The Useless Tree

Legal Exoneration: A Confucian Perspective

A reader messaged to ask for a Confucian answer to this question: what does society owe people who have been wrongly convicted of crimes?

She asks because she is working with people in Taiwan on the issue of legal exoneration, along the lines of the Taiwan Innocence Project.

Looking into the Lunyu and Mengzi we can find some passages that speak to this question, though only rather indirectly.  Perhaps the best place to start is with a reminder that Confucius holds a certain mistrust for highly routinized systems of administration, both political and legal (Analects 2.3; Analects 12.13). He believes that justice is best achieved by wise and humane leaders crafting decisions based on a careful consideration of particular social and familial circumstances. Some legal theorists have developed an interpretation of "Confucian Virtue Jurisprudence" to capture the distinctiveness of this perspective.

It might, then, be reasonable to look at how Confucius and Mencius describe noble-minded leaders (junzi - 君子) when they realize they've made a bad decision, and use those passages to answer the broader question of legal exoneration for people wrongly convicted.

In this regard we find Analects 19.21:

子貢曰：「君子之過也，如日月之食焉：過也，人皆見之；更也，人皆仰之。

Zigong said: "Mistakes of the noble-minded are like eclipses of sun and moon: they make a mistake, and it's there for everyone to see; they make it right, and everyone looks up in awe." (Hinton)

This suggests that if a miscarriage of justice occurs, it should be recognized and rectified. Indeed, the error cannot but be noticed: it is as obvious as an eclipse. How could it not, then, be made right?

That, at least, is what a good person, and by extension a good legal system, would do. This sentiment is repeated in Mengzi 2B.9, with a bit more detail. There, Mencius is asked about an apparent misjudgment made by the Duke of Zhou, one of the revered founders of the Zhou Dynasty.  It seems the wise Duke appointed his elder brother, Guan Shu, to keep the remnants of the previous Shang Dynasty under control. Guan Shu, however, sided with the Shang and attacked Zhou, an irruption that was eventually put down by the Duke but not without raising some questions about his decision-making. Mencius tells us, referencing Analects 19.21, that the Duke made things right, and he did so in a way we all can learn from:

且古之君子，過則改之；今之君子，過則順之。古之君子，其過也，如日月之食，民皆見之；及其更也，民皆仰之。今之君子，豈徒順之，又從為之辭。

"...when the junzi of old committed an error, he corrected his course. When a ruler errs today, he persists in his error. The error of the junzi of old was like an eclipse of the sun or moon: the people all observed it, and when he changed course they all admired him for it. Nowadays rulers not only persist in their errors, they make excuses for them." (Enos, pdf)

It appears that the good behavior of the Duke of Zhou had been forgotten in the age of Mencius ("nowadays").  But look at the key point: to persist in an erroneous decision, and to make excuses for it, is deplorable. The right thing to do is to change course, to correct the error in a public and transparent manner.

To return to the question at hand - what does society owe people who have been wrongly convicted of a crime? - the first part of an answer would be: a public and transparent process of exoneration, as noticeable as the aftermath of an eclipse of sun and moon.

But how do you make up for the loss inflicted by wrongful conviction: perhaps years in jail, loss of livelihood, family disintegration? Confucius, as usual, would not have a strict formula of recompense, but he would be sympathetic and generous. Look at how he treated one of his followers who had been wrongfully convicted in Analects 5.1:

子謂公冶長，「可妻也。雖在縲絏之中，非其罪也」。以其子妻之。

The Master said of Gong Ye Chang that he might be wived; although he was put in bonds, he had not been guilty of any crime. Accordingly, he gave him his own daughter to wife. (Legge)

Obviously, these days we do not treat women in such a manner: daughters have the freedom to choose to marry whom they want. But think of the sentiment behind the act here: Confucius is expressing a supreme trust and respect for someone who had been wrongfully convicted. He is establishing an on-going and valuable relationship with him. The spirit of this gesture suggests that, extrapolated to modern circumstances, society, as represented by its government and legal system, owes wrongfully convicted persons sufficient social recognition, and perhaps economic means, to allow them to reconstruct their lives with dignity and honor. 

We might also keep in mind again here that Mencius emphasizes the importance of helping people gain a "certain livelihood" so that "they shall have sufficient wherewith to serve their parents, and, for those below them, sufficient wherewith to support their wives and children; that in good years they shall always be abundantly satisfied, and that in bad years they shall escape the danger of perishing." This would point to a policy that would help the wrongfully accused find jobs and maintain a stable incomes after their re-integration into society.

Beyond these rudimentary notions of what Confucius and Mencius might advocate in cases of exoneration, there is also a response they would firmly reject: the cold, brutal Legalist treatment meted out to poor Mr. He, as recounted by Han Feizi. (pp. 224-225).

Mr. He was a double victim of wrongful punishment. He twice brought what he knew to be a valuable piece of jade to the king, and twice the king's jeweler failed to see that it was indeed genuine, and twice the king had Mr. He's foot chopped off. After hearing of Mr. He's grief (he cried until his eyes bled!) over the injustice he was dealt, the king sent an aide to investigate. The heartless message to Mr. He was: "Many people in the world have had their feet amputated - why do you weep so piteously over it?" (天下之刖者多矣，子奚哭之悲也?). Mr. He replied that he wept because his integrity had been impugned. The wrongful imputation of a deceitful character was harder to bear than even the loss of both feet.

Han Feizi makes Mr. He's story into an allegory for the travails of the proponents of Legalism: their political philosophy is like the the unappreciated jade, valuable yet spurned. What is missing, however, in this Legalist rationalization is a recognition of the victim's plight. No sympathy, no redress, no chance of exoneration. Mr. He is simply collateral damage in the king's battle to maintain political power against potential deceivers.

This inhumane ideology is clearly at odds with the views of Confucius and Mencius. That, at least, is the stance of Han Feizi, who relentlessly attacks Confucians for being, among other things, idealist dupes, destined to lose political struggles.

Chinese tradition includes both a clear Confucian justification for exoneration and a strong Legalist rejection of the same.  Activists at the Taiwan Innocence Project, should they want to, can find some solace in the Lunyu and Mengzi.  The Han Feizi, not so much.

 

Making Confucianism Relevant to Americans

In my ongoing work to understand what Confucianism can mean in modern American contexts, I am returning to a paper I wrote for an academic conference a couple of years ago.  My thinking on the topic has expanded since then, but I want to build off of this earlier work to produce a new, somewhat more abstract analysis of how systems of ideas move from one historical-cultural context to another (I am tentatively calling this process "philosophical transposition").  In any event, I have never attempted to publish the earlier paper, nor even have I posted it before here.  I do that now, below, in the hopes that others will read it and provide me with some useful feedback.   Please do send all comments and criticisms.  Thanks !

Download Confucianism in Modern American Life

(Above is a Word file; I'll also put a pdf here below for convenience sake):

Download Confucianism in Modern American Life

 

Thoughts on Yu Ying-shih's brief reflection on "Confucianism's Kiss of Death"

Thanks to Yaxue Cao on Twitter, I came upon some recent brief remarks by the eminent scholar Yu Ying-shih on the current revival of Confucianism in the PRC that had popped up on Weixin (wonder if it was taken down....).  The title of the post is: 余英时：大陆提倡儒家是儒家的死亡之吻, which runs something like: "Yu Ying-shih: The Confucianism Promoted on the Mainland is Confucianism's Kiss of Death." 

Yu is a long time critic of the CCP regime in the PRC.  Thus, it is unsurprising that his comments express a certain skepticism regarding how Confucianism might be used there now. I share a good deal of that skepticism, but I would raise a question with one aspect of Yu's approach.

First, his critique, which is captured in this line: 中国历史上向来就有两个[儒家]，一个是被迫害的儒家，一个是迫害人的儒家, which translates as: "In Chinese history there have been two [types of] 'Confucianisms,' one is the Confucianism that has been persecuted, the other is the Confucianism that has persecuted people."  The latter is what he refers to as "institutional Confucianism" - 制度性的儒家- the use of Confucian ideas by the state to rationalize authoritarian rule.  He points out that this was a powerful trend throughout Chinese history, but that it is not, to his mind, "genuine Confucianism"  (真正的儒家).  A more genuine Confucianism must embrace a high degree of critical consciousness - 高度批判精神.  Though in these very brief remarks he does not elaborate, I believe what he means here is a kind of moral autonomy, and a corresponding degree of freedom, to be able to make particular judgments about right action in very specific circumstances beyond the reach of the state.  Current political conditions in the PRC constrain such autonomy and genuine Confucianism is obstructed there.  Thus, for Confucianism to be revived in a context where its most genuine expression is impossible is the "kiss of death" - 死亡之吻 - for Confucianism.

I agree with analysis, as I have similarly argued here. 

There is one aspect of Yu's discussion, however, that I find problematic.  He goes on to argue that genuine Confucianism is compatible with democracy and human rights as they are understood in modern times, which again I agree with.  But then he asserts that ancient China had significant expressions of democracy and human rights as universal values.  He invokes, among others, Kang Youwei to argue that China of the "three dynasties" - Xia, Shang, and Zhou - was democratic: 所以康有为也就认为三代以上我们中国的制度是民主的...

I know what Yu is doing here.  He is trying to resist the pro-authoritarian argument that China has never had a significant historical experience with democracy, that the very idea of democracy is a product of Western imperialism, and, therefore, the only culturally appropriate political system for China is some form of authoritarianism.  This is a classic non sequitur, since democracy, as it is currently understood and practiced around the world, is very much a modern phenomenon and, while there are certain conceptual precursors, did not come into its own anywhere until the 19th and 20th centuries (remember: women got the right to vote nationally in the US only in 1920; and blacks were politically excluded for much longer).  This sort of false argument is quite common, and Yu knows he is up against it: his work is banned in the PRC.

But I think Yu's effort in this regard in ineffective both historically and politically.  Historically, it may be true that there are certain proto-democratic ideas in ancient China, most notably in Mencius.  Be that as it may, there is lots and lots of Chinese history that pushes in the other direction.  The imperial state was not democratic and "universal human rights," as they are contemporaneously understood, were not firmly rooted in the culture nor protected by political institutions.  I don't think Yu can win the "but China was democratic back in the day" argument.  

Furthermore, in political terms, reaching back to deep Chinese history will not overcome the authoritarian-nationalist position arrayed against Yu.  Better to concede the historical point and focus on modernity.

China now is not what China was in imperial times.  Too much has changed materially and socially and culturally.  Everyone agrees on this. The CCP is a party of modernization; it's most horrible actions, such as the man-made Great Leap Famine, were attempts to accelerate Chinese modernization.  Deng Xiaoping was a modernizer.  And modernization creates a very different China, just as it creates a very different America (compared to, say, the America of 1850), a very different Japan, a very different India.  And that creative destructive transformation does not stop.  That's what modernity is.

As such, the "moral crisis" that China now faces, that seems to necessitate a reconnection with its Confucian past, is not a function of Western imperialism.  It is the culmination of over 150 years of Chinese modernization.  Yes, imperialism started that process (we will leave Max Weber out of this), but China has been rid of imperialism since at least 1949 and the CCP has been very much in control of how modernization has transpired there.  The internal generation of calls for democracy and human rights are not a nefarious plot by "hostile foreign forces."  Rather, they are predictable and inescapable elements of modernization (I am not arguing that modernization is a singular process that unfolds along the same course everywhere; rather, I hold to a complex and pluralistic understanding of modernization as here).

Long story short, for those who want to argue that Confucianism, genuinely and autonomously critical Confucianism, is compatible with Chinese modernity, do not need to argue against the "imposition of 'Western' values" canard that authoritarian apologists are so quick to invoke.  Modernization is not simply "Westernization."  The "West" was not the "West" before modernity; and the "West" is constantly transforming within modernity, influenced incessantly by the experience of modernity in the "East".  China, too, is transforming, and the combination of economic and political and social and cultural practices and institutions that constitute Chinese modernity at any particular moment will obviously be different than the formations of, say, American modernity.

There is, therefore, no deep historical experience that might ultimately authorize genuine Confucianism in China.  Confucianism was viciously struggled against by Mao and it now faces a wholly unique modernizing context.  Whatever Confucianism might be in contemporary China, genuine or not, will not be what it was in the 19th century.  And the main thing standing in the way of the emergence of genuine Confucianism in China, as Yu reminds us, is the continuing authoritarian power of the CCP.  As long as that power remains unchanged, the prospects for a Confucianism of a high degree of critical consciousness in China are oppressive.

Hong Kong and the Mandate of Heaven

I have been totally captivated by the extraordinary events in Hong Kong this past week.  Twitter has been my medium of choice, allowing, as it does, real time contact with people on the scene.  Here are some thoughts.

Having followed Hong Kong politics intermittently for the past thirty years, I am not at all surprised that at the critical moment the PRC leadership would resist the creation of an electoral system that might allow a party beyond CCP control to gain the Chief Executive position.  At the end of the day, Xi and company quite obviously take the maintenance of single party hegemony as their number one task.  And they will not let Hong Kong, however remote it may be politically from the PRC, become an example of what might be possible for opposition within the strictures of NPC sovereignty. 

I am also not surprised that a politically significant portion of the Hong Kong population would now reject CCP limitation on their right to select the candidate of their choice for CE.  Hong Kong is a sophisticated city.  People there are used to certain civil and political liberties, and they know very well that the CCP wants to restrict those very things.  PRC-instigated efforts to impose a draconian "security law" in 2003 and a more "patriotic" school curriculum in 2012 have only served to heighten anxiety in Hong Kong over a tightening of CCP control.  Indeed, the ham-handed efforts of pro-Beijing HK leaders have had quite the opposite effect: contributing to the rise of a distinct "Hong Kong" identity, over and against a "PRC" identity.  Here is a summary statement from this year's Hong Kong University Pulbic Opinion Programme poll on ethnic identity:

The survey finds that in terms of absolute rating, the strength rating of “Hongkongers” has significantly increased, that of “Chinese” and “citizens of the PRC” have significantly dropped to their respective record low since 1997 and 2007...

More and more Hong Kong people see themselves as distinct from those they understand as "Chinese" and "citizens of the PRC."  And that shift in identity helps us understand the very strong desire for self-determination and self-government demonstrated by the mass protests of the past several days.

My sense is that the identity poll reflects the political or civic aspect of what "Hongkonger" means.  Hong Kong people are different from mainland Chinese people because they share a common political life that is freer and more open than that in the PRC.  We often think of "Chinese" as simply an expression of a cultural group (which is also problematic, since "Chinese culture" is quite diverse), but in this context I think it has a more of a political connotation because, in fact, Hong Kong is culturally "Chinese" while it is simultaneously politically "Hong Kong."  James Palmer gets at this point nicely:

....the truth is that Hong Kong is in many ways more Chinese these days than mainland China. That might be what scares the authorities so much. The shrines and altars that dot Hong Kong speak to the richness of Chinese custom, annihilated between 1949 and 1976 in the mainland...

It is fashionable now for PRC officials, including Xi Jinping, to drape themselves in traditional Chinese cultural rhetoric.  They pepper their speeches with references to Confucius, while maintaining a most un-Confucian political regime.  They are desperate to keep Hong Kong in line but when they press too hard they reveal their old-school Leninist core, illustrating to people in Hong Kong, who well know what "Chinese culture" is, that they are upholding neither traditional Chinese values nor modern Hong Kong liberties.

The faux-Confucian PRC leadership thus legitimates a genuinely Confucian critique of their actions in Hong  Kong.  And that critique is aptly provided by Chris Fraser, professor of Chinese philosophy at Hong Kong University.   He gave some remarks to the gathered protesters in Admirality on October 1, and he brought Mencius (Mengzi) into the discussion:

 How do we know how well a leader is fulfilling his responsibility and maintaining his mandate? For Mengzi, the people do not choose their leaders or run their own government. But public approval or disapproval serves as an indicator, or a gauge, of how well the leadership are doing their jobs.

 You might argue that public demonstrations such as this week’s are just the sort of thing Mengzi is talking about. When tens of thousands of people pour into the street day after day in frustration, this is a sign that the leader is failing and his mandate is weak.

When he says that, for Menicus, the "people do not choose their leaders" he is simply making an historical observation: people in ancient China did not choose their leaders.  This is not to suggest that Mencius cannot be relevant to modern democracy; quite the contrary, Menicus has been an inspiration to various East Asian democratizers.  And one of ways that the old text applies to what is happening in Hong Kong right now, is what Fraser points to: the mere fact of massive public protest is a sign that the leadership - and that means the Beijing leadership - has lost the mandate of the people.

And we can take it one Mencian step further: since the people are the eyes and ears of Heaven, it is plain the regime has not only lost the mandate of the people, but also the mandate of heaven.

A Talk with Yu Dan

What a pleasant way to end a great month in Beijing: a conversation with Yu Dan, author of the best-selling book on Confucianism in China in recent years, or maybe ever. I have followed her work since 2006, I am sympathetic to her project, and I was really pleased to be able to sit and talk about contemorary Chinese society and culture with her (thanks Rena!).

Looking back over my blog history, I first noted her work in 2006, here.  And followed that with several other posts: here, here, here, and here.  I will not review the various controversies that have surrounded her and her work.  Suffice it say that I think her basic approach, thinking about how Confucianism might speak to individuals in a personal manner as they negotiate challenges in their lives, is valid and not out of keeping with the spirit of the early texts. Indeed, how we make decisions about some of our most personal issues - caring for parents, getting married, choosing the right action in particular circumstances - is very much what the The Analects and Mencius are all about.

I had not kept up with her since she brought out a book on Zhuangzi.  She hasn't, to my knowledge, followed up with any other mega-selling books lately.  So, her reputation (whatever one thinks of it) still centers on Confucianism from the Heart.

Before I get to our conversation, one point needs to be made: whatever our evaluation of Yu Dan's presentation of Confucian ideas, it seems incontrovertible that the interpretation she has put forward is what many, many Chinese people now want Confucianism to mean.  If we are interested in what Confucianism can be in a modern context, and that obviously is something different from what it was in older historical contexts, we must recognize the reality of Yu  Dan's popularity.   Her "chicken-soup for the soul" approach to the text may not be what serious scholars want, but it has clearly touched a chord of contemporary Chinese society.  People here want the Confucius that Yu Dan presents.

And that tells us something about Chinese society today, which is most of what we spoke about today.  Her message is what it has been since she rose to popular prominence: the turbulent history of China in the past century or so, and now the very rapid social and cultural changes roiling the country, exploded settled ethical frameworks, and Chinese society now is experiencing a "values vacuum".  This is a pervasive sentiment here.  Many, many Chinese people, across generations - though I suspect younger people like my students are somewhat less anxious about it - talk and think about the decline in public morality and the loss of a kind of cultural cohesion.  The society feels, to many Chinese, like it is coming apart in a bad way.

Yu's message resonates with these sorts of anxieties.  For her, Confucianism can be a part of a "solution" to the broad cultural problem.  She does not suggest that Confucianism is a singular and exclusive answer, nor does she see it as the basis for a governmental or macro-societal framework that should be used to regulate most people's behavior most of the time.  Like me, she sees contemporary Confucianism working best from, as it were, the bottom up.  We agreed that an individually based application - we might call it micro-social - that allows persons to draw upon certain ideas, like ren (仁), as they work to make their best moral choices in particular circumstances is the soundest approach to Confucianism here now.

She thinks about happiness, and why so many people in China now, while living materially prosperous lives, do not feel happy.  Admittedly, happiness is not a primary concern of Confucius or Mencius.  They are focused more on the establishment of common social norms that will create a basis for stability and order in a time of conflict and war.  But that is not to say that happiness is irrelevant to Confucianism.  My sense is that Confucius and Mencius both believe that if you live a morally good life, you will also be happy.  Happiness is a modern value, and if Confucianism is to be relevant in modern contexts it must, and it can, be framed in terms of happiness.  Again, I think what Yu Dan is doing by linking Confucianism to happiness is something that many Chinese people are looking to do.

She is also eclectic, seeing a role for Daoism and Buddhism in the repertoire of normative orientations that might inform a contemporary Chinese morality.  In general, she has a kind of cyclical-progressive understanding of how each of these three perspectives - Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism - relate to different stages or phases of social-political development.  Confucianism may be most useful in periods of material construction, or rapid social change, as in China now.  Daoism could become more relevant for those seeking post-materialist satisfaction.  And Buddhism might come into greater prominence when things go bad, and suffering has to be made meaningful.  Personally, I don't know if we need to create this sort of developmental framework to understand the various outlooks.  They all exist and circulate and provide meaning to people simultaneously now.   Syncretism is just another form of hybridity.

When I asked her directly about what Daoism can mean to Chinese people now, she was quick to answer: health - 养生.  Drawing on notions of qi and traditional Chinese medicine, which were shaped by Daoist religious practices, people here embrace a Daoist sensibility.  Even if TCM is deeply problematic, there may well be a diffuse cultural outlook, one that seeks to balance "hot" and "cold" or attune oneself to the qi-energy flow, that is Daoist, or maybe just Dao-esque, and continues to underwrite people's faith in traditional healing.  When I asked more specifically about the possible role of Daoist philosophy in China now, Yu did not think there would be much systematic application of it.  For her, Zhuangzi is also a source for a kind of individualistic therapeutic practice, not rigorous ethical argument. 

She asked about the United States as well, curious about how we handle the stresses and strains of modernity.  When I mentioned that family continues to be an important source of support and meaning for many Americans, she seemed a bit surprised.  That is not uncommon here.  The Chinese stereotype of America is a society run riot with individualism, a view that misses the continuing importance of social relationships and networks for most Americans.

I gave her a copy of my book and we talked about that as well. Though we have our stylistic differences (not quite so much chicken soup in my book) we have a good amount in common in how we think about what ancient Chinese thought can be in a modern context.   

Interview on "Roundtable" show on China Radio International

Had a good time yesterday with John Artman and Xiao Hua, hosts of a talk show, "Roundtable," on China Radio International.   We discussed teaching Confucianism in China, what Confucianism might be in China today, and a little bit of Daoism as well.  Here's a link for anyone who might be interested in listening.  It runs about twenty minutes and starts after about a minute of promo stuff.

More on Teaching Confucianism in China

Another busy week in the classroom here.  I want to respond to a couple of comments from my last post (I close comments after one week because of spam attacks) about my experience teaching Confucianism here now.

First up, J asks: "Have you considered asking your students in what ways is "Confucianism" in contemporary China similar to the various Confucianisms of the past?"

We have considered differences in what Confucianism can be now, anywhere, and what it was in ancient China.

One of the things I made sure to do was read several passages in The Analects that devalue women, especially 17.25: "The Master said, Women and small men are difficult to nurture. If you get too close to them, they become uncompliant, and if you stay too distant, they become resentful.(Enos translation - pdf).  A large majority of my class, about 23 out of 30, are young Chinese women.  I assume that they have some sense that Confucianism was used historically to dominate women, the May 4th critique, and I want to meet that head on. One has told me personally that she is a feminist and I'm sure others hold similar views. I used the word "misogynist," which was new to them in English.

I then went on to argue that for Confucianism to be viable in modern contexts, it must abandon its traditional tie to patriarchalism.  Neville brings this up in the opening of Boston Confucianism.  They tend to be rather quiet but I imagine some of them will agree with this, while others might just want to reject the idea that Confucianism should be revived and used as any sort of moral standard now.  I brought Chenyang Li's article,  "The Confucian Concept of Jen and Feminist Care Ethics: A Comparative Study," (pdf) into the conversation.  They seem fascinated that such things are argued about in English by serious academic philosophers.  The world of Chinese philosophy in the West is largely new to them, and it is still difficult to comprehend linguistically and intellectually. I'm giving them a lot to think about and I hope they continue to contemplate it after this short course is over.

Another question comes from blog-friend Bill Haines, asking about how students conceive of "individualism" and what might be its opposite in their minds.

This is a big topic, one that the students are reading about now.  I have assigned them two articles for Monday: Erica Brindley, "Moral Autonomy and Individual Sources of Authority in The Analects;" and Joseph Chan, "Moral Autonomy, Civil Liberties, and Confucianism."  I'm interested in how Confucianism might adapt to a liberal cultural context (I'm using "liberal" in a broad sense, recognizing its political and economic aspects but also framing it in cultural terms).  Most of them have only a rudimentary understanding of the concept (remember most have only just completed their first year in college and come from a wide varieties of majors).  Brindley and Chan will, I hope, get them thinking more deeply about what individual autonomy is and how it might not be as alien to Confucianism as they might think. 

On Wednesday I lectured for an hour and a half on liberalism, in both its classical and modern forms.  Whe I asked how many had ever heard of John Locke, only about five raised their hands. But one of those five came up after class to say that, in one of his other classes, they are discussion liberalism, and we talked about the comparison of John Rawls and Mencius.

For the most part, however, student comments tend to repeat a rather facile distinction of "West=individualism" v. "China=collectivism".  I push against this in various ways.  And some of them are very much aware that China now is far from any sort of ideal collectivism.  I don't think they have thought much about what the opposite of "individualism" might be, especially in China now, which is overrun by individualization.  That's the most interesting thing about being here now: society and culture are undergoing such rapid and destabilizing change, it's hard to pin down just what "Chinese" v. 'the West" might mean anymore.  It's cultural hybridity everywhere.

In writing their papers about what they understand to be the most significant concept in The Analects, several argued that "humanity" (ren) and "ritual" (li) were key and could offer something positive and constructive for the social dislocations of ultra-individualist America.  But some suggested that those same concepts might be helpful in similar ways in China now.  And I should say one of the most intriguing papers argued that the most significant concept in The Analects is "forgiveness."  It's not one of the standard Confucian virtues, but I think the student is on to something: the kind of self-cultivation that we might find in Confucius requires both forgiveness of ourselves when we err, and a forgiveness of others in the name of progress toward humanity.

 I will report back on what they make of Brindley and Chan.

Teaching Confucius in Beijing

I've been here over a week and have hardly had time to even think about blogging. It turns out that getting my class, "Confucianism in America," up and running has been a lot more time-consuming than I realized.  The central challenge is adapting my methods and expectations to this particular context. 

My students, all Chinese, are bright and hard working. Their English is good.  But almost all of them are undergraduates; only one graduate student.  Indeed,  26 of the 30 students have just finished their first year in college. Some of the readings I had originally selected would be difficult for junior and senior American students operating in their first language.  So, I had to scramble to cut back on some readings and find some new ones so as not to overwhelm them. 

Another challenge is the time intensity.  I teach double sessions, 8:00-9:30, 10:00-11:30  on Monday and Wednesday mornings.  I've never done such schedule and I did not really think it through.  I've had to rethink readings and topics and class room time in light of this. I think I have it worked out now.

This week we read English translations of The Analects and Mencius.  The students are obviously familiar with these thinkers.  They have read selections from these texts.  But most of them have not read the texts in their entirety, have not worked with the ideas in English, nor thought systematically about how ideas from these texts might relate to other philosophic or political concepts (universality, deontolgy, consequentialism, legitimate authority, etc.).  We spent three hours on each text, reading passages, talking about them.  I went in with a list of ideas to work on, but on neither day did I get through them all. As is the case with all my teaching I followed along where their questions and comments pointed.  We ranged about, hit upon some interesting comparisons, and generally had a good time.

I'm not sure what they think of it yet. Some are very engaged, eyes bright, reacting to my attempts at humor, asking good questions, making apt points. Others seem a bit detached, processing perhaps, and trying to figure out just what I am saying and doing.  It could seem a bit strange: a foreigner talking to them about how their ancient culture is understood (they might think misunderstood) by Americans. Is an "American Confucianism" still Confucianism?

I have instituted "question time" at the start of class, when they can ask me any question at all about America.  Today a young woman asked: why would Americans ever be interested in Confucianism, since the strong tradition and culture  of individualism in the US seems so contrary to the more collectivist ethic of Confucianism?  Great question. I responded (and I'm still thinking about this) that even though individualism is deeply rooted in American identity, it is all that there is to that identity.  Notions of "public service" and "civic mindedness" (Tocqueville comes to mind...) and a willingness to volunteer to help others with no expectation of personal reward are also important parts of the story.

On Monday, another asked if Americans still held to the "American Dream."  I imagine that the question was prompted by the current rhetoric here on the "China Dream."  But I told her that, for the most part, we don't talk much or explicitly about the "American Dream" these days. It was more a symbol of the early post-WWII era.  The 1960s injected a more critical element into the national discourse. Maybe I'm wrong about that (this piece, which I found after class, suggests otherwise), but I don't really think about it myself. The world seems so differnent now than the 1950s, the possibilities for mobility narrowed and transformed by globalization.

What's starting to happen is that they are making me think about my culture and society as I make them think about an element of their ancient culture in a new context. For them it is a question of whether Confucianism in America is still Confucianism; for me it's a question of whether Confucianim in America can be American.  We'll probably meet somewhere in the middle.

It's going to be a great July!

Confucius Statue on Renda campus

Universal Culture

Just back from a brief trip to Rome.  My first time there.  What a fantastic city.  We took a day trip as well to Assisi, the birthplace and resting place of St. Francis.  And while there I had a riveting experience that made my think of China and Confucianism.

We were in the lower basilica of the Basilica of St. Francis, having just emerged from the crypt of the saint himself, when suddenly the air filled with singing.  A clear and wonderful four part harmony curled through the stone arches and walls.  We walked toward the heavenly sound, turned a corner and saw a chorus of thirty or so young East Asian students, their gray-haired conductor swaying and waving before them.  Their voices lifted up and out and all around the sacred space.  We were transfixed by the ethereal melody.  It is impossible to capture in words the transcendent quality of the music.  When they finished, silence settled upon the small crowd that had gathered.  And then clapping, which came hesitatingly at first (were we supposed to clap in church?) but then heartily.  We were then treated to three more songs.

It turned out that these were high school students from Japan, pupils at a special institute for choral training.  They were truly extraordinary.

Afterward, as I strolled through the church and out into the hillside town, I started thinking about that performance.  These young Japanese people had just authentically [see comment below for why I am retracting this term] enacted an element of "Western" culture: Christian hymns sung in Latin in four part harmony.  I don't know if they were Christians themselves.  But it doesn't really matter if they were or not.  They had learned how to perform the culture and did so with flawless accuracy (hence my willingness to suggest that this was an "authentic" enactment of the culture [which I now am less willing to invoke]).  And this got me thinking more generally about culture and cultural diffusion.

Various different cultures have elements that are meant to be transferred to other contexts.  They are universalizable.  For "Western" culture (I don't like the meta-geographical generalization, "Western", but will use if for now...), Christianity fits this bill.  Indeed, that's what "catholic" has always meant to Catholics: "universal in extent."  And that is also true for other religious traditions.  Islam is open to all who care to convert, as is Buddhism and Hinduism (though will less demand for a specific "conversion" process).  Religion is not the only source of transferable culture but it is a notable one.  These traditions provide a system of beliefs and practices which, when they are taken up by any person anywhere at any time, produce a cultural identity grounded in both thought and behavior.  Again, one's religious identity may not be the totality of ones cultural identity, but it can be an important part.

It is that openness to diffusion that I want to focus on here.  Because that kind of openness also facilitates the movement of cultural practices free from a full acceptance of religious belief.  Again, those Japanese high school students may or may not have been Christians, but they could perform those hymns and their performance was welcomed by the other people in the church, many of whom were "Western" and some of whom were Christian, as an authentic enactment of an aspect of "their" culture.  The Japanese students were being "Western" at that moment. And the "Westerners" in the room recognized them as part of that cultural formation.

This kind of openness to diffusion is by no means peculiar to "Western" culture.  Think of the expansion of yoga in the US today, a practice originally rooted in South Asian religion but now widespread around the world. Other examples can be adduced...

To become universalized in these ways, a culture has to be seen and accepted as universalizable.  In religious traditions, this is often all for the good.  Converting or encouraging people into a set of beliefs and practices is what many religious thinkers and practitioners want to accomplish.  They want to universalize their culture.

And here is where I see a limitation in some of the current thinking about Confucianism.  On the one hand, some Chinese intellectuals see Confucianism as the basis of a new strand of universal culture.  They believe Confucianism can and should be universalized and diffused to other parts of the world.  For them, something like an "American Confucian" makes sense.  I ran into this kind of thinking way back in 2006 at a conference in Beijing on Confucianism and post-modernism.  And it reflects a very old way of conceiving of "Confucianism" as a civilized cultural practice that can and should move across political and social boundaries. 

But we know there is another perspective, one that sees Confucianism now as particularly "Chinese" and looks forward to using Confucianism as a part of a broader cultural-nationalist project.  This is how I understand Jiang Qing.  From this point of view, it makes little sense to think of Confucianism as universal nor that it should be universalized.  There can be no Confucian equivalent of those Japanese high school kids singing Christian hymns.  I don't agree with this position, but we have to recognize it as having a certain traction in China.

Of course, no one person or group can control the fate of cultural beliefs and practices.  Whether or not Jiang Qing thinks Confucianism is exclusively Chinese or not will not determine its global standing and prospects.  But cultural conservatives (here understood to be those people who try to hold on to nationalist-exclusivist understandings of "culture") are, in a way, undermining their own desires.  They want "Chinese culture" to have more prominence in the world and they believe the rising economic power of China will bring some sort of enhanced global presence.   But, at the same time, they obstruct the diffusion of aspects of "Chinese culture" because of their narrow nationalist aims. 

It seems that the bottom line is: if you want to see "your" culture gain greater global influence, you have to stop understanding it as "your" culture and let it open up to the world.  And if you facilitate that, beautiful and unexpected reanactments of "your" culture, in forms and places you might never have imagined, are possible.

Is Confucian Reciprocity a "Silver Rule"?

A friend of mine (thanks Karl!) sent me a link to a story in the Irish Times, way back on January 31: Unthinkable: Which ‘golden rule’ of ethics is best, the Christian or Confucian?  It is an interview with Yinya Liu, who lectures in philosophy at NUI Maynooth.  The central question concerns the difference between the "golden rule," most notably its Christian expression (i.e. do unto others as you would have them do unto you) and the so-called "silver rule," most famously in its Confucian form (i.e do not do to others what you would not want done to yourself).  

Before we get to the central issue here - whether ethical reciprocity stated in a positive way is substantially different than ethical reciprocity stated in a negative way - let me first dispense with the "gold" v. "silver" silliness. On the face of it, branding the Confucian perspective as "silver" is a devaluation.  I suspect it is the work of trans-lingual Jesuits, who came early to an understanding of Confucianism and worked hard to situate it in terms of Christianity.  We really need to let go of such hierarchical categories if we are to think clearly about the subtleties of ethical reciprocity.

Regarding those apparent differences, let me suggest two points.  First, at the end of the day, it seems to me that whether ethical reciprocity is expressed in a positive or a negative manner, we are still talking about the same thing: when thinking about the rightness or wrongness of a particular action or non-action, we should consider how we might evaluate the situation from the point of view of the other.   Liu suggests some differences in negative and positive formulations:

“In either case, it is about human desires and human wants. The positive way – the golden rule – will emphasise what kind of person we are. But the problem is each individual is different. For example, if I am a greedy person I want more from the others. So this is the problem with the golden rule, or the positive way.

“The negative formulation commands us not to do onto others what we ourselves do not desire. There is not the same subjective imposition of preferences so we can find more common ground in the negative rather than the positive.”

I don't think this makes much of a difference. In the example of the greedy person, it would still be the case that he or she would not want another to treat him or her greedily, especially to the extent of some kind of personal harm.  A masochist poses a greater challenge here, but this is obviously not in keeping with the spirit of the "golden rule."  It is an exception that proves the rule's general applicability.  Most of us, most of the time, are not masochists.  And, in any event, the problem of the masochist is not settled by a negative expression of ethical reciprocity.  

There are other problems with the "golden" rule, which are not settled by its "silver" expression.  Perhaps most notably: how do we know how another person wants to be treated?  Following our own preferences could violate the cultural and social norms of the other.  But, again, this need not be fatal for ethical reciprocity.  Obviously, making good moral choices, esepcially in inter-cultural contexts, can be a complex undertaking.  What ethical recipricity provides is a cautionary standard: would we be willing to accept the treatment, or indifference, we are ready to mete out to another?  Not a bad thing to keep in mind.  It may not be the only thing to keep in mind, but it can oftern be of good practical use.

There is a second point to make here: Confucianism is not simply a matter of negative ethical reciprocity.  There are a couple of well known expression of that notion in The Analects. 15.24 comes immediately to mind:

Zi Gong asked, saying, "Is there one word which may serve as a rule of practice for all one's life?" The Master said, "Is not RECIPROCITY such a word? What you do not want done to yourself, do not do to others."

子貢問曰：「有一言而可以終身行之者乎？」子曰：「其恕乎！己所不欲，勿施於人。」

As does 5.12:

Zi Gong said, "What I do not wish men to do to me, I also wish not to do to men." The Master said, "Ci, you have not attained to that."

子貢曰：「我不欲人之加諸我也，吾亦欲無加諸人。」子曰：「賜也，非爾所及也。」

Pretty clear statements of negative ethical reciprocity.  But that is hardly the whole story of Confucian ethics.  When you read the whole of The Analects, you find many expressions of positive reciprocity.  Here is one of my favorites, passage 6.30:

Zi Gong said, "Suppose the case of a man extensively conferring benefits on the people, and able to assist all, what would you say of him? Might he be called perfectly virtuous?" The Master said, "Why speak only of virtue in connection with him? Must he not have the qualities of a sage? Even Yao and Shun were still solicitous about this. Now the man of perfect virtue, wishing to be established himself, seeks also to establish others; wishing to be enlarged himself, he seeks also to enlarge others. To be able to judge of others by what is nigh in ourselves - this may be called the art of virtue."

子貢曰：「如有博施於民而能濟眾，何如？可謂仁乎？」子曰：「何事於仁，必也聖乎！堯舜其猶病諸！夫仁者，己欲立而立人，己欲達而達人。能近取譬，可謂仁之方也已。」

Those last couple of lines are as good an expression of the "golden rule" as you wil lfind: "...the man of perfect virtue, wishing to be established himself, seeks also to establish others; wishing to be enlarged himself, he seeks also to enlarge others...."  Or, more elegantly: 己欲立而立人.

So let's just stop with this "silver rule" silliness.