Studies 47 (1988), p 805. [↩]
  11. Liu, Karl and Ko, The Birth of Chinese, p. 124. [↩]
  12. Ibid, 142. [↩]
  13. Ibid, 128. [↩]
  14. Ibid. [↩]
  15. Ibid, 154. [↩]
  16. Ibid, 156. [↩]
  17. Ibid, 158. [↩]
  18. Sungmoon Kim, Democracy After Virtue: Toward Pragmatic Confucian Democracy (New York, 2018), p. 8. [↩]
  19. Liu, Karl and Ko, The Birth of Chinese, p. 131. [↩]
  20. Bryan W. Van Norden (ed.), Mengzi: With Selections From Traditional Commentaries (Indianapolis, 2008), p. 149. [↩]

Add and Stir: Taiping as a Confucian-Christian hybrid

The focus of our reading this week was on the Taiping Rebellion (1850-1864). The Taipings sought to overthrow the Qing dynasty and establish a Christian ‘heavenly kingdom of great peace’ (太平天國). A natural thought might be to characterise the Rebellion as an instance of what Philip Kuhn calls ‘an alien religion generat[ing] a furious assault on China’s existing social structures and values’.1 In describing Christianity as bringing about a ‘furious assault’ onto ‘China’s existing social structures and values’, Kuhn separates the Eastern and Western ideas into two distinct spheres – two worlds that contrast each other. In characterising the relationship between the East and the West in this way, Kuhn therefore characterises the Taiping Rebellion as a case in which the Western idea of Christianity was imposed onto the East.  I think this view is too simplistic. Instead, I think the Taiping Rebellion ought to be seen as an ‘interplay’ between Chinese and Western ideas.2 The East and the West should not be seen as two separate spheres. Instead, Eastern and Western ideas should be seen as more fluid, adapting and shifting as they interact with each other.

In particular, I like the term ‘glocalization’, which one of my peers used in his presentation on Carl Kilcourse’s Taiping Theology: The Localization of Christianity in China 1843-1864. The ‘glocalization’ framework, according to Kilcourse, refers to the localisation of a globally-disseminated product, ideology, or institution, i.e. when something is taken to a new cultural environment and transformed into an original expression of the indigenous culture3. Analysing the Taiping Rebellion this way, I think, is truer to the reality of the situation. Christian ideas were taken in and mixed in with traditional Confucian notions, creating a religion that was not purely Christian and was, instead, more of a Confucian-Christian hybrid. In order to demonstrate this, I will reference some of the Ten Heavenly Commandments the Taipings established.

  1. Honour and worship the Lord God …

2. Do not worship false gods …

3. Do not take the name of the Lord God in vain …

4. On the seventh day, worship and praise the Lord God for his grace …

5. Be filial and obedient to thy Father and Mother …

7. Do not indulge in wickedness and lewdness …

… Men or women who commit adultery or who are licentious are considered monsters; this is the greatest possible transgression of the Heavenly Commandments. The casting of amorous glances, the harboring of lustful imaginings about others … are all offenses against the Heavenly Commandment …

10. Do not think covetous thoughts …4

I will begin by highlighting the Christian elements of this extract. Western influence can be seen in some of the practices adopted by the Taipings.5 Firstly, the overall observance of the Ten Commandments is undoubtedly Western in origin. Within the extract, points 1, 2, and 3 are taken directly from the original Ten Commandments, and 4 – the observance of the seven-day week – originates from Genesis, the first book of the Old Testament. As Commandments 1-4 are lifted explicitly from the Bible, they can thus be used as evidence to support Kuhn’s view, promoting the idea of the Taiping Rebellion as a direct imposition of Western ideas onto the East.

Glocalization begins when we analyse Commandments 5, 7, and 10. What makes these particular Commandments interesting is that they all make explicit reference Kongzi’s Analects (孔子). Firstly, 5 mentions ‘filial piety’, the duty a young person has to respect their parents. In Analects 1.6, Kongzi states that ‘a young person should be filial and respectful of his elders when at home and respectful of his elders when in public’.6

7 and 10, on the other hand, make reference to the fact that intentions, not just actions, carry an ethical charge in Confucianism. 7, makes the argument that ‘harboring lustful imaginings about others’ is just as offensive as committing adultery. 10 warns Taiping’s followers to not have ‘covetous thoughts’, or thoughts of wanting more than they need. In focusing on ‘imaginings’ and ‘thoughts’, both thus make the argument that intentions can be both morally good and bad. This references Analects 3.12, in which Kongzi says that ‘if I am not fully present at the sacrifice, it is as if I did not sacrifice at all’.7 What he means by this is that it is not good enough to show your goodness by doing good actions. If you sacrifice without ‘being present’, i.e. not mentally and spiritually committing to the sacrifice, then you are better off not having done the sacrifice at all. Instead, a truly good person must also have good intentions whilst they are doing their actions. Otherwise, those actions are empty.

By explicitly-referencing Kongzi’s Analects, Commandments 5, 7, and 10 thus demonstrate that the Taiping Rebellion was not just an instance in which Western ideas were imposed onto the East. Instead, the references to the Analects demonstrate that the Taiping Rebellion was more ideologically-complex, with interplay between Western and Eastern ideas. This interplay can be described as ‘glocalization’, whereby Western Christian ideas were taken in, mixed with pre-existing Confucian traditions, and combined to create a Confucian-Christian hybrid religion.

  1. Philip A. Kuhn, ‘The Taiping Rebellion’ in D. Twitchett, J.K. Fairbank (eds.), The Cambridge History of China: Vol. 10: Late Ch’ing, 1800-1911, Cambridge University Press: 1978, p. 264 [↩]
  2. William Theodore De Bary, ‘The Heavenly Kingdom of the Taipings’ (1952) in Richard John Lufrano, Wing-Tsit Chan, John Berthrong (eds.), Sources of Chinese Tradition: Vol. 2: From 1600 through the twentieth century, Columbia University Press: 2000, p. 213 [↩]
  3. Carl S. Kilcourse, Taiping Theology: The Localization of Christianity in China 1843-1864, Palgrave Macmillan: 2016, pp. 17-18 [↩]
  4. Xiao Yishan, ‘Taiping Tianguo congshu’ （太平天國叢書） ser. 1, ce 1, pp. 1a-2b, 6b-8a in William Theodore De Bary, ‘The Heavenly Kingdom of the Taipings’ (1952) in Richard John Lufrano, Wing-Tsit Chan, John Berthrong (eds.), Sources of Chinese Tradition: Vol. 2: From 1600 through the twentieth century, Columbia University Press: 2000, pp. 220-221 [↩]
  5. William Theodore De Bary, ‘The Heavenly Kingdom of the Taipings’ (1952) in Richard John Lufrano, Wing-Tsit Chan, John Berthrong (eds.), Sources of Chinese Tradition: Vol. 2: From 1600 through the twentieth century, Columbia University Press: 2000, p. 218 [↩]
  6. Kongzi, 1.6 in P.J. Ivanhoe, Bryan W. Van Norden (eds.), Readings in Classical Chinese Philosophy, Hackett Publishing: 2005, p. 3 [↩]
  7. Kongzi, 1.6 in P.J. Ivanhoe, Bryan W. Van Norden (eds.), Readings in Classical Chinese Philosophy, Hackett Publishing: 2005, p. 9 [↩]

Ogyū Sorai’s Paradoxes

Confucian philosophy cannot be disentangled from politics. The thinkers we have studied this week, Kongzi (孔子), Mengzi (孟子), Xunzi (荀子), and Ogyū Sorai (荻生 徂徠), all centred their works on trying to define the ‘right’ way to organise and run a society.  In asking these philosophical questions, we can infer that these thinkers were responding to what they perceived to be the decay of society, government – political instability, in short. Indeed, all the authors mention rather explicitly in all of their texts that following their thought will lead to the prosperity and success of their home states.1 In light of this dynamic between philosophy and politics, I think it makes sense to explore how Confucian thinkers tried to turn their philosophical ideas into a practical political policy. In particular, I will focus on the difficulties that come with trying to put ideas into action and will reference Ogyū Sorai as a case study to explore this.

I find Sorai to be an interesting case study because his thought is littered with paradoxes. ‘Paradox’, for my purposes, refers to an inconsistency between a thinker’s philosophical ideals and the actual political policies they promote. I will demonstrate this with reference to one of many paradoxes in Sorai’s thought: his argument for social equality.

‘In formulating the Way, the early kings focused on the problem of bringing peace and security to all-under-Heaven and posterity … Therefore, the early kings followed the mind of all people to love, nourish, support, and perfect one another.2

This extract shows us that social equality is an important part of Sorai’s thought. In arguing that ‘all-under-Heaven’ ought to experience peace and security, Sorai argues that it is the King’s ultimate duty to provide peace and stability to all of his people, irrespective of class. In order to do this, Sorai suggests that the King ought to help ‘all people … nourish, support, and perfect one another’. The King should give everyone a means of satisfying their basic needs, and also a way for them to attain some kind of virtue and act in good ways. Overall, Sorai appears to be using the Confucian belief in equality to argue for the creation of a society that works to benefit all individuals instead the very few.

However, we see this point turned on its head in another part of Sorai’s thought:

‘If the members of the military class lived in the country, they would not incur any expenses in providing themselves with food, clothing, and shelter, and for this reason their financial condition would be much improved … At present, the merchants are in the dominant position, and the military class is in the subordinate position because the military class lives as though they were at an inn where they cannot do without money and must sell their rice in exchange for money with which to buy their daily necessities from the merchants3

Here, we see Sorai contradict himself. He argues that the Samurai and military class ought to be privileged over the merchant class. Sorai argues that the Samurai ought to provide for themselves, not ‘live in an inn’ (i.e. travel around and live off of their income), so that they can reclaim the ‘dominant position’ in society over the merchants. In referring to ‘dominant’ and ‘subordinate’ positions in society, Sorai is telling us that power within a society ought to be hierarchical, not equal, which thus contradicts the sentiments Sorai expresses in the first extract and generates a paradox.

What are the implications that we can draw out from this analysis? One natural thought might be to say that Sorai was generally unsuccessful in turning his ideals into actual political thought. However, I do not think this thought is particularly charitable to Sorai. In this entry, I have only covered one aspect of his thought. Evaluating him, as a whole, would require a detailed analysis of all aspects of his thought. Instead, I think Sorai’s paradoxes demonstrate that philosophical ideas can become muddled when translated into political policy or put into action. This point, I am sure, will become especially salient in weeks to come when we begin to explore Confucian thought historically, analysing the way it influences and is used in historical events.

  1. See Kongzi 2.1, Mengzi 1A7, and Xunzi Chapter 23 in P.J. Ivanhoe; B. W. Van Norden (eds.), Readings in Classical Chinese Philosophy, Hackett, 2005. For Ogyū Sorai, see W. T. De Bary; C. Gluck; A. E. Tiedemann; A. Barshey; W. M. Bodiford, ‘Ogyū Sorai and the return to Classics’, Sources of Japanese Tradition: Vol. 2: 1600 to 2000, Columbia University Press, 2010 [↩]
  2. Ogyū Sorai, ‘The Sage: Benmei (Distinguishing Terms)’ in W. T. De Bary; C. Gluck; A. E. Tiedemann; A. Barshey; W. M. Bodiford, Sources of Japanese Tradition: Vol. 2: 1600 to 2000, Columbia University Press, 2010, p. 290 [↩]
  3. Ogyū Sorai, ‘The Sage: Benmei (Distinguishing Terms)’ in W. T. De Bary; C. Gluck; A. E. Tiedemann; A. Barshey; W. M. Bodiford, Sources of Japanese Tradition: Vol. 2: 1600 to 2000, Columbia University Press, 2010, pp. 297, 298 [↩]