The Useless Tree

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.

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.   

Nelson Mandela: Daoist Sage

I'm reading obituaries of the great man, Nelson Mandela, who accomplished a transition to democracy in a divided and fraught South Africa. And I am reflecting on what I know of his life and how that experience has flowed through my own life: the anger at the horrendous system of apartheid; the frustration with conservative American apologists for apartheid; the hope at a 1987 Hugh Masekela concert when he sang "Mandela (Bring Him Back Home)"; the exhilaration at the1994 inauguration. Rarely in political history do we find as clear a sense of positive achievement as we do in the career of Mandela.

As a political leader, and a pragmatist, he was a complex man. His strategic vision of a multi-racial, democratic, constitutionally ordered South Africa required, at times, shifting tactics. He made mistakes, as we all do. But his world historical effect in realizing democratic transition is, ultimately, extraordinary.

Much has been written about Mandela, and much more will now come in retrospection, but here is something I noticed today: an echo of the Daodejing in his leadership style. Consider these lines from the NYT obituary:

In his autobiography, Mr. Mandela recalled eavesdropping on the endless consensus-seeking deliberations of the tribal council and noticing that the chief worked “like a shepherd.”

“He stays behind the flock,” he continued, “letting the most nimble go out ahead, whereupon the others follow, not realizing that all along they are being directed from behind.”

That would often be his own style as leader and president.

 And now these lines from Daodejing 66 (Hinton translation):

So, wanting to rule over the people a sage speaks from below them, and wanting to lead the people he follows along behind them,

then he can reign above without weighing the people down and stay ahead without leading the people to ruin.

 是以聖人欲上民，必以言下之；欲先民，必以身後之。是以聖人處上而民不重，處前而民不害

He didn't do this literally all the time.  Perhaps his most notable achievement - negotiating while in prison for his release and the beginnings of a democratic transition - was done, initially, without consulting his closest ANC allies.  He got out in front of them to lay the ground work for a process that required compromises they were likely to reject out of hand.  But as that process unfolded, after he was out of prison and working on the creation of a new constitution, he had to let the situation develop, see where certain people and political forces were headed, so that he could, in the end, guide them from behind and bring them to democracy without "leading the people to ruin." 

Another aspect of his political life has a Daoist resonance: at the end of his five-year term as President, he yielded power.  In doing so, he avoided repeating a common mistake of many others who have held on too long to power. He understood that only by letting go, by not doing (wuwei), would it be possible for democracy to develop.  South Africa is not a perfect place politically.  But I suspect it is much better off now as a result of Mandela's exemplary leadership, including relinquishment of power.

It could be argued that Mandela is far from a Daoist because he was so canny a strategist.  He did not just let things happen; rather, he worked hard to move events toward his preferred outcome.  In that way, he had a bit of Sunzi in him, as in this calculation:

Mr. Mandela seated his visitors [other ANC leaders] at a table and patiently explained his view that the enemy was morally and politically defeated, with nothing left but the army, the country ungovernable. His strategy, he said, was to give the white rulers every chance to retreat in an orderly way. He was preparing to meet Mr. de Klerk, who had just taken over from Mr. Botha.

As Sunzi (Griffith, 7.30-7.32) says:

Do not thwart an enemy returning homewards.

To a surrounded enemy you must leave a way of escape.

Do not press an enem at bay.

 歸師勿遏，圍師必闕，窮寇勿迫

This is a remarkable insight, given Mandela's historical context. It would have been easy to rush unrestrained toward the complete destruction of the white power structure that had repressed him and so many others. But he was looking beyond immediate victory toward the creation of something larger and more lasting.  He might be criticized for allowing the oppressers to retain signficant portions of their power, especially their economc power, but he understood that in doing so political power could be secured for the majority in a relatively peaceful manner.

And maybe he intuitively understood this line from Sunzi (I don't know if he directly studied the text):

Now an army may be likened to water, for just as flowing water avoids the heights and hastens to the lowlands, so an army avoids strengths and strikes weaknesses.

And as water shapes its flow in accordance with the ground, so an army manages its victory in accordance with the situation of the enemy.

And as water has no constant form, there are in war no constant conditions.

夫兵形象水，水之形，避高而趨下：兵之形，避實而擊虛；水因地而制流，兵因敵而制勝。故兵無常勢，水無常形；

(Griffith, 6.27-6.29)

Mandela adapted himself and his strategy to the circumstances that surrounded him and thus found a way through to the outcome he wanted most: constitutional democracy.   And that sense of water-like adaptabilty to circumstance and sensitivity to context is something that Sunzi shares with Daoism.

I don't want to make too much of the Daoist themes here. Mandela was obviously more than that.  So, we'll give him the last word:

During my lifetime I have dedicated myself to this struggle of the African people. I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.

Confucianism from the bottom-up

After my most pleasant China trip, I am coming to a conclusion: Confucianism works best in the world, especially in the modern world, when it operates as a form of practical ethics, providing ideas that can inform how individuals navigate challenging decisions in their personal lives.  Such an approach can be distinguished from another, which employs Confucianism as a framework for law and the legitimation of state power.  I will call the former "bottom-up" Confucianism, and the latter "top-down" Confucianism.  Or we might even invoke an economics analogy (though I have not thought through all of the connotations of it): micro-Confucianism v. macro-Confucianism. 

Let me stipulate at the outset, when I use the term "practical ethics" to describe bottom-up, micro-Confucianism, I do not mean to imply any connection to Peter Singer's famous book of that title. Those who know my writing, know that I have argued directly against Singer's utilitarianism. But I like the term "pratical ethics," especially as it signifies something that lies between "applied ethics" and "philosophy," as is suggested here.  I do not want to simply cede the term to Singer.

That said, I have only recently, with the completion of my book, come to the realization that Confucianism works best as a bottom-up practical ethics.  Indeed, I mentioned this during my podcast conversation with the Sinica people, and Kaiser Kuo pushed back, making the point that The Analects and Mencius have a top-down, macro-political aspect. And that is true. But it is also true that these books are focused on how individuals can and should live good lives.  Moreover, when we consider the conceptual balance between the mirco and macro aspects of pre-Qin Confucianism, the micro has a more significant weight.

Simply put, it is only when people are conscientiously working to do the right things in their personal lives (enact 义 according to 礼 to progress toward 仁) that it becomes possible for macro-political justice and harmony to be realized.  Think of these passages from The Analects:

Someone questioned Confucius, saying, Why aren't you in government?

The Master said, The Book of Documents says: Filial, only be filial, a friend to elder and younger brothers - this contributes to government. To do this is in fact to take part in government.  Why must I be "in government"?  (Watson)

 或謂孔子曰：「子奚不為政？」子曰：「《書》云：『孝乎惟孝、友于兄弟，施於有政。』是亦為政，奚其為為政？」2.21

 Duke Jing of Qi questioned Confucius about government. Confucius replied, Let the ruler be a ruler, the subject,a subject; the father, a father; the son, a son.

The duke said, Splendid! For if indeed the ruler is not a ruler, the subject not a subject, the father not a father, the son not a son, then although there is grain, will I be able to eat it? (Watson)

齊景公問政於孔子。孔子對曰：「君君，臣臣，父父，子子。」公曰：「善哉！信如君不君，臣不臣，父不父，子不子，雖有粟，吾得而食諸？」12.11

 2.21 suggests that "government" is rooted in, and emerges out of, filiality.  To be a good ruler, one must first be good at fulfilling one's familial and social duties. It is in the cultivation of our closest loving relationships that we devlop the kind of ethical discernment that allows us to become good leaders.  Government, in this sense, relies upon a bottom-up process of creating moral goodness in our personal lives.  

Similarly, 12.11 suggests that it is only when individuals are fulfilling their duties at all levels of society, from both the top-down and bottom-up, will good government be realized.  But it should be noted that Confucian expectations for how a ruler should be a ruler are oriented to the broader micro-social processes of practical ethics.  Rulers cannot force people to do the right thing, they should not attempt to impose right action from the top down; but, rather, rulers should exemplify right action in all that they do.  If a ruler fails to do the right thing in his or her own personal life, then he or she is no longer fit to be a ruler, because they have set a bad example for the myriad people in society who are trying conscientiously to do the right thing in their personal lives.  In other words, the top-down, macro-political aspect of Confucianism is measured by how well it facilitates bottom-up micro-Confucianism. The latter is the defining standard of the former.

There is a danger when Confucianism is invoked as a basis for law and legitimation of state power, as Jiang Qing wants to do. Law and bureaucracy, by definition, seek out universality and impersonalism. That is, law and bureaucracy are concerned with the consistent and routine application of principles across all specific cases.  When those practices are rigidly institutionalized, the space for particularlistic judgment is narrowed.  And Confucian ethics requires a relatively free social and political space that permits the exercise of moral agency to determine what, precisely, is the right thing to do in particular circumstances.

Think of Shun, the most filial sage-king of legend.  Long story short: he decided, when confronted with a particular moral dilemma, that the most filial thing to do was disobey his father. Now, coming to that sort of conclusion (which is heralded by Mencius as morally astute) required a certain agency and a certain legal and political freedom to exercise that agency.  He would have not been able to follow through on this decision as he did if law or state power limited his freedom of thought and action.

The problem is exacerbated under conditions of the modern state, where surveillance and repressive powers are so extensive.  If political and legal power are highly centralized, without sufficient checks to keep them from impinging upon the personal freedom necessary for moral agency, then Confucianism cannot be fully realized in society.  People will be too hemmed in by state power and will not be able to make the kinds of nuanced judgments and actions that Shun exemplifies.

Confucianism operates best, then, in conditions of relative political and social freedom.  Concomitantly, if Confucianism is used to authorize concentrations of political and legal power, it runs the risk of limiting personal freedom and undermining the moral agency required for the realization of 仁 in the world.  Obviously, the freedom required for the moral success of micro-Confucianism is not unlmited; it is not a matter of everyone just doing what they want.  It is, however, a matter of everyone doing what they determine, after careful consideration, they must do if they are to do the right thing.

Ultimately, Confucianism from the top-down should not be allowed to get in the way of Confucianism from the bottom-up.

(photo, "The Marginal Poet Mucao" by Wei Yi, at Moganshan Lu)

Social Mobility as a Destroyer of Confucian Culture

My China trip continues to go well. I'm in Shanghai now, by way of Nanjing, where I spent one night and gave a talk at the Hopkins-Nanjing Center (good to see my old friend Milo!). Here in the big city I had a great time up at Fudan University with Bai Tongdong and his students in the Master's program in Chinese philosophy there. And then last night a good time was had with the Hopkins China Forum. Thanks to everyone who made these events possible.

I traveled by train from Beijing to Nanjing to Shanghai. The new high-speed rail (gaotie). Although there are questions about how the system has been financed, it is a great ride: very well organized, very smooth, and, yes, very fast. Sitting on that train, watching the scenery race by outside the window, and thinking about Confucianism (which is just what I do), I returned to the question of how that ancient way of thinking might be able to survive in a thriving, high-speed modern society.

As regular readers might remember, I have taken up this issue before, and I am generally of the mind that China is not now a "Confucian society."  Of course that statement relies upon how we might define "Confucian society," and I realize that there is counterargument (which a participant brought up at my talk last night).  It's a big and complex question.  But, even after considering the possibility that China is a "Confucian society," I still come down on the other side: that it is not.

And one big dynamic that limits the expression of Confucianism in China is social mobility.

China today is an incredibly mobile society - an observation that has a certain clarity about it when it enters one's mind while hurtling through the countryside at something like 190 MPH.  People now move from the countryside to the cities at increasing pace (even if they do not ride the bullet train).  Indeed, more people now live in urban areas than in rural villages.  Once in the cities, people continue to be mobile: they change jobs; they gain education; they embrace new social and cultural practices.  If we think of "mobility" in its broadest sense - people moving not only physically but psychically and cognitively as well - the incredible dynamism of contemporary China can be captured in its fullness. Everything about this place is on the move.

And that's a problem for Confucianism.  There's a way that the Confucian project of building humanity, 仁 , in the world requires a kind of rootedness. In order to understand specific familial and social duties, 義, we need to near at hand to those we should be closest to.  I can't really know what my mother or father or sister or brother might require of me if I am a thousand miles away distracted by work and other entanglements. Or if I do come to know, I may not be able to carry through with doing the right thing in just the right manner, 礼.

Now, it might be possible to appropriately and meaningfully fulfill one's familial duties even when far away.  But, historically in China, the overwhelmingly common experience was proximity to family.  That is the social world in which Confucianism emerged and that it presumes philosophically.  Most Chinese people for most of Chinese history lived in villages, and those who lived in towns and cities were firmly embedded in their immediate social relationships.  Before the twentieth century, it is probabaly safe to say that for the vast majority of people there was really nowhere to run and nowhere to hide from family duties.  And perhaps most people didn't want to run and hide from those obligations.

But that was then.  The twentieth century literally blew up Chinese society, scattering families far and wide from their original locations and vocations.  And the rapid economic transformations of the past thirty years have accelerated and deepened that dispersion.  People now move not because of war or famine but for jobs and personal betterment.

That's a thing about modernity: it changes the way we think about ourselves as selves and in relation to others. "Betterment" shifts from social understanding to a more individualist understanding.  Mobility detaches us from others, and throws us in with new groups, and in the process we depend less on defining ourselves in relation to a settled family unit (which itself is no longer settled) as we now must define ourselves more dynamically, moving through society instead of being embedded in it.

That's a very different social context for Confucianism.  Again, perhaps it can be adapted to modernity, but that adaptation will have to deal squarely with the challenge of mobility, in all of its forms, or fast-paced Chinese city dwellers will leave Confucianism behind as they speed along in their bullet trains.

Mozi on the House Republicans

Yesterday, as I was watching the political debacle in DC unfold on my Twitter feed, I was simultaneously proof-reading a piece for the upcoming Berkshire Dictionary of Chinese Biography. I have written an entry for Mozi, the great pre-Qin philosopher who inspired a significant school of thought, Mohism.  I should say right up front that I am not a Mohist. Their politics are overly authoritarian for my tastes; but I am fascinated by Mozi: how he developed a utilitarian and empiricist philosophy - quite an alternative to Confucianism - but also how he fell into utter irrelevance after the Qin dynasty.  Maybe they should make a movie about him...

In any event, there was John Boehner, going down to crushing defeat as the Republican caucus in the House fractured into factional in-fighting.  The center did not hold because there was no center, just small groups of self-interested political actors driven by narrow ideological concerns.  "Herding cats" hardly captures the chaos.  And then my eyes shifted to this passage from Mozi:

Master Mo Zi spoke, saying: “Ancient times, when people first came into being, were times when there were as yet no laws or government, so it was said that people had differing principles. This meant that, if there was one person, there was one principle; if there were two people, there were two principles; and if there were ten people, there were ten principles. The more people there were, the more things there were that were spoken of as principles. This was a case of people affirming their own principles and condemning those of other people. The consequence of this was mutual condemnation. In this way, within a household, father and sons, and older and younger brothers were resentful and hostile, separated and dispersed, and unable to reach agreement and accord with each other. Throughout the world, people all used water and fire, and poisons and potions to injure and harm one another. As a result, those with strength to spare did not use it to help each other in their work, surplus goods rotted and decayed and were not used for mutual distribution, and good doctrines were hidden and obscured and not used for mutual teaching. So the world was in a state of disorder comparable to that amongst the birds and beasts. (Johnston, 91)

Pretty much captures the extraordinary ineptitude of the contemporary Republican party: "The more people there were, the more things there were that were spoken of as principles. This was a case of people affirming their own principles and condemning those of other people." Perhaps we should subject these people to the kinds of punishment Mozi also recommended:

Those who were unworthy [were] curbed and demoted, impoverishing them and debasing them by making them followers and servants. (Johnston, 63)

Does Ted Cruz do windows?  He should....

Daoist Gun Control Redux

I posted this in January, but the inhuamnity of American gun culture requires us to return, again and again, to the sad topic of firearm violence:

 

 The Daodejing takes a dim view of weapons.  Passage 31 begins (Legge translation):

Now arms, however beautiful, are instruments of evil omen, hateful, it may be said, to all creatures. Therefore they who have the Dao do not like to employ them.

夫佳兵者，不祥之器，物或惡之，故有道者不處。

This is not simply an anti-war message, though the Daodejing can be seen as generally anti-war.  The aversion to arms runs deeper. Weapons distort our humanity.  They take us away from allowing Dao to unfold as it will; they are instruments of coercive intervention that often do more harm than good.  In a well-ordered society, as in passage 80, they are unnecessary (Eno translation):

Though there be armor and weaponry, they shall not be deployed.

雖有甲兵，無所陳之.

Weapons bring out the worst in people.  They make us think that we can easily dominate others, take what we want without fear of reprisal.  They instill a false sense of power: yes, a gun would allow me to kill a person right here and now, and the fear of that sort of violent death may well cause that person to do what I want right here and now.  But this is a false power because, over time, that coercive force will reach its limit, or it may even inspire counteractions that are more powerful.  A gun may facilitate a victory today, but it cannot bring victories forever.

The wretched "debate" on gun control in the US misses most of this.  Gun zealots hold an impoverished view of society, one that presumes the complete absence of civility.  All they can think of is violent attack against their persons that they believe they can somehow prevent with a firearm.  They resist data that suggest gun ownvership brings an increased likelihood of accidental harm and suicide.  Due to the power of the gun lobby, advocates of stricter regulation are reduced to the narrowest proposals for limiting the availability of fire arms.  Thus, American society is flooded with guns, and grows coarser because of it.

Guns also undermine democracy.  Think about it: democracy requires freedom of expression.  Open, rational debate, with the possibility of peacefully persuading others of your position is the ideal.  Firearms distort that process.  The coercive potential they represent can silence people, weakening the give and take that democracy require.  Interestingly, although not a treatise on democracy, the Daodejing seems to understand this in passage 36 (Hinton):

Fish should be kept in their watery depths: a nation's honed instruments of power should be kept well-hidden from the people.

魚不可脫於淵，國之利器不可以示人。

This statement will not doubt enrage gun owners who resist reasonable regulation.  They will see in it a conspiracy on the part of state power-holders to dominate the population. But that ignores the prior point that state power-holders themselves should not rely upon weapons.  The point of passage 36 is that "soft and weak overcome hard and strong" (柔弱勝剛強).  Fishes find natural comfort in the depths; and people will find their best natural expressions when weapons are not ostentatiously displayed.

Americans can learn something from the Daodejing here: weapons weaken our humanity.

chart source

Sunzi: Against US action in Syria

The impending US strike against Syria brings Sunzi to mind.

On the face of it, it appears to be a failure of strategy and policy.  The most famous aphorism from Sunzi is 3.3 (from the Griffith translation; Chinese from China Text Project):

For to win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill.

是故百戰百勝，非善之善者也；不戰而屈人之兵，善之善者也

But this hardly exhausts what Sunzi might contribute to the matter. In a personal communication the other day, a military historian remarked that Sunzi is perhaps the most problematic of the classic texts on strategy because it suggests that victory is possible without doing the hard work of actually fighting.  This is, to my mind, an incomplete critique. The famous win-without-fighting idea describes a best case scenario, and it orients strategic thinking to broader contextual and longer-term thinking. The text also has much to say about how to go about the hard work of actually fighting if the best case scenario is unattainable.

And that is very much what the Syrian situation is now. From a realist perspective, It is hard to see a good outcome in terms of US foreign policy.  Regime change could very much turn against US interests: a reconstituted Syrian state could take on an even more anti-American posture than Assad.  But a victorious Assad might also pose more problems for the US than he has in the past. Thus, any use of US force will have to be limited because decisively tipping the military balance in one direction or the other is not necessarily in US interests.  And that seems to be what Obama and his military planners have in mind: impose a discrete punishment on Assad for using chemical weapons.

But it is not at all clear what that will accomplish, either.  It may mark certain kinds of actions - use of chemical weapons - as out of bounds.  But Assad was hanging on without relying of such actions.  It might assauge some sense of moral outrage. But if it does not really impact the military balance, then it does nothing to forestall more morally reprehensible actions in the future.  What if next week, after US airstrikes, Assad's forces kill twice the number of innocents by conventional means.  Will the US bomb again?   As long as the horrible civil war grinds on, there will be no end of moral outrages.

So, it is hard to see what will be gained by bombing Syria. And innocents might be killed in the process, which becomes the ultimate reason to oppose it.

But what would Sunzi do? 

Although he certainly values economy (i.e. not using more force nor killing more people than necessary), and counsels speed and avoidance of protracted warfare, he also recognizes that some situations favor an offensive strike (Chinese source):

One defends when his strength is inadequate; he attacks when it is abundant.

守則不足，攻則有餘

Compared with Syria at this point, the US is certainly in the position to attack. And that attack can unfold as Sunzi expects:

    ...those skilled in attack move as from above the ninefold heavens.

善攻者，動于九天之上

That is pretty much how the US will do it: from the air.

But the key question is: what should be attacked? Simply deciding between bombing Syria's remaiing chemical weapons capability or taking a somewhat wider approach to degrading its military forces is, from Sunzi's point of view, inadequate. The use of force must be strategically oriented:

Thus, what is of supreme importance in war it to attack the enemy's strategy:

故上兵伐謀

What is Assad's strategy? Survival is his most likely priority.  But, as mentioned above, the US cannot really attack that because his fall is not necessarily the best outcome for the Us. Thus, as long as the longer-term strategic interests of the US remain uncertain, there is no real rationale for an attack of any sort.

Just because the US has the offensive advantage and can attack does not mean that it strategically should attack. Sunzi's ultimate advice to Obama in this circumstance would be:

If not in the interest of the state, do not act. If you cannot succeed, do not use troops. If you are not in danger, do not fight.

非利不動，非得不用，非危不戰

How Bo Xilai might emerge as a Latter Day Confucian Hero

OK, this is a bit far-fetched, but bear with me....

I have been absorbed these past two days with the Bo Xilai trial (an 18 minute video backgrounder by WSJ here). On Wednesday night (Thursday morning Jinan time) I followed various twitter feeds and live blogs as Bo took the stand and rejected the charges against him.  He described the testimony of one prosecution witness as: "...the ugly performance of a person selling his soul.” And today (Friday, August 23rd), when confronted with an 11 minute video of his wife providing evidence against him, he brusquely dismissed her: "...she’s crazy, she always tells lies.”  Bo is obviously not going quietly.

And this raises all sorts of questions about what is going on here. On the face of it, it is hard to believe that the Party leadership is happy with this turn of events. The case is revealing seamy details of how the CCP elite uses its power to amass and conceal vast wealth.  And Bo is not simply admitting that he is some sort of bad apple (the Neil Heywood murder was pinned on his wife).  He is rejecting the very idea that he has committed any offenses here and, in doing so, is suggesting that he is not so different than Xi Jinping or Wen Jiabao.  Indeed, the discomfort of the powers-that-be might have been expressed in the variation in access to information.  On the first day of trial, the local court provided regular Weibo tweets and timely transcripts.  On the second day, information was more tightly controlled.  Perhaps some worries in Zhongnanhai?

It is also hard to believe that the orchestrators of this extraordinary bit of political theater were not aware that Bo would be defiant.  And if they did know that, what did they think they were going to gain politically from the image of an unbowed Bo beaming out to the world?  It is likely that Bo's stature among his many Maoist-esque sympathisers is only growing stronger from this performance.

So, the politics of all this are far from settled. There is much here that will be re-imagined and reincarnated in the future.  It's all rather sordid and corrupt.  Hard to see how anyone in the PRC leadership, especially Bo himself, comes out of this a hero. But it's possible.

In striking a pose of defiance, Bo has taken the first step toward redemption.  He is rejecting the idea that he is somehow different from others at the very top of the power heirarchy.  But to gain the upper hand in moral-political terms, he has to take another step: assert that his fall has transformed him.  If he comes out and says something like: "yes, now I see how immoral this entire lifestyle has been and I reject it and will live a simpler, more upright life from here on."  And if he follows that with a call for all of the other corrupt high officials to also renounce their abuses of power and embrace righteousness, he could retain his political viability.  He would be the man who changed, the elite politician who had reveled in the fruits of corruption but who now is tranformed by adversity into the one honest man at the top.  And if he did that he could call on some Confucian imagery to help him along.

Redemptive transformation is a key aspect of Confucian moral theory.  We all struggle as we work to do the right thing in the world. We all make mistakes, we all do wrong at various times.  But the whole point of Confucianism is perfectibility: we can do good again. If we recognize our past and current transgressions, we can do better moving forward. This is why Confucius and Mencius tirelessly preached to the political elites of their day: they believed that corrupt and devious power-holders could be shown the folly of their ways and be turned to right action.

Both Confucius and Mencius point out that the sages of old made mistakes, but when they did err, they owned up publicly.   Here is Analects 19.21 (Hinton):

Adept Kung 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."

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。」

This image is repeated in Mencius 2B.9 (we might take such repetitions as a kind of emphasis). When asked by a follower, "Then even sages make mistakes?", Mencius is said to have replied (Bloom):

"...when the noble persons of antiquity made mistakes, they corrected them, whereas the noble persons of today persist in their errors. The mistakes of the noble persons of antiquity were like eclipses of the sun and moon. The people could all see them.  Once they had corrected their mistakes, the people looked up to them.  And do the noble persons of today only persist in their mistakes?  No, they also go on to make excuses for them."

That is a possibility that presents itself to Bo Xilai now: he could distinguish himself from the "noble persons of today" (the irony of Mencius is palpable...), who not only persist in their corruption but make excuses for it, by correcting his faults and gaining a certain moral charisma.  The people would look up to him.

Self-rectification is a hallmark of Confucian leadership, as per Analects 13.6 (Hinton):

The Master said: "A ruler who has rectified himself never gives orders, and all goes well. A ruler who has not rectified himself gives orders, and the people never follow them."

子曰：「苟正其身矣，於從政乎何有？不能正其身，如正人何？」

But to become that guy, that guy who others want to follow without orders, Bo needs to make a public display of his moral transfomation.  He needs to go large in owning up to the immorality of his earlier life, like an eclipse of the sun.  It's not clear if he will be that guy.  His personality might keep him from accepting such humiliation.  But the political payoff could be significant.

OK, it may seem strange that a sleazy Party boss who had been positioning himself as a political heir to Mao (singing red songs and all that) might be recreated as a Confucian gentleman.  But similarly strained analogies have taken hold in China's not too distant past.  Peng Dehuai, a hardened revolutionary general who had supported the Anti-Rightist Campaign in 1957, spoke truth to power against the Maoist insantiy of the Great Leap Forward in 1959 and was later lionized a a latter day Hai Rui. 

The circumstances now are quite different, and it's hard to see Bo as a contemporary avatar of Hai Rui, but Confucianism has historically been quite forgiving of elite malfeasance - if it is followed by rectification.  There might still be some Confucian consolation for Bo yet.

His trial in Jinan is quite close to Qufu, the birthplace of Confucius himself.  After the inevitable determination of his guilt and his sentencing, if Bo asks for copies of The Analects and Menicus to take with him to prison, who knows what political rehabilitation might be possible.....

What Does the Ideological Crack-Down Mean for China's Confucians?

The old Twitter feed lit up yesterday afternoon with links to Chris Buckley's story in the NYT: "China Takes Aim at Western Ideas."  The lede:

Communist Party cadres have filled meeting halls around China to hear a somber, secretive warning issued by senior leaders. Power could escape their grip, they have been told, unless the party eradicates seven subversive currents coursing through Chinese society.

These seven perils were enumerated in a memo, referred to as Document No. 9, that bears the unmistakable imprimatur of Xi Jinping, China’s new top leader. The first was “Western constitutional democracy”; others included promoting “universal values” of human rights, Western-inspired notions of media independence and civic participation, ardently pro-market “neo-liberalism,” and “nihilist” criticisms of the party’s traumatic past.

A fuller Chinese version of the document is here.

This is a reassertion, apparently in more robust form, of the "seven don't mentions"
 - 七不讲 - which were rolled out earlier this year.  And it is accompanied by a continuing emphasis, expecialliy by General Secretary Xi Jinping, on Maoist-Marxist ideology as the foundation of PRC political-economy.  This narrowing of the avenues for political expression raises some interesting questions about the possibiities for further "reform" in the PRC.  But I want to take the conversation in a different direction: what does this revival of state-socialist ideological orthodoxy portend for those in China who are working to bring some sort of "Confucianism" to the political fore?

Remember: back in January, when the Southern Weekend incident occurred, an event that seems to have inspired the current repressive ideological backlash, a group of self-proclaime "Confucians" came forward to defend the ideal of constitutionalism. I was impressed then at their effort, and I blogged it: "Confucian Constsitutionalism in defense of Freedom of Expression."  As I look back to that post now, however, it seems that the link to the key document is no longer operative - perhaps a victim of the unfolding crack-down (for the record it was entitled: 中国儒者就《南方周末》新年献辞事件告天下书.  And, among other points, it stated:

国民自由表达各种意见，包括直接批评当政者，作为一项政治价值和宪制原则，始终内在于中华文明的优良政治传统中。

National freedom to express every sort of opinion, including direct criticism of power-holders, is a political and constitutional principle that has always been inherent in the excellent political traditions of Chinese civilization.

A refreshingly straightforward defense of freedom of expression.  And one that is in keeping with the political assumptions of Confucianism itself, which requires a sphere of individual moral autonomy to allow persons to determine how best to define and carry out their filial and family and social duties (for a fuller explication of this argument see Erica Brindley,"Moral Autonomy and Individual Sources of Authority in The Analects," pdf here).

But the constitutionalism debate has taken a distressing turn of late: the first of the seven ideological no-nos in Document number 9 is "Western constitutional democracy."  Thus, the political position that the Confucians had staked out in January is now quite clearly out of bounds.

What will the Confucians do?  If it is true that a certain realm of personal freedom, which would include freedoms of belief and expression, is necessary to make progress toward the moral goal of ren - 仁 - then it would seem rather obvious that Confucians will have to stand against the current ideological crackdown.  But Confucians in China have, since long about the Han dynasty, generally not challenged state power in defense of their beliefs.  Rather, they have attempted to work with and through power-holders to gain a political foundation for implementing their political philosophy.  This strategy worked quite well for long stretches of imperial history.  From the twentieth century onward, however: not so much.

It may be unfair, from my position safe from the repressive reach of the PRC state, to expect Chinese Confucians to take on what might be considerable political risk in standing up to the anti-Confucian ideological crack-down by the PRC, but the question nonetheless lingers: will they resist?

On the face of it, the most immediate problem facing the deepening of Confucianism in China is not "Western" liberalism but the expanding ideological power of the CCP.   And, at some point, if they truly want to make Confucianism more relevant to the lives of more Chinese people, Chinese Confucians will have to take a public political stand against the current ideological tide.

Let's see what happens...