The Useless Tree

Life, Meaning

    I was talking with a friend today.  She felt a bit overwhelmed: so much going on, so much to do, and so hard to see the significance in it all.  It was a variation on that age-old anxiety: what is the meaning of life?   A big question, to be sure.  One that contemporary thinkers shy away from.  But one that sparked some thoughts for me today, thoughts shaped by my generally Taoist sensibilities.

     Basically, I think it is the wrong question.  When we ask what is the meaning of life, we run the risk of looking for something we will never really find.  The question points to a certain totality of life, one's whole life, the big, big picture.  How does it all add up, how does it all sum up to some sort of grand meaning?  Perhaps there will be some marvelous "ah ha!" realization at the moment of death, but I am not banking on it.   

      The question assumes a singularity to an individual's life, and this is not my experience.  Life changes from one time to the next, maybe even one moment to the next.  What might have counted as important and significant when I was 18, is not what I would find compelling now that I am 51.  For me, life before Aidan and after Aidan are distinctly different experiences.  He fundamentally altered my  understanding of meaning.  And I imagine the same is true, in different ways, for everyone.

      A better question might be: what is the meaning in life?  This framing of the issue might turn us toward the immediate and specific circumstances we find ourselves in at the moment.  It might also turn us away from the search for a transcendent source of meaning somewhere outside of our lives, and focus our attention on the ways we can create meaning in our lives right here and now.  What is the best I can do with this particular person with me now?  What is the beauty that might surround me here?  What extraordinary and uncontrollable things are swirling around me as I write these words?  That is where we can make meaning, not in totalities but in moments, not of but in....

Realizing our Parents

    Laura, at 11D, calls our attention to an article in the Sunday NYT Magazine by Bob Morris, in which he reflects upon his desires to push his elderly father to physical activity beyond what the older man wants.   Laura sums it up nicely in her title, "improving our parents."   The story Morris tells ends with some regret that he pushed his father too hard.

     I know this feeling, having watched my mother die slowly, over the course of two years or so, of cancer (my father died suddenly of a heart attack years before).  There were times during her illness when I pressed and prodded her to do more and better than she was.  And there were times when I had to make big decisions that she resisted.   Morris gets at the selfish undercurrent of such anxieties:

...What he really needed was more affection, not exercise. Yet I kept trying to impose my will on both my parents right to the end. How dare they become so old?

I think about them now, when I go out walking with such determination it’s almost as if I’m trying to walk away from myself....

     The demise of our parents, inevitable as it may be, is a picture of our own demise, and that is one reason why we are so uncomfortable with it.  When faced with the physical decline of a loved one, we have to walk a fine line between doing what is best for them and what is most pleasing and affirming to ourselves.  Knowing the right action is not easy.  But we have to struggle to find the right thing.  Mencius comes to mind, my mind at least.  In describing one of the great sage-rulers, Shun, Mencius says that he

...knew that if you don't realize your parents you aren't a person, and if you don't lead your parents to share your wisdom you aren't a child.

 I like that rendition, "realize your parents."  What he means is that in our own actions, as we perform our daily duties, we are not only doing for ourselves but we are enacting the honor and respect of our parents.  That sounds like a heavy burden, and Confucians mean it to be a conscious responsibility.   But it is precisely in that activity that we make ourselves human.  Notice, too, how Mencius expects us to lead our parents to share our wisdom.  In other words, as we grow to adulthood there will be things we know better than them, and these things we must share with them, that is our responsibility as children.

      Whatever his regrets in pushing too far, Morris was right to seriously engage the question of what it was that his father needed.  He tried to do the right thing.  The biggest challenge is to keep our own expectations about what we think they want from getting in the way of realizing them.

Nationalism, Globalization and "Three in the Morning"

 Chuang Tzu's happy irony came to mind when I saw this story the other day:

Police in southern China have discovered a factory manufacturing Free Tibet flags, media reports say.

The factory in Guangdong had been completing overseas orders for the flag of the Tibetan government-in-exile.

Workers said they thought they were just making colourful flags and did not realise their meaning.

But then some of them saw TV images of protesters holding the emblem and they alerted the authorities, according to Hong Kong's Ming Pao newspaper. 

     Oops.  This only really matters, however, if you believe that nationalism can be distinguished from globalization.  I don't think it can.  Let's think about it in terms of contemporary China.  What China is now, what it has become in the era of economic reform, is a society and culture fundamentally different from Maoist times and imperial history.  Things that are now taken as perfectly fitting expressions of Chinese-ness - like modern Olympic athletic competition - would be reject by Mao and Confucius.  The former understood the Olympics to be a venue of the global bourgeoisie; and the latter said that "gentlemen do not contend."  But neither of those sentiments reflect the China of today.  "Opening to the world" has transformed the country.

    So what difference does it make, really, if Tibetan flags are made in China?  It simply follows the logic that has made China into world economic dynamo: find the low cost producer.  Making plastic Christmas trees and pirated DVDs and paper dolls of Elvis Presley are what China does now.  What do a few thousand Tibetan flags matter?   It only matters if you are a nationalist, bound to be frustrated by the reality of a globalized China.   Makes me think of Chuang Tzu's little story of "three in the morning:"

To wear yourself out illuminating the unity of all things without realizing that they're the same - this is called "three in the morning."  Why "three in the morning?"  There was once a monkey trainer who said at feeding time, "You get three in the morning and four in the evening."  The monkeys got very angry, so he said, "Okay, I'll give you four in the morning and three in the evening."  At this the monkeys were happy again.  Nothing was lost in either name or reality, but they were angry one way and pleased the other.  This is why the sage brings "yes this" and "no that" together and rests in heaven the equalizer. This is called taking two paths at once.

Chuang Tzu (24)

     He seems to be saying: Chill.  Take two paths at once, let nationalism and globalization merge together, and don't worry about who is making the Tibetan flags....

To wear yourself out illuminating the unity of all things without realizing that they're the same - this is called "three in the morning."  Why "three in the morning?"  There was once a monkey trainer who said at feeding time, "You get three in the morning and four in the evening."  The monkeys got very angry, so he said, "Okay, I'll give you four in the morning and three in the evening."  At this the monkeys were happy again.  Nothing was lost in either name or reality, but they were angry one way and pleased the other.  This is why the sage brings "yes this" and "no that" together and rests in heaven the equalizer. This is called taking two paths at once.

Chuang Tzu (24)

     He seems to be saying: Chill.  Take two paths at once, let nationalism and globalization merge together, and don't worry about who is making the Tibetan flags....

Thinking too much

    I have been falling behind in my blogging.  This work thing can really get in the way.  The myriad daily tasks and demands distract me from this space.  Oh well...I'll just try a bit harder (or, if I were a good Taoist, try a bit less...) and find time to write more here.  One topic on my mind, due to all the upheaval in Texas, is  polygamy.  No, I am not planning to take another wife (indeed, the notion of multiple wives has always baffled me...), rather, I am thinking about what Confucians and Taoists would think of the practice in general.  If time allows I will get to that this week.

     In the meantime, I noticed today an article on language and thought in the NYT.  A couple of lines:

In stark form, the debate was: Does language shape what we perceive, a position associated with the late Benjamin Lee Whorf, or are our perceptions pure sensory impressions, immune to the arbitrary ways that language carves up the world?

The latest research changes the framework, perhaps the language of the debate, suggesting that language clearly affects some thinking as a special device added to an ancient mental skill set. Just as adding features to a cellphone or camera can backfire, language is not always helpful. For the most part, it enhances thinking. But it can trip us up, too.

...

Language helps us learn novel categories, and it licenses our unusual ability to operate on an abstract plane, Dr. Lupyan said. The problem is that after a category has been learned, it can distort the memory of specific objects, getting between us and the rest of the nonabstract world.

 In other words, language helps us make sense of and manipulate the world around us but it also obstructs our perception of the fullness and complexity of Way (the unfolding of all things now).  When we settle on analytic categories we lock ourselves into static points of reference.  But Way is constantly moving and changing, and our categories may quickly become inaccurate or insufficient.  Or, we may choose the wrong analytic categories to interpret our immediate circumstances.  That is pretty much what Chuang Tzu warned all those years ago:

The spoken isn't just bits of wind.  In the spoken something is spoken.  But what it is never stays fixed an constant.  So, is something spoken, or has nothing ever been spoken?  People think we're different from baby birds cheeping, but are we saying any more than they are? (21)

     There is no escaping the simultaneous necessity and insufficiency of language but a measure of humility regarding the limits of our capacities to apprehend Way is always a good thing....

This Just In: Confucius is Right

     Here's an AP story:

CHICAGO -- Newsflash for rock stars and teenagers: It turns out everything doesn't go downhill as we age _ the golden years really are golden.

That's according to eye-opening research that found the happiest Americans are the oldest, and older adults are more socially active than the stereotype of the lonely senior suggests.

The two go hand-in-hand _ being social can help keep away the blues.

"The good news is that with age comes happiness," said study author Yang Yang, a University of Chicago sociologist. "Life gets better in one's perception as one ages."

 But for those of us who read Confucius, this comes as no surprise, as Analects 2.4 says:

The Master said: "At fifteen I devoted myself to learning, and at thirty I stood firm.  At forty I had no doubts, and at fifty understood the Mandate of Heaven.  At sixty I listened in effortless accord.  And at seventy I followed the mind's passing fancies without overstepping any bounds."

       In other words, if we know how to age, we get better with age.

Mencius on Taxes

    Yesterday was tax day in the US, the day when federal, and I believe most state, income tax forms must be filed.  For many years I used to do my taxes by myself, and this day was certainly a worry for me.  A couple of years ago, however, due to income from my writing which came to define me, in the eyes of the tax authorities, as an independent business (and my wife, due to her various forms of community involvement became an independent contractor), I turned to an accountant.  Paying someone else to figure out what I must pay the government does take some of the pain out of it....

    In any event, I realized yesterday that I should do a post on Mencuis and taxes.  He has much to say on the topic.  But the idea popped into my head as I was cleaning the dishes after dinner and my text was not there with me.  But it is here with me now, so let's jump right in.

    Mencius is a low tax man.  I suspect that he calls for limited taxes because, in his time, a serious source of injustice and inequality was rapacious abuse of state power to extract revenue from society.  Notice in this passage how he focuses on rents as opposed to taxes or tariffs or tribute:

Collect rent in the markets but no tax, or enforce laws but collect no rent - then every merchant throughout all beneath Heaven will rejoice and long to trade in your markets.  Conduct inspections at the border but collect no tax - then every traveler throughout all beneath Heaven will rejoice and long to travel your roads.    Have farmers help with public fields but collect no tax - then every farmer in all beneath Heaven will rejoice and long to work your land.  Don't demand tributes in cloth from families and villages - then people throughout all beneath Heaven will rejoice and long to become your subjects.  (3.5)

    He understands the state's need for revenue, but "rent" here suggests limited and fixed annual (or some period of time, monthly...) levy.  While a percentage of the value of production or commerce might yield higher receipts for the government, it would also impose greater burdens on society.

      We should not take from the passage above the idea that Mencius was anti-tax.  No.  He was interested in limiting taxation.  The famous well field system that he advocated, which reserved one farm plot out of nine for communal work and aristocratic requisition, could be understood as a form of taxation.  Thus, Mencius says:

In the countryside, tax people one ninth of their produce, according to the well-field system.  In the capital, tax people one tenth of their income.  (5.3)

    Notice that city dwellers, which would include businessmen and other professionals, must also pay an income tax.  It is a flat tax.  Although the overall system is mildly regressive (10% tax rate for "rich" city dwellers, and an 11% rate for poorer farmers), there is a minimum welfare that he would guarantee to all people - access to land and livelihood.

       (Notice, too, in the same passage 5.3 Mencius seems to support the infamous PRC hukou system when he says: "People should never leave their village - not when they move their houses and not when they die.")

     He also warns about not taxing enough, something that uncivilized governments do.  Indeed, "barbarians" tax at very low rates precisely because they do not have the finer institutions and practices of higher civilization to maintain   Here's how  Mencius replies when asked if a tax rate of one part in twenty (5%) is sufficient as it is for the "Northern barbarians":

    Northern barbarians don't grow the five grains, only millet.  They have no city walls or buildings, no ancestral temples, no sacrificial rituals.  The have no august lords, no diplomatic hospitality or gifts.  And they don't have the hundred government offices and officials.  That why one part in twenty is enough tax for them.  but here in the Middle Kingdom(s), how can we do without noble-minded leaders and the bond of human community? (12.10)

     Makes me think of Oliver Wendell Holmes' famous line: "taxes are what we pay for living in a civilized society."

Just to be clear about it: Neither China nor the US is a Confucian country

     The annual report from Amnesty International on executions is out and, to no surprise, China leads the list with the US taking fifth place.  To me, this points to a fundamental similarity between the two places, however much nationalists on both sides are now asserting fundamental differences.  Both governments embrace the death penalty in a manner reminiscent of Han Fei Tzu, who said: "The enlightened leader is never over-liberal in his rewards, never over-lenient in his punishments." (20)   What an extraordinarily distorted notion of enlightenment compared to Confucianism and Taoism.

      If anyone wants to argue that China's number one place in world wide executions distinguishes it morally from the US, just remember that the US takes the number one spot worldwide in incarcerations.   Yes, it might be better to be alive in prison than dead on the execution ground, but American critics would do well to look at their own society and ask why we rely so heavily on imprisonment, before criticizing China on the question of executions.

     It all makes me rather pessimistic.  Why is it that the Humanity of Confucianism - or Christianity, which also tells us to not kill -  gets historically pushed aside by the more brutal and futile (futile in the sense that violence begets violence) Legalism or realism or whatever we want to call it?  Are we, ultimately, incapable of Humane government?  Is there something about us that lead us away from Humanity.  Chuang Tzu denies a common human nature, but he does say this:

Games of skill and cleverness begin in a light mood, but they always end up dark and serious.  And if things go far enough, it's nothing but guile.  Drinking at ceremonies begins orderly enough, but it always ends up wild and chaotic.  And if things go far enough, it's nothing but debauchery.  All our human affairs seem to work like this.  However sincerely they begin, they end in vile deceit.  And however simply they begin, the grow enormously complex before they're over. (55)

      Maybe that is the same for government: it starts out idealistic and sincere but ends up in "vile deceit," the deceit that leads us to embrace strict laws and harsh punishments and reproduce the pessimism and cynicism of Legalism.

Confucius in Taiwan, again

    Thanks to the Western Confucian, I read an editorial in the China Post regarding a speech by Taiwan's president-elect Ma Yin-jeou.  Ma apparently emphasized the importance of integrity and sincerity in the appointment of public officials:

President-Elect Ma Ying-jeou stated that attaching importance to moral character is very important to today's Taiwan. The new government that is to be formed after his inauguration will put character above capability in appointing officials, he stressed.

    It's not clear if Ma himself made the obvious connection to Confucianism (perhaps he kept it implicit) but the China Post editors did:

Confucian values are the cornerstone of the moral system of the Chinese and that of many of China's neighbors, such as Korea and Japan. These two countries owe their economic prosperity to the influence that Confucianism has had on their cultures.

Chinese dynasties that attached importance to Confucian values were almost all strong and prosperous, whereas those that ignored the sage's teachings were inevitably weak and short-lived.

It is, therefore, little wonder that, over recent years, the government has been rife with corruption with many officials indicted or imprisoned for graft and other immoral deeds.

      A couple of things come to mind here.  First, the editorial is a reminder of the political-sociological trend in Taiwan that continues to place the island within the purview of "Chinese culture."  It is easy to lose sight of that trend, as it has been challenged so strongly in recent years by the counter current of Taiwanese identity.   Taiwanese cultural identity is, I believe, strong and  Ma's election does not signal a popular rejection of it.  Rather, it seems more likely that it is Ma, and other "mainlanders" and Chinese culturalists, who have had to absorb Taiwanese identity in order to be politically viable.   But identity and culture are dynamic; so we will see if Ma's presidency does lead to an increase in the prominence of Chinese cultural identity on Taiwan. 

     Second, I cannot let pass the assertion that Confucianism somehow caused economic development in East Asia.  What is meant by "Confucianism" here?  Certainly not the famous Confucian disdain for materialist profit-seeking.  As I have argued before, there is a way in which Chinese society has never really been Confucian, because Chines society has always held within it a commercial dynamism, fueled by material profit-seeking, that transgressed Confucian notions of humane conduct.  So, in this sense, the significant economic growth and transformation of East Asia is a contradiction of certain Confucian principles, not a confirmation of them.

     This works in another way as well: the role of a strong, regulatory state.  The "East Asian model" of economic development - perhaps best described institutionally by Chalmers Johnson in his notion of the developmental state - relied upon a strong central bureaucracy and, in the early stages of economic growth, a kind of "soft authoritarianism."   None of this is particularly Confucian, if we mean by Confucian what is to be found in the Analects and Mencius.  In both texts there is an emphasis on exemplary moral leadership over reliance on law and the coercion, implicit or explicit, that stands behind the law.

     For students of Chinese history, this should come as no surprise.  Confucianism is perhaps best understood not as an empirical description of what China actually was, but rather as a moral exhortation to what China should be.  And in big and important ways, in matters of state craft and economic policy, China has historically tended to be more Legalist than Confucian, described in a recent article in The American Interest by Victoria Tin-bor Hui( pdf!).

      There are ways in which Confucianism has been a part of Taiwan's historical development.  But those effects must be understood in relation to not only the particular historical context of Taiwan, but also in the cultural context of Taiwanese identity and the political-historical context of Legalism.

5000 Years of Olympics Civilization?

     This really doesn't have anything to do with my project of considering ancient Chinese thought in modern American life, but it is too funny not to mention.

    I've been following the struggle over the Olympic torch relay as closely as everyone else.  And I had to laugh out loud when I found this statement in a Reuters report today on events in San Francisco:

"In 5,000 years of Olympic history the Chinese can finally have one time hosting the Olympics. It means that China is becoming a world power," said Don Zheng, 41, a Chinese-American computer engineer who emigrated in 1988.

     In his excitement, Mr Zheng has confused his ancient histories.  The Olympics is not 5000 years old.  The first ancient games were said to have occurred in 776 BCE, not even 3000 years ago. Of course what he is thinking of are the claims that "Chinese civilization" dates back 5000 years, which is a problematic assertion, to say the least.  For those interested in how problematic, I blogged on the issue last year, here (the comments are especially helpful, too). 

     Ultimately, it's all about nationalism - the nationalism of the Olympic games themselves, and the nationalism the distorts complex historical questions.  Personally, I think the Games should be de-nationalized.  To start, I would suggest that no national anthems be played when medals are awarded and that no flags should be used during opening and closing ceremonies.  Let China have its games, but from now on, a permanent location should be established, perhaps in Greece, so that the quadrennial sporting competition can be removed from nationalist aspirations altogether.

Joy in Chuang Tzu

    I've been busy the last couple of days.  Teaching demands time, and an extra presentation to the international studies colloquium here today demanded a bit more.  Administrative business, too, steals my attention.  Oh well, let me just offer a passage from Chuang Tzu.  You'll notice that it offers solace, promising that if we open ourselves to the inevitable and humanly-uncontrollable movements of Way we will "never lost our joy."  This is important, and other moments like it can be found in Chuang Tzu.  It pushes against the idea that Taoism seems to require complete emotional detachment, a thoroughgoing denial of virtually all human emotion, good and bad.  It suggests the possibility of happiness as a "natural" condition in Way.  And why not think about that on a nice, Spring day...

Birth and death, living and dead, failure and success, poverty and wealth, honor and dishonor, slander and praise, hunger and thirst, hot and cold - such are the transformations of this world, the movements of its inevitable nature.  They keep vanishing into one another before our very eyes, day in and day out, but we'll never calibrate what drives them.  So how can they steal our serenity, how can they plunder the spirit's treasure-house?  If you let them move together, at ease and serene, you'll never lose your joy.  And if you do this without pause, day in and day out, you'll invest all things with spring.  (75)