Li Y Perkins. Chinese Metaphysics And Its Problems

Contents

List of contributors Acknowledgments Introduction chenyang li and franklin perkins

page vii x

1

1

Yinyang narrative of reality: Chinese metaphysical thinking robin r. wang 16

2

In defense of Chinese qi-naturalism jeeloo liu

33

What is a thing (wu 物)? The problem of individuation in early Chinese metaphysics franklin perkins

54

The Mohist conception of reality chris fraser

69

Reading the Zhongyong “metaphysically” roger t. ames

85

3

4 5 6

7

8 9

Logos and dao: conceptions of reality in Heraclitus and Laozi jiyuan yu

105

Constructions of reality: metaphysics in the ritual traditions of classical China michael puett

120

Concepts of reality in Chinese Mahāyāna Buddhism hans-rudolf kantor

130

Being and events: Huayan Buddhism’s concept of event and Whitehead’s ontological principle vincent shen

152 v

Contents

vi

10

11 12

Harmony as substance: Zhang Zai’s metaphysics of polar relations brook ziporyn

171

A lexicography of Zhu Xi’s metaphysics john berthrong

192

Xiong Shili’s understanding of the relationship between the ontological and the phenomenal john makeham

207

Works cited Index

224 237

Chinese Metaphysics and its Problems

This volume of new essays is the first English-language anthology devoted to Chinese metaphysics. The essays explore the key themes of Chinese philosophy, from pre-Qin to modern times, starting with important concepts such as yinyang and qi and taking the reader through the major periods in Chinese thought – from the classical period, through Chinese Buddhism and Neo-Confucianism, into the twentieth-century philosophy of Xiong Shili. They explore the major traditions within Chinese philosophy, including Daoism and Mohism, and a broad range of metaphysical topics, including monism, theories of individuation, and the relationship between reality and falsehood. The volume will be a valuable resource for upper-level students and scholars of metaphysics, Chinese philosophy, or comparative philosophy, and with its rich insights into the ethical, social, and political dimensions of Chinese society it will also interest students of Asian studies and Chinese intellectual history. chenyang li is Associate Professor of Philosophy and the founding Director of the Philosophy program at Nanyang Technological University, Singapore. His publications include The Confucian Philosophy of Harmony (2013), The Tao Encounters the West: Explorations in Comparative Philosophy (1999), The East Asian Challenge for Democracy: Political Meritocracy in Comparative Perspective (edited with Daniel Bell, Cambridge, 2013), and Moral Cultivation and Confucian Character: Engaging Joel J. Kupperman (edited with Peimin Ni, 2014). franklin perkins is Professor of Philosophy at DePaul University, Chicago, and Visiting Professor in Philosophy at Nanyang Technological University, Singapore. His publications include Leibniz and China: A Commerce of Light (Cambridge, 2004), Leibniz: A Guide for the Perplexed (2007), and Heaven and Earth Are Not Humane: The Problem of Evil in Classical Chinese Philosophy (2014).

Chinese Metaphysics and its Problems Edited by

Chenyang Li and Franklin Perkins

University Printing House, Cambridge CB2 8BS, United Kingdom Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning and research at the highest international levels of excellence. www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781107093508 © Cambridge University Press 2015 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2015 A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloguing in Publication data Chinese metaphysics and its problems / edited by Chenyang Li and Franklin Perkins. pages cm Includes index. ISBN 978-1-107-09350-8 (hardback) 1. Metaphysics. 2. Philosophy, Chinese. I. Li, Chenyang, 1956– editor. II. Perkins, Franklin, editor. III. Wang, Robin. Yinyang narrative of reality. BD111.C445 2015 181′.11–dc23 2014042201 ISBN 978-1-107-09350-8 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Acknowledgments

The editors would most of all like to express their gratitude to Professor Alan K. L. Chan, Dean of the College of Humanities, Arts, and Social Sciences. Alan has been involved in this project at every stage, from attaining the generous grant that initiated it to providing comments on various drafts of the manuscript, giving encouragement all along the way. We are also grateful to the Centre for Liberal Arts and Social Sciences at the Nanyang Technological University and to Ang Wee Li and Leo Chung Hoe Gary for their dedicated service in support of the Conceptions of Reality: Metaphysics and Its Alternatives in Chinese Thought conference held at Nanyang Technological University on March 29–30, 2013, from which this volume was generated. Our sincere thanks also go to Michael Puett and Brook Ziporyn, who participated in the initial conception of this project; to Yong Huang, So Jeong Park, and Sor-hoon Tan for their participation in the conference and for providing valuable comments on the papers; to Li Jifen and Sun Qingjuan for their assistance with the conference as well as their able technical assistance in helping prepare the manuscript; and last, but not least, to our editor at Cambridge University Press, Hilary Gaskin, for her guidance along the way in publishing this volume, and John Gaunt, for his fine work in editing the manuscript. Part of this project was supported by a grant (M4081062.100) from Nanyang Technological University.

x

Contributors

roger t. ames is Professor of Philosophy at the University of Hawai’i, Manoa. His recent publications include Thinking Through Confucius (with D. L. Hall, 1987), Anticipating China: Thinking Through the Narratives of Chinese and Western Culture (with D. L. Hall, 1995), Thinking from the Han: Self, Truth, and Transcendence in Chinese and Western Culture (with D. L. Hall, 1997), and Confucian Role Ethics: A Vocabulary (2011). He is also editor of Philosophy East and West, and has translated many Chinese philosophical classics, including The Chinese Classic of Family Reverence: A Philosophical Translation of the Xiaojing (with H. Rosemont, 2009). john berthrong is Associate Professor of Comparative Theology at Boston University. His publications include Confucianism: A Short Introduction (with Evelyn Nagai Berthrong, 2000), Confucianism in Dialogue Today: West, Christianity & Judaism (with Liu Shu-hsien and Leonard Swidler, 2004), All under Heaven: Transforming Paradigms in Confucian–Christian Dialogue (2006), and Expanding Process: Exploring Philosophical and Theological Transformations in China and the West (2008). chris fraser is Associate Professor in the Department of Philosophy at the University of Hong Kong. He is the author of The Philosophy of Mozi: The First Consequentialists (forthcoming). hans-rudolf kantor is Associate Professor and Chair of the Graduate Institute of East Asian Humanities at Huafan University in Taibei. He has published articles in journals including Philosophy East and West, Journal of Chinese Philosophy, and Asian Philosophy. chenyang li is Associate Professor of Philosophy at Nanyang Technological University, Singapore. His publications include The Tao Encounters the West: Explorations in Comparative Philosophy (1999), The Sage and the Second Sex (ed., 2000), The Confucian Philosophy of Harmony (2013), The East Asian Challenge for vii

viii

List of contributors

Democracy: Political Meritocracy in Comparative Perspective (ed. with Daniel Bell, 2013), and Moral Cultivation and Confucian Character: Engaging Joel J. Kupperman (ed. with Peimin Ni, 2014). jeeloo liu is Professor of Philosophy at the California State University, Fullerton. She is the author of An Introduction to Chinese Philosophy: From Ancient Philosophy to Chinese Buddhism (2006), and NeoConfucianism: Metaphysics, Mind and Morality (forthcoming). She has also coedited volumes including Consciousness and the Self: New Essays (with John Perry, 2012), and Nothingness in Asian Philosophy (with Douglas Berger, 2014). john makeham is Professor of Chinese Studies in the School of Culture, History and Language at the Australian National University. His recent publications include an annotated translation of Xiong Shili’s Xin weishi lun 新唯識論 (New Treatise on the Uniqueness of Consciousness) (2015), and Transforming Consciousness: Yogācāra Thought in Modern China (2014). He is also editor of the series Modern Chinese Philosophy. franklin perkins is Professor of Philosophy at DePaul University, Chicago, and Visiting Professor in Philosophy at Nanyang Technological University, Singapore. He is the author of Leibniz and China: A Commerce of Light (2004), Leibniz: A Guide for the Perplexed (2007), and Heaven and Earth Are Not Humane: The Problem of Evil in Classical Chinese Philosophy (2014). michael puett is Walter C. Klein Professor of Chinese History in the Department of East Asian Languages and Civilizations at Harvard University, and Chair of the Committee on the Study of Religion at Harvard University. He is the author of The Ambivalence of Creation: Debates Concerning Innovation and Artifice in Early China (2001) and To Become a God: Cosmology, Sacrifice, and Self-Divinization in Early China (2004), as well as the co-author of Ritual and Its Consequences: An Essay on the Limits of Sincerity (with Adam Seligman, Robert Weller, and Bennett Simon, 2008). vincent shen is Lee Chair in Chinese Thought and Culture in the Department of Philosophy and Department of East Asian Studies at the University of Toronto. His publications include Rebirth of Tradition (1992), Confucianism, Taoism and Constructive Realism (1994), Contrast, Strangification and Dialogue (2002), and Generosity to the Other: Chinese Culture, Christianity and Strangification (2004).

List of contributors

ix

robin r. wang is Daum Professor in the Bellarmine College of Liberal Arts, and Professor of Philosophy and Director of Asian Pacific Studies at Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles. She is the author of Yinyang: The Way of Heaven and Earth in Chinese Thought and Culture (2012) and the editor of Images of Women in Chinese Thought and Culture: Writings from the Pre-Qin Period to the Song Dynasty (2003) and Chinese Philosophy in an Era of Globalization (2004). jiyuan yu is Professor of Philosophy and Affiliated Professor of Classics at the State University of New York at Buffalo. He is also President and the Executive Director of the International Society for Chinese Philosophy (ISCP), and is Changjiang Scholar and Chair Professor at Shandong University. His recent publications include The Structure of Being in Aristotle’s Metaphysics (2003), Rationality and Happiness: From the Ancients to the Early Medievals (2003), The Blackwell Dictionary of Western Philosophy (2004), Uses and Abuses of the Texts: Western Interpretations of Greek Philosophy (2004), and The Ethics of Confucius and Aristotle: Mirror of Virtue (2007). brook ziporyn is Professor of Chinese Philosophy, Religion, and Comparative Philosophy at the Divinity School of the University of Chicago. His publications include Evil and/or/as the Good: Omnicentrism, Intersubjectivity, and Value Paradox in Tiantai Buddhist Thought (2000), The Penumbra Unbound: The Neo-Taoist Thought of Guo Xiang (2003), Being and Ambiguity: Philosophical Experiments with Tiantai Buddhism (2004), Zhuangzi: The Essential Writings, with Selections from Traditional Commentaries (2009), and Ironies of Oneness and Difference: Coherence in Early Chinese Thought (2012).

Index

actual entity, 13, 158, 163, 164, 165, 166, 168 ālaya-consciousness (alai yeshi 阿賴耶識), 130, 131, 132, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145 Ames, Roger T., 4, 5, 11, 56, 60, 105, 106, 113, 114, 193, 194, 195 Analects (Lunyu 論語), 57, 58, 71, 100, 201, 219 anthropomorphism, 64 arche, 72, 107, 117 Aristotle, 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 16, 61, 86, 107, 108, 109, 110, 113, 114, 117, 152, 192 ars contextualis (the art of contextual), 87, 90, 91, 100, 104, 194 Badiou, Alain, 153 balance of opposites, 115, 116, 119 being, 62, 162, 177, 186. See also you 有 being/beings benefit, 57, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 83, 160, 161, 169 Buddhism Buddhist philosophy, 14, 207 Chan Buddhism, 164 Huayan, 12, 13, 14, 131, 132, 133, 145, 148, 152, 153, 154, 155, 157, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 168, 169, 208, 212, 214, 215 Sanlun, 131, 133, 150, 155, 157, 162 Chan Buddhism. See Buddhism change, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10, 18, 19, 20, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 46, 48, 49, 52, 55, 56, 58, 60, 89, 111, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 122, 124, 146, 147, 148, 170, 184, 189, 206, 214, 215, 216, 221 chaos (hundun 渾沌), 42, 43, 47, 89, 92, 124 cheng 成, 64, 102, 179, 204 cheng 誠, 98, 99, 101, 201, 206

Cheng Mingdao 程明道 (1032–85), 177, 214, 219 Cheng Yichuan 程伊川 (1033–1107), 177, 184, 203, 214, 219, coherent principles, 194, 196, 198, 200, 203. See also li 理 comparative philosophy, 70, 171, 173, 192, 196, 205 complexity, 10, 16, 26, 32, 66, 144, 147, 149, 167, 198, 203 Confucius, 95, 100, 101, 102, 103, 120, 121, 201 constructivism, 131 Cook Ding, 55 cosmogenesis, 89 cosmogony, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 57, 88, 89 cosmology, 10, 14, 33, 38, 41, 43, 45, 85, 86, 88, 92, 93, 125, 126, 128, 169, 192, 194, 195, 196, 197, 201, 202, 203, 204 kalogenic cosmology, 199, 202 creatio ex nihilo, 89, 162, 194 creatio in situ, 98, 104, 194 creativity, 29, 98, 101, 153, 162, 163, 164, 166, 167, 168, 169, 194, 195, 219 dao 道 way, 2, 3, 4, 8, 9, 11, 12, 17, 18, 19, 20, 31, 42, 43, 46, 48, 59, 60, 63, 64, 67, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 88, 93, 94, 95, 96, 100, 102, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 114, 115, 116, 118, 119, 152, 155, 160, 172, 193, 197, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205 Daodejing, 2, 10, 23, 28, 30, 41, 42, 43, 45, 47, 74, 84, 88, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 114, 115, 116. See also Laozi Daoism, 1, 8, 9, 29, 105, 106, 109, 110, 115, 178

237

238

Index

Dasheng qixin lun 大乘起信論, 140, 208, 212, 213, 214, 223 de 德 virtuosity, 31, 64, 90, 91, 93, 94, 101, 102, 147, 188, 195, 198, 200, 201, 205, 206 De Caro, Mario, 34 Dharmapāla 護法, 207, 208, 212, 217, 218, 221 dharmas, 133, 145, 146, 154, 155, 156, 158, 163, 209, 211, 212, 213, 220, 222 Dickens, Charles, 85 differentiation, 17, 45, 134, 135, 138, 140, 146, 155, 157 domestication, 122, 123, 125, 128 Du Shun 杜順, 154, 157, 158 dualism, 14, 88, 99, 169, 171, 208, 221 eight consciousnesses, 210 emptiness (kong 空), 9, 28, 29, 49, 88, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 143, 144, 146, 154, 155, 157, 169, 170, 180, 182, 190, 212, 216, 217, 221 See also void energy, 2, 9, 13, 33, 39, 46, 50, 51, 52, 56, 59, 90, 159, 164, 165, 168, 205. See also qi 氣 epistemology, 12, 68, 70, 72, 82, 210 eternal objects, 158, 163, 164, 166, 167, 168 ethics, 1, 7, 49, 54, 68, 70, 72, 80, 82, 93, 95, 120, 169, 177, 189, 204 event, 13, 17, 18, 20, 21, 30, 31, 34, 36, 38, 41, 63, 80, 87, 89, 98, 102, 104, 147, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 160, 163, 194, 195, 198, 199, 200, 202, 203, 204, 214 events and things (shiwu 事物), 17, 18 fajie yuanqi 法界緣起 (universal causation of realm of dharmas), 146, 154, 156 Fazang 法藏, 132, 139, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 212 fan 反, 30, 118, 186 fire, 25, 26, 27, 116, 117, 122 focus and field, 194 form, 2, 3, 4, 5, 10, 13, 16, 17, 18, 20, 25, 26, 27, 28, 39, 41, 42, 43, 45, 46, 49, 50, 59, 60, 61, 62, 64, 66, 68, 70, 72, 73, 82, 83, 88, 90, 104, 107, 109, 110, 120, 159, 175, 176, 177, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186, 188, 189, 190, 191, 195, 198, 199, 200, 203, 209, 211, 213, 217, 218, 219, 220

Fraser, Chris, 7, 11, 54, 61, 72, 81, 82, 83, 85, 87, 95, 96 gewu 格物, 200, 201, 204 ghosts, 48, 70, 72, 73, 76, 77, 78, 80, 81, 122, 124, 179, 189 God/god, 3, 4, 5, 6, 37, 39, 56, 77, 96, 112, 116, 123, 157, 158, 162, 163, 166, 167, 168, 195, 196, 215, 216, 218 Grand Chaos (Panghong 龐鴻), 45 Grand Obscurity (Mingxing 溟涬), 45 Great Element (Taisu 太素), 45 Guifeng Zongmi 圭峰宗密, 214 Guodian, 25, 57, 59, 60, 61, 63, 64, 111 Hall, David L., 56, 60, 86, 93, 95, 97, 99, 101, 102, 103, 105, 106, 113, 114, 193, 194 Hansen, Chad, 63, 71, 110 harmony (he 和), 8, 9, 12, 13, 22, 30, 31, 43, 48, 49, 65, 92, 99, 100, 118, 121, 122, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 156, 158, 160, 162, 163, 164, 168, 171, 172, 175, 176, 177, 187, 190, 191, 196, 198, 201, 202, 204, 205 He Zuoxiu 何祚庥, 51 Heaven’s Origination (Tianyuan 天元), 45 Hegel, G. W. F., 6, 16, 87, 126 Heidegger, Martin, 55, 194 Henricks, Robert G., 60 Hershock, Peter D., 89, 90, 91 Huayan. See Buddhism Huainanzi, 2, 10, 44, 45, 46, 60, 64, 127 huanliu 環流 (circular flowing, flowing circulation), 10, 16, 28, 29, 30, 32 hubu 互補 (Complementary or mutual support), 24, 27 huhan 互含 (Mutual inclusion), 23, 27 individuation, 8, 10, 11, 50, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 62, 63, 64, 66, 67, 68, 92, 104 inseparability (ji 即), 12, 13, 18, 92, 96, 97, 98, 104, 130, 131, 132, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 146, 147, 151, 222 inseparability of truth and falsehood (zhengwang hehe 真妄和合), 12, 13, 131, 132, 136, 137, 138, 141, 151 intellectual intuition, 193 James, William, 52 jian/xian見 see/appear, 61, 221, 222 jiao 教, 200, 201, 203, 204

Index Jiaogan 交感 (Interaction or resonance), 24, 27 jing 敬, 200, 201, 204 kan 坎 (water), 26 Kim, Jaegwon, 39, 40 Kim, Myeong-seok, 99 Kong Yingda 孔穎達, 216, 220 Kongzi . See Confucius kosmos, 114, 116, 117, 118 Kuiji 窺基, 207, 208, 218 language, 37, 66, 72, 85, 87, 88, 89, 93, 94, 100, 102, 103, 105, 109, 110, 111, 112, 133, 135, 136, 155, 166, 170, 172, 203 Laozi, 11, 43, 47, 57, 58, 60, 61, 63, 64, 66, 67, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 118, 119, 179, 183, 186. See also Daodejing Legge, James, 96, 121 lei 類 kind, 62, 63, 83 li 理 coherence/principle/order, 8, 17, 41, 47, 58, 73, 145, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 188, 198, 200, 202, 203, 205, 209, 212, 214, 217, 219, 220 relation to qi, 202 lixing 理性 (nature of principle), 159 li 離 (fire), 26 Li, Chenyang, , 54, 69, 105 Liji 禮記 (Records of Rites), 12, 62, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124 Liang Tao 梁濤, 97 Linck, Gudula, 88 Lingxian零憲, 45 logos, 12, 86, 106, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 116, 117, 118, 119 Lü Cheng 呂澂, 214 Luo Qinshun 羅欽順, 46, 49 Luo Zhixi 罗志希, 17 Ma Yifu 馬一浮, 214 Mawangdui (馬王堆), 60, 98, 111 Macarthur, David, 34, 35 McDowell, John, 34, 35 Mach, Ernst, 52 Madhyamaka, 12, 14, 132, 133, 135, 138, 139, 141, 145, 146, 149, 207, 213, 221 Makeham, John, 3, 14, 57, 208, 219 Many Others, 13, 153, 156, 159, 160, 161, 164, 165, 168, 169, 170 maodun 矛盾 (Contradiction and opposition), 22, 27

239 mass, 49, 50, 51 material force (qi), 13, 33, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186, 188, 189, 190. See also qi 氣 Mengzi/Mencius, 7, 57, 58, 59, 62, 65, 74, 84, 95, 98, 101, 102 mind (xin 心), 4, 7, 8, 35, 39, 52, 72, 77, 118, 119, 130, 131, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 148, 149, 150, 157, 158, 159, 164, 166, 169, 170, 175, 179, 180, 181, 185, 187, 188, 193, 208, 209, 210, 211, 213, 214, 220, 221, 223. See also xin 心 (mind-heart) one mind, 13, 156, 157, 158, 159, 160, 161, 163, 164, 214 two aspects of the one mind (yixin kai ermen 一心開二門), 213, 214 ming 名, 57, 181, 222 ming 命, 11, 69, 70, 74, 79, 80, 95, 99 models (fa), 12, 60, 74, 75, 76, 82, 83, 84, 93, 115, 123, 127, 131, 219 Models, Three (sanfa 三法), 11, 69, 70, 74, 75, 76, 80, 83 Moeller, Hans-Georg, 56, 60 Mohism, 11, 57, 73, 111, 115, 116 Mohist dialectical texts, 83 monism, 13, 14, 48, 52, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175, 181, 182, 190, 191, 208 Mozi, 57, 60, 69, 70, 71, 74, 75, 76, 77, 79, 80, 81, 85 Nagel, Thomas, 34, 35 Naturalism Humanistic Naturalism, 10, 34, 37, 38, Liberal Naturalism, 34, 35, 36, 39 Scientific Naturalism, 10, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 52 Neo-Confucianism, 8, 13, 18, 158, 178. See also Cheng Mingdao, Cheng Yichuan, Luo Qinshun, Wang Fuzhi, Wang Tingxiang, Yan Fu, Zhang Zai, Zhu Xi neutral monism. See monism New Confucian school, 193, 197, 207 non-action, 24, 65. See also wuwei non-duality (buer 不二), 130, 140, 146, 147, 179, 183, 186, 210, 222 nothingness (wu 無), 44, 45, 46, 88, 215. See also wu 無 object, 5, 6, 19, 21, 34, 36, 37, 38, 42, 43, 49, 52, 55, 56, 57, 60, 61, 62, 66, 67, 68, 73, 76, 77, 82, 89, 90, 100, 109, 114, 134, 142, 143, 150, 151, 158, 163, 164, 166, 167, 168, 175, 180,

240

Index

182, 195, 200, 205, 209, 210, 211, 212, 217 objectification, 13, 163, 165, 168 One, the (Yi 一), 42, 47, 63, 105, 107, 119, 156, 157, 158, 159, 161, 171, 174, 175, 190, 191 one and many, 58, 104, 107, 108, 118, 158, 161, 162, 163, 164, 214 ontological principle, 13, 153, 158, 163, 164, 166, 168 ontology, 13, 34, 37, 39, 56, 65, 86, 87, 89, 138, 152, 153, 163, 164, 173, 180, 192, 194, 209 original generosity, 161, 164, 165, 169 Pang Pu 龐樸, 95 panta rei (all things are flowing), 113 perception, 2, 11, 69, 70, 71, 72, 76, 78, 84, 93, 133, 142, 143, 175, 179, 187, 188 perceptual knowledge, 188 Perkins, Franklin, 9, 10, 11, 69, 73, 105, 126 persistent unity, 117 phenomena, 4, 5, 13, 20, 27, 28, 29, 31, 34, 40, 47, 52, 60, 70, 72, 73, 89, 108, 133, 154, 157, 163, 208, 209, 211, 212, 213, 215, 216, 217, 220, 221, 222 phusis (nature), 107 physicalism, 34, 35, 36, 39, 52 pluralism, 38, 80, 208, 221 polarity, 2, 13, 46, 47, 48, 146, 147, 184 Price, Huw, 37 primordial qi (yuanqi 元气), 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 51 principle (li 理), 2, 8, 20, 21, 24, 32, 41, 46, 58, 70, 72, 82, 89, 90, 100, 104, 107, 109, 110, 117, 118, 142, 145, 153, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 163, 164, 165, 168, 169, 171, 179, 182, 183, 184, 186, 188, 192, 193, 194, 198, 200, 203, 205, 208, 209, 217, 218, 219, 221, 222. See also li 理 coherence/ principle/order process metaphysics, 10, 55, 56, 195 Putnam, Hilary, 34 qi 器 concrete things, tools, vessels, 4, 17, 18, 19, 20, 56, 61, 64 qi 氣 vital energy, 2, 5, 8, 10, 11, 13, 30, 33, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 45, 46, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 56, 59, 73, 171, 175, 176, 179, 180, 182, 190, 198, 200, 205, 209, 210, 217, 219, 220. See also energy, material force

qizhi zhi xing 氣質之性 (qi-constitution Nature), 177, 183, 185, 186, 219, 220 qian and kun, 13, 17, 19, 20, 178, 179, 187, 188 quan 權 (to weigh), 62, 201, 204 rationale (suoyiran 所以然), 200, 203, reciprocity, 132, 168, 169 reductionism, 35, 52, 72, 73, 82 relatedness, universal, 13, 163 relativity, principle of, 152, 163, 164 ritual (li 禮), 7, 12, 92, 101, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 197, 198, 200 rong 容 appearance, 61 Russell, Bertrand, 52 san 散 dispersal and separation, 64 Sanlun. See Buddhism Scanlon, Tim S., 34, 35 self-cultivation, 7, 14, 68, 170, 195, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204 Sellars, Wilfrid, 86, 87, 93 Sengzhao 僧肇, 169, 215, 216 shenhua 神化 (magnificent transformation), 48, 181 sheng 生 (create, generate), 25, 198, 215 sheng 聖 (sage), 200 shi 事 events or affairs, 13, 17, 63, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 163, 194, 198, 199, 212, 214 shi 實 fact/object/referent, 57, 60, 61, 75, 76, 83, 139 shi 時 (time), 26 Shijing 詩經, 57, 62 shi xuan men 十玄門 (Ten Mysterious Gates), 13, 153 Spinoza, 6, 16, 171, 174 strangification, 153, 161, 164, 165, 167, 168, 169, 170 Stroud, Barry, 35 subject, 12, 26, 31, 35, 37, 61, 63, 85, 86, 90, 108, 114, 117, 121, 142, 143, 153, 162, 163, 165, 171, 178, 209, 210, 213, 214, 217 substance, 2, 4, 8, 13, 19, 39, 43, 48, 49, 50, 51, 55, 56, 61, 62, 63, 65, 66, 67, 68, 89, 108, 110, 123, 152, 155, 171, 172, 173, 174, 176, 178, 180, 181, 182, 184, 186, 189, 190, 214 substance metaphysics, 55, 56, 67, 173 suchness (zhenru 真如), 14, 145, 213, 214, 216, 217, 220 supervenience, 41,

Index supreme harmony (taihe 太和), 48 Supreme One (Taiyi 太一), 42, 43 supreme ultimate (taiji 太極), 47, 206 swirling void, 29 Taiyi sheng shui, 64 Tang Junyi 唐君毅, 4, 51, 97 tathāgatagarbha (rulai zang 如来藏), 12, 130, 131, 132, 133, 139, 140, 141, 145, 146, 148, 149, 150, 213 ti 體 form or organic body, 18, 46, 59, 61, 64, 90, 92, 145, 181, 199, 203, 205, 209, 217, 220, 221 ti–yong polarity, 18, 90, 104, 199, 205, 208, 217, 220 Tian/tian 天 Heaven, nature, 7, 8, 11, 18, 25, 64, 69, 70, 71, 72, 74, 76, 77, 78, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 93, 95, 96, 97, 99, 101, 197, 199, 201, 203, 218 tianming 天命 Heaven’s/tian’s mandate, 71 tong 統 interconnections, 199, 202, 204 two truths (erdi 二諦), 135, 137, 138, ultimate reality, 2, 3, 4, 5, 17, 70, 72, 90, 91, 109, 131, 148, 149, 159, 162 unity, 18, 25, 28, 55, 65, 67, 92, 113, 116, 117, 119, 122, 123, 124, 125, 127, 128, 162, 165, 166, 167, 175, 176, 179, 180, 187, 188, 189, 199, 201, 203, 204, 210 unity of opposites, 113, 116, 118, 119, 188 vacuity (xu 虚), 45, 46, 47, 49, 50, 182 values and social structures, 8 axiological, 196, 198, 201, 204, 205 Vasubandhu, 141, 208, 212, 218, 221 veil of appearances, 12, 72 void, 43, 44, 45, 46, 88, 179, 180, 181, 183, 190. See also emptiness wanwu 万物 (the ten thousand things), 56, 57, 58, 87, 90, 105 Wang Fuzhi 王夫之, 10, 47, 49, 50, 184, 185 Wang Tingxiang 王廷相, 47, 49 weakness, 114, 115, 116 wei 位 (location), 26 Whitehead, A. N, 13, 152, 153, 157, 158, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 192, 193, 194, 195 Wong, David B., 85, 99

241 wu 無 nonbeing, indeterminate, 2, 42, 43, 45, 56, 63, 64, 65, 87, 88, 118. See also nothingness wu 物 things, 10, 17, 42, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 73, 198, 199 wuwei 無為, 8, 115, 140. See also non-action xiangfu 相輔 (mutual assistance), 25 xiangyi 相依 (interdependence), 23, 27 xin 心 (mind-heart), 94, 95, 99, 130, 159, 199, 201, 202, 203, 206, 209. See also mind Xin weishi lun 新唯識論 (New Treatise on the Uniqueness of Consciousness), 159, 207, 228 xing 形 form, body, 10, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 60, 64, 73, 83, 135 xing 性 natural dispositions, 7, 8, 57, 58, 62, 66, 95, 99, 157, 205, 206, 209, 217 dexing suozhi 德性所知 (knowledge of the Virtue-Nature), 188 moral nature (yili zhi xing 義理之性), 219, 220 psycho-physical nature (qizhi zhi xing 氣 質之性), 219, 220 tiandi zhi xing 天地之性 (Heaven-andearth-nature), 183 Xing zi ming chu, 61, 66, 67 xinger shang xue 形而上學, 10 xinger shang 形而上 (beyond physical forms), 16, 17 xinger xia 形而下 (below physical forms), 10, 16 Xiong Shili 熊十力, 10, 14, 50, 51, 207 Xuanzang 玄奘, 134, 143, 144, 207–23, 208, 210, 212, 218 Xunzi, 29, 58, 60, 61, 62, 67, 74, 84, 115, 124, 200 Yan Fu 嚴復, 16, 17, 210 Yi 一 (the one, unity, oneness), 20, 42, 63. See also One, the (Yi 一) Yijing 易經 (Book of Changes), 2, 10, 17, 18, 24, 25, 26, 27, 39, 42, 51, 89, 208, 209, 210, 234 yinyang 阴阳 2, 8, 9, 10, 16–32, 43, 56, 59, 97, 104, 179, 187, 188 yang, 20, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 45 yin, 20, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 28, 45 yin and yang, 13, 20, 22, 23, 24, 25, 27, 33, 40, 41, 42, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 64, 122, 178, 183, 184, 189, 190

242

Index

yinyang thinking, 10, 21, 22, 23, 27, 28, 31, 32 Yogācāra, 12, 14, 130, 133, 139, 141, 143, 145, 149, 150, 207, 208, 210, 212, 218, 221 you 有 being/beings, 2, 42, 56, 64, 87, 118, 178. See also being Yu Cong I, 20, 57, 58, 59, 61, 62 Yu, Jiyuan, 4, 7, 11, 86 yuanqi 緣起, 14, 152 Zhang Dainian 張岱年, 42, 43, 49 Zhang Heng 張衡, 44, 45, 46 Zhang Zai 張载, 10, 13, 43, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 171, 199, 202, 204, 210, 215, 219

zhi guan 止觀, 159 Zhi Yan 智儼, 148, 154 Zhu Xi 朱熹, 14, 17, 18, 177, 178, 184, 192–206, 219, 220 zhuanhua 轉化 (change and transformation), 25, 27 Zhuangzi, 10, 20, 29, 31, 41, 43, 44, 46, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 74, 84, 110, 186, 200, 223 Ziporyn, Brook, vi, 3, 5, 13, 14, 20, 21, 29, 31, 48, 67, 110, 126, 135, 208, 215 ziran 自然 autogenesis, self-so-ing, 8, 91, 115 Zisizi 子思子, 95, 99 Zuo zhuan 左傳, 57

Introduction Chenyang Li and Franklin Perkins

A rapid growth of interest in Chinese philosophy has accompanied the rise of China on the world stage. This interest, though, has generally focused on ethical and political theories, ranging from connections between virtue ethics and Confucianism, to applications of Daoism in environmental ethics, to debates on the implications of Confucian political thought for democracy. In comparison, Chinese metaphysics – here understood primarily as theories regarding the nature, components, and operating principles of reality – has been far less researched and recognized. This book is an effort to remedy this situation, aiming to provide a concentrated study of Chinese metaphysics that reflects the state of the art in the field. 1 Producing a book on Chinese metaphysics implies that the Chinese have metaphysics. That claim itself invites a host of questions. Do the Chinese really have metaphysics? If so, what is it? Is Chinese metaphysics fundamentally different from Western metaphysics? If there are fundamental differences, what are they and what are their implications for the study of metaphysics in general? Questions such as these have been debated for decades, but there is little consensus on the answers. Most of these debates, of course, hinge on one question: what is metaphysics? The word “metaphysics” was originally associated with a branch of Aristotle’s philosophy. It is derived from a collective title given by his students to the fourteen books by Aristotle that we currently think of as making up Aristotle’s Metaphysics (Van Inwagen 2007). The word literally means “after the Physics,” probably indicating the place of the topics covered in these books in Aristotle’s philosophical curriculum. It suggests that one should study this part after studying the Physics, which deals with nature. Because “meta-” also means “beyond,” “metaphysics” may also be interpreted as “the science of what is beyond the physical,” but that “beyond” is open to several interpretations. Metaphysics could be the 1

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study of what is beyond the reach of the natural sciences, or beyond the whole of nature (studying the “supernatural”), or beyond the changing world of appearances and perception. Aristotle himself did not use the term “metaphysics.” He defines this part of philosophy in terms of “first philosophy,” which is the science that studies “being as being,” (Metaphysics: 1003a21–22) or “the first causes and the principles of things” (Metaphysics: 981b29–30).1 In the fourteen books of the Metaphysics, Aristotle covers a wide range of subjects, including existence in general (being), the constitution of reality (matter, form, universals), individual entities (substance, souls), identity (essence, definition), and change (actuality, potentiality, material cause, formal cause, efficient cause, final cause). If we use these topics from Aristotle to designate a general domain of concern or inquiry, we could call “metaphysics” the study of reality in its general form. More specifically, metaphysics typically deals with questions of two related types: what is the nature of reality? And what is the cause, or what are the causes, of variations in reality? If we use “metaphysics” in the sense indicated in Aristotle’s Metaphysics, it is obvious that Chinese thought has metaphysics, traceable most clearly back to such texts as the Yijing, the Daodejing, and the Huainanzi. As the chapters in this volume show, Chinese philosophers have, since antiquity, debated existence and non-existence in terms of you 有 and wu 無; they developed a conception of the constitution of things in terms of patterns of qi 氣 (vital energy) (see the chapter below by JeeLoo Liu); and they understood the world overwhelmingly as in a perpetual state of change (yi 易). Many thinkers labeled the ultimate reality as the dao 道 (the “way”) and took the fundamental operating principle of the world as the polarity of yinyang 陰陽 (see the chapter below by Robin R. Wang). While there was no Chinese term corresponding precisely to the Western term “metaphysics,” the phrase commonly used to translate “metaphysics” into Chinese was taken from the Yijing. The Yijing classifies two forms of existence as “what is without (specific) forms” (xing er shang zhe 形而上者) and “what is with (specific) forms” (xing er xia zhe 形 而下者) (Gao 1998: 407), or literally “what are above forms” and “what are below forms.” Being above something implies transcending it or not being confined by it. “What is above forms,” therefore, means what is not confined by any forms. These can also be seen as two realms of study, with the latter roughly corresponding to the tangible physical realm and the former the “realm beyond the tangible” or “the metaphysical.” These indigenous metaphysical views were greatly enriched by the absorption of Buddhist metaphysics (see the chapters by Hans-Rudolf Kantor and 1

Translations of Aristotle are from Hope 1952.

Introduction

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Vincent Shen in this volume), which eventually led to new forms of Confucian metaphysics (see the chapters below by Brook Ziporyn, John Berthrong, and John Makeham). Given that Chinese philosophers obviously discussed the ultimate nature of reality, why would anyone claim that the Chinese do not have metaphysics? To understand this question, it is helpful to distinguish a general domain of concern or inquiry from the specific questions asked in any given tradition, which then must also be distinguished from the theories meant to answer those questions. These layers are difficult to discern without a cross-cultural view. That is, from a view restricted to one culture, it is easy to think that the questions in that tradition are the only questions, and if certain answers to the questions are dominant enough, one might take them as the only possible answers. In this way, the answers that emerge come to be seen as definitive of the domain of inquiry itself. In relation to metaphysics in the Western tradition, there are two such answers that are often presented as defining metaphysics: that metaphysics is the study of things that do not change, and that metaphysics concerns only what is super-sensible or transcendent. As noted above, two of the most central questions of metaphysics are: what is ultimately real? And what is the ultimate cause for what exists? In the Western tradition, the dominant answer to both questions (before the twentieth century) has been what is eternal and unchanging. The most extreme proponent of this view was Parmenides, who denied that change is even possible. He held that there is only Being and that non-being does not exist. Without non-being, Being itself cannot change. Therefore becoming is impossible (Graham 2010: 215–19). While this denial of change was an exception rather than the norm, the most influential Greek philosophers did privilege the eternal in their metaphysics. This is most obvious in Plato’s philosophy, where the forms that ground reality and our understanding of it are all eternal and unchanging. Even Aristotle, who took change much more seriously, held the ultimate driving force of the universe to be an “unmoved mover.” All things are put into motion through emulation of this eternal unchanging being, which serves as the ultimate final cause for all that exists (Metaphysics 1072a27–28). With the Christianization of Western philosophy, a perfect and eternal God took the place of this ultimate reality, a position that remained dominant into the nineteenth century. If we take metaphysics as the study of the ultimate and take the ultimate as the unchanging, then it follows that metaphysics is the study of “things that do not change.” On this definition, there would be no (or little) Chinese metaphysics. The Chinese viewed “what is without (specific) forms” as the dao, but the dao is not fixed. Its nature – if we can even say it

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has one – is change. To put it another way, the only thing that does not change is change. The “constant dao” is the constantly changing dao. If metaphysics is understood only as a study of what is unchanging, then Chinese thought did not have metaphysics; or, as Roger T. Ames says in Chapter 5, it had an ametaphysic metaphysics. In other words, Chinese metaphysics generally rejects the fundamental assumption of an unchanging reality; thus it goes against the prevalent trend in the history of European philosophy. The definition of metaphysics as the study of what is unchanging naturally leads into another common definition, that metaphysics studies what is beyond the sensible world of appearances. It is obvious that the world around us changes; we never experience anything that is truly unchanging. If the ultimate reality is unchanging, then, it must be radically different from the world that appears around us. This view leads to a transcendent realm, in terms of “forms,” “God,” or the “noumenal.” This separation of metaphysics from experience is clearest in Kant, who said of the source of metaphysical cognition, “it already lies in the concept of metaphysics that they cannot be empirical . . . for the cognition is supposed to be not physical but metaphysical, i.e., lying beyond experience” (Kant 1997: 15). Once again, if we take this view as defining metaphysics, then there would be no Chinese metaphysics. Just as Chinese thinkers did not posit an unchanging ultimate reality, they did not take the ultimate as radically transcending the world. This contrast was pointed out nicely by the renowned twentieth-century Chinese philosopher Tang Junyi 唐君毅, who described the Western mind as follows: Starting with pursuing substance beyond phenomena, the Western mind regards all phenomena as attributes of things instead of reality itself. Consequently, it always attempts to put aside phenomena in order to explore the real and unchanging substance underlying the cosmos. (Tang 1988: 9–10)

In contrast, “the cosmos in the Chinese mind is only a flow, a dynamism; all things in the cosmos can only be in process, beyond which there is no fixed reality as substratum” (Tang 1988: 9–10). Chinese thinkers did make a distinction between the realm of “what is with (specific) forms” and that of “what is without (specific) forms,” as we have seen. A thing with a form is an instrument (qi 器), which can be perceived and specifically described. That which is without forms cannot be perceived or specifically described. In this limited sense, there is something like a reality–appearance distinction (see the chapter by Jiyuan Yu below). But there is no transcendental distinction between the two realms. It is perhaps in this sense that we should understand Roger T. Ames when he writes,

Introduction

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There is little evidence that early Chinese thinkers were interested in the search for and the articulation of an ontological ground for phenomena – some Being behind the beings, some One behind the many, some ideal world behind the world of change. (Ames 2011: 216)

For the ancient Chinese, change occurs at the levels of both “what is with (specific) forms” and “what is without (specific) forms.” They are contrasted in terms not of “being” versus “becoming” but rather of “form” and “formless.” Furthermore, the realm of “what is without (specific) forms” is not like a “God” who is fundamentally distinct from the physical world. “What is with (specific) forms” is a manifestation of “what is without (specific) forms,” just as the qi 氣 solidified in tangible entities is the same stuff as the qi dispersed (see the chapters by JeeLoo Liu and Brook Ziporyn below). These two “realms” are better seen as two conceptions of the same existence, because without “what is with (specific) forms” there is no “what is without (specific) forms.” Since Chinese thinkers did not believe in a transcendent realm, they could not have had a “science” to study it. If metaphysics is to be defined as the science that studies solely what transcends appearance, then we would again have to say that ancient Chinese thinkers did not have metaphysics. In both of these cases, though, one mistakenly identifies metaphysics with particular answers to metaphysical questions. There are a host of problems with such an identification. Most obviously, it excludes many Western philosophers who are uncontroversially identified as doing metaphysics. While it is true in general that Western philosophers (before the twentieth century) have taken the ultimate reality and the ultimate cause of reality to be eternal and transcendent, it is simply untrue that all Western metaphysicians uniformly presuppose an unchanging reality as the object of their study. In the Theatetus, Socrates tells us “a secret” doctrine of the early Greeks: There is no single thing or quality, but out of motion and change and admixture all things are becoming relatively to one another, which “becoming” is by us incorrectly called being, but is really becoming, for nothing ever is, but all things are becoming. (Edman 1936: 474)

Socrates affirms that this was not a minority view: Summon all philosophers – Protagoras, Heraclitus, Empedocles, and the rest of them, one after another, and with the exception of Parmenides they will agree with you in this. Summon the great masters of either kind of poetry – Epicharmus, the prince of Comedy, and Homer of Tragedy; when the latter sings of “Ocean whence sprang the gods, and mother Tethys,” does he not mean that all things are the offspring of flux and motion? (Edman 1936: 474–5)

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Similarly, in Book IV of Metaphysics, Aristotle speaks of how earlier Greek philosophers’ view of an ever-changing reality affected their view of what is knowable: Because they saw that all this world of nature is in movement and that about that which changes no true statement can be made, they said that of course, regarding that which everywhere in every respect is changing, nothing could truly be affirmed. It was this belief that blossomed into the most extreme of the views above mentioned, that of the professed Heracliteans. (Metaphysics 1010a6–11)

Aristotle here refers to thinkers like Cratylus, who allegedly did not think he could say anything meaningful because things were in constant change, and so he only gestured by moving his finger. Cratylus criticized Heraclitus for saying that it is impossible to step twice into the same river; he thought one could not step into the same river even once. While the Christianization of Western philosophy made such views nearly impossible to express, process-oriented views emerged again in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, with Hegel and Nietzsche, and it is safe to say they became dominant among philosophers of the twentieth century. The claim that metaphysics exclusively studies a transcendent realm also is a generalization with many exceptions. In the Metaphysics, Aristotle evidently covers this-worldly objects in his study. The “four causes” are not transcendental in character. Contra Plato, Aristotle places them in the same realm as ordinary objects. Bricks are the material cause of a house; parents are the efficient cause of a child. Moving forward in the tradition, no one would deny that Spinoza was a metaphysician, but his whole philosophy was directed toward a rejection of transcendence. The same can be said for Hegel and for most twentieth-century philosophers. Moreover, even those who enter into metaphysical disputes primarily by attacking metaphysics can be seen as working within the domain of metaphysics. Jean-Paul Sartre once said, “I do not think myself any less a metaphysician in denying the existence of God than Leibniz was in affirming it” (Sartre 1949: 139). In short, if Western thinkers with a view of the world characterized as becoming rather than being, or who base their views on immanence rather than transcendence, are considered to be doing metaphysics, one cannot say that the Chinese lack metaphysics just because their worldview is predominantly one of change and immanence. Some contemporary thinkers do not deny that the Chinese have metaphysics. They insist, however, that Chinese metaphysics is fundamentally different from Western metaphysics. One common view is that metaphysics in the two traditions emerges from fundamentally different orientations. For example, some have argued that Western metaphysics is

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a “metaphysics of nature,” as it pursues truth in the transcendent realm, whereas Chinese metaphysics is a “metaphysics of ethics,” in the pursuit of the good life (see Yu, Xu, and Zhang 2009). This echoes a famous claim by A. C. Graham, that while Western philosophers have primarily searched for being or truth, the central question of Chinese philosophy has been, what is the proper way? (Graham 1989: 222). There is a grain of truth to this contrast. Ancient Greek philosophy began with a strong curiosity about the nature of reality, seen in such thinkers as Thales, Anaximander, Anaximenes, Heraclitus, Xenophanes, Parmenides, Zeno, Empedocles, Anaxagoras, and Pythagoras. The majority of ancient Chinese thinkers focused on socio-ethical issues, and they ventured into metaphysics because of these ethical concerns. As Chris Fraser argues in Chapter 4, the Mohists were most concerned with tian 天 (heaven) as a guide for action. This orientation set the direction for later metaphysical debates. For example, Mengzi apparently developed his thought about xing 性 (human nature or characteristic tendencies) or tiandao 天道 (Heavenly Way) for the sake of his theory of inborn virtues, which itself was developed through concerns about self-cultivation. Michael Puett, in Chapter 7 below, even argues for a metaphysics that emerges from theorizing ritual practices. This contrast between Chinese and Western philosophies, however, should not be exaggerated. The characterization is modeled on the division between fact and value, but the “fact-versusvalue” divide did not become an issue in the West until David Hume problematized their association. Aristotle, we should remember, used “facts” about human functions as the basis for his argument for the ethical goal of eudemonia; one of the “four causes” investigated in the Metaphysics is the final cause, which determines the proper function of humanity and its virtuosity. Furthermore, an important branch of Kant’s philosophy is “moral metaphysics,” which makes a place for the notion of a rational will. The rational will for Kant is a free will, which is a key concern within modern metaphysics. Meanwhile, as Jiyuan Yu argues in Chapter 6 below, the development of Chinese metaphysics makes it hard to believe that Chinese philosophers were not also motivated by a desire to understand reality better. Thus it is more accurate to say that the difference between Chinese and Western metaphysics is a matter of degrees and emphasis rather than a radical distinction in kind. Nonetheless, it is important to keep in mind that in the Chinese tradition, the metaphysical and the moral are always intertwined, as the status of values, the nature of the self, and conceptions of order all have metaphysical implications, if not foundations. The aim of this book is not to isolate Chinese metaphysical views from other areas of philosophy, but rather to focus on the metaphysical aspect of the philosophical continuum while showing how

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metaphysical conceptions connect to other areas of concern. For example, wuwei 無為, the Daoist guiding principle for the good life, is at the same time a metaphysical concept. Xing 性, a key idea in Mengzi’s moral philosophy, also defines the nature of human existence. Dao, a core notion in both Confucianism and Daoism, is at once ethical and metaphysical. Yin and yang are metaphysical forces as well as social/moral principles. The same holds true for the conceptions of he 和 (harmony), li 理 (coherence or reasonable order), and tian 天 (heaven). In view of this connection, studying Chinese ethical theories without examining their metaphysical presuppositions risks misrepresenting these moral perspectives. With the advancement of the study of, and deepening research on, Chinese philosophy in our age, confining our study to Chinese political, social, and ethical theories is no longer acceptable. Even if we allow that metaphysics was pursued both in the West and in China, one might still claim that the issues they considered and the theories they produced have no commonality. After all, there are almost no key metaphysical terms in Chinese that translate easily into English, and vice versa. In that case, the overlap between Chinese metaphysics and Western metaphysics would be merely nominal, not substantial. Some differences must be acknowledged. Given that the mainstream metaphysical views in China differed significantly from those that dominated Europe, the two traditions naturally came to focus on different problems. For example, the relationship between free will and natural causality was never an issue in Chinese philosophy, nor was the division between mind and body. Since most Chinese philosophers rejected teleology and design, one of their central concerns was spontaneity (ziran 自然) and how beings and order can emerge of themselves. Given that Chinese philosophers generally held a less anthropocentric view of nature than did their European counterparts, they were centrally concerned with how human values and social structures relate to the patterns of nature. These issues have been less central in Western philosophy, at least before the twentieth century. At the same time, the two traditions do share many common concerns, such as the origin and constitution of the world we experience. Placing metaphysical questions in a comparative context helps us to broaden the formulation of our questions. It not only enables us to find new insights into the standard questions of Western metaphysics, but also helps us to see how those questions might be more provincial than they initially appear to be. For example, while Chinese philosophers did not discuss free will, they were concerned with the relationship between human motivation and the forces of nature, conceived primarily as the relationship between human xing (nature, characteristic tendencies) and tian (heaven). Chinese philosophers did not discuss the nature of substance, but they did discuss individuation,

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as shown in Chapter 3 below by Franklin Perkins. While we should not deny the differences between metaphysical thinking in the Chinese and Western traditions, both traditions have contributed to the discipline of metaphysics and should be studied as such. For these reasons and others, Chinese metaphysics deserves careful and in-depth study no less than Western metaphysics. 2 The above generalizations should not obscure the diversity within Chinese philosophy or the wide range of metaphysical positions that have appeared. Chinese philosophy developed over time, expressing internal forces, changes in political and economic contexts, and interactions with other cultures, most of all the absorption of Buddhism from India. In any given period, there were opposing schools and metaphysical disputes. This volume covers all major periods of Chinese philosophy, from pre-Qin to the twentieth century; all major schools, from Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism to Neo-Confucianism and New Confucianism; and many of the key thinkers and texts in Chinese philosophy. While the chapters that follow convey the diversity of Chinese philosophy, they are linked by a persistent set of concerns: how does the multiplicity and diversity of the world link to a common source or basis? What are the basic elements of the cosmos? What is the relationship between emptiness/voidness and our concrete experience of the world? How is harmony related on the levels of society, nature, and the cosmos? How are values grounded in the world? Moreover, while Chinese philosophy took on radically different forms over time, many terms continued to be used while being reinterpreted to serve in new ways. Thus concepts like dao 道 (path or way), qi 氣 (vital energy), he 和 (harmony), and li 理 (coherence or reasonable order) provide another link between the chapters and the different time periods discussed. Taken together, the chapters also address broader questions: what metaphysical issues emerge within a worldview that emphasizes interconnection, immanence, and change? Are there alternative ways of doing metaphysics in the Chinese tradition? How do we make sense of them in the light of contemporary philosophical discourse? What is the relationship between metaphysics and other subjects in philosophy? This book begins with essays by Robin R. Wang and JeeLoo Liu, respectively, analyzing two of the most important concepts in Chinese philosophy: yinyang and qi. Wang’s chapter concentrates on the importance of yinyang. She makes a distinction between metaphysical thinking and the kind of metaphysics that divides reality into two separate realms.

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In the Chinese context, yinyang thinking is metaphysical thinking, which rests on a vision of reality as a single self-generating, self-differentiating, and self-organizing whole. She starts with an analysis of the classical Chinese phrase most often used to translate “metaphysics,” xing er shang xue 形而上學 (“the study of what is without forms”), which is contrasted with the phrase xing er xia (形而下) (“what is with forms”). Wang argues that the notion of xing 形 (physical forms, things) in these phrases mediates between what might be called the worlds of physics and metaphysics; the realm of forms should be considered as a yinyang field of reality containing both what is within and what is without it. She then articulates six specific forms of the yinyang relationship, analyzing the multiplicity of yinyang descriptions. Finally, Wang explores the metaphor of huanliu 環流 (circular flowing) as a way to show how the complexity of yinyang interactions leads to a ceaseless process of generation and emergence. Qi, like yinyang, is another core notion in Chinese metaphysics. In the next chapter, JeeLoo Liu identifies a naturalistic conception of qi as the consistent theme across a range of philosophical texts and argues that Chinese qi metaphysics is a form of humanistic naturalism distinct from scientific naturalism. According to her interpretation, in the view of Chinese humanistic naturalism, the world consists of nothing but entities of the natural world, with human beings as part of it. Liu traces the main issues in qi-cosmology throughout the history of Chinese philosophy, beginning with texts such as the Yijing, the Daodejing, the Zhuangzi, and the Huainanzi, moving into the theories of Neo-Confucians such as Zhang Zai and Wang Fuzhi, and concluding in the twentieth century, with Xiong Shili’s efforts to reconcile qi with modern science. An important feature of Liu’s chapter is that it situates the discussion of qi in contemporary discourses on metaphysics, making ancient ideas relevant to our times. By analyzing related issues in naturalistic terms, Liu demystifies the notion of qi and renders Chinese cosmology a plausible alternative in contemporary philosophical discourse. Metaphysics studies forms of existence, and one key question is the nature of individual entities. How did Chinese philosophers understand individual entities? How does qi manifest itself as entities in the world? In Chapter 3, Franklin Perkins examines the problem of individuation and, along with it, some of the most fundamental metaphysical issues. Perkins shows that while Chinese philosophers gave ontological priority to interconnected processes and change, holding a type of “process metaphysics,” they did not deny the existence of individual things. This chapter examines approaches to individuation in various philosophies from the Warring States period, concentrating on the concept of wu 物, “thing.” Perkins investigates various accounts of the status and origins of “things”

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in early Chinese philosophy, and concludes by discussing the ways in which individuation is conditioned by the shared view that the ultimate origin of things is not itself a thing. Thus Perkins’s chapter bridges from the concept of qi as discussed by JeeLoo Liu in the preceeding chapter to people’s encounters with the world in daily life. Mohism was a major school of thought during the classical period in China. Yet there has been little study of its metaphysical views. In Chapter 4, Chris Fraser explores the understanding of reality that emerges from Mohist doctrines concerning tian 天 (heaven, nature), the san fa 三法 (“Three Models”), and ming 命 (fate). For the Mohists, reality follows fixed, recognizable patterns, and is reliably knowable through sense perception, inference, and historical precedent. Ethical norms are a human-independent feature of reality. The Mohist dao thus purports to be the dao of reality itself, grounded in reliable knowledge of the world. The question that guides the Mohists’ attitude toward reality is not what its fundamental structure is but what its dao is – what regular patterns it follows and what course it takes. The chapter also discusses the philosophical significance of these metaphysical views, the problems they raise, and how they set the agenda for philosophical discourse in early China. Roger T. Ames in Chapter 5 addresses directly the question of “metaphysics” in a Chinese context by exploring a “metaphysical” reading of the early Confucian classic the Zhongyong (Focusing the Familiar). He begins by examining some of the general presuppositions of early Chinese philosophy, concentrating on the senses in which we can and cannot speak of classical Chinese “metaphysics.” In particular, Ames explains why Chinese philosophers had little interest in the nature of being as such, while they concentrated instead on questions like “how can human beings collaborate most effectively with the heavens and the earth to produce a flourishing world?” Ames then turns to the Zhongyong as a concrete example and as a response to Mohist views of heaven. The Zhongyong presents human beings as having a reflexive and integral relationship within the creative cosmic process. The imminent, inchoate, and thus underdetermined penumbra of the emerging cosmic order provides the opening and the opportunity for cultivated human “becomings” to collaborate symbiotically with the heavens and the earth to be co-creators in achieving a flourishing world. The philosophies of Laozi and Heraclitus are paradigmatic examples of dynamic views of the world. Although they are often brought up in the same breath, their similarities and differences are still in need of further examination. In Chapter 6, Jiyuan Yu presents a meticulous comparison of Laozi and Heraclitus. He proposes that Heraclitus and Laozi each

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discover a new way of perceiving and thinking about reality, and that the picture of logos and the picture of dao are surprisingly similar. For both, the world is one but is characterized by a dynamism constituted in tensions between opposites, tensions which drive transformation in the world. Based on his findings through this comparison, Yu challenges two influential claims about Chinese metaphysics. One is that Chinese philosophers do not pursue a reality behind the veil of appearances, and the other is that Chinese philosophers were not concerned with the truth about reality but only with the way to live well. Michael Puett in Chapter 7 takes readers to a rather unlikely place for metaphysics, the Liji (Records of Rites). Li 禮 (ritual) is a key concept in Confucian philosophy. It has been, however, studied almost exclusively as a subject of ethical–social philosophy. Puett shows that the Liji presents a sophisticated and powerful set of theories concerning ritual and how it affects reality. The “Liyun” chapter of the text makes it clear that ritual was created by humans, and that the construction of proper order is a human project of transforming and organizing the world through ritual. These theories are also, however, rooted within a complex set of metaphysical claims. Puett analyzes these metaphysical arguments to discuss why they are so important for the theories of ritual found within the text, and to explore the philosophical implications of attempts to develop a ritual-based vision of reality. Puett argues that the author(s) of the “Liyun” did not take harmony as a pre-existing characteristic of the world to which human beings should conform. On the contrary, harmony must be constructed by human beings through domesticating and managing the basic forces of the natural world. The introduction of Buddhism from India brought a new set of metaphysical issues and concepts that were gradually adapted into Chinese philosophy, making a significant contribution to metaphysical theories in China. In Chapter 8, Hans-Rudolf Kantor presents us with various concepts of reality in Chinese Buddhism as they merge with issues of epistemology. Kantor shows that Chinese Buddhists developed diverse ways to interpret ontological indeterminacy, the inseparability of truth and falsehood, and the existential relevance of falsehood. He introduces and compares the various constructivist views of reality developed in the traditions of Chinese Mahāyāna Buddhism, bringing together Madhyamaka, Yogācāra, Tathāgatagarbha, Tiantai, and Huayan texts. According to these constructivist models, truth and falsehood are mutually constitutive and inter-referential. On the level of epistemology, our insight into truth requires and includes the experience of falsehood. On the level of metaphysics, falsehood itself is a significant feature of reality, constituting a dimension of our world. The epistemological and

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metaphysical senses of the inseparability of truth and falsehood coincide because the world and the way we exist in it are dependent upon our epistemic stance. A. N. Whitehead is one of the Western philosophers best known for advocating an ontology of becoming rather than being. It is not surprising, therefore, that his philosophy possesses an affinity with some Chinese counterparts. In Chapter 9, Vincent Shen compares Whitehead’s ontological principle and the concept of event with the philosophy of Huayan Buddhism. Shen shows that the ontology of dynamic relationships so cherished in Chinese philosophy is in fact quite close to Whitehead’s ontology of event. For Whitehead, universal relatedness determines that all events are directed towards many other events for their meaning. Within Huayan Buddhism’s doctrine of Ten Mysterious Gates (shi xuan men 十玄門), Whitehead’s view is similar to the way the “Gate of Relying on Shi (actualities, events, phenomena)” is used to explain dharma and produce understanding, but there is also an important contrast. While Huayan tends to reduce the “many others” and their comprehensive harmony to the “one mind,” Whitehead argues that every actual entity tends towards others through its own dynamic energy. Every actual entity receives objectifications from others and objectifies itself upon others. Shen goes on to offer some critical reflections on this comparison in search of a positive development of the ontology of event and dynamic relations. In an innovative move, Brook Ziporyn in Chapter 10 examines and interprets Zhang Zai’s metaphysics of polar relations in terms of “harmony as substance.” Zhang Zai, one of the founding figures of “Neo-Confucianism,” is well known for his “Western Inscription,” but his “Eastern Inscription” has received little attention. In this “Eastern Inscription,” Zhang puts forth a metaphysical view that reinterprets the heterodox notion of “Voidness” in order to make it a justification of the cardinal importance of human relationships. As Ziporyn shows, Zhang accomplishes this by defining the nature of material force (qi) as a joining of polar opposites (yin and yang, qian 乾 and kun 坤, etc.), and hence as a necessary alternation and “Great Harmony” between condensed and dispersed material force. This polarity is manifested in the individual condensed forms as their mutual stimulation and response (感 gan), i.e. their relationships with one another. This metaphysical view legitimizes the alternation of life and death and the cardinal importance of human relationships, both of which were repudiated by Buddhists. The resulting view is a kind of “monism,” but a monism which takes “harmony” as its ultimate category. That is, “harmony” is Zhang’s answer to the question “what are all things?” Ziporyn’s chapter provides a concrete and powerful

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example of the kind of Chinese qi-based metaphysics articulated by JeeLoo Liu in Chapter 2. Along with the previous two chapters by Kantor and Shen, Ziporyn’s discussion also sets the stage as we move to the next chapter on the metaphysics of Zhu Xi, the most influential Confucian thinker of the last millennium. The Song philosopher Zhu Xi’s “learning of the way” (daoxue 道學) became the imperial orthodox ideology and has continued to influence Confucian philosophers to the present. In his chapter, John Berthrong begins by examining the broader question of how the term “metaphysics” can be applied in a Chinese context, and then turns to address structural issues in Zhu’s mature metaphysics. Berthrong argues that Zhu’s metaphysics provides an architectonic vision of a kalogenic axiological cosmology; that is, a cosmology that expresses a fundamental concern for moral and aesthetic (kalogenic) values. This cosmology also embraces an intersubjective sense of ethical self-cultivation and conduct: we are never alone in the world but always embedded in the cosmos and connected ethically with our fellow human beings. Developing a lexicography of Zhu’s metaphysics, Berthrong provides an outline of many of the key philosophical terms embedded in Zhu’s philosophy. In this chapter, readers find a superb example of how in Chinese philosophy metaphysics and axiology are constructed to render support to each other within one coherent philosophical system. Xiong Shili was one of the most important Chinese philosophers of the twentieth century. Xiong integrated concepts, problems, and themes from traditional Chinese philosophy with elements emblematic of Sinitic Buddhist philosophy to articulate an ambitious philosophical syncretism. The analysis in the last chapter of this volume, by John Makeham, focuses on one of Xiong’s major philosophical works, New Treatise on the Uniqueness of Consciousness. The first part of Makeham’s analysis introduces Xiong’s radical monism and his related critique of Yogācāra philosophy as a kind of ontological dualism. Xiong’s critiques are grounded in the Mahāyāna doctrine of conditioned origination (yuanqi 緣起) and the doctrine that the phenomenal world is not ontologically distinct from undifferentiated absolute reality (dharmakāya). In the second part, Makeham adduces a range of evidence drawn from the New Treatise to show that the Huayan Buddhist doctrine of nature origination (xingqi 性起) played a central role in the entirety of Xiong’s constructive philosophy. Makeham concludes that unlike Madhyamaka, from whom Xiong draws inspiration, Xiong effectively posits Fundamental Reality/ Suchness/Inherent Nature/the Absolute as an underlying “locus” on which phenomenal/conventional reality is ontologically grounded, just as the sea supports the waves yet is not different from the waves.

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In sum, this volume covers all major periods and schools of Chinese philosophy, revealing their diversity, common concerns, and lines of development. The contributors not only present the metaphysical theories of these various thinkers and texts, but also make original contributions to the development of Chinese metaphysics itself. As such, their studies present cutting-edge research in Chinese metaphysics and serve as a powerful testimony to the existence of Chinese metaphysics and the legitimacy of studying it. Indeed, the existence and the legitimacy of Chinese metaphysics are no longer a question. The real question in front of us is how to better study it and how to make such a study more fruitful. It is our hope that the expert contributors to this volume have provided a hallmark work in the study of Chinese metaphysics that will serve as a valuable reference point for the study of Chinese philosophy in the years to come. Most of all, we hope that this volume will serve as a starting point and inspiration for a more expansive conception of metaphysics, one that is able to address and incorporate the wealth of metaphysical questions and insights developed by cultures around the world.

1

Yinyang narrative of reality Chinese metaphysical thinking

Robin R. Wang To reveal the true nature of reality, its content and structure, to place human beings within the cosmos in relation to other kinds of things, to clarify one’s responsibility to oneself and others, and to illuminate the path to happiness and a flourishing life – these are common enough ambitions exhibited in the works of philosophers like Plato, Aristotle, Descartes, Leibniz, Spinoza, Hegel, and so on. Those efforts have been seen as the metaphysical pursuit: making claims to legitimize an understanding of reality and the position of human beings within it. If our attention turns to Chinese philosophy, one can ask, how do early Chinese texts take on this metaphysical pursuit and express an understanding of reality? Instead of directly answering the question whether there is metaphysics in Chinese philosophy, this chapter will concentrate on three points. First, it starts with the notion of xing 形 (physical forms, things) in the distinction between xing er shang 形而上 (beyond or above physical forms) and xing er xia 形而下 (below physical forms), arguing that xing should be considered as a yinyang field of reality containing both what is above and below it; second, it presents a yinyang narrative account of reality through six formulations of the yinyang relationship based on early Chinese texts, concretely analyzing the multiplicity of yinyang descriptions; third, it articulates the metaphor of huanliu 環流(circular flowing) as a way to show how the complexity of yinyang interactions leads to a ceaseless process of generation and emergence.

Why xing er shang and xing er xia? Yan Fu 嚴複 (1854–1921), a leader of the first generation of Chinese translators of European texts, used the expression xing er shang xue 形而 上學 to translate Aristotle’s term “metaphysics.” Since then, the phrase xing er shang xue has gained a particular meaning in the academic

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discipline of philosophy – the study of xing er shang xue is the study of metaphysics.1 This term xing er shang 形而上, though, comes from the “Xici” commentary of the Yijing: May we not say that Qian 乾 and Kun 坤 are hidden in the Yi 易? Qian and Kun being established in their several places, the Yi was thereby constituted within them. If Qian and Kun were taken away, there would be no way to see Yi; and if Yi were not seen, Qian and Kun would almost cease to act. Hence that which shows above xing (xing er shang) is called dao 道; below xing is called qi 器 (tools). (Yu Dunkang 余敦康 2006: 349)

The notion of xing er shang has been taken as the focal point of this statement, and there are many commentaries on this distinction between xing er shang and xing er xia. For example, one of Zhu Xi’s students explains, “Xing er shang refers to li 理 (coherence); xing er xia refers to shiwu 事物 (events/things). Everything has li. It is easier to see things but harder to understand li. Knowing events and things one should see their li” (Li Jingde 1990: 1935). It is a common trend to read this passage from the “Xici” from a dualist point of view: there are two separate realms: dao is above, an abstract world and ultimate reality, while tools (qi) are below, the myriad things in the concrete world. This division fits well with the Western interpretation of metaphysics: the study of something beyond or above appearance. That is precisely why Yan Fu chose the term xing er shang as a translation for “metaphysics.” However, if we read this passage more carefully in its whole context we will find two interesting positions that disrupt mapping the distinction onto Western terms. The first is the shared notion xing, “form.” Dao and qi (tools) are both operating within xing. Xing er shang and xing er xia are all part of xing: the difference lies only in that one is xing from above and the other is xing from below. Zhu Xi and his students discussed this xing: Students asked: “why use xing to talk about xing er shang and xia?” Zhu Xi answered. This is the most appropriate. If we use the distinction between having xing (form) and lacking xing (no-form) then it will break the mutual relationship between wu (things) and li (coherence). Therefore the clear differentiation is only between shang and xia, so that the differentiation is fitting and clear. Qi is dao and dao is qi. There is a differentiation but no separation” (Li Jingde 1990: 1935).

According to Zhu Xi, this distinction between xing er shang and xing er xia is the clearest way to illustrate the relationship between dao and qi, 1

Although this is the standard term, the scholar Luo Zhixi 罗志希 (1897–1969) translates metaphysics using the term xuanxue 玄学 (Luo Zhixi 罗志希 2010: 6).

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highlighting the fact that there is an intrinsic connection between dao and qi.2 Dao is qi and qi is dao. They are different but not two independent entities. One unity has two positions or two sides. Shang and xia constitute the wholeness of xing. In this sense, the invisible dao that is above the forms and the visible things that are below forms are inherently indivisible and inseparable.3 We see here the problem of mapping the shang (above) in xing er shang onto the meta in metaphysics since meta from the Greek preposition μετά refers to “after” or “beyond.” Xing that is above is not the world of metaphysics but mediates between the two worlds. In other words, the division between physics and metaphysics leaves out the middle term, xing. Another comment from Zhu Xi furthers this connection by differentiating between “the orderly path” (daoli 道理) and the “tracks of physical things” (xingji 形跡). We read: What is above xing is called dao; what is below xing is called qi 器 (tools). Dao is the orderly path: all events and things have an orderly path. Qi are the tracks of things: all events and things also have forms and tracks. If there is dao there must be qi; if there is qi, there must be dao. Things must have patterns (ze 則). (Li Jingde 1990: 1935)

The road that things move on is different from the traces or tracks of things on the road. The road is a constant and orderly pattern. The tracks left by things are changeable and accidental. But these two are intertwined to exist as the one. The inseparability of dao as the road and qi as the tracks on the road is the central part of the xing er shang and xing er xia distinction. Dao and qi exist in one shared field yet are positioned as shang and xia. This shang and xia distinction embraces the Yijing’s image that yi (changes/ease/constancy) in tian 天 (heaven) above becomes xiang (images) and yi in di 地 (earth) below completes forms (在天成 象，在地成形) (Yu Dunkang 2006: 324). Tian is above and di is below, but they comprise an organic and interrelated whole. The shang/xia distinction is in a way similar to the geographical location of heaven and earth. Taking dao and qi as a whole emphasizes that the bond between dao and qi is visible. Xing er shang is xing going up as a pattern of yinyang; xing er xia is xing going down through yinyang interaction to form the myriad things. Again we read from Zhu Xi, “When there is dao 2

3

The debate over the relationship between dao and qi (道器之辨) has been an important philosophical issue through Chinese intellectual history, especially in Neo-Confucianism. In modern times it became a debate on the relationship between traditional culture and advanced technology. Dao and qi are often paired with another set: ti 體 and yong 用. Ti is the basic structure, whereas yong is the function. In this case, dao is the ti, qi is the yong.

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it must have qi; when there is qi it must have dao. Qi is not dao but it cannot be separated from dao; dao is not qi but exists within qi” (Li Jingde 1990: 1935). These discussions first bring to light that Chinese metaphysics as xing er shang is rooted in a belief that there is no absolute and isolated substance, no transcendent entity independently existing beyond all things. Unlike the tensions between transcendence and immanence, or appearance and reality, a conviction central to all forms of Western metaphysical theories, reality is not something which independently lies beyond, prior to or separate from our thought. We do not need to distinguish between “appearances,” which are the objects of the senses, and “things in themselves,” which are supposed to be known by a superior intellectual faculty. This xiang er shang and xing er xia instruct us on how to take what falls within experience rather than urge us to abandon the familiar world for contemplation of a better world which lies beyond the reach of the senses. The second important point in this “Xici” passage is the identification of yi 易 (changes/ease/constancy) with qiankun 乾坤 (the hexagrams for heaven and earth). The word yi itself had three meanings in pre-Qin times: “change,” “simple” or “easy,” and “constancy.” The focus of the text is on change; by following its guidance, however, one can accomplish things simply and easily. This guidance is possible because of constancy; not only because things always change, but also because change follows regular patterns. In the Shuowen jiezi, yi is taken as referring to the lizard, gecko, or dragonfly. They all share a common property: change. It was said that these animals could change their skin color twelve times within a single day. Association with the lizard also suggests fertility because the lizard, along with birds and the calabash plant, symbolized the penis in ancient fertility worship (Liu and Hu 2000: 12). A recently excavated text called the Collected Sayings I explains the role of the Yi: “the Yi is that by which one gathers together the way of heaven and the way of human beings” (Liu Zhao 2003: strip 36). This shows that yi permeates both heaven and the human realm, linking them together and bridging between them. Yi as changes can only exist within the two hexagrams of qiankun, and qiankun as the interaction of heaven and earth is the manifestation of yi. In other words, all changes are the changes or movements of qiankun. Without qiankun there will be no yi. Where there is yi, there is qiankun. As applied to the distinction between xing er shang and xing er xia, xing corresponds to qiankun, dao is yi and qi is the myriad things. Qiankun operates within dao above xing as well as with qi below xing. If this is established then qiankun operates in the shared field between dao and qi. The qiankun is the basis of yi. Yet this qiankun expresses fundamental

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configurations of yinyang: the hexagram for qian consists of all yang lines and kun is all yin lines. The other hexagrams are all built up or change from qiankun, and as a result the yi itself is inseparable from yinyang. Thus the Zhuangzi says, “The Yi confers yinyang” (易道陰陽).4 If we read this line together with the above line from the Collected Sayings I, yinyang is precisely what allows us to integrate the way of heaven and the way of human beings. This is consistent with another well-known claim in the “Xici”: “The alternation of yin and yang is called Dao” (一陰一陽之謂道) (Yu Dunkang 2006: 330). If, instead of taking xing er shang as a stand-in for metaphysics in the Western sense, we reverse the movement and take the original sense of xing er shang as Chinese metaphysics, then this “metaphysics” as an alternative to the theory of “above and beyond this world” should consist of at least three factors, all of which mediate between dao and the concrete world of things (qi): yi (changes); qiankun/yinyang, and the total field of forms (xing). These three constituents are woven into a coherent whole with yinyang as a generative force. This unitary account both describes things/ events in the world and explains how they originate and function. Yi not only employs yinyang as a conceptual tool to categorize phenomena, but also posits yinyang as an actual component in the structures and movements of reality. There are two ways to exhibit the role of yinyang in the Yi: the yinyang structure of hexagrams and lines, and the reconfiguration of these hexagrams as the function and movement of yinyang. Yinyang is the indispensable core of the conceptual equipment that spells out the fundamental features of our connection with reality. All things are brought under a single explanatory scheme, clearly recognized and consciously applied. Metaphysical premise and yinyang/metaphysical thinking Western metaphysics often deduces the nature of things from purely a priori principles and moves from sensible things to intelligible things with the help of rational principles. David Keightley derives Chinese metaphysical concepts from Shang divination because he takes metaphysics to be “the practice of rationality in its most theoretical form” (Keightley 1988: 367). If, for the sake of comparison, we allow the term “metaphysics” in a Chinese context, it might be helpful to see the differences in metaphysical positions through a contrast between metaphysics as a premise and metaphysical thinking. Metaphysics as a premise presupposes certain assumptions on which the metaphysical system is 4

Translation modified from Ziporyn (2009b: 118).

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built. The business of metaphysicians is to discover and make explicit these absolute presuppositions. A special activity of analysis is required to make absolute presuppositions explicit in terms of truth, and to figure out the correct set of first principles. This is most clearly illustrated by Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, which explicates the ultimate assumptions that underlie Newtonian science. The aim of the analysis is to uncover the necessary transcendental conditions for which all cognitively valid or scientific–theoretical thinking about objects and reality must conform. Metaphysical thinking, which can be seen as yinyang thinking in the Chinese context, rests on a vision of reality as a single self-generating, selfdifferentiating, and self-organizing whole. This vision does not provide a premise on which metaphysics subsequently builds; rather it suggests an interpretative scheme that has to be elaborated by further application. The unseen world is intrinsically connected with this seen world. There is no gap or missing link for philosophers to fill in or build up. Metaphysical knowledge is embedded in knowledge of the world of experience. This yinyang thinking is not a process of abstraction, moving from particular to general, concrete to universal, but rather it defines the field, range, horizon or patterns of a given condition. The concept of yinyang involves viewing the world as a web of interconnected forces working simultaneously and spontaneously to form the reality that we know. It is a common consensus that there is a unique modality of thinking in Chinese philosophy that is, in the words of John Henderson, a “peculiarly Chinese phenomenon” that has dominated “the intellectual life in traditional China more than other civilizations” (Henderson 1984: 54). This way of thinking has been characterized as correlative thinking,5 the part/ whole paradox (Ziporyn 2000: 30), the foci/field distinction (Ames 2011: 40), or the part/totality interplay (Ames 2011: 46). All of these formulations point to aspects of this distinctive pattern or paradigm of Chinese thinking. This chapter will utilize yinyang thinking as a more indigenous term to capture this cluster of words, concepts and orientations. This method follows one suggested by Roger T. Ames that “we pursue the root meanings within the soil of Chinese culture that themselves are alive and have grown along with the semantic foliage” (Ames 2011: 37). If we take yinyang as an organizing concept of a higher logical order than those we operate on in describing particular actions or events, then applying a yinyang perspective suggests that we see the situation in a certain light. Yinyang is a complex process and it is intended to embrace diverse phases. It is a way to understand reality as it is. At the risk of generalization, 5

Michael Nylan (2010: 410–14) compiled more than ten authors along with their definitions of correlative thinking.

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we can consider six specific ways that yinyang provides a framework that throws light on hidden or unknown facts and relationships. This yinyang thinking does not see the universe as “over there” for us to observe, as if we were simply situated as observers. Moreover, yinyang not only describes and explains reality but is also a constituent of reality itself. If we take metaphysics as the attempt to give an ultimate explanation of the world itself (rather than as a move to abstract entities), then this yinyang thinking can be taken to be a kind of metaphysical thinking. The following six forms of yinyang relations can be seen as a series of attempts to bring the different aspects of human experience into perspective and present a connected and coherent account of human experience and the diversified myriad things. (1) Maodun 矛盾: contradiction and opposition. Although yinyang thought may prompt us to think of harmony, interconnection, and wholeness, the basis of any yinyang distinction is difference, opposition, and contradiction. Any given two sides are connected and related, but they are also opposed in some way, like light and dark, male and female, forceful and yielding. Everything involves its own negation. The phenomenon and its negation are necessary parts making up the whole. Complementary opposition is a fundamental, organic tension between possible forces. This way of thinking can be traced back to divination. David N. Keightley’s study of early Chinese divination reveals that one of the most significant features of many divinations of the Wu Ding period (c.1200–1181 BC) was the complementary, antipodal, balanced nature of paired charges. “A topic was addressed to the turtle shell or bone in the form of a change, which was frequently couched in either alternative (A or B) or in positive and negative (A and not A) modes” (Keightley 1988: 110). Keightley goes further to claim that “Shang metaphysics, at least as revealed in the complementary forms of the Wu Ting [Wu Ding] inscriptions, was a metaphysics of yin and yang” (Keightley 1988: 110). This aspect of yinyang is later described in terms of maodun 矛盾, which literally means “shield-spear” and originates from a story in the Hanfeizi 韓非子 (280–233 BC). A person who sells shields and spears promotes his shields by saying they are so strong that nothing can penetrate them, whereas he promotes his spears by saying they are so sharp they can penetrate anything. Someone then asks him – what happens if one tries to use your spear to penetrate your shield? (Gu Guangqi 顧廣圻 1996: 204) The Hanfeizi story poses opposites as logical contradictions. In this sense, something cannot be yang and yin (light and dark,

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masculine and feminine) in precisely the same way, at the same time, and in the same context. This approach to distinctions can be seen as the one of most fundamental in European philosophy. Such an approach, however, works only in the abstract. In reality, we find not only that opposites exist through interaction with and in dependence on each other, but also that the same thing can be considered to have opposite qualities depending on the context. (2) Xiangyi 相依: interdependence. One side of the opposition cannot exist without the other. This interdependence can be seen on several different levels. On one level, it points out the interdependence of opposites as relative concepts. In labeling something as “high,” one must implicitly label something else as “low.” One cannot have a concept of “good” without there existing a concept of “bad” (Daodejing, Chapter 2). According to yinyang thinking, however, the interdependence of opposites does not simply refer to the relativity of our concepts, but also to how things themselves exist, grow, and function. Two processes require each other as a necessary condition for being what they are. One way that this interdependence appears most clearly is through the alternation of yin and yang. The sun is the best example of yang – bright, warming, stimulating growth, and giving a rhythm – but when the power of that yang is developed to the extreme, it is necessary for it to be anchored, regenerated, and sustained by the force of yin. The sun must set. Although yang is the obvious, it cannot thrive without the support of yin. This interdependence appears in traditional Chinese medical texts, where the flourishing yangqi 陽氣 depends on the regeneration of yinqi 陰氣, of the five internal organs. Without that basis, the yinqi of the organs, there will be no surge of yangqi or its extension outward. The Guiguzi 鬼谷子(The Master of Spirit Valley), a classic text on strategy from the Warring States period (451–221 BC), illustrates this interdependence, using an opening and closing door as a metaphor. To be a door, it must be able to open and close as two interrelated modes; otherwise, it will be simply a wall (that does not move) or an open space (that does not close). The Guiguzi gives this a cosmic significance: “Opening and closing are the way of heaven and earth. Opening and closing change and move yinyang, just as the four seasons open and close to transform the myriad things” (Xu Fuhong 許富宏 2008: 13). (3) Huhan 互含: mutual inclusion. Interdependence is linked closely to mutual inclusion. If yin depends on yang, then yang is always implicated in yin; in other words, yin cannot be adequately characterized without also taking account of yang. The same is true of yang – it

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necessarily involves yin. Regarding things themselves, even something that is strongly yang can be considered yin in some relations. The constant alternation between yin and yang also entails that yang always holds some yin and yin holds some yang. It conceives of a world of alternating modes with the germs of one mode always inherent in the other. In the cycle of four seasons, summer is the most yang of the seasons, yet it contains a yin force, which will begin to emerge in the summer, extend through the fall, and reach its culmination in the winter. Winter is the highest stage of yin, yet it unfolds a yang force that will attain its own full swing through spring to summer. Similarly, in the Yijing, all yin hexagrams have a dominant yang line and all yang hexagrams have a dominant yin line. This mutual inclusion has important consequences in terms of strategy because it indicates that, when one thing appears to you as present, that thing also entails opposite forces that are hidden and in motion but that have not yet appeared. (4) Jiaogan 交感: interaction or resonance. Each element influences and shapes the other. If yin and yang are interdependent and mutually inclusive, then a change in one will necessarily produce a change in the other. Thus, as yang ebbs in the autumn, yin strengthens, and as yin declines in the spring, yang grows. For example, in Chinese traditional medical diagnoses, too much yin in the body is a sickness of yang, and too much yang in the body is a sickness of yin (Niu Bingzai 1993: 46). Changes in yin will affect yang, and vice versa. In medical treatment, yin and yang should be fostered at the same time. It is said, for example, that yin will not respond to the drug or acupuncture without a certain amount of yang. The Lüshi Chunqiu 呂氏春秋 (c.240 BC) takes this resonance as a general principle, approached through the relationship between action and non-action: “Not to venture out is the means by which one does venture out; not to act is the means by which one acts. This is called ‘using the yang to summon the yin and using the yin to summon the yang’” (Knoblock and Riegel 2000: 410). (5) Hubu 互補: complementary or mutual support. Each side supplies what the other lacks. Given that yin and yang are different but interdependent, properly dealing with a situation often requires supplementing one with the other, which is a way of achieving the appropriate balance between the two. This relationship appears clearly in discussions of arts and crafts. For example, the Zhouli 周 禮 (The Rites of Zhou) describes the craft of making a wheel:

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The way of making the hub of a wheel must be measured according to yinyang. Yang is densely grained and thus is strong; yin is loosely grained and thus is soft. Therefore, one uses fire to nourish its yin, making it even with its yang. Thus, even if the wheel is worn, it will not lose its round form. (Wang Yunwu 王雲五 1972: 424)

This passage addresses the difficulty of creating a wheel that is firm but made of materials that are soft enough to bend into a circle. Here, softness and hardness complement and support each other. This complementarity is different from the submission of one side to the other, because both sides stand on equal ground in performing different roles. Another example of cosmological and mutual support or assistance is in the text “Great Oneness Generates Water,” one of the texts found in the Guodian bamboo slips. We witness mutual assistance for generating water, heaven and earth, spirit and light, yinyang, the four seasons, cold and hot, and dryness and moisture. The text begins: The great unity generated water, water returned to assist the great unity, and by this heaven/sky (tian) was formed. Heaven returned to assist the great unity and by this earth was formed. Heaven and earth returned to mutually assist each other, and by this spirit and light formed. Spirit and light returned to mutually assist each other, and by this yin and yang formed. Yin and yang returned to mutually assist each other, and by this the four seasons formed. The four seasons returned to mutually assist each other, and by this cold and hot formed. Cold and heat returned to mutually assist each other and by this dryness and moisture formed. Dryness and moisture returned to mutually assist each other, forming years and then stopping. (Liu Zhao 2003: strips 1–4)

This xiangfu 相輔 (mutual assistance) between complementary but opposite pairs is a fundamental force in each step of this generative process, laying the basis for the continuous cycles of nature expressed by the seasons and the repetition of the harvest. (6) Zhuanhua 轉化: change and transformation. One side becomes the other in an endless cycle. Yinyang thought is fundamentally dynamic and centers on change. In nature, there is decline, deficiency, decrease, and demise, as well as flourishing, surplus, increase, and reproduction. In the human world, life is filled with trouble, failure, exhaustion, and insufficiency, as well as fullness, fruition, mastery, and success. The tension and relation between the distinct forces generalized as yin and yang naturally and intrinsically lead to changes and transformations. This view of unceasing change is articulated in the Yijing as sheng 生 – creating and generating. In his discussion of the transformative dimension in Chinese culture, Lauren Pfister

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contends that there is “an inherent necessity driving for transformation” in all aspects of reality, and “all transformation[s] are born within the hidden, invisible contexts” (Pfister 2008: 669). These processes of change move toward increasing complexity, a term widely invoked in the field of contemporary science, particularly in relation to biological systems (Mitchell 2003: 167). Yinyang interplay is a “shift,” where yin gets yang in one case or yang gets yin in another case. The defense of a pluralistic view of yinyang accentuates a metaphysical point of reference that is defined by location (wei 位) and time (shi 時). Yang is dong (active), moving in time; yin is jing (passive), still in space. In one case, as yang fills in yin it will receive the form, grounded in space, or spatialization. This will be the case of yang getting yin; in the other case, yin receiving yang, it will have time, moving in space, a temporalization. Time-yang is injected into spaceyin or space-yin is injected into time-yang. Yin obtains yang and will have novelty and innovation; yang obtains yin and will have realization and formation. To fully see how the above six relations explain reality itself, one must note that there is an intrinsic progression from one to six, running from the more obvious to the less obvious. The contradiction is what is initially seen, but, as one digs deeper, this opposition reveals a relation of interdependence, then mutual inclusion leading to necessary interaction and bringing out mutual support, and then finally to change or transformation. It also discloses a complex interlocking relationship among the various levels. The previous relations are not left behind as one progresses, but they are integrated into the next step. The initial contradiction itself implies that all the others coexist, or that the latter stages “sublate” the former (still preserving the contradiction in some form). Any stage contains a network of interdependence, mutual inclusion, and mutual support, which leads to interaction and transformation. All of these coexist in different degrees of force, and when they reach a certain degree of force then they generate qualitative changes. This can be seen in the terms of contemporary science as emergence and complexity. In the end, these interactions bring out transformation and generate complex organisms (that are structured by embodying all six relations). They move in wave-like spirals subject to amplitude, phase, propagation, and interference. In this account, everything is in a state of perpetual motion. Let’s take one hexagram from the Yijing as an example of how any hexagram contains these six relations. The 既濟 jijigua hexagram , number 63 of the 64 six-line hexagrams, is made up of two three-line trigrams: water ☵坎 kan and fire ☲ 離 li, with water on top and fire

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on the bottom. Water and fire are opposites, maodun (1). But water and fire depend on each other to form this six-line hexagram. Without mutual interdependence, xiangyi (2), there will be no jiji hexagram. Furthermore, every hexagram in fact contains four trigrams.6 For the basic hexagram, the water trigram is on top and the fire trigram is at the bottom, but if one counts six lines from bottom up then one will get a qian trigram formed from lines 1, 3, and 5, and the kun trigram formed from lines 2, 4, and 6. This is the case of mutual inclusion, huhan (3). The four trigrams contained in the jiji hexagram are ☲ ☵ ☰☷. In the hexagram, fire and water also must assist each other, hubu (4). Water’s nature is downward-flowing and fire’s nature is upward-burning. When water is above it can follow its natural tendency to go down, and when fire is below it can naturally move upward. More importantly, water above and fire below will naturally come into interaction, jiaogan (5). The hexagram gives an image of freedom from blockage and the flow of natural propensities and tendencies. There is no obstacle between fire and water. This is the stage of tong 通, of penetration and transformation, zhuanhua (6). The hexagrams assume a dynamic world with multiple dimensions tightly enfolded in the intricate fabric of reality. Yinyang thinking therefore emphasizes the inherently malleable and unstable nature of things. That is, all things are in a constant state of reversal into their opposite states, but nevertheless exhibit constancy in their yinyang relations. The value of yinyang thinking is in revealing this constancy and helping us understand how to interact with it. We can now see that yinyang interplay based on the above six relations involves a scheme with several properties: (1) there are levels of relationship defined through degrees of integration, (2) order is emergent as opposed to predetermined, (3) change is constant, (4) the future is not fully predictable. These propositions can be captured in the model of trinary thinking. Trinary thinking provides the explanation for apparently unpredictable phenomena through the interplay of their myriad simple components. According to this perspective, all things lack definite position, momentum, and so forth. Things are actually emergent phenomena, described by a wave function which need not have a single position or momentum. The complex behavior or properties do not belong to any single entity, nor can they easily be predicted or deduced from lower entities. The reason why emergence occurs is the multiplicity of yinyang interactions. Interaction between components increases in combination with the number of components, thus potentially allowing for many new and subtle things to emerge. It is these continual yin and yang reconfigurations that bring possible beings into actual existence. This 6

Thanks to Mu Xiaofeng (Tommy) for this understanding of the Yijing materials.

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triadic thinking or the thirdness of change and transformation is central to Chinese metaphysical thinking Huanliu 環流: a metaphor for reality W. H. Walsh claims that metaphysics “is the science of things unseen” (Walsh 1963: 38). Plato, like most metaphysicians in the Western tradition, recognizes the existence of a world of unseen or intelligible entities lying behind the appearances of the senses. This recognition motivates the whole metaphysical enterprise: “The essential aim of metaphysicians is to inform us about a reality supposed to lie entirely outside the range of sense-experience” (Walsh 1963: 44). Reality, according to the yinyang thinking here expounded, is to be seen as a single self-generating complex system, a world as unity in diversity. Reality is nothing apart from the appearances presented. The six ways discussed above fashion a coherent account of appearances; they do not explain them away or divert attention from them by pointing to something beyond or above them, but rather make them comprehensible, inclusive, and manageable. While fundamentally different from the orientation of Western metaphysics, this can still be considered a kind of Chinese metaphysical thinking. We can turn to the idea of huanliu, circular or spiral flow or movement, as a metaphor for this process of generation, integration, and emergence. The character translated as “flowing,” liu 流, refers most literally to the flowing of water, and the character itself contains the image of water on the left. The term for “circular” or “ring” is 環 huan. We might thus also translate the phrase as “flowing circulation.” This huanliu has three properties. The first is that this circular movement revolves around an empty center. In the Daodejing we witness the images of the hub, the cart, and doors and windows, all of which identify an empty space in its enclosing frame. The thing depends on this empty space for its form and its “usefulness.” This “structural blueprint” hinges on the concept of enclosure, something that surrounds the emptiness. Thus concrete things themselves always exist through an element of emptiness that is fuyin 負陰 (embodying yin). However, non-presence is embedded not only in presence but also in motion. This will lead us towards the concept of rotation. The form revolves metaphorically and literally around the empty space that rotates. The wheel spoke rotates around an “empty” hub; the pot spun on a potter’s wheel and the walls of the room “rotate” around the empty space and toward a spiral movement. We can also glimpse this spiral progression in natural phenomena like the whirlpool, vortex, sinkhole, and coil. James Miller shows that the

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ontological “swirling void” has had a strong impact on Highest Clarity Daoist practice: In Highest Clarity Daoism these “empty spaces” are understood as conduits for spiritual powers. Spirits reside in these “vacuums,” which is to say that the hidden powers of the cosmos exercise their transformative capacity in these interstitial spaces, the various “emptinesses” of caverns in nature and cavities in the brain. Without these empty spaces, spiritual transformation and creativity could not take place; there would simply be inert matter. (Miller 2013b: 13)

This movement is also seen in Zhuangzi’s image of the hinge of the way – in Ziporyn’s translation, the “axis of courses”: When “this” and “that” – a right and a wrong – are no longer coupled as opposites – that is called the Course as Axis, the axis of all courses. When this axis finds its place in the center, it responds to all the endless things it confronts, thwarted by none. For it has an endless supply of “right,” and an endless supply of “wrong.” Thus, I say, nothing compares to the Illumination of the Obvious. (Ziporyn 2009b: 12)

Zhuangzi even praises the man of the Renxiang clan who “found the center of the circle” and was thus able to complete himself by following along with things no matter how they ended or began (Ziporyn 2009b: 108). The second characteristic of huanliu is that the cycles have no end and no beginning, continuing on without limit or exhaustion. Change is perpetual, never ending. One side becomes the other again and again. This view appears across a wide range of texts. For example, Xunzi writes, “Use categories to proceed through the mixed, use the one to proceed through the ten thousand. Beginning then ending, ending then beginning, like a circle without end – abandon this and the world declines” (Wang Xianqian 1988: 163). The Huangdi Neijing makes the same point more explicitly in terms of yinyang: “Yin and yang are mutually connected, like a cycle without beginning. Thus, one knows that attack and defense always follow each other.” Another passage says, “Yinyang are interlocking like a cycle without limit, yinyang follow each other and internal and external interlock each other like a cycle without limit” (Niu Bingzai 1993: 59). The same concept is applied to military strategy in the Art of War: “Irregular and regular are mutually generating. It is an interlocking cycle without limit. How it can be limited!” (Li Ling 1995: 46) This vision of a never-ending reality also confirms a belief that everlasting political and social change between order and disorder is the constant way of heaven. We see this application to politics in The Book of Yue (越绝書). The King of Yue asks master Fang to explain the cause of abnormal phenomena in the four seasons:

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The king of Yue asked Master Fan: “Having severity in the spring, cold in the summer, flourishing in fall, and leakage in winter – is this made so by human governing? Or is it the way?” Master Fan said, “The way of heaven has three thousand five hundred years, alternating between order and disorder, coming to an end but then starting again, like a cycle without end. This is the constancy of heaven.”7

This cyclic view of history has dominated the interpretations of Chinese dynastic changes. The third aspect of huanliu is reversal (fan 反), which is a constant theme in the Daodejing. Reversal invokes the image of a circle in motion, or, more precisely, a nonlinear and infinite-dimensional spiral movement. The Heguanzi 鶡冠子 (Pheasant Cap Master), a text most likely from the Warring States period (475–221 BC), dedicates a chapter to an influential characterization of this movement: Qi can be mutually beneficial and mutually harmful; things of the same kind can complete each other or defeat each other . . . Beautiful and ugly adorn each other: this is called returning to the full cycle. Things develop to their extremes and then reverse. This is called circular flowing (huanliu). (Wang Xinzhan 王心湛 1936: 9)8

This huanliu illustrates that the occurrence of events is not linear; the circular flowing moves forward to a critical point of transition and then reverses from it. Things reposition from improbable order to inevitable disorder. Destruction and loss turn out to be the very rhythm by which nature sustains its beauty and regeneration. The ramification of this view discloses a paradoxical nature of reality, and it is worth noting that fan 反 not only means reversal but also opposition and going against. This disorder and randomness are far more a part of the natural order of things than is conveyed by the term he 和 (harmony). There are different ways to grasp the crux of he (harmony). He (harmony) can take the one snapshot of the world but not the whole picture. In life there is harmony and disorder, and these are conceived through contiguity and distance. Finding harmony depends on combining contrasting elements into relations of contiguity. In his Balanced Discourses (Zhonglun 中論, 7 8

Zhang Zongxiang (1956: 124). Thanks to So Jeong Park and Wu Genyou for help with this translation. The statement wuji zefa (物極則反), “a thing will reverse after developing to its extremes,” has become a popular idiom in contemporary China. There is a term in contemporary Western science called “self-organized criticality,” which refers to the tendency of large dissipative systems to drive themselves to a critical state, with a wide range of length and time scales. The idea provides a unifying concept for large-scale behavior in systems with many degrees of freedom. It has been looked for in such diverse areas as earthquake structure, economics, and biological evolution. It is also seen as “regression toward means.”

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Later Han, 25–220 CE), Xu Gan 徐幹 (171–217) claims, “The completion of great music does not take only one sound; the harmony of fine cuisine does not take only one spice; the virtuosity of the sage does not take only one way (dao)” (Li Runsheng 2007: 45). According to Xun Gan, harmony (he) equalizes and balances between a plurality as well as between the excessive and the deficient. A sage’s virtue is comparable to composing music or preparing cuisine. It is a harmony formed and cultivated from a multiplicity of ways rather than by drawing on one exclusive mode. In this sense harmony is ultimately a matter of integration. This transformative harmony challenges the single-mindedness and assimilative logic of the self-same subject reproducing itself through each encounter. In Brook Ziporyn’s words, “The chaotic, agitated, ‘non-harmonious’ harmony is the very essence of ‘ironic’ harmony.”9 We see this illustrated in the Zhuangzi: What kills all the living does not die. What gives birth to all the living is not born. It is something that sends all beings off and welcomes all beings in, destroys all and completes all. Its name is the Tranquility of Turmoil. This Tranquil Turmoil! It is what reaches completion only through its turmoil. (Ziporyn 2009b: 44–5)

This incorporation of conflict and disharmony into the very sustainability of nature should not be dismissed as a wild Zhuangzian idea. The idea of “balanced” nature has also largely been abandoned in contemporary ecological science. Donald Worster, one of the founders of the field of environmental history, writes, But now, as we have seen, scientists have abandoned that equilibrium view of nature and invented a new one that looks remarkably like the human sphere in which we live. We can no longer maintain that either nature or society is a stable entity. All history has become a record of disturbance and that disturbance comes from both cultural and natural agents, including droughts, earthquakes, pests, viruses, corporate takeovers, loss of markets, new technologies, increasing crime, new federal laws, and even the invasion of America by French literary theory. (Worster 1994: 424)

Elsewhere he writes, “The living world of nature was inherently a world of unique and unpredictable events, setting biology off from the physical sciences and making it difficult for physical scientists to understand biological phenomena” (Worster 1994: 400). This view of nature is remarkably close to the view assumed by yinyang thinking. It emphasizes coherence through interaction and the emergence of what is new and unpredictable. It also reveals the continuity between natural events and human life. James Miller comments on the above passages from Worster 9

Email exchange with Ziporyn.

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that this view of nature is largely free from overarching “metaphysical pretensions” (Miller 2013a: 7). That is the case, in so far as the yinyang account of reality lacks any ultimate principle that would reduce and control all the chaotic appearances within the world itself. Instead, yinyang thinking attempts to make sense of this complex reality through the six relations described above, their mutual implication, and the generative spiraling cycles that come from it. This flowing circulation, huanliu, demonstrates the ambiguity and complexity in life and nature. Yinyang thinking not only allows us to make sense of the world and explain its origin; it also provides a guide for how to act within it.

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In defense of Chinese qi-naturalism JeeLoo Liu

Introduction The notion of qi 氣 (often translated as “material force” or “vital energy”) underlies Chinese philosophy and many other aspects of Chinese culture, such as Chinese medicine and martial arts. Encompassing two modes yin and yang,1 qi is taken to be the ultimate constituent of all things in the world – it is the stuff of animate and inanimate things alike. However, the notion of qi has always been seen as a mysterious, all-encompassing umbrella concept that defies analysis and frustrates understanding. This chapter presents Chinese theories of qi as qi-naturalism, and further argues that naturalism should be construed more liberally than the currently dominant Scientific Naturalism. It will reconstruct the various naturalistic cosmological theories of qi in the Chinese tradition. By emphasizing its naturalistic dimension, this chapter aims to show that even though this whole tradition of qi-cosmology falls outside the scope of contemporary natural sciences, it is nonetheless a rational, coherent, and respectable view of nature. The key argument in this chapter is that Chinese philosophy of qi falls into the camp of naturalism; however, what counts as “naturalistic” is a highly contentious issue. This chapter will begin with an introduction of the various conceptions of naturalism in contemporary Western philosophy. It will show that naturalism should not be restricted to the narrowest conception of Scientific Naturalism, according to which what exists is only what can be ultimately explained in terms of natural sciences. The Chinese notion of qi is presently excluded from the scientific discourse, and whether it will ultimately become compatible with the scientific image of the world remains to be investigated. Therefore, under Scientific Naturalism, it is arguable whether Chinese qi-cosmology 1

In Chapter 1 of this volume, Robin R. Wang characterizes the Chinese metaphysical thinking as “yinyang narrative of reality.” The yinyang narrative should be seen as compatible with the qi-narrative of reality presented in this chapter.

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could be considered “naturalistic.” However, what Scientific Naturalism excludes from its ontology includes a host of events, properties, and phenomena, such as value, normativity, and subjectivity, that are of great humanistic interest. This chapter appeals to Liberal Naturalism, championed either in name or in spirit by Hilary Putnam, John McDowell, Thomas Nagel, Tim S. Scanlon, Mario De Caro, David Macarthur and the like, as the right way to conceive the world of nature. It will further define a particular version of Liberal Naturalism, entitled Humanistic Naturalism, as the proper conception of naturalism. Why naturalism? What naturalism? Naturalism represents humans’ rational engagement with the world, and it considers reality to be nothing but Nature itself. In contemporary philosophical conceptions of human reality, naturalism is becoming the received view, and yet its scope and meaning are wide open to different interpretations. The appeal of naturalism, according to its advocates, lies in its broader conception of existence than what physicalism proffers, as the latter rejects issues of human subjectivity, such as phenomenal consciousness and the phenomenal self, as well as value and normativity, such as good and ought, as long as they are not reducible to physical terms. Hence one constraint on any attempt to define “naturalism” is that naturalism must not collapse into physicalism. At the same time, naturalism is postulated against any form of supernaturalism, which accepts into its ontology such things as magic, miracles, Super Beings, transcendent realms and any other elements of mysticism. One who is committed to naturalism would not posit any immaterial substances, queer properties, or transcendent realms. In this worldview, there is no magic, and there are no miracles or supernatural powers – as all rational conceptions of the world ought to be. However, between physicalism and supernaturalism, there stands a spectrum of diverse views, many of which have been identified as naturalism. Therefore “naturalism” in today’s usage is a fuzzy term that covers a variety of views.2 According to generic naturalists, the world of nature is the legitimate object of our rationalistic investigation of our reality, and natural sciences represent such investigations. Some naturalistic views pertain to defining the nature and the scope of existence, and such views can be called “ontological naturalism.” Some other naturalistic views do not make 2

See Papineau (2009) for a comprehensive survey of various views categorized under “naturalism.” Papineau claims that it would be “fruitless to try to adjudicate some official way of understanding the term” (see http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/naturalism).

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any direct ontological claim as to what kinds of things exist, but relate existence to methodological constraints modeled after natural sciences. These views are grouped under “methodological naturalism.” However, one could easily go from endorsing methodological naturalism to embracing a particular version of ontological naturalism. Since the scope of existence is simply the totality of the physical universe, and since the proper methods of investigating the physical universe are those found in natural sciences, a likely conclusion would be: whatever cannot become the subject matter of natural sciences does not exist. This view assigns exclusive epistemic privilege to natural sciences, and defines the ontological scope in accordance with the investigative modes of natural sciences. Such a view is called “Scientific Naturalism,” which is a popular, or even dominant, view in current naturalistic discourse: [Scientific Naturalism]3 The world consists of nothing but the entities to which successful scientific explanations commit us. (De Caro and Macarthur 2010a: 4) However, one serious drawback of Scientific Naturalism is that it suffers the same ontological limitations as physicalism does: it precludes other facts that are incompatible with scientific methodologies, and yet are of great humanistic interest. De Caro and Macarthur, for example, argue that under Scientific Naturalism, there is no room for the existence of normative facts that are not reducible to scientific facts (De Caro and Macarthur 2010a: 1). Tim S. Scanlon points out that under the scientific view of the world, moral judgments do not state truth because they are seen not to “describe the world” (Scanlon 2003: 174 f.). Barry Stroud argues that the restricted form of naturalism, one that incorporates reductionism, would have to “eliminate the evaluative vocabulary altogether,” since nature is said to be “value-free” (Stroud 2004: 31). John McDowell points out that the scientific conception of nature as a realm of law renders the spontaneity of our understanding (Kant’s term) impossible (McDowell 1994: 73). Thomas Nagel (1974) questions how consciousness or the subjective character of experience could ever be captured by any reductive, third-person methodology of neuroscience. These philosophers, among others of like mind, call for a more liberal understanding 3

According to David Macarthur (2010), Scientific Naturalism can be further divided into three forms: Extreme Scientific Naturalism identifies science with physics alone; Narrow Scientific Naturalism includes only natural sciences; and, finally, Broad Scientific Naturalism identifies science with both the natural sciences and the social and human sciences. At its broadest form, Broad Scientific Naturalism (BSN) might be very close to Liberal Naturalism. However, it is still an issue of contention among Liberal Naturalists whether BSN is liberal enough (De Caro and Macarthur 2010a, 8).

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of “nature” and “the natural.” This alternative conception of naturalism has been called “Liberal Naturalism”: [Liberal Naturalism] The view that Nature (capital N) is the sum total of existence, but natural sciences do not define the scope of existence. There may be entities that cannot be scientifically explained or explained away, yet these entities cannot contravene the laws of the world investigated by the sciences.4 From this definition we can see that Liberal Naturalism is not anything goes. Naturalists draw a bottom line with regard to the scope of nature, and this bottom line constitutes the core thesis of naturalism shared by both Scientific Naturalism and Liberal Naturalism. [Naturalism] Nature (capital N) is the sum total of existence; the world consists of nothing but entities of the natural world. The operations or the presence of these entities cannot violate the underlying laws of nature; furthermore, there can be no supernatural interactions with entities in the natural world. This definition captures the essence of naturalistic approaches from both the conservative and the liberal camps. It delineates the naturalist’s ontological commitments via the principle of exclusion – it excludes things that would stand outside the world of nature, as well as causal influences that would violate laws of nature. However, this definition still leaves many issues unresolved; in particular, what is a natural law and what conditions must an entity satisfy in order to be part of the “natural world”? If natural laws are nothing but what are currently formulated as physical laws, then naturalism collapses into weak physicalism, according to which every object and event in our world is a physical object and a physical event in the sense that there is nothing that is not governed by physical laws. If, furthermore, “not violating natural laws” implies “being explicable in physical terms,” then naturalism collapses into strong physicalism, according to which every event and property in our world is either fully explicable in terms of physical laws, or explanatorily reducible to physicalistic explanation. What we want from the discourse on naturalism is exactly that issues and philosophies not compatible with physicalism can still have some legitimacy in our conceptions of reality. We thus need a different approach to delineate the core thesis of naturalism.

4

This formulation is based on De Caro and Voltolini’s (2010) analysis of the common feature of all forms of liberal naturalism.

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This new approach to naturalism adopts a humanistic perspective, and argues that the scope and significance of our ontology should be related to creatures like us. It is termed “Humanistic Naturalism,” and it centers on humans and their values, capacities and conceptions in the way it defines Nature.5 This view takes nature and humans’ attitudes toward nature as essentially intertwined. Humans have various attitudes toward nature; for instance, the world of nature can be an object of investigation, admiration, enjoyment, appreciation, utilization, conservation, construction, etc., for human beings. Humanistic Naturalism represents a particular attitude toward nature: the natural world is a proper object for cognition. Humanistic Naturalism is friendly in spirit to what Huw Price calls “subject naturalism,” by which he means the view that philosophy should study what science tells us “about ourselves” as “science tells us that we humans are natural creatures” (Price 2011: 186).6 The crux of both Humanistic Naturalism and Subject Naturalism is to put human beings back into the world of nature, and to consider properties of human psychology as well as of human activities “natural” properties, even if some of these properties are not type-reducible to physical properties.7 Natural properties in this sense mean both macro- and micro-properties of things in nature – as opposed to supernatural properties.8 What separates Humanistic Naturalism from Price’s Subject Naturalism, on the other hand, is that Price takes naturalism to reflect humans’ linguistic behavior, whereas the current approach takes naturalism to be grounded in humans’ cognitive attitude toward nature. By cognitive attitude, we mean the attitude that treats statements about natural entities and affairs as truth-apt. There are genuine truths and falsehoods of human cognition, and the demarcation is not based merely on humans’ language rules or their linguistic behaviors. Human beings are situated in the spatiotemporal world as part of the makeup of the natural world. Humans’ cognitive capacities are natural products that evolved in natural history, and human cognition is what is needed for human survival. The success of human 5

6

7 8

“Humanism” is understood in the general sense as the views that focus on human agency, human value, human reason, and human inquiry in the natural world, to the extent that it rejects the existence of God or any other supernatural being. Subject naturalism is posed against what Price (2011: 185) calls “object naturalism,” which is the view that “all there is is the world studied by science.” It is what we have identified as Scientific Naturalism. There is a sense in which “natural” is contrasted with “artificial.” It is not the sense employed here. Human activities are considered natural even though some activities are based on posits of supernatural entities. For example, religions in human societies reflect humans’ yearning for something unknown and almighty. The objects of their religious worship are beyond the scope of nature, but the activities themselves are part of the human psyche and hence are natural.

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survival should attest to the reliability of human cognition in dealing with the world. Naturalism represents humans’ intellectual attitude towards nature. Therefore the core thesis of naturalism should be Humanistic Naturalism, which will be defined thus: [Humanistic Naturalism] The world consists of nothing but entities of the natural world and humans are part of this natural world. Furthermore, there can be no supernatural interactions with entities in the natural world. Natural entities are accessible to humans’ cognitive capacities, and statements about the existence and nature of natural entities are truth-apt. The above definition does not make any claim on the ontological status of properties and events; rather, it focuses on objects only. The objects that are excluded are those entities that are in principle closed to human cognition. This view of naturalism is methodologically liberal in that it incorporates cognitive pluralism. The forms of cognition include the testing of scientific hypotheses, observation, inductive reasoning, deductive inferences, and much more. The systematic forms of cognition constitute the natural and social sciences, but there are also other nonsystematic observations and experiential knowledge as part of our empirical investigation. This view of naturalism is thus epistemologically liberal, in that it does not confine empirical investigation to the sciences alone and does not restrict empirical explanation to scientific terminology only. What it asserts is that the natural world exists independently of our conceptions, and it remains to be an object of our investigation, not our construction. By this definition, naturalism depicts a humanistic attitude toward the-world-as-it-is, rather than giving an a priori definition of the exact scope of existing entities. Ultimately, Humanistic Naturalism emphasizes a rationalistic, realistic, and nontheistic approach to the world of nature without assuming the primacy of physics or the natural sciences. It will be in this sense of naturalism that Chinese philosophy of qi is characterized as qi-naturalism. Chinese qi-naturalism In Chinese qi-cosmology, the universe is seen as self-existing and selfsufficient, constituted by qi alone. Chinese qi-cosmology interprets the origin of the universe as the result of various transformations of qi’s operations. There is no supernatural entity that operates in any way on things in the natural world, and there is no divine creation or

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intervention.9 The prevailing assumption behind this worldview is that the basic element of the universe is qi, which is a continuous form of energy that can be manifested in both material forms and spiritual forms. Life and death, or existence and annihilation, are simply various states of qi. The world of nature and the world of men, equally constituted by qi, are both governed by the principle of qi. Chinese qi-cosmology explicates the way the world functions with a conceptual scheme vastly different from the scientific explanation offered by the natural sciences. The apparent incompatibility, however, should not preclude the Chinese worldview being “naturalistic” on any a priori ground. As opposed to any form of supernaturalism, Chinese qi-naturalism does not countenance any transcendent realm such as the Platonic Form, any supernatural entity overseeing the world such as God, any supreme universal spirit underlying the material world such as Brahman, or any immaterial substance such as the Cartesian Mind. However, it should be noted that Chinese qi-naturalism is perhaps more liberal than most versions of Liberal Naturalism in the West, in that the line between the material and the immaterial or between body and mind is not clearly drawn in qi-ontology. In the Chinese worldview, mind and body are not separated, and all dimensions of existence are placed on a continuous spectrum of qi’s operations. Furthermore, the standard view held by qiphilosophers is that there are qualitative differences in qi. The purer forms of qi are directly responsible for mental capacities, and the mind is closely associated with the qi in the body. Since our mental activities are themselves functions of qi, they can influence our bodily conditions, which are also functions of qi. There is thus no mind–body dichotomy. Furthermore, the flow of qi runs freely within and without a person’s body, hence one’s bodily conditions are constantly affected by changes in the external environment. Qi-ontology thus defies the current taxonomy of the natural sciences. In contrast to the scientific image of the world, what it establishes is a holistic qi-integration image of the world. Several features of this qi-integrated worldview render it irreducible to, and furthermore incompatible with, the scientific image of the world, which is currently dominated by physicalism. Physicalism is based on a “multilayered” worldview, according to which the microphysical layer determines all macro-layers, such as the chemical and the biological, and even the psychological and the sociological, as well as all other human activities. Jaegwon Kim, a renowned reductive physicalist, calls this 9

A common Neo-Confucian slogan originating in the Yijing speaks about Heaven’s creation and Earth’s completion of life; however, both Heaven and Earth, constituted by qi, are taken to be part of nature.

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layered worldview the new vision that replaces the old Cartesian bifurcated worldview.10 In the physicalist layered worldview, macro-layers are dependent on – or, in a philosophical jargon popularized partly due to Kim, supervene on – the fundamental physical layer in the sense that properties of the higher level are in principle determined by, and arguably reducible to, microphysical properties. Under the qi-integration worldview, on the other hand, the world is not separated into “layers,” and everything is integrated into one whole cosmic web at the same level. The all-encompassing element of all things is qi; however, qi is not taken to constitute merely a “bottom level” of the world. Qi’s presence is both micro and macro, and the connection between elemental qi and worldly affairs should not be construed as constitutional or mereological. Even if the nature of qi itself is not anti-physics and could one day be found to be compatible with physical explanations of the world, the causal functions of qi are not exhaustible merely at the bottom (microphysical) level of the world and they cannot be individualistically categorized. In this sense of being irreducible to the micro-level locally construed, qi-philosophy is fundamentally “non-reductionist.” In the Chinese worldview, qi is also associated with life’s conditions and the world’s states of affairs. Chinese herbology has an elaborated classification of the constitution of yin and yang in various foods; Chinese medicine is the study of the distribution of yin and yang in the human body. Chinese folk sciences and folk beliefs appeal to properties of yin and yang to explain all macro-properties, such as human health, political trends, meteorological phenomena, seasonal changes, etc. In other words, qi-properties are taken to be explanatorily sufficient for all states of affairs in the world. Even though the philosophical qi-naturalism is not based on Chinese folk sciences, it shares the same worldview that qi constitutes all things, and that properties of qi are responsible for all macro-properties in both natural and human states of affairs. In the Chinese qi-naturalistic worldview, properties of qi, such as the balance or imbalance of yin and yang, the clarity or turbidity of qi, the rise and fall of qi’s movements, etc., determine all states of affairs in the world with their macro-properties. Macro-properties supervene on qi-properties, such that if two things are identical with respect to their qi-properties globally construed, then they necessarily share the same macro-properties. Two things identical in their qi-constitutions and 10

Under this layered worldview, Kim (1993: 337) says, the world consists of “a hierarchically stratified structure of ‘levels’ or ‘orders’ of entities and their characteristic properties. It is generally thought that there is a bottom level, one consisting of whatever microphysics is going to tell us are the most basic physical particles out of which all matter is composed.”

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relational qi-properties are thereby identical in their macro-properties. Furthermore, if two things are made up by the same qualities of qi, then they will also share the same principle (li 理). If we apply this notion of supervenience to qi-naturalism, we can define the macro-qi supervenience as follows: Macro-qi supervenience: Things identical in the make-up of qi will share the same macro-properties, in the sense that if x and y have the same qi-properties globally construed, then necessarily x and y will have the same supervening macro-properties. If all macro-properties supervene on qi-properties and qi is the sole constitutive cause for all natural things, then there would be no metaphysical dangler that is not determined by natural properties of qi. In this respect, qi-supervenience preserves the causal purity of qi-naturalism. We can now characterize Chinese qi-naturalism in the following ways. (1) It does not posit anything over and above the realm of nature. The formation of the universe is simply the transformations of qi in different stages, and the universe is nothing but the totality of qi in its various forms. (2) Under this view, qi is causally efficacious and the realm of qi is causally closed. All existent things are produced by the integration of qi; the end of existence is explicated in terms of the disintegration of qi. There is no causal influence from any entity outside the realm of qi. (3) Theoretically, everything can be reduced to qi and all events can be explicated in terms of qi’s operations. All natural things and events supervene on properties of yin and yang, in the sense that properties of qi determine the nature of all things as well as the development of all states of affairs. (4) At the same time, the operations of qi are not locally confined: global developments of qi externally and relationally influence the internal distribution of qi within each single entity. In other words, there is no local reduction of macro-properties to the base properties of qi individualistically construed. We will now turn to the various views presented by ancient Chinese qiphilosophers to understand the claims of qi-naturalism. Qi as the formative cause of nature and the constitutive cause of natural things Chinese qi-cosmology is most notably represented by the Daoist tradition of cosmogony. Daoist cosmogony is fundamentally built on the notion of qi. Both the Daodejing and the Zhuangzi appeal to the transformation of qi

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in their speculation of the origin of the world. Later Daoists used the term “primordial qi” (yuanqi 元氣) to designate the state before the universe was formed. The term “primordial qi” was first seen in an early Daoist text, the Heguanzi11: “Heaven and earth are composed of primordial qi, while the myriad things rely on heaven and earth [for their existence]” (Heguanzi, Chapter 11, 255).12 In ancient Daoist texts, “primordial qi” typically designates the state of qi before the formation of heaven and earth. This state is often depicted as “chaos” (hundun 混沌), a nebulous state of infinite space and formless qi that preceded the existence of the ordered cosmos. The initial state of the universe before the formation of heavenly bodies is a massive, homogeneous qi. Since it is without the separation of heaven and earth and without any distinction of objects and things, it is a unified, singular One. In Daoist texts, this state is frequently referred to as the One (Yi 一) or the Supreme One (Taiyi 太一). Daoist cosmogony arguably begins with the Daodejing. According to the Daodejing, everything is generated by dao, which is ontologically and temporally prior to the formation of heaven and earth. Since the Daodejing also says, “The myriad things are generated by Being (you 有); Being is generated by Nothing (wu 無)”13 (Chapter 40, Chan 1963: 160, with modifications), the notion of dao has standardly been identified as Nothing. However, the Daodejing also regards dao as something (wu 物): “There is something undifferentiated and yet complete, which existed before heaven and earth” (Chapter 25, Chan 1963: 152, with modifications). It also says, “The thing (wu 物) that is called dao is eluding and vague. Vague and eluding, there is in it the form. Eluding and vague, in it are things. Deep and obscure, in it is the essence. The essence is very real; in it are evidences” (Chapter 21, Chan 1963: 150). In both passages, the Daodejing uses the word “thing” (wu 物)14 to describe dao, and in ancient Chinese philosophical works, the word wu (物) depicts actually existing 11 12

13

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See Yi (2003: 58) and Cheng (1986: 6). The authorship of Heguanzi is unknown, and the dating (the Warring States period) is not without controversy. The word yuan has many connotations, but in conjunction with qi, as in yuanqi, it means “primordial,” “elemental,” “originating,” and “single.” In Xu Shen’s authoritative encyclopedia of Chinese vocabulary (Shuowen Jiezi), yuan is simply given as “the beginning” (shi 始). In Yijing, yuan is included in the four cardinal virtues of the optimal states of yin and yang: Origination (yuan 元), Fecundity (heng 亨), Succor (li 利) and Perseverance (zhen 貞). Han dynasty philosopher Dong Zhongshu defines yuan as the foundation of everything (cited in Zhang Dainian [1958] 2005: 57). Zhang Dainian’s view is that what Dong Zhongshu meant by yuan is simply taiji 太極. Some scholars argue that it is wrong to translate you as Being and wu as Nothing. Here I am sidestepping this controversy and simply use the conventional translation. For further discussion on the notion of wu as it appears in the Daodejing, see JeeLoo Liu (2014b). Though sounding the same as the word form for nothing 無, this word form is 物. There are no connections between the two words.

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things.15 This shows that the notion dao should not be interpreted merely as an abstract, purely spiritual, metaphysical posit. The theory of qi is endorsed by the author(s) of the Daodejing, and the notion of dao should be understood in this framework. The Daodejing mentions qi in several chapters, and in Chapter 42 it links qi to dao’s generation of the myriad things: “Everything carries yin and embraces yang. Qi’s mutual agitation constitutes harmony” (Chan 1963: 160, with modifications). This passage shows that its author endorses the view that qi produces all things, which is a common position in pre-Qin philosophical works.16 We find that many descriptions of dao in the Daodejing are likely descriptions of qi.17 Under this reading, the Daodejing’s cosmogonic claim is that, in the beginning, there was a homogeneous qi, and this formless primordial qi is what the Daodejing refers to as “nothing” (wu 無). Whereas the Daodejing refers to primordial qi only implicitly, the Zhuangzi explicitly embraces the theory of qi as its cosmology. In the Zhuangzi, the initial, pre-cosmos state of the universe is depicted as a state of “chaos” (hundun).18 This primeval state of chaos is the formless indiscernible state of qi, which fills up the whole space and can be identified with space itself, as nothing could be external to it. The Zhuangzi refers to this initial state as “the supreme One” (taiyi 太一)” (Chapter 33, Guo 1961: 1093). In the Zhuangzi’s depiction, in the primeval state of chaos, there was no separation of heaven and earth and there were no concrete objects. In this sense, it is a “void” – empty of things. In time, however, qi congregates to form concrete things. As a result, the universe is divided into particulars and thereby loses its “oneness.” The whole universe is simply the result of the transformations of qi, which began with chaos. The Zhuangzi says, “The initial state of indiscernible, imperceptible chaos transforms into qi, qi transforms into shape and form, shape and 15 16

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Zhang Dainian (1986: 1), in his Preface to Cheng Yishan’s Theories of Primordial Qi in Ancient China. In the pre-Qin conception, qi is an amorphous substance that constitutes concrete things. When qi transforms into concrete things, it is no longer viewed as qi. See Cheng Yishan (1986: 19–20). Later Neo-Confucians, starting with Zhang Zai, would view concrete things as qi as well. For example, Laozi depicts dao as “containing the form and essence of things” (Chapter 21), as “soundless and formless” and “circulating incessantly” (Chapter 25), as invisible, inaudible and intangible (Chapter 14), as agitating and inexhaustible (Chapter 4), as continuous and connected (Chapter 14), as “overflowing left and right” (Chapter 34), and as moving in reversal (Chapter 40). If dao is understood as a spiritual metaphysical entity, then these descriptions are difficult to interpret. However, once we understand the initial state as primordial qi, these descriptions become intelligible. The term “chaos” in cosmogony refers to the earliest condition of the universe, before the ordered cosmos was formed.

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form transform into life” (Chapter 18, Guo 1961: 612). In the Zhuangzi’s cosmogony, there is no need for a transcendent creator, since this process of transformation is the natural flow of qi itself. It was in the Huainanzi 淮南子, a Daoist text with miscellaneous topics written around the second century BC,19 that the Daoist cosmogony based on the notion of primordial qi received the fullest exposition for the first time. The Huainanzi provides a cosmogonic account by explicating the “seven stages” thesis first introduced in the Zhuangzi:20 There was a beginning. There was what had been before there was a beginning. There was what had been before what had been before there was a beginning. There was something. There was nothing. There was what had been before there was nothing. There was what had been before what had been before there was nothing. (Guo 1961: Chapter 2, 79)

According to the Huainanzi, these seven cosmogonic stages represent the process of the formation of the universe. At the beginning, the whole realm was void and desolate. Later, qi was activated and filled the dark abyss. Yin and yang roamed freely to fill up the whole universe. It was a time of abundant and vibrant potentiality, but not yet any sign of things. In time, qi’s activation brought the abundance of things. Initially, there was simply boundless disorder when buds and sprouts were bursting, and shapes and forms were not yet materialized. Eventually, there emerged tangible, measurable, and enumerable concrete things. Plants bourgeoned and flourished luxuriantly; insects swarmed and teemed with vitality.21 In the Huainanzi’s narrative, the world emerges out of darkness and nothingness. When qi first emerged, it was undifferentiated and homogeneous. It was only later that primordial qi split into yin and yang, which initiated the formation of heaven and earth. Finally, life began to emerge and things developed into different categories. This depiction can be seen as a form of emergentism of something out of nothing. A noted astronomer in the Han Dynasty, Zhang Heng 張衡 (78–139 CE), incorporated the Daoist theory of qi into his scientific explanation of the origination of the universe.22 His representative work in astronomy, 19

20 21

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The Huainanzi is allegedly a joint production of intellectual hangers-on hosted by Liu An (179–122 BC), the prince of Huainan, who supervised and may have contributed to the whole production as well. In Zhuangzi’s writing, this passage may have been satirical in nature. However, in the Huainanzi, th passage is taken as a serious cosmogonic speculation. The following quote is loosely translated from the Huainanzi, Chapter 2, in consultation with Wing-tsit Chan’s translation in A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy (1963) and John S. Major et al. (trans.) The Huainanzi (2010). According to Joseph Needham (1994: 22), Zhang Heng was the first inventor “of the seismoscope in any civilization, and the first to apply motive power to the rotation of astronomical instruments.”

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Spiritual Constitution of the Universe (Lingxian 零憲, Needham’s translation), is considered one of the highest achievements in the history of Chinese astronomy. Apparently influenced by the Huainanzi, Zhang Heng depicts the emergence of something from nothing as the development of qi. For Zhang Heng, there was only a dark abyss at the beginning. Not only were there no form and no light, there was also no primordial qi. He calls this initial state “the Grand Obscurity” (Mingxing 溟涬). The Grand Obscurity may have existed since time immemorial. Inside it there was vacuity (xu 虛), and outside it there was only nothingness (wu 無). It was a deep, dark formless abyss and a complete lightless void. In the second stage, something came out of nothingness, and the primordial matter, which he calls “the Great Element” (Taisu 太素) began to germinate. This primitive matter is primordial qi, which was initially homogeneous and undifferentiated. At this stage, qi is merged into one and there is no differentiation of qi’s quality. Zhang Heng sees this stage as what the Daodejing refers to as the undifferentiated something. This second stage is called “Grand Chaos” (Panghong 龐鴻) and it also lasted an indefinitely long period of time. Finally, the undifferentiated primordial qi was divided and qi developed various qualities, such as magnitudes of force and degrees of purity. Heaven and earth were separated, and the myriad things began to take shape and to be divided into different kinds. This stage is called the Heaven’s Origination (Tianyuan 天元). Under Zhang Heng’s scientific depiction, at the beginning primordial qi was undifferentiated, and it later split into yin and yang with their different attributes. Yin with its heaviness formed earth; yang with its lightness formed heaven. The myriad things are constituted out of yin and yang with different degrees of their varying attributes. The initial cosmic state is a state of homogeneous primordial qi while the universe naturally evolved out of nothingness. This account became the core of the Daoist cosmogony. However, two major problems remain unresolved in this cosmogony: (1) The problem of generation: How could primordial qi emerge out of total abyss, complete void? (2) The problem of division: How could the one undifferentiated primordial qi develop the two modes of yin and yang? Both questions are difficult to answer, and Daoist philosophers did not make any attempt to explain how the generation and division came about when the initial state was simply a dark empty abyss. Neo-Confucians abandoned the Daoist’s postulation of absolute void and homogeneous primordial qi in their reconstructed qi-cosmology. Among early NeoConfucians, Zhang Zai was the first to develop a systematic reconstruction of qi-naturalism.

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On Zhang Zai’s view, there was never a time or any cosmic state in which there was absolute nothingness or an undifferentiated primordial qi. He rejects both the Huainanzi’s cosmogonic hypothesis of an initially undifferentiated primordial qi and Zhang Heng’s speculation that being initially came from a dark void. According to Zhang Zai, being is always mixed with non-being, and the difference between the two is simply the congregation or dispersion of qi.23 Zhang Zai calls the initial cosmic state “the supreme vacuity” (taixu 太虛),24 and argues, “the supreme vacuity was already seething with qi, which incessantly moves upward and downward” (Zhang 2006: 8). It is obvious from the depiction here that Zhang Zai takes qi to have real physical existence (since it has movements). This initial state was vacuous simply because there were no concrete forms. In Zhang Zai’s conception, vacuity is no more than formlessness. In the supreme vacuity, qi carries energy with it; hence, even before concrete things were amalgamated, the initial cosmic state was not a complete vacuum. Qi is something and has always been in existence since time immemorial; hence, there was never a state of nothing. On Zhang Zai’s theory of qi, qi exists from the beginning of the universe. Thus there was no question of how something could emerge out of nothing since there was always something. Further, Zhang Zai views the nature of qi in terms of polarity: “Qi always has yin and yang” (Zhang 2006: 219). He rejects the Daoist view that qi was initially undifferentiated, and then split into two forces. To him, qi intrinsically incorporates two modes of yin and yang and it was never a homogeneous One. Therefore there is no need to address how One could generate Two, or how division could have taken place. His view also differs from that of earlier Daoists in that he takes qi to be in constant movement and transformation from time immemorial; hence he does not envision a static 23

24

Zhang Zai says, “When it gathers, how can we not call it existing (being)? However, when it disperses, how could we jump to the conclusion that there is nothing?” (Zhang 2006: 182) The term taixu initially came from the Zhuangzi, and in that context it has been taken to mean either the realm of impenetrability or the vast space in the sky. It became a common term in Daoist texts. Daoists commonly embrace the view that the emergence of qi was a step away from the initial vacuity. Zhang Zai, however, takes the supreme vacuity and the presence of qi to be simultaneous from the start. Zhang Zai’s view may have been inspired by another source. According to Cheng Yishan (1986), in the second half of the Han dynasty there were two competing views: one is the standard Daoist view that “vacuity generates qi”; the other is the view that qi is inherent in the vacuity. The ancient encyclopedia of Chinese medicine, Huangdi Neijing Suwen, for example, gives the description that qi is widely spread throughout the supreme vacuity. A lost but newly excavated Daoist text, The Origin of Dao (Daoyuan), also expresses the view that, as a primordial state, the supreme vacuity contained some subtle, refined vital qi (jingqi). See Cheng (1986: 30–3).

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state of motionless or quietude. Finally, Zhang Zai takes qi to be essentially a principled qi: “With the qi between heaven and earth, there may be hundreds and thousands of various developments, and yet there is a principle that it follows and there is never any aberration” (Zhang 2006: 7). On his view there was never a state of pre-cosmos chaos (hundun). Qi is inherently orderly and the cosmic principle (li 理) is simply the principle of qi’s operations, not anything over and above qi’s movements. To Zhang Zai, the emergence of the universe and myriad phenomena is necessitated by a cosmic principle (li): “The supreme vacuity cannot be without qi; qi cannot but coalesce to form myriad things; myriad things cannot but disintegrate back to the supreme vacuity. All these developments follow the order of necessity and it is simply what could not have been otherwise” (Zhang 2006: 7, my emphasis). In this statement, we see that Zhang Zai is committed to some form of cosmogonic determinism. The “cannot be” should be analyzed as a physical necessity: it is the law of qi that it constantly consolidates and then disperses. This necessity of qi’s operations constitutes the law of nature. This conception of qi as the formative cause of the natural world became the standard view embraced by later qi-naturalists, such as Luo Qinshun 羅欽順 (1465–1547), Wang Tingxiang 王廷相 (1474–1544) and Wang Fuzhi 王夫之 (1619–92). Under this view, there is nothing over and above the realm of qi; there is no temporal segment before and beyond the ubiquitous existence of qi. The realm of qi is identified with the natural world. Another received view among Neo-Confucian qi-naturalists is the conception of qi as the constitutive cause of all natural things. According to Zhang Zai, the existence of qi always contains the interaction and interchange between two opposite forces: yin and yang. Zhang Zai explains the generation of myriad things in terms of the polarity of movements of yin and yang. The unification of yin and yang is simply qi, and thus yin and yang are “one thing with two aspects” (yiwu liangti 一物兩體), and Zhang Zai calls it “the supreme ultimate” (taiji 太極) (Zhang 2006: 235). In the Daodejing’s assessment, opposites destroy the One and the One is clearly of higher value.25 Zhang Zai, on the other hand, argues that the One and the Two are equally important, as without the One, there could not be the Two, and without the Two, the One could not be manifested. Movement is possible exactly because there exists opposition. He gave the examples 25

Laozi says, “Of old those that obtained the One: Heaven obtained the One and became clear. Earth obtained the One and became tranquil. The spiritual beings obtained the One and became divine. The valley obtained the One and became full. The myriad things obtained the One and lived and grew. Kings and barons obtained the One and became rulers of the empire. What made them so is the One” (Chapter 39, Chan 1963: 159).

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of “two opposites” as “hollowness and fullness, motion and rest, integration and disintegration, purity and turbidity” (Zhang 2006, 233). We can see from these examples that “opposites” in Zhang Zai’s conception refer to movements and states of qi. What he expresses as “one thing with polarity” is simply the view that qi, as a mobile physical entity, necessarily has opposite directions of movement and various states of aggregation. Opposition produces change. Change generates diversity. So here we have a crude picture of qi’s being the constitutive cause of the myriad things in the world of nature. On Zhang Zai’s understanding, the unification of yin and yang is ultimately in a harmonious state, which Zhang Zai calls “the supreme harmony” (taihe 太和). Harmony consists in the mutual collaboration of yin and yang, and Zhang Zai calls the supreme harmonious state of qi “dao.” Since qi itself must operate in accordance with the dao of harmony, yin and yang work to complete things together and not against each other. As we will see in Chapter 10 of this volume, Brook Ziporyn explicates Zhang Zai’s metaphysics as a form of monism, the view that places the primacy of existence on one thing alone. He argues that in Zhang Zai’s monistic philosophy, harmony is the substance and it takes ontological priority over qi. In this chapter, however, we regard Zhang Zai’s one substance as qi itself, and harmony as a necessary attribute, the beginning and the end state, of qi’s operations. On our interpretation, qi is the formative as well as the constitutive cause of nature – qi is the stuff that makes up the world’s existence. Our interpretation preserves the naturalistic spirit in Zhang Zai’s metaphysics, though it should be granted that a different interpretation could also be defended. Zhang Zai’s qi-naturalism cannot be categorized into the materialist camp. The tradition of Chinese philosophy does not subscribe to the dichotomy between matter and spirit or the material and the immaterial. Qi is both the constituent of material things and the essence of immaterial things. Under Zhang Zai’s construal, the realm of qi covers the mechanistic, the organic, and the spiritual dimensions of existence. Zhang Zai explains the production of everything in terms of qi: qi’s congregation and dispersion cause the existence of concrete things; qi’s rising and falling cause the growth of plants, etc. (Zhang 2006: 19). He further explains that spirits and ghosts are simply different functions of qi: when qi integrates into concrete things, it is called heaven’s “magnificent transformation” (shenhua 神化); when the qi that constitutes a living thing has dispersed and merged with the vacuous qi, it is called the return of the realm of ghosts (you 幽). Life and death of a living thing are not segregated into distinct realms; rather, they only represent different formations of qi’s

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constitution. Zhang Zai says, “The words ‘ghost’ and ‘spirit’ only signify the passage of coming and going or the process of expansion and condensation” (Zhang 2006: 16). An individual’s existence may be transient, but the stuff that makes up the individual – qi – is nonetheless indestructible. Therefore the world can go from exuberance into emptiness; qi itself is ever-present and will never be annihilated. Later qi-naturalists continue Zhang Zai’s treatment of qi as the constitutive cause of all natural things. For instance, Luo Qinshun appeals to qi to explain seasonal changes, life formation, plant growth, and even human affairs.26 Wang Tingxiang views qi as the substance of all natural things: “What is within or without heaven is qi; what is contained in earth is also qi. All objects, whether lacking or having substantial forms, are all qi. Qi is the substance that penetrates all creatures above and below” (Wang Tingxiang 1974: 4). Wang Fuzhi also adopts Zhang Zai’s view that qi condenses into solid forms and concrete things, while concrete things again disintegrate back to formless qi. He says, “When qi disintegrates and returns to the state of the supreme vacuity, it is simply resuming its original state of intermingling harmony, not annihilation. When qi comes together to generate myriad things, it is simply the unwavering nature of this intermingling harmony, not an illusory becoming” (Wang Fuzhi 1967: Vol. 1, 5). The interaction and intermingling of yin and yang generate all things and bring about all changes. Concrete things come to existence, persist in time, and then eventually disintegrate back to the mobile state of yin and yang. The changes of four seasons, creation and destruction, life and death, and even the developments of human affairs, are all accountable by the fluctuation of qi. Causal explanations in terms of qi are possible exactly because qi’s movements cause things to exist and to change. A contemporary interpretation of the nature of qi Even though qi in its primary form has no mass or solidity, it has a material existence nonetheless.27 However, qi is different from atoms in 26

27

Luo says, “Penetrating heaven and earth, persisting from the ancient past to the present day, qi is the only thing there is. Qi is inherently one, and yet it has motion and rest, it goes to and fro, it opens and closes, rises and falls. All developments of qi continue in endless cycles. What was obscure becomes salient; what was salient would later return to obscurity. It constitutes the temperature change of the four seasons; it enables the germination, growth, storage and dormancy of all things; it sustains the daily human ethics and it substantiates the success or failure in human affairs” (Luo 1990: 4). An esteemed intellectual historian, Zhang Dainian ([1958] 2005: 66), offers a contemporary understanding of qi as such: “The so-called qi in Chinese philosophy is the being before form and matter and what constitutes form and matter. It can be seen as the

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that there is no gap or interruption in qi.28 Qi-philosophers conceive of qi as having a continuous nature.29 Since atoms are discontinuous, there is space within and without concrete things. On the other hand, there is no separation between space and matter in qi-philosophy. Qi is continuous and gapless and it fills up the whole space – the extent of space itself is exactly the extent of the propagation of qi. Furthermore, since external qi freely penetrates concrete things whereas internal qi is continuously released from concrete things, particular things are interconnected and interdependent. A scientific image based on the notion of qi would thus have an individuation and a taxonomy very different from those built on the conception of atoms or particles. Ancient qi-philosophers understood qi to be the primary substance of all things, but there was no reference to the material constitution of things as it is conceived in the West. A twentieth-century New Confucian, Xiong Shili 熊十力 (1885–1968), was arguably the most revolutionary interpreter of qi in the history of Chinese qi-naturalism. Even though Xiong Shili continues the qi-naturalist tradition of Zhang Zai and Wang Fuzhi, his notion of qi is not the same as those of previous qi-philosophers. According to Xiong, the notion of qi should be interpreted as an alias for mass–energy. Qi, to him, is an “adjective of mass and energy” (Xiong 1958: 132) – it depicts the fluid transition between mass and energy. Mass and energy are not two separate things: they are simply two propensities of qi. Thus Xiong argues that the interchangeability between mass and energy is simply the transition of qi. He gave the example that food, once digested, turns into energy, and energy again renews the body’s composition (Xiong 1958: 132). In the initial cosmic state, before the formation of astrological entities, it was simply the conglomerate of mass and energy in a fluid form, filling up the whole space. Later on, when mass–energy developed into myriad concrete things, the universe was no longer a vast empty brume (Xiong 1958: 132–3). With this association

28

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‘primary stuff’ (Benshi Caipu) for form and matter. In today’s terminology, qi is the original material for all things.” According to the analysis of a contemporary scholar, Yi Desheng (2003: 59), as constituent of things, qi is different from atoms in that it has a “continuous, fluid and diffuse material existence,” in which there is no empty space or vacuum. For example, Wang Fuzhi says (1967: 10): “Yin and yang fill up the supreme vacuity. Other than yin and yang there is nothing and there is no gap.” Wang Fuzhi’s contemporary and close friend Fang Yizhi (1621–71) also says, “There is no gap in qi; everything is transferrable and corresponding” (Notes on the Principles of Things (Wuli Xiaozhi), in Cheng 1986: 22).

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of qi with mass–energy, Xiong Shili introduces a contemporary reconstruction of the ancient notion of qi and renders it more compatible with contemporary physics.30 Some contemporary scholars (Yi 2003; He 1997) have compared qi to quantum field, and they suggest that the transformation of qi from the continuous vacuous state to discrete concrete things can be reinterpreted as the transition from quantum field to particles in contemporary physics. To support his view, He Zuoxiu 何祚庥 further argues that the theory of primordial qi is the origination of the contemporary quantum field theory. He traces the quantum field theory to Einstein, Einstein to Leibniz, and Leibniz to the theory of primordial qi (He 1997). Leibniz compares qi to ether,31 which in Leibniz’s time was believed to be a continuous substance that fills up space. Leibniz separates matter into two kinds: those that are solid (or impenetrable), rigid and indivisible (such as atoms), and those that are penetrable, fluid and infinitely divisible (such as ether).32 He suggests that fluidity is the more basic condition.33 In Leibniz’s description, primary matter is a “continuous mass filling the world,” “from which all things are produced through motion, and into which they are resolved through rest.” In this primary matter there is “no diversity, mere homogeneity” (Leibniz 1896: 637). If there are two kinds of matter, as Leibniz suggests, then perhaps qi is this other kind of matter characterized by fluidity and continuity. Even if contemporary physics disputes the existence of ether, it does not entail that a qi-comparable entity does not exist in nature. From the above we see that what qi is, and whether qi is compatible with matter posited in physics – be it atom, particle, or string – are both open questions that have yet to be resolved by future research. Conclusion: the plausibility of qi-naturalism This chapter has placed Chinese qi-philosophy in the naturalist camp. Granted, it may seem outlandish to Western naturalists that the world of 30

31 32 33

Xiong Shili (1958: 135, supplementary note) claims that it was from studying the deep and broad meaning of Yijing that he came to the conclusion that mass and energy are one and not two. He did not simply derive his view of mass–energy identity from embracing Einstein’s mass–energy equivalence thesis (first proposed in 1905). Qi is sometimes translated as “ether,” as in, for example, Tang (1956) and Graham (1992). Leibniz (1896: Chapter 4 (Of Solidity), section 3). Leibniz (1896: 223; Chapter 23, section 23, original emphasis) says, “I think that perfect fluidity is appropriate only to prime matter (i.e. matter in the abstract), considered as an original quality like motionlessness. But it does not fit secondary matter – i.e. matter as it actually occurs, invested with its derivative qualities – for I believe that no mass is ultimately rarefied and that there is some degree of bonding everywhere.”

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nature could be formed by qi, caused by qi’s operations, and determined by qi’s properties. However, such disbelief is closely related to the entrenched biases of Scientific Naturalists. The current Scientific Naturalism and physicalism go hand in hand, and both views commit the bias of favoring matter as the primary stuff. However, reductionism cannot explain the emergence of mental phenomena such as consciousness and qualia, and the scientific image of the world leaves out too many human facts. What we need is another metaphysical view of nature that is compatible with naturalism, and yet is not as narrow as physicalism or its older variant, materialism. Neutral monism provides such an alternative worldview: under neutral monism, both mind and physical objects are constructed from neutral entities. Traditional neutral monists in the West have put forward various hypotheses of what these neutral entities might be: “world elements” for Ernst Mach, “sensations” for Bertrand Russell (1992), and “pure experience” for William James (Stubenberg 2010). These suggestions have been criticized as getting too close to some form of panpsychism. Contemporary neutral monists have suggested information structures or mathematical structures as fundamental entities (See Stubenberg 2010). The notion of qi could provide a more plausible rendition of this “neutral” entity. Qi is intrinsically neutral because it is neither primarily mental nor primarily physical; on the other hand, it has both physical and mental dimensions. With proper development, the notion of qi could be used to explain physical phenomena and mental phenomena, as well as the fluid interactions between the conscious and the unconscious activities in the body.34 Of course, a systematic explanation of qi’s constitutive and causal power is needed for us to fully embrace this form of neutral monism. If we are able to consider neutral monism, rather than physicalism, as the starting point in our ontological framework, then our conception of reality might accommodate the likelihood of qi-naturalism. Finally, the way current natural sciences interpret the world may not be the way future mature science will depict the world. Nowadays it is believed that normal matter (concrete things) makes up less than 5 percent of the universe. The rest of the universe is made up of “dark matter” and “dark energy” – and dark energy fills up to 70 percent of the universe.35 Notions of both dark matter and dark energy are as enigmatic as qi is, if not more so. At this time, cosmologists still do not have any 34 35

For instance, qi can be cultivated through one’s concentrated effort; qi can change one’s bodily condition as well as one’s spirit. The information about dark energy comes from NASA’s astrophysics page (http:// science.nasa.gov/astrophysics/focus-areas/what-is-dark-energy).

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confirmed theory about the formation of the universe or its constitution. The fact that normal matter constitutes only less than 5 percent of the universe shows us that materialistic postulates – be it atoms, particles, or strings – cannot fully capture the universe’s existence. Qi may be one of the undefined cosmic elements. Granted, the nature of qi still needs a more systematic investigation and whether we can define quantitative as well as qualitative measurements of qi remains to be seen. With further developments, nonetheless, the theory of qi may eventually find a place in future sciences.36

36

Part of this chapter is based on JeeLoo Liu (2014a).

3

What is a thing (wu 物)? The problem of individuation in early Chinese metaphysics

Franklin Perkins

The problem of individuation In Western philosophy, some of the most important metaphysical issues arise from the problem of individuation – what ultimately constitutes a “thing”? It may seem inappropriate to approach classical Chinese philosophy with such a question, and indeed, the issue of individuation had much less significance in Chinese philosophy than it did in the West. Nonetheless, such an inquiry is indispensable, given that what counts as a thing is inseparable from what counts as a self, which in turn has fundamental consequences for conceptions of will, responsibility, and politics. Ignoring metaphysical questions in a Chinese context simply invites us to fill in our own metaphysical assumptions, another subtle way of domesticating Chinese thought. A cross-cultural inquiry into metaphysical questions, though, is challenging. In ethics and politics, we can enter dialogue through concrete features of human life, showing how these features were theorized in divergent ways in different contexts. When it comes to metaphysical topics, it is unclear that there is even a “same thing” around which to compare perspectives. Given the inherent difficulty of directly comparing metaphysical concepts, we can begin instead by tracing metaphysical problems back to their roots in experience. If we reflect on our experience, we can fairly easily distinguish two aspects that stand in tension with each other. On the one hand, we generally deal with the world by designating individuals or things – I look for my pen, I notice my friend walking down the hall, we plan to meet by the tree in front of the building. In speaking of individuals, we Versions of this paper were read at the annual meeting of the Comparative and Continental Philosophy Circle held at Fudan University (Shanghai), at the “Conceptions of Reality: Metaphysics and Its Alternatives in Chinese Thought” conference hosted by Nanyang Technological University (Singapore), and at Wuhan University. I am grateful for suggestions from these audiences. This chapter benefited in particular from a commentary by Chris Fraser and suggestions from Chenyang Li.

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implicitly assume several things. We assume some separation and distinction, separating the pen from the paper, the bag it is in, and the factory that produced it. We also posit unity – it is a pen, rather than some ink surrounded by plastic, a tree rather than leaves, bark, and trunk. Finally, we posit identity over time – in saying it is my pen or my friend, I assume the same entity I previously encountered. On the other hand, these objects appear only against a background that is not itself objectified. We could never exhaustively list all of the things the pen is being distinguished from, because it is ultimately distinguished from a vague background of interconnected “stuff.” If we reflect further on the objects we designate, we find more problems. We see that they are not really separate but each thing is dependent on elements external to itself. We notice that their unity is provisional – sometimes the tree is the thing, but sometimes the leaf is the thing, and sometimes the whole forest. We also recognize that things don’t quite remain the same – my friend tells me the new things he has done, which make him no longer identical to what he was the last time we met. On a broader level, we notice that what we designate as a thing depends as much on our purposes and context as it does on the structure of the world itself. This point is illustrated well enough by Heidegger’s famous discussion of how tools become objects to us only when they fail to work properly,1 a point illustrated from the other direction by the story of Cook Ding, whose skill goes along with no longer seeing oxen at all (Guo 1978: 3/117–24).2 If human experience does have both of these sides, then we can see why individuation arises as a metaphysical problem. If one takes the experience of objects as ontologically primary, one has what we could call a “substance metaphysics,” in which the fundamental constituents of reality are substances that are separate, unified, and identical over time. Such a metaphysics easily explains our experience of objects, but it faces grave difficulties in accounting for interaction, divisibility, and change. If instead we take change and interaction as ontologically primary, then we are led to what we could in a broad sense call a “process metaphysics.” Such a view easily explains change and interaction, but faces challenges in accounting for our experience of the world in terms of objects. My concern here is not to weigh these two metaphysical approaches against each other, but ultimately I think a substance metaphysics cannot

1

2

In Heidegger’s terms, this is the transition from a world of equipment that is ready-tohand (zuhanden) to particular things appearing as present-to-hand (vorhanden) (Heidegger 1962: 102–6). For citations of classical Chinese texts, I have included the chapter number followed by the page. All translations are my own.

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explain change, whereas a process metaphysics can explain individuation.3 I take it for granted that Chinese philosophers assumed a kind of process metaphysics, which eventually was explicitly and systematically explained in terms of qi 氣 (vital energy), the interaction of yin 陰 and yang 陽, and so on.4 At the same time, it is obvious that early Chinese still dealt with the world in terms of objects – they could return to meet at the tree they passed each day, and they could easily distinguish their friend from a stranger. How this individuation was accounted for has drawn little attention, getting lost in broad contrasts between Chinese and Western philosophy. Without denying the contrasts, we must still explain how these common areas of experience were addressed and theorized. That is, even if there was no concept of substance in Chinese philosophy, there must be mechanisms that fill some of its functions. Otherwise, we are pushed into one of two ungenerous options – either we must claim that the substance ontology that dominated most of European philosophy is utterly baseless, or we must admit it has a basis that the Chinese never managed to notice. Neither is plausible. This chapter will look concretely at how individuation was articulated in Warring States Chinese philosophy, with particular attention to how a discourse of individuation related to a more fundamental process view of reality. Several distinct approaches to individuation appear in pre-Qin Chinese philosophy. The most fundamental emphasizes the formation of distinct things from an undifferentiated source. Several terms were associated with this approach, such as you 有, which I take as referring not to “being” but to differentiated “beings,”5 and qi 器, which literally means vessels or utensils but came to refer to concrete things. The most important term by far, though, is wu 物, as in the phrase wanwu 萬物, literally 3

4

5

In fact, substance metaphysics may have remained dominant only in cultures like Europe, where denying it would have invited severe punishment. Mainstream Christian theology depended on making God a substance distinct from the world, and the doctrine of eternal punishment and reward required a conception of human beings as fundamentally separate and thus entirely responsible for their own actions. This metaphysics began to breakdown as soon as it was safe to question it, although the mark it left on European philosophy remained much longer. In making this claim, I rely most of all on the work of Roger T. Ames and his various collaborators and students. See, for example, Ames 2011. For discussions of fully developed cosmologies based on qi and yinyang, see the chapters in this volume by JeeLoo Liu and Robin R. Wang respectively. You is opposed to wu 無, which I would take not as non-existence in the radical sense but rather as a state lacking differentiated beings. This follows the primary meanings of the two terms, which is not “to be” or “not to be,” but rather “to have” or “to lack.” Thus Hans-Georg Moeller translates you and wu as “presence” and “nonpresence” rather than as “being” and “non-being” (e.g. Moeller 2007: 97), and Roger T. Ames and David L. Hall translate them as “the determinate” and “the indeterminate” (e.g. Ames and Hall 2003: 139).

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the “ten thousand things.” A second approach to individuation focuses on the role of words in picking out individuals. Here the key term is shi 實 (fact/object/referent) as it relates to ming 名 (name).6 A third approach relies on the conception of xing 性 (dispositions or characteristic tendencies) to explain individuation through organic processes of life. While these three discourses were eventually intertwined, they were largely distinct in the Warring States period. In this chapter, I will focus only on the first approach, concentrating on the term wu, “thing.” The use of wu in a discourse of individuation arose in the middle of the fourth century BC, although the term wu itself appears much earlier. In its earliest uses, wu often referred specifically to animals, and most uses in the Shijing refer to animals to be offered in sacrifice.7 This etymology is visible in the form of the character, which has the radical for an ox on the left (牛) and a knife with drops of blood (勿) on the right.8 In the Mozi, wu is used more often to refer to actions or policies than to things, as inclusive caring and the way superiors should serve inferiors are both referred to as wu (Sun Yirang 2001: 15/107, 8/45). Wu was not a common term, though, until the fourth century, and it becomes central first in texts concerned with cosmogony, most of all the Guodian Laozi, which uses the term wu in eight out of thirty-one chapters. Wu appears 348 times in the Zhuangzi, but only once in the Lunyu, forty-two times in the Mozi,9 and twenty-three times in the Mengzi. The phrase wanwu also first becomes prominent in these cosmogonic discourses. It is not used at all in the Lunyu, Zuo zhuan, or Mengzi, and is used in just two passages of the main chapters of the Mozi.10 In contrast, wanwu appears twenty times in 6 7

8

9 10

Makeham 1994 has a thorough study of different theories on the relationship of ming and shi. Wu still has this connection with animals when Mengzi says that one should care for (ai 愛) wu, be benevolent (ren 仁) toward the people, and cherish (qin 親) parents (7A45), but other texts specify “living things” (shengwu 生物), which means that the term had expanded enough that this connection with animals needed to be explicitly marked. Citations of the Mengzi are based on the text in Jiao Xun 1987. Makeham writes of the etymology of wu, “Originally, wu seems to have meant a motleycolored ox and from this two pairs of extended meanings were derived. The first, ‘colour,’ from which the meanings ‘sign,’ ‘mark,’ or ‘symbol’ were further evolved, and the second, ‘creatures of the same kind,’ from which the meaning myriad creatures was further evolved” (Makeham 1994: 213–14). This count excludes only the logic chapters (Chapters 41–5) and the chapters on defensive warfare (Chapters 52–71), both of which are taken as later developments of Mohism. The phrase is also used twice in a passage in the “Gong Meng” chapter. The line “Now heaven is inclusive toward [the people of] the world and cares for them, bringing to fruition the myriad things in order to benefit them,” is repeated twice in one passage of the “Will of Heaven II” chapter (Sun Yirang 2001: 27/203–4). That passage is missing in the other versions of the chapter. The Lunyu and the Zuo zhuan each use “the hundred things” (baiwu 百物) once, as does the Yu cong I Guodian text (Liu Zhao 2003: strip 18).

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the Laozi and 102 times in the Zhuangzi.11 Nonetheless, while there were competing discourses about the ultimate origins of the world, everyone agreed that the result was a world of things, wu. The Mohists rarely turn to such issues, but one of the two passages that use the term wanwu says that what heaven makes (wei 為) are things (wu) (Sun Yirang 2001: 27/202–4), and in Ru texts it is said that heaven generates the hundred things (baiwu 百物).12 The following chapter is dividing into two parts. The first section examines the discourse of wu as a discourse of individuation, concentrating on how the term was used across a variety of texts. The second section turns to how this discourse of individuation is impacted by its derivation from a source that is not itself individuated. Wu as discourse of individuation The discourse of wu remains strictly within the realm of individuation. This is surprising because we assume that Chinese metaphysics is based on process, change, correlation, and interaction, and thus we expect this background to appear in the use of wu. Wu, though, are individuals, best seen by the fact that they are counted: there are ten thousand of them.13 Given that one need not mark singular or plural in classical Chinese, it would be easy enough to describe the final stage of generation simply as wu, leaving the distinction between one and many indeterminate, as is done, for example, with the term li 理, coherence/principle/order. Moreover, although there are many claims that all things are in some sense one, I have been unable to find any claim that the world constitutes a single wu. The term wu simply cannot be used that way – to be a wu is to be a thing among other things. I have also found no clear cases in which there are wu within wu; that is, where it is claimed that multiple wu can be seen as one wu, depending on perspective.14 This contrasts, for example, the term xing 性, where Mengzi will say that a tree has its own xing but that a mountain ecosystem also has its xing (encompassing the trees); or the 11 12

13

14

The fact that wanwu appears fifty times in the Xunzi shows that the term had spread into other discourses by the late Warring States period. For example, the Yu cong I Guodian text says, “Heaven generates the hundreds of things, and human beings are most noble” (Liu Zhao 2003: strip 18). See also Lunyu 17.19 (citations of the Lunyu are based on the text in Liu Baonan 1990). That this counting was taken literally is shown by a passage in Chapter 25 of the Zhuangzi, which says that the number of wu actually does not stop at ten thousand; we say ten thousand just for convenience (Guo 1978: 25/913). The “Qi wu lun” chapter of the Zhuangzi says that any wu can be so or not so, right or wrong, etc. (Guo 1978: 2/69–70), but such phrases presuppose wu, throwing into question only how specific wu should be characterized.

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term ti 體, form or organic body, where one can speak of bodily organs as a ti, or the whole body as a ti, or all the myriad things as one ti.15 Finally, calling something a wu seems to give it an identity, as a phrase repeated twice in the Zhuangzi equates death with wuhua 物化, the transformation of a thing (Guo 1978: 13/462, 15/539). The same phrase is used elsewhere to describe the dreamt transition from Zhuangzi to a butterfly (Guo 1978: 2/112). This link to identity is expressed in another common general description of wu, that once there are wu there are beginnings and endings. The Yu cong I Guodian text says simply, “When there are things, there are roots and there are transformations, there are endings and there are beginnings” (Liu Zhao 2003: strips 48–9).16 In the “Autumn Floods” chapter of the Zhuangzi, the North Sea says that wu “begin and end without reason” (Guo 1978: 17/568) and that “the way is without beginning and end, but things have death and life” (Guo 1978: 17/584). The undifferentiated forces of the world – like vital energy (qi), dao 道, or yinyang – go on endlessly transforming, but wu begin at a certain time and end when they lose their characteristics. We can get a glimpse of the metaphysical status of wu through two ways in which the term is used. First, in spite of the fact that each wu is different, things have a kind of equality in the very fact of being wu. The most famous use of wu in this way comes at the end of the story of Carpenter Shi and a giant tree, in Chapter 4 of the Zhuangzi. After the carpenter dismisses the tree for being useless, the tree appears to him in a dream and offers a defense that concludes by saying, “You and I are each wu – how can wu rank each other?” (Guo 1978: 4/172). The tree and the carpenter have many differences, but in so far as they are wu, they have equal status. The same equalizing function is assumed in passages that infer from claims about wu to claims about some specific thing, usually human beings. For example, Mengzi makes an argument about the human heart by making a general claim about wu: “Thus if it attains its nourishment there is no wu that does not grow; if it loses its nourishment, there is no wu that does not decline” (7A8). Such uses indicate that being a wu goes beyond the singularity of each individual thing. To be a wu is to share some status with other wu. The second use of wu is in the phrase zhiweiwu 之為物, “its being a thing,” or, “its being considered as a thing.” The Mengzi gives a simple example: “Flowing water as a thing is such that if it does not fill the holes it 15 16

In the Mohist Canon, ti 體 is used as a technical term for individuated parts within a whole (jian 兼) (Sun Yirang 2001: 40/309; 42:333). There are disputes about the characters taken here as “root” and “changes,” and on the proper ordering of strips, but there is a consensus on the claim about beginnings and endings.

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does not proceed onwards; the noble who are committed to the way do not extend forward unless the models have been completed” (7A24). Given that Mengzi could more simply have just said “flowing water does not proceed onwards unless . . .,” what is added by saying “flowing water as a thing”? The phrase occurs in other texts, and it is consistently used to set up the characteristics of something that is not so clearly a thing. The most famous use is in Chapter 21 of the Laozi, which says, “Dao as a thing – how vague! how indefinite!”17 The Huainanzi refers to movement (dong 動) as a thing (He 1998: 14/1003), the “Xici” commentary on the Yi jing refers to sprouts (mao 茅) as a thing (Gao 1998: 392), the Mozi refers to music (yue 樂) as thing (Sun Yirang 2001: 34/263), and the Zhuangzi refers to “the great ravine” (dahe 大壑) as a thing (Guo 1978: 12/440). In every case, the phrase is followed by listing some characteristics. Even things that are not clearly individuals – like the dao or movement – can still be considered as wu; which is to say, they can be taken as distinct phenomena that can be described and characterized. If we look at what is most consistently used to characterize a wu, it is having a form, shape, or appearance. The most common term is xing 形, but wu is also associated with zhuang 狀. In fact wu and zhuang are to some degree interchangeable.18 The most specific account of what counts as a wu is in the Xunzi and uses zhuang: There are things that have the same form (zhuang) but different places, and there are things which have different forms but the same places. These can be distinguished. If the forms are the same but they have different places, although they can be together they refer to two objects (shi 實). If the form changes and the object is without distinction yet becomes different, this is called transformation. Having transformation without distinction refers to one object. (Wang 1988: 22/420)

In this passage, things can be distinguished either by having different forms (zhuang) or by being in different places. A thing can change form but remain the same object or referent, if it is connected to the previous 17

18

The Mawangdui versions of this chapter leave out the wei 為, just using dao zhi wu 道之 物. While that could mean “the thing that belongs to dao,” the meaning is probably the same as the received text. Ames and Hall (2003) translate the lines as: “As for the process of way-making, it is ever so vague and indefinite.” Moeller (2007) has it: “The thing Dao: only desert, only barren.” Henricks (2000) has: “As for the nature of the Way – it’s shapeless and formless.” All three base their translations on the Mawangdui text. References to the Laozi are based on the Chinese text in Liu Xiaogan (2006), cited by chapter number according to the received text. For example, in Laozi Chapter 25, zhuang (form) in the Guodian phrase “there is a form that becomes in indifferentiation,” is replaced by wu (thing) in the Mawangdui text. Laozi Chapter 14 has parallel descriptions of the way as “form-less form” and “thing-less image.”

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form by remaining in the same place. Whether being the same object, shi, is also being the same thing, wu, is unclear. In another passage, Xunzi uses another term for form, ti 體, which usually refers to an organized body. He writes, “The myriad things are in the same world but have different forms; they are without appropriateness but have uses for human beings” (Wang 1988: 10/175). It is tempting to follow this line from the Xunzi and link wu to function – wu are distinguished by their different uses for human beings. Some connection to function also might be implied in the Laozi’s claim that what completes things is instruments or utensils (qi 器): things take on their final form only when placed in a network of uses and functions (51). That would make the account of wu similar to Aristotle’s account of substances – a substance is a certain indefinite material formed into a functioning whole. Nonetheless, Xunzi takes use to be derivative of the unique form of a particular thing, and he recognizes that use is relative to the user. Rather than focusing on function, the form that distinguishes wu is explained in phenomenological terms. To have a form is to appear, to display or disclose colors, textures, sounds, and so on.19 The Yu cong I Guodian text, in listing progressions of terms, twice says “when there are things there are appearances,” using the term rong 容 (Liu Zhao 2003: strips 13, 14). Xunzi says, “Of the myriad things, none take form without appearing, none appear without being sorted, none are sorted and then lose their place” (Wang 1988: 21/396). The most direct definition of wu, found in the Xing zi ming chu, says simply, “Whatever appears is called a thing” (Liu Zhao 2003: strip 12). The term translated in both passages as “appearing” is the same character that means “to see” (見), pronounced jian when meaning “to see” and xian when meaning “to appear.” The character itself is an image of the eye. A passage in Chapter 19 of the Zhuangzi expands explicitly to the other senses: What has appearance, image, sound, and color is a thing. Between things, how could there be much distance? How could one suffice to reach the primary position? It is color and that is all. Thus things are created from the formless and stop in what is without transformation. How could one who fully attains this be stopped by things? (Guo 1978: 19/634)

In this passage, things are no more than colors, sounds, and so on. This claim is then tied to the claim that wu are ultimately equal. The ambiguity of the character xian/jian, meaning to see or to appear, already indicates that we should avoid any strict division of subject and 19

It is difficult but crucial to avoid implying divisions between subject and object, appearance and reality, or substance and quality. I here draw on suggestions from Chris Fraser.

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object. The claim is neither that wu consist of objective sense data nor that wu are subjective constructs. This appearing, though, is the basis for bringing wu further into the realm of human culture and knowledge. Being a wu and manifesting a form are closely connected to the possibility of having a name. So in addition to the claim that when there are things there are appearances, the Yu cong I also says that when there are things there are names (Liu Zhao 2003: strips 2, 3). Having a name leads into another common claim, that wu are measurable. The Mengzi states this as a general principle: “One weighs (quan 權) and then can know light and heavy; one measures and then can know long and short. All wu are like this, the heart most of all!” (1A7). Wu have knowable patterns. This view appears in Mengzi’s quotation from the Shijing, “When there is a wu there is a model (ze 則),” which he quotes as evidence that there must be distinctively human dispositions, xing. Xunzi claims that what human beings know are the coherent patterns of things (wuzhili 物之理) (Wang 1988: 21/406). Finally, from the fact that things can be measured and named, it follows that they can be categorized. The Xunzi uses the division of things into categories to explain natural causality: “The arising of any kind (lei 類) of thing (wu) necessarily has something from which it begins” (Wang 1988: 1/6–7). This link between things and categories appears in the well-known phrase “methods are gathered by kind, things are divided by groups,” which appears in the “Xici” (Gao 1998: 381), and in the “Yue ji” chapter of the Liji (Sun Xidan 1988: 19/993).20 Let me now draw some initial conclusions. There was a consistent discourse of individuation in early China, centering on the term wu, and this discourse was distinct from descriptions of the ultimate nature of reality in terms of complementary forces or an undifferentiated primordial source. Wu are individuated and distinct, and maintain some identity over time. They can be measured, named, and categorized. This view should not be surprising, since it fits our everyday way of dealing with the world, and on this functional level, the discourse of wu is not so different from the discourse of “substance” in Western philosophy. Even at this point, though, differences appear. The first difference is on a pragmatic level: the scope of wu is broader than that of substance. A metaphysics of substance fails to fully account for our practices of individuation, because not everything we individuate is a substance. We also individuate things like hurricanes, clothing, or tasks we need to do. Wu has a broader application, corresponding more 20

The Liji version adds “so their nature and allotment [xingming 性命] are not the same,” showing that the discourse of xing, based on the coherent dispositions of living things, became linked with the discourse of wu.

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closely to the English word “thing.” This breadth of application explains two less common uses of wu – to refer to events or affairs (shi 事) and to refer to types of things (lei 類). In so far as an event or task can be individuated, it can be taken as a wu. Similarly, there are cases in which we individuate types of things rather than individuals, as when I say you need to bring three things on the trip: warm clothes, some snacks, and a flashlight. These can be called three wu. It would be a mistake to conclude, though, that wu is interchangeable with either event (shi) or category (lei). One would never say that pants and jackets are the same wu, even if one might call “clothing” a wu. This reflects the function of wu as a discourse of individuation, which contrasts the function of lei in grouping wu into categories.21 The second difference, which I will focus on here, is ontological. When Western philosophers wanted to account for things, they went deep, to what literally “stands under” (substance/sub-stantia) or is “thrown under” (subject/sub-jectus) the appearances, a view that was theorized through the distinction of substances and their modes or modifications. Chinese philosophers went the opposite direction, toward the surface, so that to be a wu is just to be a certain distinct appearance, not an underlying entity which possesses that appearance. This difference is crucial because when Chinese philosophers did go deep, they posited a reality that was not itself individuated. We can now turn to the ways this discourse of individuation was shaped by its grounding in the unindividuated. What things things is not a thing The discourse of wu became widespread, but it appeared first in the context of the Guodian Laozi materials. This origin shaped the discourse of wu in two important ways. First, the discourse of things arose in conjunction with discourses about what precedes things, with attempts to ground the world in a spontaneous, undifferentiated, and unnamable source. From the beginning, wu were theorized as derivative from nonwu. As the Zhuangzi says, wuwuzhe feiwu (物物者非物): “what things things is not itself a thing” (Guo 1978: 22/763). As a non-thing, that originary source cannot be perceived, measured, or given a name. How to refer to it seems to have been an open question: if forced, one could call it dao (the way), wu 無 (non-being/the indeterminate), taiyi 太一 (the great one), yi 一 (the one), or heng 恆 (constancy). These accounts leave a 21

For this reason, while it is correct to take “thing-kind” as one meaning of wu, as Chad Hansen does, it is also misleading (Hansen 1992: 428).

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qualitative leap from the primordial source to the stage in which there are individual wu, and there seems to have been some recognition of this gap. For example, in a passage discussing evaluating things in the Zhuangzi, the North Sea says: “From the perspective of dao, things have no nobility or lowliness; from the perspective of wu, they consider themselves noble and each other lowly” (Guo 1978: 17/577). A full discussion of how wu were thought to originate from this primordial source is beyond the scope of this chapter, but we can note four common claims. The first is that being (you) emerges from non-being (wu), as in Chapter 40 of the Laozi: “the myriad things in the world are born from being, being is born from non-being.”22 The second view is similar, connecting the production of the myriad things with dispersal and separation, san 散, as in the Huainanzi: “The united essences of heaven and earth make yin and yang; the concentrated essences of yin and yang make the four seasons; the dispersed essences of the four seasons make the myriad things” (He 1998: 3/166). The Zhuangzi also links dispersal to individuation: “Heaven and earth are the father and mother of the myriad things. When they unite a body is formed and when there is dispersal, beginnings are formed” (Guo 1978: 19/632). The third view moves from the interaction of complementary pairs (which could be generalized as yin and yang) to the alternation of the seasons and then to the multiplicity of the myriad things. The Taiyi sheng shui has the earliest known description of this progression (Liu Zhao 2003: strips 5–6). The fourth account incorporates interaction between things. This appears in the first line of Chapter 51 of the Laozi, which says, “Dao generates them, de 德 [virtue/power] raises them, things form them, utensils complete them.” The generation of the myriad things is not entirely explained by the undifferentiated source. Things take form (xing 形) because of other things, and they are completed (cheng 成) by qi 器, a term associated with functionality, literally meaning tools, instruments, or vessels.23 Aside from this concern with origins, the discourse in which wu first appeared was associated with a rejection of anthropomorphism and anthropocentrism. This orientation appears already in the derivation of wu from non-wu, a view that displaces any claims to a conscious or caring divine force like tian 天, heaven. Furthermore, wu are often characterized in terms of their multiplicity and diversity, as one passage in the Zhuangzi 22

23

The version of this line in the Guodian materials leaves out the second you (being). While I think the meaning of the line remains the same, it is possible instead to read it as saying, “the myriad things in the world are born from being, [and] born from non-being.” The Wang Bi, Heshanggong, and Fu Yi versions of the text all have shi 勢 (circumstances) rather than qi.

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describes heaven as large (da 大) and wu as multiple (duo 多) (Guo 1978: 12/403). This emphasis on the multiplicity of wu makes human beings just one of many things. This decentering of human beings is explicit in a passage from Chapter 17 of the Zhuangzi, which begins by saying, “In stating the number of things we say ‘ten thousand.’ Human beings are just one of them” (Guo 1978: 17/564). It continues by drawing on both the equality and the multiplicity of wu: “In comparison with the ten-thousand things, [human beings] are not even like the tip of a hair to the body of a horse” (Guo 1978: 17/564). The claim that human beings are wu may originally have been meant as a provocation, but even Mengzi generally takes claims about wu to encompass claims about human beings. We can now turn to the ways in which the discourse of wu is shaped by this broader process orientation. In a Western context, the ontology of substance aligns with and supports the status of things. In contrast, wu have characteristics of distinctness, unity, and identity in spite of the fact that the more primordial forces of nature do not have them. The most significant consequence of this difference is that the diverse world of distinct wu could be approached through a more fundamental unity. Seeing this unity frees one from attachment to particular things that can be lost. This view appears throughout the Zhuangzi, as in a description of those who wander outside the bounds: For those like this, how could they know the existence of life and death or first and last? They rely on different things but reside in the common body. They forget liver and gall and leave behind ears and eyes. They come and go with the beginning and end, not knowing its limits. Wandering obliviously outside the dust and dirt, they wander freely in the work of non-action. (Guo 1978: 6/268).

While relying on – rather than denying – the differences between things, these people reside in their common body or form (tongti 同體), and this frees them from worries about life or death, allowing them to wander free and easy. The same idea is used in relation to Wang Tai, who is missing a foot: Looking at it from their differences, liver and gall are like the states of Chu and Yue; looking at it from their sameness, the myriad things are all one. Now one like this does not know what is appropriate to his eyes or ears and wanders his heart in the harmony of de. In things, he sees that in which they are one and does not see that which they have loss. He sees losing his foot like leaving behind some dirt. (Guo 1978: 5/190–1)

Wang Tai does not see the world as one wu but rather sees the commonality within diverse wu. By focusing on this commonality rather than on what differentiates and individuates, he moves beyond the possibility of loss.

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A second distinctive concern in Chinese discussions of wu is the degree to which becoming a wu involves a rigidness and fixity that brings the possibility of harm and destruction. The concern with avoiding rigidity appears in both the Laozi and the Zhuangzi. The Zhuangzi says, “Once they receive their completed form (chengxing 成形), they never forget it but await its exhaustion. With other things, cutting and grinding against each other, they race toward exhaustion as if at a gallop, and none can stop – isn’t it sad?” (Guo 1978: 2/56). Once one has a completed form, one enters a struggle with other wu, ultimately based on striving to maintain ourselves as individuated beings, beings that have a beginning but also inevitably have an end. Such statements could be taken as claims against becoming a wu at all, but other passages suggest a way of being a wu while avoiding such rigidity. For example, a passage describing the true people of old, appearing in the “Qi wu lun” chapter of the Zhuangzi, gives a progression from no things, to having things without boundaries, to having boundaries without right and wrong (Guo 1978: 2/74). While the passage might be taken as advocating a return to a stage before things, the locus of trouble is not in the emergence of wu but in the boundaries and evaluations. The complexity of this issue appears in another line from the “Qi wu lun” chapter: “Their division is their completion, their completion is their destruction. Things are without completion and without destruction, returning to commune as one (futong weiyi 復通為一)” (Guo 1978: 2/70). The line states that things do not necessarily have completion or destruction, something we can realize only by connecting them as one. That might involve an elimination of wu, but it suggests rather a way of keeping wu without making them rigid or fixed. If we allow for wu without boundaries or closure, though, the whole status of wu as a discourse of individuation is thrown into question. That might be precisely the point here – to allow references to things in the world without implying that those things really are divided or fixed. The third way in which the discourse of wu diverges from Western discourses of substance lies in the way that being a wu is being an object that can be encountered and described. For example, the opening lines of the Xing zi ming chu say, Although all human beings have natural dispositions (xing), the heart lacks a stable resolve. It awaits things and then stirs, awaits being pleased and then acts, awaits practice and then stabilizes. The vital energies (qi) of pleasure, anger, grief, and sadness are the dispositions. Their appearing on the outside is because things take them. (Liu Zhao 2003: strips 1–2).

The Zhuangzi uses similar language about qi itself: “as for qi, it is empty and awaits things” (Guo 1978: 4/147). It would be difficult in these cases

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to take wu as substance; to be a wu is to exist in a particular way, as an object that can be seen, described, and named, and that can evoke spontaneous responses from us. This understanding of wu as things that stimulate our reactions grounds another of the main ways in which wu are of concern: they are a threat. This worry appears most frequently in the Zhuangzi, which warns that things can alter our selves or our dispositions (Guo 1978: 24/852; 8/323), disturb the heart (Guo 1978: 13/457), or damage us (Guo 1978: 17/588), and that we can lose our selves in things (Guo 1978: 16/558). The solution is usually presented as shifting our perspective from wu to dao, seeing the oneness of the world rather than its divisions. Laozi explains his ability to leave things behind: “I let my heart wander in the origination of things” (Guo 1978: 21/712). Other passages, though, tell us how to properly relate to things, as one says to follow along with the self-so spontaneity of things (Guo 1978: 7/294), another says that once the heart is stable then the myriad things will be made to serve (Guo 1978: 13/462), and one even says that a cultivated person will be able to conquer things without being harmed (Guo 1978: 7/307). It is in this context that we should approach the strange statement that we should “treat things as things without being treated as a thing,” or, more literally, “thing things but not be thinged by things” (物物而不物於物) (Guo 1978: 20/668).24 We encounter the world in terms of things but we should not become just another thing among them. This ability is linked to not evaluating or becoming attached to things, and the wording of the line echoes claims that what creates things cannot itself be a thing.25 While this concern with the danger posed by things is most central in the Zhuangzi, it was widespread. It is precisely the worry of the first lines of the Xing zi ming chu – we must use practice to establish a stable resolve (dingzhi 定志) so that we are not simply taken by whatever things we happen to come across. Xunzi says simply: “The noble make things serve; petty people are made to serve by things” (Wang 1988: 2/27). None of these three lines of concern around wu – the attempt to deal with wu through a greater unity, the worry about wu becoming too rigid or fixed, and the concern with not being controlled by wu – would make much sense in terms of a Western substance metaphysics. If individuation is taken as ultimate, then there is no underlying unity. If wu result from the dispersing or forming of an unindividuated source, then it makes sense to view this process as a matter of degrees, in which one can be more or less a 24 25

Mair (1994: 187) translates the line: “He treats things as things but doesn’t let them treat him as a thing.” Ziporyn (2009b: 84) makes this connection in translating the line: “that is to float and drift with the ancestor of things, which makes all things the things they are, but which no thing can make anything of.”

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thing. In contrast, one is either a substance or a property of a substance, making a kind of rigidity or fixed essence unavoidable. Finally, if the only form of existence is as a substance or a property of a substance, then one cannot distinguish being as an object from other ways of being; one cannot say things like “thing things but do not be thinged by things.” All three express ways in which a pragmatic discourse of individuation is altered on both a theoretical and a practical level when it is theorized as derivative from a non-individuated source. What is perhaps most striking, though, is how individuation becomes an issue not just for metaphysics and epistemology but also for self-cultivation, for ethics in the broad sense. It is not just that the basic metaphysical assumptions in early China differed from those of most Europeans. This difference shifted the very boundary between metaphysics and ethics.

4

The Mohist conception of reality Chris Fraser

Introduction The first systematic philosophers in the Chinese tradition, Mozi and his followers established a general theoretical orientation, conceptual framework, and technical philosophical vocabulary that came to be widely shared throughout pre-Han philosophy, even by thinkers who rejected their substantive views. Mohist thought thus exemplifies characteristic general features of early Chinese metaphysics and in several key respects sets the agenda for the development of classical Chinese metaphysical discourse. This chapter will elucidate these points by articulating the conception of reality that emerges from the doctrines concerning the “Three Models” (san fa 三法), tian 天 (heaven), and ming 命 (fate) presented in the core books of the Mozi and by exploring the metaphysical, metaethical, and epistemological consequences of these doctrines.1 For the Mohists, reality is reliably knowable through sense perception, inference, and historical precedent. It manifests fixed, recognizable patterns. Ethical norms are a human-independent feature of reality, and indeed nature itself operates according to the same ethical norms that apply to human activity. Thus the Mohist dao 道 (way) is purportedly the dao of reality itself, grounded in tried and tested knowledge of the world. Still, although the cosmos follows a normative dao, the outcomes of An earlier version of this material was presented at Conceptions of Reality: Metaphysics and Its Alternatives in Chinese Thought, a conference held at the Centre for Liberal Arts and Social Sciences, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore, March 29–30, 2013. I am grateful to the conference organizers, especially Chenyang Li, and to Yong Huang, Franklin Perkins, Roger T. Ames, and JeeLoo Liu for helpful comments on the conference presentation. I also thank Franklin Perkins, Chenyang Li, and Alan Chan for constructive comments on a previous draft of the paper. 1 The chapter will mainly treat the view of reality presented in the “Triads,” books 8–37 of the Mozi, and the “Dialogues,” books 46–9. The degree of overlap between the metaphysics of these sections and that of the Later Mohist “Dialectics” (books 40–5) is controversial, as the Dialectics are largely silent about the role of tian (heaven, nature).

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human personal and political life are not preordained. Human agency plays an important causal role in affecting the course of events, as agents are free to follow or diverge from the dao of nature. For students of comparative philosophy, perhaps the most striking feature of Mohist metaphysics is its theoretical focus on dao rather than on structures or properties. Mohist metaphysical thought is concerned primarily with identifying norms, patterns, and processes rather than with explaining the natures of things or the underlying composition or principles that constitute them as what they are. This point will emerge repeatedly as we examine different facets of the Mohist conception of reality. The first section below suggests four respects in which the Mohist view of reality exemplifies what came to be shared general features of pre-Qin metaphysical discourse: the Mohists’ naturalism, their focus on dao, their acceptance of the world of perception, and their lack of interest in reductive explanations. The next section explores the view of reality implied by the epistemological doctrine of the “Three Models.” The following two sections discuss Mohist views on several specifically metaphysical topics: tian (heaven), ghosts and spirits, and ming (fate). Finally, I offer some reflections on the metaphysical significance of the concept of a “model” (fa 法), which is pivotal to understanding Mohist ethics, psychology, epistemology, and, I argue, metaphysics. Mohism and early Chinese metaphysics Four central features of early Mohist thought reflect general characteristics of classical Chinese metaphysics. First, the Mozi 墨子 presents the earliest explicit version of what I will call Chinese metaphysical and metaethical “naturalism.” The brand of naturalism I am referring to here involves two interrelated claims. One is that reality just is the world of nature and observable natural phenomena, and accordingly whatever exists is to be explained as part of nature. Ultimate reality is not an abstract realm of ideal forms, nor one of a supernatural, transcendent deity or spirits. Instead, it is simply “the stuff of people’s ears and eyes,” as the Mozi phrases it (35/9).2 This conception of reality as the observable natural world has been widely shared by thinkers throughout the Chinese tradition. The second claim is that the dao (way, course, ethical norms) is a feature of the natural world, in some sense immanent in or determined by nature itself. Again, thinkers throughout the Chinese tradition have 2

All citations to the Mozi give chapter and line numbers in the Harvard-Yenching concordance (Hung 1986).

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attempted in various ways to ground ethical norms in nature. The Mohist version of this idea is that the dao is exemplified and embodied by tian (heaven, nature), which they revere as a quasi-personal nature deity. This religious stance may seem at odds with the claim that for them reality is simply the empirical world of sense perception. However, for the Mohists tian just is a semi-personified conception of nature – in effect, “Nature” with a capital N. Although their conception of nature is what we might call, borrowing the Weberian notion, an “enchanted” one, tian for them still refers to nature, and not, for instance, to a deity that transcends or exists beyond the natural world. In their view, then, dao is manifested in how nature itself proceeds. Natural processes reflect or embody ethical norms – severe storms, for instance, are tian’s punishment for people’s failure to conform to its intent (Mozi 11/23–4). This stance is continuous with the earlier, Zhou dynasty doctrine of tian’s mandate (tianming 天命), according to which tian enforces ethical norms by bestowing its mandate on virtuous rulers and authorizing the overthrow of vicious ones. Scattered remarks in the Confucian Analects also allude to tian as a moral force. Only in the Mozi, however, is this moralized conception of nature fully developed and integrated with normative ethical theory. The second major feature can be described as a “dao-centered conceptual framework.” By this I mean that the notion of dao (way), a normative path or course of activity, stands at the heart of the Mohist philosophical framework, shaping its overall orientation and the content of its core concepts. In making this claim, I am building on seminal ideas proposed by A. C. Graham and Chad Hansen more than two decades ago. Graham aptly suggested that for early Chinese thinkers, the crucial philosophical question is not “What is the truth?” but “Where is the Way?” – the proper dao by which to govern society and conduct one’s personal life (Graham 1989: 3). Hansen (1992) presented a pioneering account of early Chinese philosophical discourse as developing dialectically through different texts’ responses to this question. Extending this interpretive approach, I suggest that the most defensible interpretation of Mohist thought – and by extension pre-Han philosophy more generally – is one that treats it as focusing on courses or patterns of activity instead of, for instance, questions of structure, constitution, or essence. Rather than inquire, for example, what underlying structure or essence explains why all x’s are x, the Mohists and other classical Chinese thinkers are concerned with the issue of what dao or norms to follow in distinguishing x’s from non-x’s. This focus on dao grounds what Hansen (1992: 139) describes as the “pragmatic” or “practical” orientation of Chinese thought, which he contrasts with the “semantic” or “theoretical”

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orientation of Greek thought. The Mohists assign priority not to the relation between language and the world or to finding an accurate theoretical description or representation of the world, but to the proper use of language and to practical guidance of personal and collective conduct. The focus on dao structures their approach not only to metaphysics but to mind, language, ethics, and epistemology. It helps to explain, for example, why in early Chinese epistemology knowledge is regarded as a form of competence rather than accurate representation (for details, see Fraser 2011a). The third respect in which Mohist thought exemplifies widely shared characteristics of early Chinese metaphysics is that the Mohists accept as a matter of course that reality just is the concrete, perceivable world presented by the senses, along with the regular causal patterns inferable from it.3 To them, the world of sense perception is no mere veil of appearances. It is neither the potentially misleading by-product of perception nor the perceivable artifact of some more basic but imperceptible or abstract structure. Accordingly, reality for the Mohists does not lie in more basic elements or principles that underlie the world of perception, nor in some transcendent, abstract structure instantiated by the perceivable world. The Mohists recognize no appearance–reality distinction and appeal to no abstract explanatory notions such as forms, essences, universals, or arche. Nor is ultimate reality for them an abstract or transcendent entity along the lines of the unchanging Parmenidean “one,” the Hindu Brahman or Atman, or the Hegelian Absolute. Indeed, they simply do not raise the issue of whether some more fundamental or ultimate reality obtains beyond the world as we experience it.4 Reality just is the world of nature as presented to human “ears and eyes” (31/10–11). The fourth feature – directly following from the third and intertwined with the first two – is that the Mohists propose no reductive explanations of natural phenomena. Indeed, reductive explanation as a mode of understanding seems wholly absent from their thought. This absence of reductionism is a trait that in a seminal 1973 article Benjamin Schwartz rightly emphasized as distinctive of Chinese philosophy. Schwartz (1973: 82) defines reductionism as the tendency to explain “the variety and manifold 3

4

What we consider supernatural elements of the Mohist worldview, such as ancestral ghosts and the spirits of rivers and mountains, are in their view observable inhabitants of the natural world. The nature deity tian may not be directly observable itself, but the results of its agency are, including the spirit envoys by which it purportedly conveys messages to humanity. Accordingly, they are also unworried by skepticism about the world of sense perception. For more on this general feature of early Chinese thought, see Fraser (2011a).

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qualities of reality . . . as appearances resulting from . . . structures built up out of . . . primary stuff.” For our purposes here, I suggest we expand this conception of reductionism to include explanation by appeal to fundamental forms or essences, even if these are regarded as abstract entities rather than “primary stuff.” Since the Mohists regard reality as simply the world of nature as we perceive it, they see no need to explain objects and processes by analyzing or reducing them to underlying essences, structures, or parts. The absence of reductionism in Mohism and early Chinese thought more broadly is interrelated with and partly explained by the architectonic focus on dao. A consequence of the dao-centered theoretical orientation is that entities and phenomena are not explained by reduction to unseen, more basic entities, but by identifying patterns (li 理) and relations in the dynamic path or course of things. Explanation might be by appeal to similarities between the “shapes” (xing 形) of things or to tendencies that they exhibit, for instance.5 To sum up, the question that guides the Mohists’ attitude toward reality is not what its fundamental structure is but what its dao is – what regular patterns it follows and what course it takes. The theoretical setting within which they formulate their account of dao assumes that the perceivable, natural world is real and manifests regular causal and normative patterns by which to guide human activity. The Mohists also hold that the natural world embodies an ethical dao, although their conception of nature is a religious one, including ghosts, spirits, and a quasi-personal nature deity, rather than the scientific conception of nature referenced by contemporary naturalism. Given the Mohists’ focus on practical utility, an account of the dao of reality indicates what courses of action are likely to be successful. Given their view of nature as instantiating ethical norms, it also indicates the ethically appropriate way to organize society and guide action – a dao that emulates or conforms to nature’s own dao. Since such questions about dao do not revolve around issues of composition or constitution, they do not invite explanations that reduce reality to basic parts or structures. These features of the Mohist theoretical scheme set the agenda for much classical Chinese metaphysics, raising issues that are addressed in different texts and laying down presuppositions that guide discussion. No early texts adopt reductive or abstract approaches to explain reality, for instance. Graham’s question – “Where is the Way?” – remains the guiding 5

On this point, compare Franklin Perkins’s suggestion elsewhere in this volume that in early Chinese thought, the identity of wu 物 (things) is explained mainly by their “shapes” and not, for instance, by appeal to their nature or essence or by reduction to their parts or the qi 氣 from which they are constituted.

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concern of early Chinese discourse as a whole, and the Mohists’ pragmatic, non-essentialist approach to the question frames subsequent developments. The Mohist conception of tian places two intertwined sets of issues on the agenda. One is whether and in what ways nature provides or determines the proper ethical dao, or norms of action. For example, does the natural world directly provide us with norms, such as by setting an example for us to emulate or by building normative patterns of conduct into our inherent dispositions? Or does it merely establish conditions to which any feasible human dao must respond, such as facts about our material environment and human moral and social psychology? These are central metaphysical and metaethical issues addressed in various ways by texts as diverse as the Daodejing, Mengzi, Zhuangzi, Xunzi, and Lüshi Chunqiu and taken up repeatedly throughout the later history of Chinese thought. The second set of issues concerns the problem of natural and moral evil that emerges from attempts to embed ethical norms in nature. If the cosmos manifests ethical norms, why do bad things sometimes happen to good people? Moreover, if nature provides a dao and human agents are part of nature, why do we ever stray from the dao? In what follows, I will explore how the features and issues identified in this section are reflected in Mohist doctrines concerning the “Three Models” (san fa), nature or heaven (tian), and fate or destiny (ming). I will then explain how several strands of Mohist metaphysical thought are woven together by the pivotal concept of a “model” or “standard” (fa). Reality in early Mohism: epistemic hints The epistemic methods a philosopher endorses often have implications for that thinker’s view of reality. This observation is particularly apposite to the Mohists, who introduce their epistemic doctrine of the “Three Models” (san fa) specifically to treat a metaphysical issue, the existence of destiny or fate (ming). The content and application of the Three Models help to illustrate the Mohists’ conception of reality and their general metaphysical orientation. The doctrine of the Three Models presents three “models” or “standards” (fa) by which to “clearly distinguish” (ming bian 明辨) actionguiding “statements” or “teachings” (yan 言) as “right or not” (shi-fei 是 非) or as bringing “benefit or harm” (li hai 利害) (Mozi 35/6–10). As an example of such a statement, the text cites the claim that “If fated to be wealthy, people are wealthy; if fated to be poor, they are poor . . . Given fate, even if one works hard, of what advantage is it?” (35/3–4).

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Statements influence conduct: those who affirm the existence of fate and accept this teaching presumably will not strive to improve their economic circumstances. So the issue for the Mohists is how to distinguish whether such action-guiding statements are “right” and are thus a guideline to the proper dao. The “Three Models” are that statements must have a “root” (ben 本), a “source” (yuan 原), and a “use” (yong 用).6 The “root” is the historical precedent and evidence provided by the deeds of the ancient sage-kings, moral exemplars who reliably distinguished right from wrong correctly and whose dao we thus seek to follow. The “source” is that statements must have an empirical basis: they must be checked against the “reality” or “stuff” (shi 實) of people’s ears and eyes, or what anyone can see and hear. The “use” is that when adopted as a basis for punishment and government administration, the statement must produce benefit (li) for the state, clan, and people. The Mohists explain the function of these three models by analogy to measuring tools or guidelines, such as the wheelwright’s compass or the carpenter’s set square. To determine whether a corner is square, a carpenter checks it against a set square to see if the two are similar or “match” (zhong 中). Analogously, statements or teachings that “match” the three standards are judged right (shi) and beneficial (li) and are thus to be promulgated and acted on. Those that fail to match them are “wrong” (fei) and “harmful” (hai) and thus are to be discouraged and rejected as guides to conduct. In repudiating fatalism, for example, the Mohists argue that, first, historical examples of the ancient sage-kings’ deeds show that security and order depend on government policy, not fate: the sage-kings achieved peace and security under the same social conditions in which the tyrants brought turmoil and danger. Second, no one has ever actually seen or heard fate. Third, fatalism has detrimental social consequences, since if people believe that success or failure are predestined, they will not exert effort to improve their moral or economic circumstances. Statements that assume the existence of fate thus fail to match any of the models. Hence gentlemen committed to the right dao – those who wish “all the world” to be wealthy and orderly – cannot fail to reject “the statements of those who hold fate exists,” as these are “great harm to the world” (Mozi 35/46–7). The epistemic stance of the Three Models directly reflects the Mohists’ practical focus on ethical and political dao, rather than on explaining or analyzing the fundamental constitution or nature of things. The purpose 6

For brevity, I will consider only the first of the three versions of the doctrine in the Mozi (35/6–10).

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of the models is not to identify or explain the structure of reality, but to distinguish which teachings or dicta (yan) are suitable candidates for “regularly” (chang 常) guiding action.7 The third model – utility as an ethical and administrative policy – especially illustrates this practical emphasis. Moreover, the Three Models jointly imply that reality is readily knowable through perceptual observation, inductive inference, historical reports, and causal regularities. The world follows consistent, regular patterns – the precedents of the sage-kings continue to be effective, for instance – and such patterns can be inferred from the sage-kings’ deeds, perceptual observation, and practical trial and error. The second model illustrates the Mohist conviction that sense perception is reliable and the perceptual world is real. Indeed, the Mohists’ word for the content of what we hear and see – shi 實 – simply is their word for “real” or “reality.” In their argument for the existence of ghosts and spirits, they explicitly claim that the second model is the standard adopted by “all the world” in “the dao of investigating presence and absence” (Mozi 31/10–11). The text straightforwardly states that the distinction between what does or does not exist is drawn on the basis of whether “someone has really heard it and seen it” (31/11). The theoretical picture assumed by the Three Models thus assigns no role to any unobservable or abstract structure, essence, or mode of existence beyond the “stuff” of perception. This point is illustrated as well by the craft analogies that explain how the models are applied. The carpenter or wheelwright determines whether things are square or round by perceptual comparisons to paradigms, such as the set square or compass. They do not inquire into the underlying nature or essence of what is square or round. They simply take a known paradigm and check whether the object at hand is relevantly similar to it. The aim is not to describe the basic makeup of reality but to complete a practical task – to build a functional cart or house, for example. What grounds the Mohists’ assumptions that reality is reliably knowable through perception, that the world follows regular causal patterns, and that what is practically beneficial is real? A likely explanation, I suggest, is the same point that epistemically grounds their conviction that the ethical dao lies in what promotes the “benefit of all the world”: their belief in a providential tian (heaven, nature). Let me turn now to the role of tian in the Mohist conception of reality. 7

The Mohists hold that explicit statements or teachings (yan) can provide guidance in following the dao. They strive to identify yan that provide “constant” or “regular” (chang) guidance – that is, yan that have consistent, universal applicability. For the importance of such yan, see Mozi 46/37–8 and 47/18–19.

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Tian and reality The Mozi offers the first explicit theory in the Chinese tradition of tian or nature as embodying ethical norms. Earlier historical texts, such as the “Announcement of the Duke of Shao” (Shao Gao 召誥) and other documents collected in the Shang Shu 尚書, depict tian as requiring that a sovereign meet certain norms of conduct as a condition for receiving its continued mandate to rule. Only in the Mozi, however, do we find an explicit conception of tian as a paradigm and enforcer of the proper ethical dao – namely, for the Mohists, the dao of promoting the “benefit of all the world.” Tian in the Mozi is an object of religious reverence and worship, conceptually a blend of a quasi-personal deity and the forces of nature. In Classical Chinese, the word “tian” refers to the sky or to nature, and these referents partly constitute the content of the Mohist concept.8 For the Mohists, however, tian is also an agent, with “intents” (yi 意, zhi 志) or “desires” (yu 欲) interpretable from its conduct (xing 行), who follows and enforces ethical norms. The Mohists consider tian’s intent a reliable model (fa) of yi 義 (right, duty, morality) because it is impartial, generous, constant, noble, and wise. According to their theology, tian created the world in which we live and sustains all people, possessing them as its own and accepting sacrifices from them. It cares about and benefits everyone by providing natural resources sufficient to support humanity. Hence its intent is to care about and benefit all, and the proper dao is one by which people all-inclusively care about each other (jian xiang ai 兼相愛) and in their interactions benefit each other (jiao xiang li 交相利). The proper human dao is to obey tian’s intent by collectively following the same dao that it follows. In exploring the implications of these beliefs, we should keep in mind that tian refers not only to a sky god but to nature or the natural world as a whole. Hence the Mohists are in effect presenting a moralized, enchanted conception of nature, in which the natural world follows and enforces ethical norms. This aspect of their view of reality is colorfully illustrated by their animistic belief in nature spirits, or what they call “sky ghosts” and “ghosts and spirits of the mountains and rivers” (Mozi 31/97, 28/21). As elements of the natural world, operating under the sovereignty of 8

The classical Chinese word tian 天 refers primarily to the sky. It is also the name of the Zhou Dynasty sky god, whom the Mohists revere. In the compound tian-di 天地 it is paired with di, the word for earth, to refer to the natural world. When contrasted with ren 人 (human), it refers to nature or natural features. In contexts referring to the origin of things or to their inborn features, it is interpretable roughly as “nature.” In such contexts, it contrasts with the products of human culture or acquired traits.

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tian, these nature spirits – along with the ghosts of dead human beings (31/97) – enforce ethical norms, rewarding the good and punishing the wicked. A normative dao is thus built into nature as the Mohists understand it: nature itself manifests agency and follows what they take to be the correct dao. My hypothesis, then, is that the Mohists’ confidence that the world is causally regular, that perception reliably indicates reality, and that pragmatically useful distinctions are real is explained by their providential conception of tian, which created and maintains a natural environment that follows a “regular” (chang) dao which facilitates constructive, beneficial human activity. Of course, since for the Mohists the natural world includes ghosts, spirits, and deities, from a contemporary standpoint their conception of nature is supernatural, not naturalistic. Still, their stance can be considered naturalistic in a loose sense, insofar as the supernatural components of the Mohist worldview are in their eyes either denizens of the natural world, such as ghosts and spirits, or nature personified, namely tian. These components of their conception of reality refer only to what they consider parts of nature and not, for instance, to divine beings that transcend the natural world or abstract entities that subsist beyond it. Moreover, there is a fairly obvious way that the Mohist worldview can be stripped of its supernatural elements and secularized or naturalized in the contemporary sense of the term. The Mohists’ conception of yi (right) – the dao they attribute to tian – is for human society and all of its members to support the “benefit of all the world.” This dao can be regarded as an ethical extension of our innate, natural disposition to pursue our own utility or flourishing. The Mohists in effect claim that the dao of nature as a whole is to facilitate the benefit or flourishing of all of us who live within nature.9 As members of what we might call “the community of nature,” they would maintain, we ought to follow this dao, which amounts to an impartial, collective version of our spontaneous disposition to seek our own individual benefit and that of our immediate circle of kin. The Mohists’ implied stance is that such a dao of jointly acting to further the benefit of all is also natural in being a feasible candidate for a “regular” dao, one that can be followed constantly and universally, much as a natural pattern or a law of nature can. This dao taps into our natural dispositions and builds on the regular causal connections between beneficial practices and their results. 9

To us, it may seem that such a dao should include the benefit of non-human creatures as well, but the Mohists’ ethical concern extends only to humans.

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Such a secularized version of the Mohist dao may well be prima facie defensible. Much natural, spontaneous activity probably is indeed directed by the action-guiding distinction between benefit and harm, and the Mohist attempt to universalize this distinction into an ethical dao is in some respects appealing. Of course, a contemporary Mohist would probably find it difficult to convincingly justify the argumentative step from a descriptive conception of nature’s dao as facilitating everyone’s pursuit of benefit to the normative conclusion that we should collectively follow a dao of promoting the benefit of all. Also, on reflection, it seems clear that benefit-versus-harm is not really a “regular” or “constant” action-guiding distinction in the sense the Mohists seek. Although it surely falls among the distinctions by which we justifiably guide action, it is hardly the only one, nor does it apply in every case. Other action-guiding distinctions that are arguably equally “natural” include just/unjust, beautiful/ugly, and enjoyable/unenjoyable, to give only a few examples. Moreover, the Mohists’ stance about the naturalness and “constancy” of the dao of furthering the benefit of all the world quickly loses plausibility when we consider the narrowness of their conception of benefit, which includes only material prosperity, social order, and a flourishing population. Even if benefit/harm were our chief action-guiding distinction, benefit for most of us is broader than just these three basic goods, and there is little reason to expect we could converge on any richer, yet sufficiently specific, conception of benefit. Rejection of fatalism Another important facet of the Mohist conception of reality is their rejection of fatalism or predestination, expressed through their denial of the existence of ming (fate/destiny). For some early Confucian thinkers, the doctrine of ming provided a potential response to the problem of natural evil. Why do worthy people sometimes live difficult, materially unsuccessful lives? One explanation of undeserved misfortune might be that material outcomes are ultimately beyond even a virtuous agent’s control. Perhaps events are sometimes determined by ming, or fate, regardless of the course of action an agent undertakes. As the Mohists interpret this idea, to affirm the existence of ming is to claim that material outcomes such as wealth, population, social order, and longevity are all fated, rendering human effort powerless to improve them (35/3–4).10 10

The Mozi does not consider the alternative view that although agents’ actions might affect outcomes, the amount and efficiency of their effort are determined by fate.

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As we have seen, the Mohists’ explicit argument against this doctrine is that it runs contrary to the Three Models. More fundamentally, however, a belief in fate or predestination as they understand it is deeply incompatible with their moralized conception of nature. If the proper dao is to promote the benefit of all, and if tian or nature conforms to and enforces this ethical norm, then reality must be arranged such that promoting benefit is within our power, moral worth is rewarded, and viciousness is punished. A world in which the worthy suffered misfortune, the vicious prospered, or rewards and punishments were dispensed for outcomes that agents could not control would be unfair and full of unwarranted harm. Such a world would not conform to the right dao. Moreover, predestination would sever the regular causal connection between intentions, actions, and outcomes that grounds the Mohists’ consequentialist ethics. If fate prevents agents from confirming which sorts of intentions and practices reliably yield good consequences, then consequentialism as a normative theory collapses into incoherence. Agents cannot coherently aim to do what promotes “the benefit of all” because, whatever course of action they undertake, fate may prevent a beneficial outcome.11 The rejection of ming and a corresponding confidence in human efficacy are thus basic presuppositions of Mohist ethics and metaphysics. The Mohist position, of course, reopens the problem of natural evil. If tian’s agency entails that the cosmos has an inherent ethical order, why do terrible events sometimes befall undeserving victims? The Mohists’ answer, I suggest, draws on two aspects of their view of reality. The first is causal pluralism. In an anecdote in the Mohist “Dialogues,” Mozi explains that even a worthy person may encounter adverse outcomes, such as illness, because events issue from multiple causal factors, some of which may be difficult to identify and control: Our Master Mozi was ill. Die Bi went in and asked, “Sir, you take the ghosts and spirits to be sentient and able to bring calamity or blessings. Those who do good they reward; those who do wrong they punish. Now you, sir, are a sage. Why are you ill? Could it be that your teaching has errors, and the ghosts and spirits are not sentient?” Our master Mozi said, “Even supposing I am ill, how is it that they are not sentient? There are many ways people can catch an illness. Some get ill from the cold or heat, some from exhaustion. If there are a hundred 11

Paraphrased this way, the Mohist position might seem too strong, as perhaps a coherent consequentialism requires only that certain courses of action usually or probably produce better or worse results, not that they invariably do. However, the Mohists themselves seem to regard the doctrine of ming as sundering any regular causal connection between one’s conduct and its outcome, thus making good or bad consequences highly unpredictable. See, for instance, passages such as 35/30–6, which implies that according to the doctrine of ming, rewards and punishments are completely detached from worthy or vicious conduct. I thank the editors for prompting me to clarify this point.

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doors and you close one of them, how is it that a burglar has no way in?” (Mozi 48/76–9, cf. 49/64–71)

According to the passage, the existence of natural evil does not disprove the Mohist doctrine of sentient ghosts and spirits who enforce ethical norms. Evils such as illness may occur without the spirits’ punishment and despite their rewards, since their intervention is but one of many causally relevant factors. All these factors are in principle intelligible, although perhaps not always practically manageable. The key to avoiding misfortune lies in human effort, in working harder to identify and protect against risks. Still, we might ask, why don’t tian and the spirits protect the worthy person from these other potential causes of misfortune? Here I suggest that the Mohist answer lies in the quasi-naturalistic character of tian’s agency. In the Mohist worldview, tian generally does not intervene proactively in human activity to prevent adverse outcomes. Its agency is mainly reactive, along the lines of natural causal regularities. Other things being equal, if we follow tian’s intent – the normative dao of nature – tian and the ghosts will respond by facilitating our endeavors. If we diverge from tian’s intent, they will not proactively stop us but will merely ensure that harmful consequences ensue. For example, in the Mohist worldview, tian beneficently provides materials by which we can build sturdy buildings. Despite this benevolence, if we recklessly decide to jump off a roof, tian will not intervene to restrain us, and when we do jump it will cause us to fall. Similarly, in the Mohist interpretation of history, tian does not intervene to prevent wicked tyrants from misgoverning their states and harming their people. Once they do so, however, it responds by punishing them and supporting challengers who depose them. Similar reasoning can be extended to yield a Mohist response to the problem of moral evil. Given that the cosmos as a whole embodies an ethical dao, why do humans sometimes diverge from it and behave unethically? A likely Mohist answer is that humans are agents, who act on their understanding of shi-fei 是非 (right versus wrong) distinctions. Improper action is explained by agents’ incompetence – their failure to know how to distinguish shi-fei correctly or their inability to act on the correct distinctions (for details, see Fraser 2011b, 91–2). Because of the reactive character of its agency, tian does not intervene to prevent human incompetence and error but only responds to it with adverse consequences. The Mohist worldview thus balances precariously between the religious, enchanted conception of nature presented in Mohist theology and a protoscientific attitude about causation that emerges from the Mohists’ stance on fate and their explanation of natural and moral evil.

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Models and metaphysics I want to turn now to explore further the metaphysical significance of the Mohist concept of a model (fa) and the role of models in the Mohist view of reality. As I have argued elsewhere,12 the concept of fa is crucial to understanding Mohist ethics, epistemology, psychology, and logic. It is also crucial, I suggest, to Mohist metaphysics. The implications of the concept of fa help to explain the absence of reductionism and abstract metaphysics from Mohist thought, along with the Mohists’ confidence in the reality of the natural world as perceived by the senses. We have seen that tian plays a core role in the Mohist worldview. A crucial detail of this worldview is that the Mohists explicitly take tian’s intent to be a model (fa) analogous to the wheelwright’s compass or the carpenter’s set square (27/73). The concept of fa is thus conceptually central to the Mohist theoretical framework. Besides the compass and square, the full list of paradigmatic fa includes the string line, plumb bob, and water level (4/2–3). All of these tools function as reliable paradigms or guidelines by which to distinguish whether objects are round, square, straight, and so forth in order to achieve practical ends – as when we compare a curved edge with the arc of the compass to check whether it forms a usable wheel. As the use of fa illustrates, in their epistemology, their ethics, and also their metaphysics, the Mohists are concerned with agents’ ability to distinguish kinds of things for practical purposes by comparing them to standards or benchmarks that need not themselves be the kind of thing in question. (The compass itself is not round, nor is a water level itself flat and level.) Fa do not purport to capture the constitution, structure, or essence of things; they are merely handy references used to check for relations of similarity and difference and hence to draw distinctions. In proposing various fa to guide action, then, the Mohists are not offering definitions of properties such as “round” or “square” or attempting to explain these features by appeal to basic principles. Nor do they imply that the compass or set square present the essence or abstract form of roundness or squareness. Their project is not to describe or capture fundamental structure or composition. It is simply to find reliable models by which to draw distinctions that produce useful outcomes – houses that are sturdy and warm, carriages that are strong and roll smoothly, tables that are solid and level. This intellectual orientation is one aspect of their daocentered conceptual framework – they are concerned with practical norms for carrying out concrete projects. Another way to characterize 12

See Fraser 2002, 2005, 2011b, and 2013.

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their outlook might be to say that they adopt an engineering orientation rather than a theoretical one. Instead of an accurate theoretical explanation or analysis of reality, they seek reliable guidelines or procedures for obtaining practical results. To the Mohists, robust practical outcomes are sufficient to justify confidence in the reality of the distinctions at work. Consequently, certain metaphysical questions that may seem salient to readers steeped in the Western tradition simply do not attract the Mohists’ attention. What property do all square things share by virtue of which they are square? What explains why round things are round? Why are the compass and set square appropriate models of what is round or square? What explains why some things match the model while others do not? Early Mohist writings never address such questions.13 Even the later Mohist dialectical texts give only the simplest of answers: “stuffs” or “solids” (shi 實) that match a model are “similar” (tong 同) or “of a kind” (lei 類) by virtue of sharing some similar feature, such their “shape” (xing 形) (see Fraser 2005, 2013). Even for the later Mohist logicians, the task of inquiry is simply to identify the proper dao by which to distinguish similar from dissimilar things, with the aid of whatever models or criteria might prove useful. The theoretical role of the concept of fa thus epitomizes the anti-reductionist, anti-essentialist tendencies in Mohist thought and the Mohists’ concern with practical dao rather than with questions of structure, composition, or essence. Models are a guide to following dao, and what follows the sage-kings’ precedent, agrees with what we see and hear, and yields practical benefit is dao. Once we have learned how to apply the models to identify the dao, no further metaphysical questions are pertinent. A providential tian has created the world such that distinctions that conform to the Three Models – and thus produce round wheels, square corners, bountiful harvests, and orderly societies – are real and are the dao of nature, the dao that tian itself follows. Concluding remarks The Mohist conception of reality and the theoretical orientation of Mohist metaphysics significantly influenced the general direction of early Chinese philosophical discourse. Features of Mohist thought that became shared premises of pre-Buddhist metaphysics include their formal focus on dao; their explanation of reality by appeal to patterns, relations, and regularities rather than abstract forms or structural constitution; their confidence in 13

Partly this is a matter of genre. Early Mohist texts mainly treat ethical, social, and political issues, not metaphysical or ontological topics.

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the reality of the natural world as known through perception; and their view that dao is grounded in nature. At the same time, the Mohists’ specific account of the dao of nature, their proposed models (fa), and their quasi-personal conception of tian all prompted sharp challenges from rival thinkers. Some texts, such as the Daodejing, the Mengzi, and parts of the Zhuangzi, offer competing accounts of the dao of nature. The Mengzi, Xunzi, and Zhuangzi all reject the Mohists’ proposed models (fa) as an exclusive guide to dao. The Xunzi explicitly repudiates a religious conception of tian and contends instead that dao is primarily cultural, grounded only indirectly in nature. Parts of the Zhuangzi question the very idea that nature might ground one dao to the exclusion of others. Despite these spirited disagreements about the content of dao and its precise relation to nature, the Mohists’ general conception of reality presents attitudes and assumptions that are in many respects representative of and set the agenda for early Chinese thought.

5

Reading the Zhongyong “metaphysically” Roger T. Ames

“They [a set of literary articles written for the Eatanswill Gazette] appeared in the form of a copious review of a work on Chinese metaphysics, Sir,” said Pott. “Oh,” observed Mr. Pickwick; “from your pen, I hope?” “From the pen of my critic, Sir,” rejoined Pott, with dignity. “An abstruse subject, I should conceive,” said Mr. Pickwick. “Very, Sir,” responded Pott, looking intensely sage. “He crammed for it, to use a technical but expressive term; he read up for the subject, at my desire, in the ‘Encyclopaedia Britannica.’” “Indeed!” said Mr. Pickwick; “I was not aware that that valuable work contained any information respecting Chinese metaphysics.” “He read, Sir,” rejoined Pott, laying his hand on Mr. Pickwick’s knee, and looking round with a smile of intellectual superiority – “he read for metaphysics under the letter M, and for China under the letter C, and combined his information, Sir!” (Charles Dickens, Pickwick Papers, Chapter 51)

An ametaphysic metaphysics One assumption we might all agree upon is that as a first step in reading the Zhongyong 中庸 (Focusing the Familiar) – a philosophical text that is decidedly distant from us in time and place – we must try with imagination to locate it within its own interpretive context.1 We might refer to the uncommon historical and intellectual assumptions that constitute such an interpretive context alternatively as “persistent yet always changing ways of thinking and living,” or as “a different worldview,” or as “a process cosmology,” or as “an early Confucian metaphysics.” While the language of “ways 1

A good example of how the interpretive context makes a difference is the recent work by scholars such as David Wong, Chris Fraser, James Behuniak, Dan Robbins, Hui-chieh Loy, Ben Wong, and so on, who have taken on the challenge of reinstating the Mozi as integral to the intellectual debates that flourished in the pre-Qin period. I will suggest below that the Zhongyong can best be interpreted as a Confucian argument against a possible Mohist reading of the relationship between tian and the human world.

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of thinking and living” and “worldview” would seem to be philosophically innocent and hence unproblematic, the terms “cosmology” and “metaphysics,” given their distinctive and protean histories within our own cultural narrative, would certainly require substantial qualification. David Hall and I used “cosmology” as a preferred alternative to “metaphysics” in our earlier interpretive work with some considerable trepidation. As a consequence, we invented the rather awkward and decidedly unnatural neologism “acosmotic cosmology” (Hall and Ames 1998: 249). If we are going to use the term “metaphysics,” as with “cosmology,” we will have to begin deliberately by distinguishing whatever we might conceive of as Confucian “metaphysics” from the classical Greek definition of this term. Yu Jiyuan appeals to Aristotle to explain the Greek understanding of metaphysics as first and foremost ontology – that is, as the science of “being” qua being: The most important question of Greek metaphysics is the problem of being (ontology, which is usually synonymous with general metaphysics, means literally a theory [logos] about “onto,” the participle stem of the Greek verb “to be”). Aristotle has explicitly stated that the problem of being is “indeed the question which, both now and of old, has always (aei) been raised, and always (aei) been the subject of doubt.” (Meta. 1028b2–4) (Yu 2011: 144).

Confucian philosophy is resolutely ametaphysical (dare we say “ametaphysic”) if metaphysics is understood in this classical Greek sense as knowledge of the ultimate and unchanging character of being per se. But Yu Jiyuan further allows that “in contemporary philosophy ‘metaphysics’ becomes a term with ambiguous edges” (Yu 2011: 138). In the same spirit, then, I would argue that perhaps an acceptable alternative and more inclusive understanding of metaphysics in our own time might be something both as simple and as complex as “experience in its broadest perspective.” As Wilfrid Sellars has observed about the function of philosophy in general, The aim of philosophy, abstractly formulated, is to understand how things in the broadest possible sense of the term hang together in the broadest possible sense of the term. Under “things in the broadest possible sense” I include such radically different items as not only “cabbages and kings,” but numbers and duties, possibilities and finger snaps, aesthetic experience and death. To achieve success in philosophy would be, to use a contemporary turn of phrase, to “know one’s way around” with respect to all these things, not in that unreflective way in which the centipede of the story knew its way around before it faced the question, “how do I walk?”, but in that reflective way which means that no intellectual holds are barred. (Sellars 1963: 1)

In this chapter, having first constructed what I take to be an interpretive context for reading the Zhongyong, I want to then try to recover some of the

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alternative “metaphysical” questions that were being posed by the author(s) of the text and elaborate upon the answers that were given to them. As we will find below, in the language of Confucian “metaphysics” the goal of our philosophical inquiry, as for Sellars, will be quite literally “to know one’s way around things’” (zhidao 知道) in the broadest possible sense of the term “things.” The real challenge for us, however, lies in understanding that in Confucian metaphysics, “knowing” is the creative and practical activity of “realizing a world” through ars contextualis – the art of contextualizing things – while “the myriad things” (wanwu 萬物) – among which we ourselves are included as active participants – refers in fact to the interdependent, dynamic events that constitute our shared experience. Where to begin our inquiry: “only becoming is” Hegel, in the introduction to his Encyclopaedia Logic, observes that one of the most difficult problems for a philosophical investigation is the question of where to begin. Indeed, early in the Western narrative, thinking about the order of things began with ontological questions such as “What kinds of things are there?” and “What is the nature (physis) of things?” One reason for the unimportance of ontology in Confucian metaphysics is reflected in the classical Chinese language itself. Since the classical Chinese language does not employ a copulative verb that connotes “existence” as essential being, the terms usually used to stand in for and translate the alien notions of “being” and “not-being” have been you 有 and wu 無. But in fact you means not that something “is” (esse in Latin) in the sense that it exists in some essential way; it means rather “having present-to-hand.” On the bronzes, you is depicted as the right hand holding sacrificial meat that is to be shared: . “To be” is thus “to be available,” “to be around, and to have to share.” Likewise, wu as “to not be” means “to not be around, to not be available.” The sense of “being” as expressed in the classical Chinese language overlaps with “having,” disposing those who would employ the notions of you and wu to concern themselves with the presence or absence of concrete particular things and the consequent effects of having or not having them at hand. You and wu thus describe the growth or diminution of eventful relations among things by virtue of their immediate proximity rather than essences that individuate discrete and independent things. The correlation of presumed relationships to do the work of the copula in the classical Chinese language has led Chris Fraser to propose the hypothesis that “the concept of similarity or sameness plays a theoretical role for classical Chinese theorists analogous to that of to be or the copula in European languages” (Fraser 2012b: 13–14).

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Even in recent centuries when the translating of Indo-European cultures required the Chinese language to designate a term to do the work of the copula, the choice was shi 是, meaning “this,” again indicating relational proximity and availability rather than “existence” per se. Why would the ultimate mystery of being per se – that is, the question of why is there something rather than nothing? – not arise in classical Confucian metaphysics? For Confucian metaphysics, in the absence of the “being” and “not-being” dualism that allows for the separation of the determinate and the indeterminate aspects of things by virtue of the aseity of being – that is, existence originating from and having no source other than itself – “only becoming is.” “Being” and “not-being” are not available as possibilities that would occur to these early thinkers. Said the another way around, because the determinate and indeterminate – youwu 有無 – are always mutually entailing correlatives, there is no such thing as “not-being” as a gaping void or an absolute nothingness, and no such thing as “being” as something that is independently permanent and unchanging. Wu is aspectual language that describes an emptiness within the bounds of determinate yet changing form captured in the term “empty” (zhong 盅) as in an empty vessel, and describes an undulating, inchoate state of indeterminacy reflected in the term “surging” (chong 沖) – wu as the as yet unformed penumbra that honeycombs each of the myriad things and that explains the emergence of novel determinacy in the ceaseless process of transformation.2 And you describes a persistent yet always changing determinate pattern within the flux and flow of experience. Indeed, we will find that the alternative question that arises in Confucian metaphysics in the place of “Why is there something rather than nothing?” is the main thesis of the Zhongyong itself: “If only ‘becoming’ is, how can human beings (or better, human ‘becomings’) collaborate most effectively with the heavens and the earth to get the most out of our experience and, at the same time, produce a flourishing world?”3 This assumption that “only becoming is” would also explain the genealogical rather than the “metaphysical” character of classical Chinese cosmogony, and would provide a warrant for sinologist Gudula Linck to use the seemingly oxymoronic term “continuous cosmogony” (ununterbrochene Kosmogonie) to describe it (Linck 2001). That is, this notion of 2 3

See Daodejing 4, in which the textual variants describe dao 道 itself in these terms. Dewey’s pragmatism embraces a similar process cosmology, leading him to describe this ultimate mystery in these temporal terms: “The mystery of time is thus the existence of real individuals . . . The mystery is that the world is as it is – a mystery that is the source of all joy and all sorrow, of all hope and fear, and the source of development both creative and degenerative” (Dewey 1998: 225).

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cosmogenesis, rather than appealing for explanation to a creatio ex nihilo intervention from some independent and external source of order, references a process of “birthing” associated with the female (shi 始) that continues unabated without beginning or end.4 A distinct difference between a genealogical and a metaphysical cosmogony is that where the latter entails the intervention of some external creative source that establishes a “One-behind-the-Many” idealistic and teleologically driven metaphysics, the genealogical cosmogony always entails two elements in the creative process that needs must collaborate in conception and procreation without appeal to some external source. A second fundamental difference is that whereas metaphysical cosmogonies promise increased illumination as we trace back to and understand the ultimate source, a genealogical cosmogony describes a birthing from an inchoate, incipient life-form that presupposes genealogy and progenitors rather than originative principles or divine design, and a pattern of always-situated and cultivated growth in significance rather than the linear actualization of some predetermined potential. Hence, unlike some traditional Western cosmogonies that usher us back to the source of an intelligibility that has deliberately overcome chaos and has established order, Chinese natural cosmogonies direct us back to what, from our present perspective, is a world wherein the further back we go in the birthing canal, the more dark, amorphous, and remote it becomes for us. Further, the cosmogonic narrative takes us back to an earlier set of conditions that, requiring its own terms of understanding, cannot be explained by the application of our present philosophical vocabulary. As the cosmos changes, so must the language of its explanation. The primacy of vital relationality in Confucian metaphysics While the substance ontology of early Greece thus establishes a doctrine of external relations among discrete “things” that each have their essential integrity, the processual metaphysics as it is expressed in the “Great Tradition” commentary on the Book of Changes and as it is implicit in the early Confucian texts treats phenomena as conterminous events that are constituted by their internal relations. In envisioning this relational alternative to the “being” of substance ontology, Peter Hershock looks to a doctrine of intrinsic, constitutive relations that makes “objects” simply the product of a mental abstraction from lived relations. As Hershock 4

See the distinction between genealogical and metaphysical cosmogony in Ames 2011: 225–31.

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observes, “what we take to be objects existing independently of ourselves are, in actuality, simply a function of habitual patterns of relationships.” He continues, This amounts to an ontological gestalt shift from taking independent and dependent actors to be first order realities and relations among them as second order, to seeing relationality as first order (or ultimate) reality and all individual actors as (conventionally) abstracted or derived from them. (Hershock 2006: 140, 147)

Thus it is that Confucian metaphysics begins in medias res – that is, from the middle of things rather than at their causal beginning or teleological end – and it does not presume essential features or antecedent, determining principles as transcendent sources of order. Confucian metaphysics appeals not to some single, necessary, and independent source or goal that “de-realizes” our phenomenal experience, but to the project of “excelling at life” (de 德) and thereby “optimizing the experience of everything present-to-hand” (daode 道德) within our empirical experience. And it is a metaphysics only in so far as it follows from or further explains concrete human experience with careful observation and description of, and abstraction from, the existential continuum. Since the categories that we derive from and apply to experience are the result of transactional historical processes, they are always subject to further revision and are hypothetical rather than necessary, even if we naturalize them and cannot imagine any other way of organizing the content of our lives. Further, these concepts are a mere verbalization and formalization that translate the much richer, more primordial lived experience – our immediate feelings – and, as such, can only ever be explanatory approximations rather than ontological categories. As each thing in our immediate experience is constituted by a particular, dynamic matrix of relations within “everything present-to-hand” (wanwu 萬物 or wanyou 萬有), the starting point of this Confucian metaphysics, then, is the primacy of felt, vital relationality. It is because the practical function of Confucian metaphysics is to produce additional significance in the growth of meaningful relations rather than to search for meaning provided by the discovery of origins or ends, that the best designation for the most general “science” of order in the Confucian tradition might be the ars contextualis described above as “the art of contextualizing.” Confucian thinkers sought to understand order as a participatory process requiring the artful co-ordination and disposition of things. The art of contextualizing seeks to understand and appreciate the manner in which particular things present-to-hand are, or may be, most harmoniously correlated to optimize their creative possibilities in the totality of the lived effect. Classical Confucian thinkers located the energy of this

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transformative process within a world that is ziran 自然 – autogenerative, or literally “self-so-ing” – and found the more or less harmonious relations that constitute the particular things around them to be the natural condition of things. Such things require no appeal to an external ordering principle or agency for explanation, and are available to human beings, the most excellent among them serving as co-creators within this dynamic cosmos, and who participate fully in the correlating and co-ordinating of all things to make the most of our lived experience. Shi 勢: an aesthetic alternative to essence and causality We might appeal to one concrete expression of ars contextualis to illustrate how this Confucian understanding of the production of order answers some of our basic metaphysical questions. Shi 勢 is a generic term that expresses the complex dynamics of the process of “trans-form-ing” (tiyong 體用) as it occurs within the evolution of any particular situation. First, there is the element of cultivation and of leading forth that is captured in the etymology of the term as “to sow and cultivate” (yi 蓺) and in its cognate term, the “performing arts” (yi 藝). Situations do not just happen; they emerge as a growing pattern of changing relations that are vital, and can display the possibilities of incremental design as well as an achieved, aesthetic virtuosity. Situations by definition also have a morphology or “situated” aspect – a place and a persistent, yet always changing, configuration. But as Hershock has observed above, we must see “relationality as first order (or ultimate) reality and all individual actors as (conventionally) abstracted or derived from them.” The friendship is first-order and the friends as discrete individuals are secondary abstractions from the relationship. Putative “things” are thus convenient abstractions from persistent and continuous matrices of interdependent relations. We might be initially overwhelmed when we examine the nonexhaustive list of the possible English translations for this term shi 勢 that is revealing of its broad compass of meaning. We can parse the seemingly complex significance of shi into the following coherent pattern of associations. In reflecting on these mutually entailing generalizations, we begin from the vital relationality that constitutes any particular situation and register those corollaries that follow from it: Relationality: leverage, differential, advantage, purchase Vitality: potential, momentum, timing, tendency, propensity Virtuosity: influence, power, force, style, dignity, status Embodiment: terrain, configuration, situation, circumstances, disposition, shape, appearance

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And this emergent pattern – relationality, vitality, virtuosity, and embodiment – can be drawn upon to answer some of our basic metaphysical questions. First, this reflection on shi provides a centered, “from-field-tofocus” conception of the principle of individuation – that is, we divide up, conceptualize, and make determinate the otherwise continuous flow of experience by bringing focus and meaningful resolution to the field from one perspective or another. An ostensive “thing” is defined as a specific focus or matrix of changing, constitutive relations. This pattern suggests what it means to act and to move as a thing that is at once unique and yet continuous with other things, and allows us some insight into what both unity and diversity actually mean. Indeed, the inseparability of unity and diversity means at the very least that there is no single dominant order, but many interdependent and interpenetrating sites of order. When used to reflect on the human condition specifically, shi explains the emerging individuality of unique “persons” situated within the propensity of extended families and communities, and defines this distinctiveness not exclusive of relationships, but rather by virtue of the quality of them. To the extent that we achieve productive relations, we emerge as distinctive and sometimes even distinguished persons. Given its somatic and vital aspects, shi further clarifies the relationship between “living body” (ti 體) and “embodied living” (li 禮). It suggests how persisting habits and specific habitudes that constitute identities are shaped from original impulses – the shiyuan 勢源 (potential source) – into definite and significant activities. Using the terminology of the Confucian tradition itself, shi provides a way of conceiving of the configuration of relationally constituted persons within proper family and community roles and relations (li) and the process of the intergenerational transmission and embodiment (ti) of a vibrant cultural tradition. And given this primacy of vital relationality, we find that moral competence is defined in terms of conduct in our various roles that conduces to growth in their relations, both social and physiological. The cosmic reach of Confucian role ethics in the Zhongyong A common feature of both metaphysics and cosmology generally is that they are typically projections on the world derived from those ordinary activities of the everyday human experience: love and strife, law and chaos, friend and foe, and so on. In the metaphysics implicit in early Confucian philosophizing, the pursuit of cosmic harmony begins with cultivating family and community relations at home, and then ripples out to the furthest horizons of the cosmos broadly construed.

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In the Zhongyong, Confucian “role ethics” certainly begins from and is grounded in the immediate roles and relations that define the consummatory life to be achieved within family lineage and community. The thriving family is a precondition for a flourishing world: In traveling a long way, one must set off from what is near at hand, and in climbing to a high place, one must begin from low ground: such is the proper way of exemplary persons. The Book of Songs says: The loving relationship with wife and children Is like the strumming of the zither and the lute; In the harmonious relationship between older and younger brothers There is an abundance of enjoyment and pleasure. Be appropriate in your house and home And bring joy to your wife and progeny. The Master said: “And how happy the parents will be!” (Ames and Hall 2001: 95–6)

The middle chapters of the Zhongyong provide a detailed historical account of the cultural heroes who have come to construct and to embody the values and the institutions as they are passed on from generation to generation and who as models are available for emulation. But perhaps in response to the challenge of Daoist cosmology and metaphysics, the Zhongyong goes beyond the earlier Confucian texts in extending the compass of its concern beyond such human limits to apply the transformative force of human feeling to the cosmos more broadly: Thus exemplary persons cannot but cultivate their persons. In cultivating their persons they cannot but serve their kin. In serving their kin they cannot but come to realize the human world. And in realizing the human world they cannot but come to realize tian. (Ames and Hall 2001: 100–1)

One way of illustrating this perception of a much elevated and amplified expectation of human influence in the emergence of cosmic order is to reflect on what is presupposed in the underlying metaphysical language of dao 道 and de 德 that is frequently appealed to in the Zhongyong as a Confucian vocabulary that expresses what it would mean, as Wilfrid Sellars requires of philosophy, to “know one’s way around the myriad things” (zhidao 知道) in the broadest possible sense of these terms. It is significant that the character for dao on the bronzes and in the recently recovered bamboo strips, that is, and respectively, is not simply a road – “the Way,” as it is conventionally translated – but includes within it a graphic representation of walking human beings journeying on their way. Simply put, dao is the specifically human sojourn through life’s experiences, and could alternatively be translated as “world-making”

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with an appropriate awareness of the fact that the etymology of “world” is literally “the age of man.” And there is graphic resonace between dao as this resolutely and specifically human understanding of forging our way in the world, and its dyadic correlate, de that is conventionally rendered nominally as “virtue” or “excellence” – that is, “excelling morally.” Again, human beings can only excel morally within the context of the world around them. On the oracle bones, similar to the graph for dao that designates a specifically human way, de appears as , again depicting persons walking on a road with eyes focused on moving straight ahead.5 This clear interpenetration and complementarity of dao and de reinforces the assumption that Confucian metaphysics is an account of the human experience in the world. This association provides a correlation between the metaphor of “walking the proper human way” (dao) and “moving straight ahead” (de) that has both the physical and the moral connotations of moving ahead in a “straight” line and being “true” respectively. Indeed, on the bronzes, the heartmind (xin 心) signific is added as an additional element in the character de , underscoring both the intellectual and the affective dimension of the journey in making one’s way forward in life without deviating from what is proper and upright.6 What is clear is that the daode dyad has each of the pair of “human” and “way” implicated within the other, and defines human excellence as an optimization of the relations that constitute our shared narratives as we journey forth within our overlapping natural, social, and cultural contexts. A metaphysical reading of the Zhongyong With this brief account of the classical Chinese side of the looking glass in hand, I want to turn in the second part of this chapter to a commentary on some representative passages of the Zhongyong on the basis of which we might clarify and corroborate some of these generalizations about Confucian metaphysics. Indeed, the reward for having the courage to use the word “metaphysics” is that we have license to be grand in our stride and bold in our conjectures. If we allow that the starting point for classical Confucian metaphysics is concern over the primacy of vital 5 6

See Kwan Tze-wan’s Multi-function Character Database 殷墟文字甲編, 2304. See Kwan Tze-wan’s “Multi-function Character Database” [西周早期] CHANT: 2837. Reinforcing this understanding of daode is the fact that in several of the recently recovered archaeological texts, the character de 德 is written using an alternative graph, 悳 with a heartmind radical xin 心 placed underneath the character zhi 直 that means “honestly, straight, true, upright, forthright.” There is clearly a cognate relationship between the two characters de 德 and zhi 直, and in the archaic language where the latter occasionally appears as a loan character for the former they are similar in pronunciation.

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relationality as we human beings make our way in the world, what, then, are the corollaries following from this assumption that must be taken into account as an interpretive context to inform a close reading of this text? Again, can we, in taking this context into account, recover those metaphysical questions being posed that are specific to this text, and the answers that are being given to them? In many ways, Chapter 1 of the Zhongyong sets the problem for the entire document and provides a summary answer to this problem not just once but twice. The opening line of the text immediately recalls the Zisizi 子思子 vocabulary cluster as it has been identified in the recently recovered archaeological finds – tian 天, ming 命, xing 性, xin 心, qing 情 – and suggests that this specific passage reinforced by what follows from it in the first chapter might be a good reason for the traditional association of the authorship of the text with this grandson of Confucius.7 We have speculated elsewhere that it is the exhortation to interpret this first line in one way rather than another that constitutes the axis of the entire text (Ames and Hall 2001: 26–30). To rehearse this speculation, one possible reading of this opening passage that arises immediately from registering its historical context would be one we would associate with the Mohist camp, a philosophical lineage that constituted a pervasive polemical force during this historical period. This interpretation would have construed the relationship between tian and the human being in a decidedly conservative, “theistic” direction by suggesting that the natural and moral order is largely imposed on the human world by tian from without (wai 外).8 Chris Fraser provides a summary description of this Mohist understanding of the intentions or purposes of tian (tianzhi 天志) as constituting an external, objective standard: The Mohists justify their consequentialist ethics by appeal to the intention of Heaven (Tian), which they believe provides an objective criterion of morality… The crux of the Mohists’ appeal to Heaven is that as the highest, wisest moral agent, Heaven conducts itself in a way (a dao) that unfailingly sets an example of correct ethical norms. Its intentions are consistently or reliably humane and right. 7

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Prominent scholars such as Pang Pu 龐樸 and Li Xueqin 李學勤 have speculated that some of the texts recovered in the recent finds might constitute a lost work by the grandson of Confucius, Zisizi, also known as Kong Ji 孔伋, who, together with Mencius 孟子, constitutes the SiMengpai: 思孟派 – the SiMeng school – with which the philosophy of the Zhongyong is clearly aligned. See, for example, Pang Pu (1998). According to the imperial bibliography Yiwenzhi 藝文志 in the official dynastic history Hanshu 漢書, the Zisizi that was extant at that time had twenty-three chapters. Song period bibliographies speak of a text that was seven juan or “scrolls” in length. This Mohist claim that moral order is ultimately derived from an external source is the basis of a frequently encountered debate in the Confucian texts, with the Mencius being a clear case in point. See Mencius 6A.

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To obtain an objective criterion of moral right and wrong, then, we can observe Heaven’s conduct and notice the norms it is committed to and enforces. (Fraser 2012a)

I would argue – and I am not sure all would agree – that the external, objective standard of the Mohist, as a publicly determined and implemented objective norm, while certainly conservative and impositional, still remains as one possible extreme within an assumed framework of a still correlative relationship between tian and the human world: that is, within “the continuity and inseparability of the human and the cosmic orders” (tianrenheyi 天人合一). As such, as a putatively objective standard it is of a fundamentally different quality of “objectivity” than that derived from the dualistic order that attends the conventional Abrahamic notion of the aseity (self-sufficiency) of an independent and transcendent God. Still, this clear degree of difference did not prevent James Legge, as a Christian proselytizer, from finding an analog for his Christian theism in translating the first line of this text: “What Heaven has conferred is called THE NATURE; an accordance with this nature is called THE PATH of duty; the regulation of this path is called INSTRUCTION.” Of course, the extent to which the remainder of the Zhongyong not only strays from but flatly contradicts what Legge really wanted the first line to say was a grave disappointment to this honest translator, leading him to append a stinging indictment of this canonical text to serve as fair warning to its reader that it is a blasphemy of the first order: It begins sufficiently well, but the author has hardly enunciated his preliminary apophthegms, when he conducts into an obscurity where we can hardly grope our way, and when we emerge from that, it is to be bewildered by his gorgeous but unsubstantial pictures of sagely perfection. He has eminently contributed to nourish the pride of his countrymen. He has exalted their sages above all that is called God or is worshipped, and taught the masses of the people that with them they have need of nothing from without. In the meantime it is antagonistic to Christianity. By-and-by, when Christianity has prevailed in China, men will refer to it as a striking proof how their fathers by their wisdom knew neither God nor themselves. (Legge 1960: 55)

Indeed, as Legge grudgingly allows, the remainder of the Zhongyong is a sustained argument for a Confucian interpretation of this first line that will accommodate neither a soft Mohist nor a much stronger Christian version of “divine command theory.”9 This alternative Confucian 9

Fraser (2012a) argues that the external order represented by tian is ultimately derived from dao 道, resolving the medieval scholastic debate on volunteerism – does God do something because it is right or is it right because God does it? – in favor of the former position.

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interpretation provides a robust answer to what is perhaps the most basic of its “metaphysical” questions: How do we become consummately human in our persons through the cultivation of those expansive local and ultimately cosmic relations that locate us within our cultural, social, and natural worlds, and, in so doing, ensure that “the heavens and the earth maintain their proper places and all things flourish in the world?” (Ames and Hall 2001: 90) The Zhongyong can be read as an inspired account of the commonplace characterization of Confucian religiousness as “the continuity and inseparability of the human and the cosmic orders” (tianrenheyi) in which the human being must step up to assume the status of co-creator with the heavens and the earth. Importantly, this prescription is not to be understood as the bringing together and conjoining of two separate domains. Rather, and similar to the mutually implicated dyadic pairs yinyang 陰陽 and daode 道德, this mantra describes the deliberate growth of constitutive relations that are already defining of the human and cosmic orders as continuous and inseparable aspects of the human experience. This Confucian alternative to the divine command theory is the interpretation that the contemporary Confucian philosopher Tang Junyi 唐君毅 endorses for this passage. Commenting on the opening line, 天命之謂性 . . ., Tang insists that: What is meant by this claim is not that tian according to some fixed fate determines the conduct and progress of human beings. On the contrary, tian endows humans with a natural disposition that, being more or less free of the mechanical control of their established habits and of external intervening forces, undergoes a creative advance within their context that is expressive of this spontaneity. (Tang 1991: 100)

Each of the two paragraphs that follow the opening line offer interpretations of this passage that can be read as explicit statements of the main thesis of the Zhongyong – that is, a celebration of the achievement of those human beings who embrace and take responsibility for their co-creative role in the cosmos. In so doing, these paragraphs provide us with several metaphysical corollaries to the primacy of vital relationality. The first paragraph reads, As for this proper way, we cannot quit it even for an instant. Could we quit it, it would not be the proper way. It is for this reason that exemplary persons are so concerned about what is not seen, and so anxious about what is not heard. There is nothing more present than what is imminent, and nothing more manifest than what is inchoate. Thus exemplary persons are ever concerned to consolidate their virtuosic habits as an inner disposition for action. (Ames and Hall 2001: 89).10 10

Liang Tao (2004) has, on the basis of recently recovered archaeological texts, argued convincingly that the meaning of the last phrase in this passage – 故君子慎其獨也 – is to internalize and consolidate the five modes of proper conduct as a habitual disposition for

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We human beings are taken to be integral to and have a recursive relationship within the creative cosmic process, and cannot extricate ourselves from it. It is the imminent, inchoate, and thus underdetermined penumbra of the emerging cosmic order that provides the opening and the opportunity for those cultivated human “becomings” who in the process of becoming exemplary in their own persons collaborate symbiotically with the heavens and the earth to be co-creators in achieving a flourishing world. Moreover, through the reflexive internalization and consolidation of this virtuosic conduct in their own persons, the entire cosmos becomes implicated in them in the process of them becoming consummately who they are. This is what the Mencius means when it says, Mengzi said, “Is there any enjoyment greater than, with the myriad events of the world all implicated here in me, to turn personally inward and to achieve resolve (cheng 誠)? Is there any way of seeking to become consummate in my person more immediate than making every effort to put myself in the place of others?” (7A4).

In this passage, everything in the world is drawn into, implicated in, and brought into focus as one’s habitual dispositions, making one “most intensive” (zhigang 至剛) in one’s resolve. And these focused habits of conduct then extend outward through putting oneself in the place of other things, making one “most extensive” (zhida 至大) in one’s reach and influence. Such is the result of nourishing one’s “flood-like qi” (haoranzhiqi 浩然之氣).11 Indeed, the capacity of exemplary persons through personal cultivation and an achieved inner intensity and resolve to produce increased significance in all of the relations that constitute them and their world is illustrative of the Confucian assumption that creativity is always embedded and situated as creatio in situ. Given that Confucian morality is nothing more or less than deliberate growth in relations, these exemplars are thus able to achieve cosmic stature as a continuing source of moral meaning in their increasingly intimate relationship with their world. That is, any sense of the remoteness and externality of the cosmos gives way to an awareness of an increasingly mutual and indeed social coalescence with this world that is funded by feelings of deference, belonging, and trust.12

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virtuosic conduct. The commentary included in the Mawangdui version of Wuxingpian is explicit: 慎其独也者,言舍夫五而慎其心之谓也。独然后一,一也者,夫五为□(一)心也,然 后得之. “The expression ‘shenqidu’ means accommodating the five modes of proper conduct within and focusing them carefully in the heartmind. Having consolidated the five modes of conduct, they become one. ‘One’ means making the five modes of proper conduct [one] heartmind, and then taking such a heartmind as one’s own identity.” See also Mencius 2A2. It is this sense of the inseparability of the human and the natural worlds that is inspiring the contemporary movement in the social sciences and humanities to herald an

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The text continues, The moment at which joy and anger, grief and pleasure, have yet to arise is called a nascent equilibrium; once these feelings have arisen, that they are all brought into proper focus is called harmony. This notion of equilibrium and focus is the great root of the world; harmony then is the advancing of the proper way in the world. When equilibrium and focus are sustained and harmony is fully realized, the heavens and the earth maintain their proper places and all things flourish in the world. (Ames and Hall 2001: 89–90)

In the opening line we have three of the five Zisizi terms: tian 天, ming 命, and xing 性. In this second paragraph, the semantic content, if not the two remaining Zisizi terms – the “feelings” (qing 情) that constitute and empower the human “heartmind” (xin 心) – are referenced.13 This passage begins from a description of our initial conditions – those latent, native but as yet unexpressed feelings – that provide us with the relational resources for engaging the world and enchanting the cosmos. And it is because we can cultivate ourselves as responsive, feeling creatures that we can develop the capacity to become a truly transformative force within the ceaseless process of procreation. The notion of “feelings” here has to be read as an understanding of human responsiveness in a deepened, capacious, and inclusive way. As David B. Wong and others have argued, we do not find the Greek diremption of emotions and reason in these classical Confucian texts and any assumed tension between them that follows from it (Wong 1991: 31).14 Our feelings in this broad sense must be able to find their satisfaction by achieving a productive continuity with the details of the concrete world as we actually come to embody it. But such feelings become a powerful resource only when they are properly cultivated to produce both harmony and focus in these expansive relations, and, in so doing, to give rise to the resolution and the coherence that characterizes a flourishing world. It is only through transforming the tianren 天人correlative relationship into one of sociality and indeed of an evolving religiousness that these exemplary persons can make this profound difference. Such achieved harmony and clear resolution in our relationships is the very root from which the flourishing world order emerges, and contributes to the life force that guides it forward on its proper course. It is the human sense of felt worth and belonging within

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Anthropocene epoch by challenging the nature–social dualism and embracing nature as a social category. See Palsson et al. (2013). An argument can be made that even though these two terms do not appear here explicitly, they are implicit in what is being said. And then later in the text the increasing centrality of the term cheng 誠 reinforces the claim that human “feelings” are a prominent cosmic force. Myeong-seok Kim (2014) disputes this claim.

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this dynamic cosmic life force that gives the Zhongyong its profound religious significance. The Confucians, in arguing against the Mohist assertion that cosmic order is divinely imposed, are not simply advancing the claim that human beings have an active role in the production of cosmic order, but moreover, in this aspiration to live inspired lives, they contribute in an intense way to its refulgent spirituality. Moreover, this spirituality is not unilateral and singular in purpose (tianzhi 天志), but is multivalent, pluralistic, and inclusive. The myriad things obey no single unifying principle, but achieve their harmony and diversity through their interpenetrating differences that come to make a difference for all of them. In many ways, the structure of the Zhongyong is an object lesson in Confucian metaphysics as it inspires its readers to exercise their capacity to “know their way around,” and, through ars contextualis, to strive to realize a profound difference in their relations with those things presentto-hand. The first fifteen chapters that follow the opening statement coopt the authority of Confucius for its interpretation of the underlying Confucian metaphysics by attempting to give an explicit explanation for what Confucius actually means by zhongyong 中庸 – a vague term that has appeared only once prior to the Zhongyong from the mouth of the Master in the Analects: “The Master said, ‘It takes the highest degree of excellence to bring focus to what is familiar in the ordinary affairs of the day. That such excellence is rare among the people is an old story’” (6.29). Some of these early chapters are an attempt to define zhongyong explicitly (2, 3, 7, 8, 9, 11); a few others attempt to illuminate what is meant by the character zhong 中 by itself (6, 10). What is clear is that the chapters in this portion of the document that attempt to link zhongyong and dao 道 in explanation of what it means to “know one’s way around” (10, 11, 12, 13, 15) begin from the ordinary lives of people in their families and communities as these lives are informed and enhanced by the conduct of exemplary persons. In the chapters that follow, it is the felt lives of the ordinary people thus transformed that then serve as a motive force radiating out to become implicated in the epochal lives of the sages as these paragons sing the joyful music of the cosmos.15 Zhongyong 12 provides an initial rather muted statement of this radial process: The way of exemplary persons is at once exhaustive and concealed. . . The proper way (dao 道) of exemplary persons (junzi 君子) is both broad and hidden. . . The proper way of exemplary persons has as its start the simple lives of ordinary men

15

In the language of the Analects 14.35: 下學而上達. “Study what is near at hand and aspire to what is lofty.”

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and women, and at its furthest limits sheds light upon the entire world. (Ames and Hall 2001: 92–3)

The middle chapters of the text recount how the sages and cultural heroes have taken the everyday human experience within family and ancestral lineages, and through a sustained process of aestheticization centered on achieved propriety (li 禮) in family and community relations, have made the ordinary culture extraordinary, and, in so doing, enchanted the lives of the people. A point that is made repeatedly is that tian’s bounty has been and continues to be shared with the human world in direct response to the achieved virtuosity of those in positions of cultural and political authority – a dynamic that is pervasive in the text as an achieved resolve within that makes possible an expansive reach without: Thus, those of greatest virtuosity are certain to gain status, emoluments, reputation, and longevity. For the generosity of tian in engendering and nurturing things is certain to be in response to the quality of things themselves. . . Those of the greatest virtuosity are thus certain to receive tian’s charge. (Ames and Hall 2001: 96–7)

With this narrative of the collaborative origins of human culture, the text marshals the hoary sages and cultural heroes to join Confucius in endorsing its Confucian interpretation of the cosmic force of human feelings. Zhongyong 25 provides a straightforward and substantial statement of several metaphysical assumptions that expand on the idea expressed in the opening chapter that it is the indeterminate aspect of experience that provides an opportunity for human participation in creative cosmic advance. The Zhongyong follows a passage in the Mencius in elevating the term cheng 誠 to cosmic status and in ascribing to intense human feelings the potential to become a powerful transformative force:16 Resolve (cheng) is self-consummating and its way is self-directing. Resolve is a process taken from its beginning to its end, and without this resolve, nothing would happen. It is thus that, for exemplary persons, it is resolve that is prized. But resolve is not simply the self-consummating of one’s own person; it is what consummates everything. Realizing oneself is becoming consummate in one’s conduct (ren 仁); realizing the world is wisdom (zhi 知). Such is the virtuosity of 16

Mencius 4A12: “Cheng is the way of tian, reflecting on cheng is the way of the human being.” In this seminal passage, we witness the repeated image of an inner intensity and resolve, and its vast outer cosmic reach and compass. This cosmic association of cheng 誠 with creativity has been anticipated in Zhongyong 16: “Such is the way that the inchoate is made manifest and that creative resolve cannot be repressed.” It occurs again in Zhongyong 20: “Creativity is the way of tian; creative resolve is the proper way of becoming human. Creative resolve is achieving equilibrium and focus without coercion; it is succeeding without reflection. Freely and easily traveling the center of the way – this is the sage. Creative resolve is selecting what is efficacious and holding on to it firmly.”

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one’s natural tendencies and the way of integrating what is more internal and what is more external. Thus whenever one applies this virtuosity it is fitting. (Ames and Hall 2001: 106)

First, cheng is a human sentiment that is conventionally translated as “sincerity,” “honesty,” or “integrity.” In these middle passages it is projected onto the cosmos and used to describe the process of procreation itself, making the resolve of intense human feelings not only integral to its workings, but a source of its boundless capacity for growth. It is because of the cosmic power of this sentiment that it is revered by all exemplary people who understand best that the process of personal consummation (ren 仁) is at once collaborative and reflexive, making such personal growth coterminous and mutually entailing with the growth of a joyful wisdom that inspires a flourishing world (zhi 知). Here also we have the explicit statement that, contra the Mohists, in the achieved virtuosic relationships that constitute our insistent particularity as unique persons (de 德), subjectivity and objectivity (neiwai 內外) are matters of degree rather than kind. The subjective and objective are inseparable aspects of “knowing our way around” (dao 道) that in coalescing culminate on the objective side in what is optimally fitting (yi 宜), and more subjectively in what is morally appropriate (yi 義).17 Moral appropriateness is the source of meaningful relations, bringing them internally into focus and resolve, and making them externally a source of cosmic flourishing. In this development of the uniquely Mencian reading of resolute cheng as a cosmic force, the text has added Mencius to Confucius and the sages as a sponsor for its Confucian interpretation of the cosmic reach and influence of human feelings. It is left only to bring in the voice of the Book of Songs – a source that serves typically as the ultimate endorsement in the canonical texts – to complete its score. In the succeeding chapters of the text, the bottomlessness and the boundlessness of the heavens and the earth that provide the context for the human experience are first described in hyperbolic language (26). An important metaphysical point made explicitly here is that each particular event that emerges as integral to cosmic order is unique and without replication, making the process of procreation unlimited in its bounty: “The way of heaven and earth can be captured in one phrase: since events are never duplicated, their proliferation is unfathomable” (Ames and Hall 2001: 106–7). With increasing pace and animation, the text goes on to 17

Earlier in the text in Zhongyong 20, “what is optimally appropriate” (yi 義) – that is, what is moral – has been defined paranomastically as “what is most fitting” (yi 宜) in any particular situation, providing a warrant for reading this character here as what is optimally appropriate as a source of moral significance.

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describe the human complement to these natural processes of procreativity. With the contributions made by sages and exemplary persons to spread the proper way throughout the world (27), and then again through the exemplary rulership of the True King (28), the role of the human actor is extended both culturally and politically to the furthest reaches of the cosmos. These generic descriptions give way to the specific and concrete example of Confucius, who is portrayed in hyperbolic celestial language that makes his life a counterpart to the cosmic process of procreation in which the human and the natural streams converge as one: He modeled himself above on the rhythm of the turning seasons, and below he was attuned to the patterns of water and earth. He is comparable to the heavens and the earth, sheltering and supporting everything that is. He is comparable to the progress of the four seasons, and the alternating brightness of the sun and the moon. All things are nurtured together and do not cause injury to one another; the various ways are traveled together and are not conflicted. (Ames and Hall 2001: 111–12)

Making the point that this cosmic process continues unabated, the penultimate Chapters 31 and 32 describe in grand and exuberant language the transformative impact of “those in the world of utmost sagacity” (wei tianxia zhisheng 唯天下至聖) and “those in the world of utmost creative resolve” (wei tianxia zhicheng 唯天下至誠). Finally, in the last chapter that registers fully the now galloping momentum of the procreative process, it moves rapidly toward its crescendo in a veritable “Ode to Joy” by breaking out into the celebratory, full-throated verses of the Book of Songs (31). It is these verses that draw upon the powerful emotion of the people and the absolute veracity of their songs to serve as the last and most powerful endorsement for the Confucian reading of this text. Concluding remarks I have suggested that metaphysics in the Confucian tradition might be best understood as “experience in broadest perspective,” or perhaps more specifically as “knowing one’s way around the myriad things.” In any case, Confucian “metaphysics” invariably includes both the human perspective and the human aspiration to live a consummate life as the drama is played out in its cosmic setting. And I have thus taken the starting point for a philosophical investigation of this human experience to be the primacy of vital relationality. A close reading of Zhongyong has provided a concrete exercise for corroborating this claim, and allows us to derive additional ways of characterizing a Confucian metaphysics that are implicated in this assumption. I would suggest the following summary and non-exhaustive list as possible corollaries that either have been or can be

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recovered from the Zhongyong and that might be helpful in our attempt to reconstruct a Confucian metaphysics from this text: (1) human “becomings”: gerundive, relationally constituted notion of persons (a dynamic matrix of unique relations); (2) doctrine of internal (vital, existential) relations; (3) the uniqueness of particulars; (4) reflexivity, collaboration, multilateralism in relations; (5) a focus–field (道德) rather than part–whole understanding of particulars and their context; (6) an inseparability of one and many (of the continuity among and the uniqueness of things); (7) a centered and unbounded holism, an unsummed totality; (8) the interdependence of the formal and the informal, the determinate and the indeterminate; (9) analogy and correlativity (ars contextualis) as the method of creative advance; (10) the centrality of moral imagination; (11) a processual and emergent cosmic order; (12) a human-centered religiousness achieved through a sense of felt worth and belonging; (13) ongoing disclosure; (14) plurality as diversity rather than as variety; (15) provisional and fallibilistic order; (16) creatio in situ as increased significance or meaning in relations; (17) a Whiteheadian aesthetic order; (18) first-order problematic; (19) a shi 勢 “causality” in which all contextualizing factors are relevant; (20) a narrative, event identity; (21) a principle of individuation that moves from contextual relations to particular focus; (22) processive form as the rhythm or cadence of experience; (23) everything affects everything else; (24) something becomes something else; (25) tiandi 天地 as an unbounded “horizon” concept; (26) tiyong 體用 as “trans-form-ing”; (27) nothing is unconditional; (28) religiousness versus religion; (29) the appeal to the historical and empirical; (30) a confident meliorism; (31) the primacy of wisdom in philosophia; (32) correlative (rather than dualistic) yinyang 陰陽 categories.

6

Logos and dao: conceptions of reality in Heraclitus and Laozi Jiyuan Yu

In the chapter on Laozi’s Daodejing in his magnum opus Disputers of the Tao, Angus Graham establishes a number of major differences between Chinese and Western approaches to reality. First, according to Graham, Laozi’s dao is “one behind many,” but is not “being behind appearance”: In seeking the one behind many, as also in seeking the constant behind the changing, Lao-Tzu is using concepts which seem fully identifiable with our own. There is however an important difference from the Western tradition, that no Chinese thinker conceives the One and the constant as Being or reality behind the veil of appearance. (Graham 1989: 222)1

Second, in search of this “One,” the question asked is not “what is it?” but rather, what is the constant way that goes beyond the various particular ways claimed by competing schools? If we ourselves would prefer to think of it as absolute Reality that is because our philosophy in general has been a search for being, reality, truth, while for the Chinese the question was always “where is the Way?” Chinese thinkers want to know how to live, how to organize community. (Graham 1989: 222)

Reality in its general sense refers to what there is, independent of our consciousness yet to which our language refers. It is in contrast to appearance. Yet the two differences that Graham establishes appear to suggest that neither Daoism nor Chinese philosophy (in the pre-Han period) in general has a conception of reality in this sense, and that one has never been pursued either.2 I wish to thank Chenyang Li, Frank Perkins, and William Doub for their detailed written comments on an earlier version of the chapter, and thank the participants in the Conceptions of Reality conference at NTU for great discussions. 1 David L. Hall and Roger T. Ames go further to deny that there is “One behind Many” in Chinese philosophy: “The absence of ontological assertion means that for the Chinese there is no ‘being’ behind the myriad beings (wanwu or wanyu), no One behind the Many, no Reality behind Appearance” (1998: 247). 2 Graham further explains his view as follows: “As for what is real, what exists, visible to the eye, audible to the ear, solid to the touch, what questions does it raise? From the Western

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These alleged differences have been influential in interpreting Chinese philosophy; hence they deserve careful examination in this volume on the Chinese conception of reality. It is my belief that generalizations of these sorts about East/West philosophies should be treated with caution, and that their validity can only be established after numerous particular and detailed comparisons have been made. Since Graham’s general statements are made in the context of commenting on Laozi, and since Laozi’s dao is a representative notion of reality in Chinese philosophy, this chapter is an effort to examine the nature of Laozi’s project, to see whether and to what extent it falls under the generalizations in question. I choose to approach the topic through a comparison of Laozi’s dao and Heracitus’ logos. Laozi and Heraclitus have been thought to be comparable, but precisely how they are similar or different remains unclear. This is one particular reason why it makes sense to bring them together within the context of a discussion of Chinese metaphysics of reality. One influential view present in the literature has been that one of the major differences between Chinese and Western metaphysics is that the “Western preference of rest and permanence over becoming and process is well-nigh reversed in Chinese culture” (Hall and Ames 1995: 23). Yet in this East/West contrast, Heraclitus is thought to be exceptional and to belong to the side of the East: “China is characteristically Heraclitian” (Hall and Ames 1995: 33, 40). Following this, Laozi and Heraclitus are thought to be on the same page, for “in Daoism, the sole fact is that of process or becoming” (Hall and Ames 1998: 246). It would be interesting to examine whether Laozi and Heraclitus are indeed so close in their respective search for reality and what kind of testimony they provide regarding the general differences that Graham formulated. This is bound to be a topic of controversy. The notion of dao in Laozi is open to so many different interpretations that it is far from clear in which sense the dao is a reality and how Laozi’s approach is distinct compared with Western philosophy. There is no general agreement about what the Daodejing itself is about. Numerous diverse and even contradictory readings have been developed. Angus Graham even remarks that of all the different readings, “each [is] as legitimate as another” (Graham 1989: 300). Yet such a view, as Isabelle Robinet points out, “reduces to a statement that the text itself signifies nothing” viewpoint, pre-Buddhist Chinese philosophy is epistemologically naïve. For the Chinese however the purpose of seeking the one behind the many is to find, not something more real than what appears to the senses, but a constant Way behind the changing and conflicting ways and government claimed by competing schools as the way of the sage kings” (1989: 222–3).

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(Robinet 1999: 154).3 Just as interpretations of Laozi’s dao vary, interpretations of Heraclitus are also of enormous diversity. Already in the ancient period, Heraclitus has the nickname “the riddler” (skoteinos, “the obscure philosopher”).4 Just like Laozi’s Daodejing, Heraclitus’ writings are fragments which are isolated statements and analogies, and which are syntactically ambiguous.5 It is unclear whether the fragments are the surviving parts of a coherent whole or if he intended his work to be composed of sayings and epigrams.6 Since whatever interpretation we come up with on either side is disputable, it will be even more challenging to bring them together, especially within the limited space of this chapter. I only hope that the following discussion will spur more discussion on this issue and its implications for our understanding of the nature of Chinese metaphysics. I The two major China/West metaphysical differences that Graham has put forward (quoted above) invite immediate scrutiny. Regarding the first difference, “one behind many” can be meant in many ways, as can “being behind the veil of appearance.” To say that “no Chinese thinker conceives the One and the constant as Being or reality behind the veil of appearance” seems to be a sweeping generalization and should be qualified. Terms such as “one,” “many” “being,” “appearance,” and even “behind” each have different usages and should be used with caution. For the Presocratics (Heraclitus included),“one” – that is, nature (phusis) or principle (arche) – is not really “behind the veil of appearance,” as the “many” are generated out of “one,” composed by “one,” and eventually reduced to “one.” In Plato, “one and many” is a relation between the universal and the particular; “one” is the universal “Form” or “Idea” (i.e. being), while “many” refers to the particulars that participate in the universal “Form.” Since a Form is a common predicate, Plato’s picture of reality is “one above many.” In Aristotle, being is said in many ways, and 3

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Alan Chan (2012) also maintains that that “Polysemy challenges the assertion that the ‘intended’ meaning of the Laozi can be recovered fully. But, it is important to emphasize, it does not follow that context is unimportant, that parameters do not exist, or that there are no checks against particular interpretations.” Diogenes Laertius, ix.5–6: “Theophrastus says that his fluctuating moods made him leave some parts of the book half-finished, and other parts disorganized.” For helpful discussion on Heraclitus’ linguistic style, see Charles Kahn 1979: 89–95. One puzzling phenomenon emerges when we bring Laozi together with Heraclitus. The philosophical nature of the Daodejing has been an issue in the West, mainly because the book is composed of isolated statements and lacks arguments. In contrast, Heraclitus’ writings share the same features, but no one has ever questioned him as a philosopher.

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among different beings there is a distinction between substance (primary being) and attributes (secondary beings). The “one and many” is a relation between substance and attributes. Substance is the subject, and attributes are predicates. The picture of reality is “one under many.” Furthermore, “appearance” has two senses: (a) the empirical or sensible world and (b) the majority or important opinions (as is shown in Aristotle’s “saving the phenomena” method). Thus, “being behind appearance” can mean either “being behind the sensible world” or “truth behind opinions.” In this second sense, Parmenides and Plato think that truth is obscured by doxai, whereas in Aristotle’s “saving the phenomena” method truth is in the doxai. Both senses of “appearance” can be found in the Daodejing. Chapter 41 says, “The dao conceals itself . . . ”, and Chapter 14 indicates that the dao is beyond “seeing,” “hearing,” and “touching.” In these texts the constant dao sounds different from its sensible appearance (the first sense). Furthermore, the first chapter of the Daodejing reads that the constant dao is not in numerous specific daos (i.e. discourses put forward by other schools), which seems to indicate appearance in the second sense. Indeed, to say that Laozi pursues the constant dao behind conflicting views is precisely that his dao is behind appearance in this sense. Regarding the second contrast between “what is truth?” and “where is the Way?”, Graham himself elsewhere formulates it generally as one between Western philosophy and Chinese philosophy (Graham 1989: 3). Lloyd and Sivin follow this same line in claiming that the contrast between “Masters of Truth” and “Possessors of the Way” distinguishes Greek and Chinese philosophers (Lloyd and Sivin 2003: xv).7 This view is disputable. Why is it that the questions “what is truth?” and “where is the Way?” have to be mutually exclusive? The Greeks are interested in truth, yet the truth does not refer solely to the nature of reality, but also to what constitutes eudaimonia (happiness or the good life). The first sentence of Aristotle’s Metaphysics is that “human beings by nature desire to know.” In this sentence, the verb “to know” (eidenai) is in the form of the infinitive of the perfect tense, and means a state of self-conscious knowing. Aristotle divides knowledge into three kinds: for the necessities of life, for pleasure, and for neither. The third kind of knowledge is pursued for the sake of knowing, and is out of human beings’ natural sense of wonder. We wonder about things that transcend the necessities of life and merely 7

G. E. R. Lloyd said, “On the one hand there is Greek preoccupation with the foundational questions and a readiness to countenance extreme or radical solutions to theoretical issues. On the other the Chinese manifest well-developed pragmatic tendencies, with a focus on practicalities, on what works or can be put to use: while often engaging in sophisticated theorizing, the idea of pursuing abstract speculation for its own sake is alien to them” (Lloyd 1990: 124).

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pleasure seeking, and we wish to have some explanation of them in order to rid ourselves of perplexities and escape ignorance. It is because of this deep-seated desire to be in a state of epistemic clarity that human beings develop metaphysics – the study of reality. In Plato’s Republic, it is because of the joy of contemplating the Form of Good that the philosophers are reluctant to return to their kingly rule. In Aristotle, the contemplative life is ranked as the primary eudaimonia, in contrast to the social and moral life that is the secondary happiness. Clearly, in both Plato and Aristotle, the pursuit of pure theoretical knowledge is considered to be the best life a human being can achieve. Graham seems to imply that this sense of wonder is only possessed in the West and he refers it to as “our unChinese habit of puzzling about ultimate reality” (Graham 1989: 234). How could it be that Aristotle’s view that human beings by nature desire to know does not apply to Chinese? Is it because Chinese are so dull that they do not have “the natural desire to know” or is it because Aristotle’s view is not universally true? The first alternative is utterly implausible. Laozi wonders about what the dao is, even though he does not use the question form of “what is it?” He is apparently frustrated with the interminable debates among his predecessors and contemporaries about what dao it is we should follow. He changes the question from “where is the dao?” to “what is the dao?” That is, he is concerned with the nature of the constant dao itself. Laozi 14 implies that the dao is the object of “seeing,” “hearing,” “touching,” and even “fathoming.” It is true that the dao is difficult to know in these ways; but it is one thing to say that the dao is beyond grasping, and another to say that Laozi is not puzzled over what the dao is. If Laozi did not have this puzzlement, we would not have the metaphysics of dao in the Daodejing. II The term dao in Chinese can be used as a verb (“to speak”) and as a noun (literally, “the road,” “the way”). In its nominal usage, it refers either subjectively to “theory,” discourse,” or objectively to “the objective principle that language or theory seeks to express.” Correspondingly, logos in ancient Greek is derived from the verb legein, “to speak.” As a noun, logos has a family of uses, including the subjective “account,” “discourse,” and the objective “proportion,” “thing said or expressed,” and so on.8 There has been debate about the ontological status of dao in Daoism, namely is dao a linguistic/moral guidance or a metaphysical reality? Benjamin Schwartz argues that the dao is an ineffable metaphysical reality 8

For a detailed discussion of the meaning of logos, see Guthrie 1962: 420–4.

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(Schwartz 1985: 186–254) and Fung Yulan also claims that dao is the “general principle about why ten thousands of things are generated” (Fung Yulan 2000: 85). In contrast, Graham, as we have seen, thinks that the dao is moral guidance rather than being or reality. In his reading, the Daodejing has much to do with the inadequacy of naming or words. Chad Hansen also contends that there is no single general dao as a metaphysical reality in Daoism. Rather, a dao is an instrument of social control and there are many daos that are guides for behavior (Hansen 1992: 13–14).9 It is certainly true that dao in Daoism signifies our moral and social discourse; however, it is unclear why a moral guidance cannot be in the meantime an objective principle or order. In the Daodejing, we still find expressions such as “the dao of Heaven” (tiandao) (Chapters 9, 47, 81; cf. 16, 46). There are also texts in which dao signifies an entity in itself: the dao is said to exist before heaven and earth (Chapters 16, 25); it gives birth to and nurtures the myriad things (Chapters 1, 21, 25, 42, 51), and it makes each thing what it is (Chapter 39).10 Apparently, dao in Daoism is both an entity (“the dao itself”) and a state (“the dao of . . .”), just as Aristotle’s form is both a “substance of” (the individual) and a substance in itself. There is no debate in the scholarship of Heraclitus about whether logos is linguistic/moral guidance or a metaphysical reality. Scholars have little disagreement in taking logos in Heraclitus as the law or order of the universe that rules and guides the cosmos, even though they have different understandings of what it is. There is also unambiguous textual evidence for the objectivity of logos; for it is said to “hold always” (fragment 1), to be “common” and available to all (fragment 2). “[A]ll things happen according to this Logos” (fragment 1); hence it is an active nature in the universe. Logos goes beyond what people usually say or think (fragment 1), and is even beyond what Heraclitus himself has to say (fragment 50). Indeed, Heraclitus has a goal to “distinguish each in accordance with its nature and say how it is.”11 The above description shows that both logos and dao involve a relation between language/theory on the one hand and reality on the other, namely a relation between what people say and what the reality is. 9

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He also says: “I remind the reader of the strategy I recommended earlier for reading translations. You can remove a translator’s monistic prejudice in translations by deleting the ‘the’ in the Dao and submitting either the plural or an indefinite article (a, some, any). That is, change every the Dao or the Way in your favorite translations to a dao, some dao(s), or each, every, or all ways. Then think of the paradigm dao as some version of guiding discourse” (Hansen 1992: 268). In the Zhuangzi, the dao is said to be “based in itself, rooted in itself.” (Chapter 6, translation from Ziporyn 2009b: 30). Unless otherwise indicated, I use the translations from Richard D. McKirahan (1994).

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There is no doubt that Laozi is concerned with the role and limit of language in expressing the dao. In the Daodejing, dao cannot be named and said (Chapters 1, 14) and is thus beyond language; the teaching of the sage is unspoken or beyond description (Chapters 2, 43); talk does not help much (Chapters 5, 23); the dao is the undivided totality and cannot be expressed by name (Chapters 25, 32); “One who knows does not speak. One who speaks does not know” (Chapter 56); “Truthful words are not beautiful; beautiful words are not truthful. Good words are not persuasive; persuasive words are not good” (Chapter 81).12 Nevertheless, it seems to be going too far to claim that the central concern of the Daodejing is the inaccuracy of words or to advance an anti-language agenda. There is not really much discussion going on in the book about the intrinsic limitation or deficiency of ordinary language. The direct opponents of Laozi’s project are moral discourses of competing schools such as Ruism and Mohism. The author of the Daodejing seeks to show that these alternative discourses fail to capture the constant dao (Chapter 1). However, these competing discourses (daos) are criticized not because they have some internal logical issues, but rather because they do not correspond to the conception of the constant dao that Laozi takes it to be. For him, all particular theories are constructing distinctions and dichotomies. For each dichotomy, there is a preference ordering and an effort of uplifting one at the expense of the other. However, the dao itself is an undivided and undifferentiated whole and it is completely neutral. Given the nature of the dao, all distinctions are arbitrary (Chapter 20), they are relative and complementary (Chapter 2), and, moreover, everything changes to its opposite (Chapter 22). Hence any discourse that determines and distinguishes fails to grasp the constant dao, for it is meaningless to fix the priority of the pairs. Laozi is using his own conception of dao to refute other competing theories. In Heraclitus, there is also a concern about the role of language. Logos is related to speaking, discourse, etc. “The lord whose oracle at Delphi neither speaks nor conceals; he gives a sign” (fragment 93). It is necessary to interpret, to guess the riddle or the meaning of the oracle. Analogically, the reality should be interpreted and the language cannot show it straightforwardly. He also says that “A fool is excited by every word” (fragment 87). Yet the focus of Heraclitus is not on language itself. For him, there 12

Unless otherwise indicated, translation of the Daodejing is from D. C. Lau (1982). I consult Liu Xiaogan (2006) for various Chinese texts. Liu’s masterpiece is an examination and comparison of the received text of Wang Bi and Heshanggong, the Mawangdui silk manuscripts, the Guodian bamboo texts, and the version of Tang scholar Fu Yi.

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are two major reasons why the reality is difficult to grasp. The first is because of people’s conventional or uncritical views. “This Logos holds always but humans always prove unable to understand it.” Fragment 2 says, “Although the logos is common, most people live as if they had their own private understanding.” The logos is accessible to all, but most human beings fail to achieve it. People do not understand the common logos, because they live in a private world of their own and they are in a dream even when they are awake (fragments 1, 2, 3, 5. 9. 10. 73, 89). This is in turn because ordinary people cannot use their senses properly (fragments 1, 19, 34), and do not think properly (fragments 17, 104). Heraclitus distinguishes three levels of mental state: God, man, and child. “A man is called infantile by a divinity as a child by a man” (fragment 79).13 The true wisdom, namely the grasp of logos, is divine and is associated with God. While the child does not truly understand the world in comparison with the adult, adult human beings appear also to be ignorant and foolish in comparison with the divine. An ape, no matter how beautiful it is, is ugly in comparison with human beings. Yet “the wisest of humans will appear as an ape in comparison with a god in respect of wisdom, beauty and all other things” (fragment 83). To reveal the limit of human understanding and to liberate people from the private and closed state is one of Heraclitus’s main concerns. Second, it is the nature of reality itself rather than the limit of language that contributes to the difficulty in grasping it. “Nature loves to hide” (fragment 123). “Those who seek gold dig up much earth but find little” (fragment 22). In other words, it is because nature itself is obscure that language has difficulty in expressing it directly or appropriately, not the other way around. Both Heraclitus and Laozi deal with the relationship between language and reality, and the language here refers not only to ordinary language, but more to the people’s conventional opinions and moral discourses. Both of them take pains to demonstrate that there is a distance between what people say and what the reality is. In a striking parallel, the first line of the Daodejing is, “The dao (way) that can be told of is not the eternal dao,” and the first fragment of Heraclitus begins as follows: “This Logos holds always but humans always prove unable to understand it.”14 What each philosophy is doing is to show the limit of its contemporaries’ grasp of reality, and present their own understanding. 13 14

For a good discussion on this point, see Frankel (1974: 214–18). Fr. 108 conveys the same message: “of all those whose accounts [logoi, plural of logos] I have heard, no one reaches the point of recognizing that that which is wise is set apart from all.”

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III Both Laozi and Heraclitus believe that they can go beyond their contemporaries in uncovering what reality is. What, then, does each say about reality? There have been debates on either side about what their main positions are. On Heraclitus’ side, there are two major readings, and let us call them H1 and H2. H1, the traditional reading, claims that Heraclitus advocates the flux doctrine: “All things are flowing” (panta rei). Its origin goes back to Plato’s Cratylus (402a) and Theaetetus (160d). In these dialogues, Plato presents such an interpretation of Heraclitus, and he then infers from it that knowledge of the sensible world is impossible and that a permanent reality beyond the sensible world must be posited. Aristotle follows this reading and thereby argues that Heraclitus denies the principle of noncontradiction.15 If H1 is right, Heraclitus’s view is that nothing is permanent and stable. The alternative reading of Heraclitus, H2, argues that the Platonic– Aristotelian interpretation of Heraclitus is inaccurate, for the thesis that “all things are flowing” is not found in extant fragments.16 From the fragments we have, the focus is clearly not on change, but on logos, measure, and the unity of the opposites.17 The latter, according to H2, should be interpreted as Heraclitus’s central concern. When Hall and Ames claim that “China is characteristically Heraclitian,” they choose to embrace H1 but reject H2 on these grounds: If it were the regularities resident in change that Heraclitus wishes to stress, he would have spoken of changing things as if they were merely apparent – as did Parmenides, and as will Plato. However, the testimony of this obscure thinker is that, yes, things change according to a measure, but the important point is that things change, original emphasis. (Hall and Ames 1995: 36) 15 16

17

Aristotle, Metaphysics 987a32, 1010a12–15, 1063a22, 35. Of the extant fragments, the main fragments that could be taken in favor of Plato’s reading of Heraclitus are fragment 12 (“Upon those who step into the same rivers, different and again different waters flow”), fragment 49a (“We step into and we do not step into the same rivers”), and fragment 91 (“It is not possible to step twice into the same river”). Of these three, fragments 49a and 91 are indeed not consistent with fragment 12. Fragment 12 sets up a contrast between “the same river” and “different water,” and it is saying only that water changes, but the river remains the same. This is different from saying that “everything is in flux,” but is consistent with fragment 84a (“Changing it is at rest). A river can only be the same river if its water constantly flows. Many scholars accept the view of Reinhardt (1916) that only fragment 12 is genuine. Moreover, fragments 49a and 91 can be used to support Plato’s flux reading only if they are taken to mean that all things are like a flowing river. The representative of this reading is Kirk (1974: 189–96). Speaking of Plato’s (mis) reading, Kirk’s diagnosis is that “I suspect that he [Plato] may not have known as many of the actual sayings of Heraclitus as even we do” (Kirk 1974: 191).

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It is based on this universal flux reading of Heraclitus that they hold, as mentioned earlier, that Heraclitus and Laozi are on the same side in the general contrast that the West favors permanence whereas Chinese philosophy highlights change. It is out of place to debate over this reading of Heraclitus here. My question is rather the following. How meaningful is it to say that Heraclitus advocates change? Greek philosophy from the beginning is interested in explaining kosmos, and the term kosmos itself implies that the universe is ordered and alive. It is not surprising that natural philosophers all talk about change. When Parmenides and Zeno deny change, they are challenging the philosophical project of natural philosophy, for the reason that natural philosophy fails to make sense of the nature of change. The issue is the intelligibility of change. The post-Parmenidean natural philosophers (Empedocles, Anaxagoras, and the Atomists) still attempt to explain how change is possible. What Plato disagrees with Heraclitus about is not whether the universe changes, but how a changing world can be the object of knowledge. Aristotle is deeply dissatisfied with Parmenides’ denial of change, and he attacks the fact that such an effort is “an instance of weakness” (Physics, VIII, 3, 253a33) and is “a mark of man who is unable to distinguish what is self-evident from what is not . . . Such persons must be talking about words without any thought to correspond” (Physics, II, 1, 193a3–6). In short, what is significant is not whether things change; rather it is how things change and how to explain change. This raises doubt about whether it is indeed the case that the West focuses on permanence, whereas China places emphasis on change. It is true that Laozi’s world is subject to change (even though he does not suggest that everything is flowing in the sense that it is changing at every instant), but it is not so clear that change is the central focus of his philosophy. Daodejing 25 says, “Being great, it is further described as receding. Receding, it is described as far away. Being far away, it is described as turning back.” This seems to attribute to the dao cyclical movement. However, the same chapter also describes the dao as follows: “It stands alone and does not change.”18 This seeming inconsistency should be taken to mean that the world changes, but the dao of change itself does not change. It is, as the first line of the Daodejing shows, 18

独立而不改. This line causes trouble for the change-centered interpretation of the Daodejing. Ames and Hall translates this line as follows: “Standing alone as all that is, it does not suffer alteration” (2003). They provide a lengthy note (Ames and Hall 2003: 210–11) to reconcile the apparent tension between this line and their interpretation. The main point is, “We must allow that ‘change’ is so real in fact that it is expressed in many ways, gai 改 being only one of them” (Ames and Hall 2003: 210).

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“constant.” Laozi’s project is not just to show that things change, but to uncover what the constant dao of the changing world is. The idea here corresponds to what Heraclitus says: “Changing, it is at rest.” Laozi even claims, “Woe to him who willfully innovates, while ignorant of the constant. But should one act from knowledge of the constant, one’s action will lead to impartiality” (Chapter 16). What, then, is the constant dao that Laozi attempts to bear witness to, despite his frequent insistence that it is unspeakable? Once again there are two major readings, which I shall refer to as L1 and L2. According to L1, Laozi articulates a negative dao, concentrating on the weak side of the conventional-value dichotomy. Whereas conventional value systems promote the strong, the wise, the dominant, and the large, Laozi values the weak, the ignorant, the submissive, and the small. If this reading is right, Laozi has his own particular normative dao, the same level as that of Ruism and Mohism. In the Daodejing, the strong textual evidence in support of this interpretation includes Chapter 8 (water “is close to the way because it settles where none would like to be”), Chapter 28 (“Know the male, but keep to the role of the female . . . then the constant virtue will not desert you”), Chapter 40 (“Weakness is the means the way employs”), and Chapter 52 (“To hold fast to the submissive is called strength”).19 This reading can be traced back to Xunzi, who reads that Laozi saw the value of the bent but not that of the straight (Xunzi, Chapter 17). This reading is also popular in contemporary scholarship. Indeed it has been a general impression that Daoism teaches a techne for the weak to survive. If L1 is right, Laozi focuses on the reversal of the existing values. The alternative reading of the Daodejing, L2, holds that Laozi advocates the balance of the opposites, rather than the dao of weakness. The conventional favor of A over B in value dichotomy should be reversed, yet the goal of the reversal is not to establish B over A, but to abolish the dichotomy itself, and to equalize A and B. As Daodejing Chapter 77 says, “Is not the way of heaven like the stretching of a bow? The high it presses down; the low it lifts up. The excessive it takes from; the deficient it gives to.”20 This reading is also more consistent with the theory of wuwei. Moreover, opposites entail and turn to each other (Chapter 22), and are interdependent (Chapter 67). The way models on ziran (“self-so,” Chapter 25). From these remarks it does not make sense for one to stick to the weak side. If L2 is right, Laozi’s dao is the balance of the opposites. 19 20

Other related passages can be found in Chapters 9, 29, 33, 36, 44, 46. Other related passages can be found in Chapters 2, 22, 26, 28.

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Different readings have significant impacts on the comparison of Laozi and Heraclitus. Given the above discussion, there are four possible pictures available when we bring together Heraclitus and Laozi in their inquiry on reality. (1) H1 and L1. While Heraclitus focuses on change, Laozi is interested in presenting the dao of weakness. (2) H1 and L2. While Heraclitus is concerned with change, Laozi is with the balance of the opposites. (3) H2 and L1. While Heraclitus focuses on the unity of opposites, Laozi emphasizes the dao of weakness. (4) H2 and L2. Heraclitus concentrates on logos or the unity of opposites, and Laozi on the balance of opposites. I am not aware whether there are actual defenders of (1), (2) and (3). This list of possibilities is meant to show that even the comparison of just two individual philosophers could admit of such diverse interpretations and could be much more complicated. It reminds us that we have to be cautious about asserting any East/West general contrast. Comparison must be contextualized. IV In my reading, of the four possible comparisons, option (4) based on H2 in Heraclitus and L2 in Laozi is closest to the truth. I support H2 and L2 first because they each seem to make far more sense of the respective texts. However, I realize – indeed I have been showing it in this chapter – that the debate over each philosophy could hardly be solved merely by citing some particular fragments or though appealing to some controversial interpretations of certain texts. H1 and L1 are problematic not just because textual evidence is open to alternative interpretations, but more because they each misrepresent the point of the respective philosophical projects of these two philosophers. Heraclitus aims to give a rational account of the world, an account without appealing to God’s intervention. If, as H1 shows, everything is in flux, then even “I” is unstable and no words for entities have fixed meaning. How, then, can his explanation of the kosmos be meaningful and significant? It is perfectly reasonable for Plato, who held H1, to infer that Heraclitus makes knowledge impossible. Similarly, in reading the Daodejing, L1 establishes a guiding normative discourse. The consequence of this reading is that Laozi’s dao is put at the same level as that of Ruism and Mohism. If that were the case, Laozi would have to face the same criticism that he charges of other particular daos, and appears to be self-contradictory. Heraclitus is in the tradition of natural philosophy, and there is no doubt that, in his view, the world changes. Indeed his selection of fire as

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arche (principle) itself testifies to his firm conviction about this. According to Aristotle’s explanation, “Fire is the most subtle element, which most nearly approaches the incorporeal, is itself in motion, and imparts motion to other things” (De Anima, 405a5). Heraclitus’ goal, however, is to show that although people experience change, they are ignorant of its meaning; that is, they are ignorant of the logos which is the law of all becoming. What is, then, the logos which is the law of all becoming? Given the limited space, I confine myself to presenting a brief sketch as follows. (A) Logos is a law of strife of opposites. Fragment 1 says that “All things come to be in accordance with this Logos.” To this also can be added fragment 80, which states that “all things happen in accordance with strife and necessity” (cf. also fragment 8). Putting them together, we can presume that in stating that all things happen according to the logos, Heraclitus means that everything depends on a ceaseless struggle between opposites. It is in the same spirit that fragment 53 says that “war is the father of all and king of all [polemos patēr pantōn].” In Greek mythology, “the king of all” is the title belonging to Zeus, yet Heraclitus replaces Zeus with war to show the universality of conflict. He even affirms that “justice is strife” (fragment 80), in contrast to Anaximander, who considers a conflation of conflicts of the opposites to be an act of injustice. (B) Change is transformation between opposites and involves a ceaseless reciprocal movement between them. “Cold things grow hot, a hot thing cold, a moist thing withers, a parched thing is wetted” (fragment 126). “These things transformed are those, and those transformed back again are these” (fragment 88). (C) In the ceaseless conflation or strife of the opposites lies their persistent unity. He points out various types of unity or interconnectedness inherent in opposite states of life and the world.21 Some typical cases of this unity include opposite properties inhering in the same subject (e.g. fragment 61), one subject having opposite properties in different circumstances (e.g. fragment 58), one subject possessing opposite qualities diachronically (e.g. fragment 126), and so forth. These unities are universal and it is difficult to categorize them under one single principle. (D) Due to the unity of the contraries, change has measure, order and regularity. The kosmos is “an ever-living fire,” but, more importantly, it is “an ever-living fire kindled in measure and extinguished in measure” (fragment 30). The movement of fire is not random, but 21

For more detailed discussion on this point, see McKirahan (1994: 135–9), and Kirk, Raven, and Schofield (1983: 189).

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involves a rational structure. This is Heraclitus’ effort to show that his philosophy maintains the basic meaning of kosmos as a living thing of order and regularity.22 The unity of opposites constitutes temporal identity of things and guarantees that the world is a harmonious whole: “What is opposed brings together; the finest harmony is composed of things at variance” (fragment 8). The world is a dynamic whole, both changing and stable, both one and many, and both different and unified. This is the logos that Heraclitus conveys. Now let us turn to Laozi’s constant dao. With the comparison with Heraclitus in mind, I confine myself to presenting the following brief sketch. (A) Just as Heraclius thinks that war is the king, Laozi also believes that the dao is the lord (Chapter 4), beginning (Chapter 1), root (Chapter 6), mother (Chapters 1, 25, 52) and generating principle (Chapters 42, 51) of the world. The dao is everywhere (Chapter 62), and “turning back is how the way moves” (Chapter 40; cf. Chapter 25). I take “turning back” (fan 反) here to mean to turning to the opposite. Since the dao’s operation is universal, and this is how the dao operates; it implies that the world is full of opposites. (B) Everything will change to its opposite, and hence all conventional values are reversible. Whatever becomes having (you 有), hard, above, and before will transform in due course to being not-having (wu 無), soft, below, and behind: “Bowed down then preserved; bent then straight; hollow then full; worn then new; a little then benefited; a lot then perplexed” (Chapter 22). “It is on disaster that good fortune perches; it is beneath good fortune that disaster crouches . . . The straightforward changes again into the crafty, and the good changes again into the monstrous” (Chapter 58). The claim that “turning back is how the way moves” (Chapter 40) is just a generalization of this dao of change. (C) These opposites are relative, complementary, interconnected, and mutually generating. “Something and Nothing produce each other; the difficult and the easy complement each other; the long and the short off-set each other; the high and the low incline towards each other; note and sound harmonize with each other; before and after follow each other” (Chapter 2; see also 22, 26, 28, 58). (D) Due to the interconnections of the opposites, the dao of the world is not to fix the boundary between the opposites or let one take priority over the other. Rather it is to balance them. “Is not the way of heaven like the stretching of a bow? The high it presses down; the low it lifts up. The excessive it takes from; the deficient it gives to” 22

The idea of measure also appears in fragments 30, 31, 51, 94. Cf. also fragments 41, 80.

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(Chapter 77).The reversal of the opposites is only one step towards the balance. We mentioned earlier that both Heraclitus and Laozi strive to show the limit of their contemporaries’ grasp of reality, while simultaneously presenting their own understanding. If my above outline makes sense, we have shown that Heraclitus and Laozi each discover a new way of perceiving and thinking about reality, and thus a new perspective about how reality operates. Each knows that their view of reality is contrary to what ordinary people see and think, and is thus not consistent with appearance. Presumably, it is with this understanding in mind that Heraclitus distances himself from his theory of logos, perhaps in an effort to salvage some credibility. “Listening not to me but to the Logos” (fragment 50) – that is, he is not the true author, but only acts as the spokesman for it. Laozi also anticipates different reactions to his teaching: “When the best student hears about the way, he practices it assiduously. When the average student hears about the way, it seems to him there one moment and gone the next. When the worst student hears about the way, he laughs out loud. If he did not laugh, it would be unworthy of being the way” (Chapter 41). Moreover, what emerges from comparing Heraclitus and Laozi on the basis of H2 and L2 is that the picture of logos and the picture of dao are surprisingly similar. For both, the world is one: “It is wise to agree that all things are one” (fragment 50); “The sage embraces the One and is a model for the empire” (Chapter 22). Yet for both, the world is characterized by a dynamic oneness, constituted by tensions of opposites and transformations among them. The world is simultaneously diverse and unified. This is the common logos for Heraclitus, and is the constant dao for Laozi. The common point is not that they both talk about change, but rather that the unity of opposites (Heraclitus) or the balance of opposites (Laozi) persists through changes. Such a comparative picture of Heraclitus and Laozi is apparently inconsistent with the general China/West metaphysical contrasts introduced in the beginning of this chapter. Our discussion shows that there are Chinese philosophers such as Laozi who inquire into reality behind appearances, and that Chinese philosophers such as Laozi are concerned with the truth about reality as well as with the way to live well. It may only be an exception, but it at least shows that exceptions exist even in significant philosophers such as Heraclitus and Laozi. Caution is needed when we apply these overarching statements to Chinese metaphysics of reality and when we draw clear-cut distinctions between Chinese and Western metaphysics.

7

Constructions of reality Metaphysics in the ritual traditions of classical China

Michael Puett One of the more exciting projects over the past century has been the attempt to bring Chinese thought into larger comparative categories and to allow those categories to be accordingly altered and developed. In the earlier attempts to do such work, metaphysics and conceptions of reality were a primary focus of concern. Over the past few decades, however, that emphasis has shifted to ethics. The results of this work in comparative ethics have been tremendously exciting, but it has occurred at the expense of continuing work in the area of metaphysics. This book is thus very timely, allowing us to reflect again on an issue that has received less attention recently than it deserves. Given this introduction, my choice of a topic may seem somewhat surprising. I will begin with a text that explicitly focuses not on metaphysics but rather on ritual and, indeed, ethics – the Book of Rites (Liji). But I will try to argue that the sophisticated and very powerful set of theories offered by the text concerning ritual is also rooted within a complex set of metaphysical claims. The goal of my chapter will be to analyze these metaphysical arguments, to discuss why they are so important for the theories of ritual found within the text, and to explore the philosophical implications of the text’s attempts to develop a ritual-based vision of reality. The argument of the “Liyun” I will turn first to the “Liyun” chapter.1 The chapter opens with a dialogue between Confucius and his disciple Yan Yan 言偃. In distant antiquity, according to Confucius, the Great Way prevailed: In the practice of the Great Way, all under Heaven was public. They selected the talented and capable. They spoke sincerely and cultivated peace. Therefore,

1

For a fuller elaboration on some of the ideas discussed here, see Puett 2010b.

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people did not only treat their own kin as kin, and did not only treat their own sons as sons.2 (Liji, “Liyun,” ICS, 9.1/59/24)

But the Great Way was subsequently lost: “Now, the Great Way has become obscure. All under Heaven has become defined by families. Each treats only its own kin as kin, only their own sons as sons” (Liji, “Liyun,” ICS, 9.1/59/27–8). The point of the loss is clearly the emergence of the dynastic system, in which everything would be defined according to competing lineages. Ritual, intriguingly, is seen as one of the problems: Ritual and propriety are used as the binding. They are used to regulate the ruler and subject, used to build respect between the father and son, used to pacify elder and younger brother, used to harmonize husband and wife, used to set up regulations and standards, used to establish fields and villages, used to honor the courageous and knowledgeable, taking merit as personal. Therefore, schemes manipulating this arose, and because of this arms were taken up. (Liji, “Liyun,” ICS, 9.1/59/28–30)

The very inventions designed to improve the life of humanity – including, most importantly, ritual – also broke humanity from the earlier harmony, creating competitive schemes and manipulations. But, if used properly, ritual can also help to bring about a different – and much better – type of harmony. Indeed, even after the loss of this harmony through the creation of the dynastic system, six figures were able to use ritual successfully: Yu, Tang, Wen, Wu, Cheng, and the Duke of Zhou were selected because of this. These six rulers were always attentive to ritual, thereby making manifest their propriety, thereby examining their trustworthiness, making manifest when there were transgressions, making the punishments humane and the expositions yielding, showing constancy to the populace. If there were some who were not following this, they would be removed from their position and the populace would take them as dangerous. This was the Lesser Peace. (Liji, “Liyun,” ICS, 9.1/59/30–2)

This effective use of ritual brought about a Lesser Peace – lesser, that is, than the harmony of the Great Way. Thus far, the argument would appear to be that the Lesser Peace is, as the name implies, a lesser version of the Great Way, and that our goal should be to return to the Great Way. But then Confucius provides a fuller description of what the Great Way was like in distant antiquity. Yes, humans were in harmony with the natural world. But it was also a period when humans had to take shelter in caves and nests, and could eat only undomesticated fruits and raw meat: 2

My translations from the Liji here and throughout have been aided greatly by those of Legge 1885.

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In ancient times, the former kings did not yet have houses. In the winter they lived in caves, in the summer in nests. They did not yet know the transformations of fire. They ate the fruits of grasses and trees, and the meat of birds and animals. They drank their blood and ate their feathers and fur. (Liji, “Liyun,” ICS, 9.5/60/14–15)

The sages thus created for humanity dwellings, fire, and agriculture to lift them from the state of animals. These inventions dramatically improved the life of humanity. But they also broke humanity from the harmony within which they once lived. And yet, as is now clear from the narrative, the text is not calling for a return to this Great Way – a way in which humans would again be reduced to the state of animals. Instead, the text is calling for ritual to be used effectively such that the world of humanity can be brought into a different type of unity than existed before. As with the six successful rulers from the past, a form of unity would be created that would nonetheless maintain all of the inventions that had destroyed the Great Way of the past. One of the key analogies the text makes to explain how this could be done with ritual is agriculture. Just as the invention of agriculture involved domesticating elements of plants and animals that exist on earth such that they could be grown and employed in accord with the patterns that exist in the heavens (particularly seasonal change), so does ritual, if used properly, involve taking elements of human beings and domesticating them such that they work with larger patterns. In the case of humans, these elements are the dispositions: “What are the dispositions of humans? Happiness, anger, sadness, fear, love, detesting, liking – humans are capable of these seven without study” (Liji, “Liyun,” ICS, 9.23/62/8). All humans have these dispositional responses from birth. The sages then domesticated these dispositions through rituals, just as the sages domesticated the earth for agriculture: Therefore, the sage kings cultivated the handles of propriety and the arrangements of the rites in order to regulate human dispositions. Thus, human dispositions are the field of the sage kings. They cultivated the rites in order to plough it, arrayed propriety in order to plant it, expounded teachings in order to hoe it; took humaneness as the basis in order to gather it; and sowed music in order to pacify it. Therefore, rites are the fruit of propriety. (Liji, “Liyun,” ICS, 9.35/63/25)

And, also as with agriculture, the domestication was done to bring these dispositions into the patterns found in the larger cosmos: Thus, when the sagely humans created rules, they necessarily took Heaven and Earth as the basis, took yin and yang as the level, took the four season as the handle, and took the sun and stars as the marker [of time]; the moon was taken as the measure, the ghosts and spirits as the assistants, the five phases as the

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substance, the rites and propriety as the instruments, the dispositions of humans as the field, and the four efficacious creatures as the domesticates. (Liji, “Liyun,” ICS, 9.26/62/22–4)

The result of this domestication through the rites was that humans and spirits were brought into accord with these patterns: Thus, the rites were practiced in the suburbs, and the myriad spirits received offices through them. The rites were practiced at the earth god’s altar, and the hundred goods could be fully appropriated through them. The rites were practiced in the ancestral shrines, and filiality and kindness were submitted through them. The rites were practiced with the five sacrifices, and the correct standards were taken as models through them. Therefore, from the suburban sacrifice, earth god altar, ancestral shrine, mountains and rivers, five sacrifices, propriety was cultivated and the rites were embodied. (Liji, “Liyun,” ICS, 9.30/ 63/10–11)

Through ritual, then, the sage makes all under Heaven into a single family. But unlike the way that this was done when the dynastic rule was first created, the sage does this not in a manner that breeds competition. Instead, the sage does it covertly, building upon the domesticated dispositions of the populace: Therefore, as for the sage bearing to take all under Heaven as one family and take the central states as one person, it is not something done overtly. He necessarily knows their dispositions, opens up their sense of propriety, clarifies what they feel to be advantageous, and apprehends what they feel to be calamitous. Only then is he capable of enacting it. (Liji, “Liyun,” ICS, 9.22/ 62/5)

All under Heaven has thus been brought together as a single family – but now this unity includes all of the inventions and technologies invented by the sages, and it is a unity in which the sage is at the center of the new sets of relations that have been created. In other chapters of the Liji this argument is fleshed out. The family in question is one in which all of the individual families of the realm are linked to the ruler, who becomes the father and mother of the people, and the ruler in turn becomes the Son of Heaven (Puett 2005). The ruler thus resides at the center, linking the entire populace and the larger cosmos. The entire world becomes a single family, but not in the form that occurred after the introduction of dynastic rule, in which single families were vying with each other to take control of the realm. It is rather a ritual construction, in which familial dispositions have been extended to the ruler and, through the ruler, to the rest of the cosmos. As in agriculture, in which elements of the natural world were domesticated in accord with

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patterns such as seasonal change, in this case human dispositions have been domesticated and connected to the rest of the cosmos. Instead of living like animals, human sages have domesticated the world and placed themselves in the center, linking the realms of Heaven and Earth: “Thus, the sage forms a triad with Heaven and Earth and connects with the ghosts and spirits so as to control his rule” (Liji, “Liyun,” ICS, 9.18/61/26). Ritual became the means by which this world was actively brought into harmony. But this was not a harmony like that which existed in distant antiquity. Now it is a harmony in which Heaven and Earth have been actively connected by the sage, and with the sage in the center. It is thus a world in which the harmony that exists includes and is in part based upon the creations of humans, including everything from clothing to shelter to agriculture to morality. But unlike the Great Way of the past, this is an unstable order, and hence is called the Lesser Peace. Since the dynastic system was created, we are told, only six figures have been able to pull this off. The reason, the narrative makes clear, is that the world is not really a unity – this is simply a ritual construction. It is a broken and fragmented world, and an effective ruler is one who can use the dispositions of humans to create a covert sense that the world is, on the contrary, a single family. This is an argument directly reminiscent of that seen in the Xunzi: Therefore, Heaven and Earth gave birth to the gentleman. The gentleman gives patterns to Heaven and Earth. The gentleman forms a triad with Heaven and Earth, is the summation of the myriad things, and is the father and mother of the people. Without the gentleman, Heaven and Earth have no pattern, ritual and righteousness have no unity; above there is no ruler or leader, below there is no father or son. This is called the utmost chaos. Ruler and minister, father and son, older and younger brother, husband and wife begin and then end, end and then begin. They share with Heaven and Earth the same pattern, and last for ten thousand generations. This is called the great foundation. (Xunzi, “Wangzhi,” 5.7a–7b; HY 28/9/65–29/9/67)

It is humans that create a new world by bringing Heaven and Earth together, with humans in the center. Let us reflect on the implications of such an argument for the conceptions of reality in the text. Although the text says relatively little about the larger cosmos, I would like to argue that it is in fact telling of a larger vision of reality, and one that I think is common throughout several of the chapters of the Liji (in particular the “Jifa” and “Jiyi,” as well as the “Liyun” itself) (Puett 2005; 2010a). The implicit view is that the world, at least in our experience, is one of discontinuity – of distinct things that interact and relate to each other poorly. This may not have been true in distant antiquity, but it is true in the historical present. The goal of human

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behavior is thus to domesticate this world by finding patterns in this set of poor relations (such as, for example, the shift of the seasons), and to transform things (including everything from human dispositions to elements of the natural world) such that a different type of order is created. The result of this domestication is the creation of a harmonious world – but it is a creation. Harmony is not characteristic of the existent world, and humans are not being asked to conform themselves to some preexistent harmony. Harmony is a product of human domestication. In the “Liyun,” this point is underlined by means of a historical narrative that paints two portraits of an earlier period of unity and harmony. In the first portrait, the period of unity and harmony is presented explicitly as the flourishing of the Great Way. But in the second portrait, humans at the time were simply like animals. The progressive accumulation of innovations to lift humanity from this state is clearly presented as being proper and fitting, even though these innovations – including ritual itself – also entailed a loss of the earlier unity. The result was that humans created a world of discrete entities that interacted poorly with each other. In the case of humans, this was a world in which everything became defined as private, and endless competition came to define human interactions. The world, in short, was one of discrete things in competition and strife. But it is clear from the dual opening frame that the text is not calling for a return to this earlier unity, as such a return would also entail a loss of the progressive accumulation of innovations among humans. It is rather calling for a domestication in which the discrete things would be connected back to each other into a new form of unity. The result of this human activity is that a far better form of unity is created – far better, of course, from the point of view of humanity. Let us pull back and turn to some of the larger issues that this text may raise for us. I mentioned before that Chinese metaphysics was once a primary focus of comparative concern. When this was the case, Chinese cosmology was often held up as being perhaps the paradigmatic example of a harmonious cosmology – a cosmology in which everything within the natural world was inherently interrelated, and the goal of humans was thus to accord with the larger patterns of the natural world. Such a reading arose at a certain time, and for clear reasons. It arose in nineteenth- and twentieth-century Western scholarship, with China being held up as the perfect Other to a self-proclaimed modern orientation in which humans would be breaking from the natural world and learning to control it. Put negatively, this meant that Chinese cosmology restricted humanity simply to following the larger patterns of the world, unable to assert human free will. Put positively, it would lead to a romanticized reading of Chinese cosmology, in which humans were seen as

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harmonizing with a larger world instead of trying to dominate it. But such a reading – whether put positively or negatively – simply defined classical China as the Other, as the opposite of what was claimed to characterize the modern West. This reading of Chinese cosmology was part of a much larger development in nineteenth- and twentieth-century Western social theory, which posited a “traditional” world from which a “modern” world was breaking. One of the primary characteristics of a “traditional” worldview was that it assumed a vision of the cosmos as a unified whole, with a set of patterns to which humans had to learn to cohere. Rituals, for example, were read as functioning to bring humans into alignment with these larger cosmic patterns. The reason that China became such an Other for much of Western theory was that it seemed to be the one major civilization with a significant philosophical tradition that maintained this earlier worldview. Hence the importance of China for so many thinkers from Hegel to Weber and beyond. But, apart from simply being a significant Other to a self-conceived modern West, it is not really clear how much one could learn from a cosmology portrayed this way. This may in part explain why the focus has shifted away from metaphysics in more recent comparative discussions of China. But perhaps we have been missing some of what is interesting about this material, and thus ways in which the material could indeed be brought into a richer comparative conversation.3 In the “Liyun,” the argument is not that the world is inherently harmonious and that we must learn to accord with this harmony. The world of our experience is rather filled with discrete entities that relate poorly to each other. There are indeed patterns – pockets of order – in the world, these pockets do not cohere into an overall unity. Our goal is thus to utilize these pockets of order as we transform the world into one where humans can flourish. Several colleagues and I authored a book arguing that if one takes indigenous theories of ritual seriously – and those from classical China were the best example of this – one finds views of ritual and cosmology radically at odds with the characterizations of “traditional” cultures posited in so much Western theory. Far from assuming a harmonious cosmos with which ritual would help bring one into accord, classical Chinese ritual theory on the contrary argued that the world of our experience was one of fragmentation, and that ritual served to create an “as-if” world of 3

For outstanding work along these lines, see the excellent discussions of harmony in Li (2014), of coherence by Ziporyn (2012), and of theodicy by Perkins (2014).

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harmony that was seen as distinct from the world outside the ritual space (Seligman et al. 2008; Puett 2010a). In the example from the “Liyun,” the statement that the world was a single family is a ritual statement, and one that is explicitly not an empirical statement about the nature of the actual world. What I would like to argue is that many of our models in comparative religion and philosophy may be based at least in part on mistakenly taking “as-if’ statements as being assumptions – taking, most frequently, ritual statements as being assumed worldviews. If one looks at so many of the statements concerning harmony that are said to characterize so-called “traditional” societies, it is remarkable how many such statements are in fact ritual claims. But stating in a ritual context that the world is harmonious is not indicative of an assumption that the world is harmonious; it is more likely indicative of a ritual claim – an “as-if” claim – made in contrast to the world of our lived experience. In the case of China, it has been particularly common to read the sensibility generated in a ritual context as a metaphysical assumption. But, again in this case, the generated ritual sensibility is intended to contrast with the actual world of our experience. So reading such a ritual sensibility as an assumption misses both the work of ritual and the metaphysical assumptions that underlay the perceived need for such ritual work. Of course, it could be argued – quite correctly – that this is an overly strong argument to make about Chinese metaphysics based on a ritual text. After all, one is dealing here with a text explicitly devoted to arguing that harmony of a kind that is beneficial for human flourishing is a product of ritual – an argument that could perhaps be read as simply being written in opposition to another, perhaps dominant position, that the world really is harmonious, and our goal as humans really is to learn to live properly within this larger unity. But, in fact, this argument finds a parallel with other texts from the early Han as well – texts that are not based upon notions of ritual at all. In the “Fanlun” chapter of the Huainanzi, for example, one finds a very similar argument (Puett 2014b). The chapter opens with a passage about the world of distant antiquity, when humans lived in perfect harmony with the natural world. Then, in the ensuing section, the text describes distant antiquity again, only now noting that in this period humans also had no clothing, no shelter, no agriculture. The sages accordingly had to invent new technologies that would improve the life of humanity. But these very inventions broke humanity from the harmony of nature and created a world of discontinuity and competition. The chapter concludes by arguing not that we should return to antiquity but rather that sages should

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now create a new form of harmony that would include all the inventions of mankind – agriculture, writing, the state, etc. – within a larger cosmic order. Unlike the “Liyun,” the argument here is worked out not in terms of ritual but rather in terms of cosmology. But the structure of the argument is almost identical to that of the “Liyun.” In both texts, humanity is posited as having resided in distant antiquity in perfect harmony with the larger world. But this harmony also was one in which humans had no clothing, no shelter, and no distinctive morality. Human sages accordingly created inventions that allowed humanity to move itself beyond the level of animals. But these same inventions also led to the destruction of this earlier harmony. Both texts are calling for a new form of unity to be created, in which a type of harmony will be formed, but one in which humans will occupy the center, organizing the world in a way that will be, at least for humans, superior to the harmony that existed before. In both texts, therefore, a higher form of unity is being created. And in both cases the issue is to take a current world of discontinuity, of competition and strife, and create a different type of harmony in which humans can flourish. In other words, although the central claim concerning ritual in the “Liyun” is distinctive, the overall argument concerning unity is not. On the contrary, what we are finding is a running concern in a number of late Warring States and early Han texts calling for human domestication as the key for forging a properly unified world. In none of these texts is there a claim of a pre-existent harmony with which we must accord. The preexistent harmony is rather presented explicitly as one in which humans could not flourish, and one that must be altered and domesticated by human activity. The implication, put in strong terms, is that perhaps we should consider the notion of a unified, harmonious world as being not an assumption in early China and rather the goal of human work – the work of ritual, the work of political construction, and the work of building correlative systems. And if this was the work that needed to be undertaken, the perceived problem was that the world of our experience was one of discontinuity. To put it another way, the world is not inherently harmonious. There are pockets of what could be seen, from the point of view of humans, as orderly. Human work – ritual, organizational – then involves trying to build from those pockets of order one that is more fully coherent, but organized by and for humans. This is a model not of according with some form of harmony that exists in the world out there but rather of domesticating the world in order to build a larger harmony.

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When seen from this perspective, conceptions of reality from classical China take on a larger comparative significance. Far from advocating that we simply accord with a harmonious world out there, the debates concerned rather how one builds, through active human involvement, moments of order amidst a world of fragmentation and discontinuity. In everything from ritual theory to social theory to discussions of the relations between humanity and the cosmos, the comparative implications of these texts are tremendously exciting.

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Concepts of reality in Chinese Mahāyāna Buddhism Hans-Rudolf Kantor

Introduction: constructivist model(s) of inseparability and non-duality The conceptual context in which Buddhists discuss the ontological and epistemological implications of truth, reality, and falsehood concerns the soteriological process of our liberation from suffering (jietuo 解脫). Our transformation from the non-awakened into the awakened state of being, called “becoming a Buddha” (chengfo 成佛), accomplishes that process. Ancient Buddhist texts describe our epistemic stance toward the world we inhabit as a source of deceptive discrimination and conceptual construction. This state of non-awakening entails reifications and inversions that exert a harmful influence on the way we deal with and exist in that world. Consequently, the Mahāyāna scriptures that examine the conditions under which our cognition approaches truth and reality emphasize the awareness of a certain sense of “non-duality” (buer 不二) and “inseparability” (ji 即) which may detach our understanding from those deceptive discriminations and thus liberate us from our bondages to the root of suffering.1 The constructive force which shapes our conventional world and all the things existing in it is referred to as “mind” (xin 心) in those Mahāyāna scriptures which uphold the tathāgatagarbha teaching of the “intrinsically pure mind” and also in others which elaborate on the Yogācāra doctrine of the “defiled ālaya-consciousness.” The functioning of the defiled ālaya-consciousness enforces our bondage to a circle of self-perpetuating unreality pervading the worldly realm, while the tathāgatagarbha sense of truth and pure mind accounts for reality which grounds the false world of entities arising and ceasing, as well as the realm of liberation. Most importantly, reality in the sense of what constitutes this world and the

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The Vimalakīrti-nirdeśa-sūtra, for example, contains a particular chapter on “non-duality” which has been frequently quoted by almost all eminent Chinese Buddhist masters.

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way in which things and sentient beings exist in it incorporates falsehood sustained by that mind. In other words, Mahāyāna Buddhists describe our transformation as a turn from the non-awakened into the awakened state of being and, thereby, uphold a constructivist position, according to which ontological and epistemological issues coincide. “Inseparability of truth/reality and falseness” is the epitome for this type of Mahāyāna constructivism.2 Yet there are various Mahāyāna models which differ considerably regarding their respective understanding of inseparability. However, none of them seems to harmonize with a metaphysical approach that conceives of ultimate reality as a transcendent realm of truth separated and independent from our illusive world. All Mahāyāna texts stress that we must become aware of the inseparability of our mind from falsehood, always seeing its persistent delusiveness. Paradoxically, such awareness consists of constantly differentiating falsehood from the true sense of reality. Viewed according to constructivist models, which I shall discuss in the present chapter, “ultimate reality” is ontologically indeterminable and ultimately inconceivable due to its inseparability from falsehood. Neither the monistic interpretation of a sustaining and real mind, nor the dualistic view of truth separated from the realm of falsehood, reaches beyond our conceptualizing way of understanding. The true sense of reality, according to the Buddhist discussions introduced in this chapter, evades those forms of mental construction. “Ultimate truth,” in this specific sense of inseparability from falsehood, is simply inconceivable. The Avataṃsaka-Sūtra (Huayan Sūtra) often quoted by the Chinese masters hints at this with the statement that there is no essential difference between Buddha, mind, and nonawakened beings. However, this does not deny difference from the epistemological and soteriological point of view. We dynamically realize inseparability by constantly differentiating our never-ending constructions from what is unconstructed. Moreover, inseparability correlates with the basic insight of Mahāyāna soteriology that falsehood is a heuristic principle that is essential in disclosing to us the path of liberation from suffering. This also implies the

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The Chinese Huayan and Dilun masters use the term “conjunction of truth and falsehood” (zhenwang hehe 真妄和合) to explain the relationship between the defiled ālayaconsciousness and the pure mind of tathāgatagarbha. However, it has also been adopted by the later Tiantai masters and Sanlun master Jizang (549–623). This indicates that it may point in the direction of an essential and general feature of Chinese Mahāyāna thought. The present chapter therefore uses the English term “inseparability of truth and falsehood” to signify this general issue.

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ambiguity of falsehood, as is expressed by the famous Huayan master Fazang (法藏, 643–712): If we follow the stream [and transmigrate through] life/birth and death, then falsehood has effect; [but] although [in these circumstances] it is falsehood that has effect, it cannot arise apart from truth. If we go against the stream [of life/birth and death], and are released from its fetters, then truth has effect; [but] although [under these circumstances] it is truth that has effect, it cannot be manifested apart from falsehood . . . It is like the water of the great ocean: there is the motion of the waves owing to the wind, but the mark of the wind and that of the water are inseparable.3

Falsehood can be deceptive and harmful, as it entails suffering experienced in the form of birth and death, and yet it may be seen as a heuristic principle, disclosing by inversion the path to true liberation. It thus hints at its opposite and harbors a hidden potential to instruct us; in this sense its ambiguity correlates with the inseparability of truth and falsehood. Inseparability, in this soteriological sense, could be also called “inverse instructiveness.” Hence Mahāyāna teachings often take the ambiguity of falsehood into account and explore this inverse form of instructiveness to acquire wisdom and insight into truth. The resulting dynamic or reciprocity in our understanding is similar to the way in which sickness and health relate to one another. To thoroughly discern the nature of truth and reality is to truly understand falsehood; this is a circular process implying the reverse: to truly understand falsehood is to thoroughly discern the nature of truth and reality. Hence this dynamic could be described as a hermeneutical circle which our understanding must adopt to accomplish the full sense of ultimate truth. Inseparability in this dynamic sense accounts for the epistemological nature of Buddhist wisdom and insight. Our understanding of one thing always involves the understanding of others, and the process of learning – that is, the ongoing process of accomplishing our understanding – is not a linear and finite process. Particularly Madhyamaka treatises, tathāgatagarbha texts, and also scriptures that uphold the sense of Buddhanature describe this feature of our understanding. The subsequent sections introduce, discuss, and compare both the similarities and the differences between various constructivist views of

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These are two separate quotations from Fazang’s commentary on the Awakening of Faith, both of which explain the functioning of ālaya-consciousness in the light of the “conjunction of truth and falsehood”; see the Dasheng qi xin lun yi ji 大乘起信論義記, T44:1846.275a3–5, and T44:1846.254c13–14, quoting from the Awakening of Faith, T32:1666.576c11–12. The abbreviation ‘T’ refers to Takakuso Junjirō and Watanabe Kaigyoku (eds.), Taishō shinshū daizokyō 大正新修大藏經 (1924–34).

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reality developed in the tradition of the Chinese Madhyamaka, Yogācāra, tathāgatagarbha, Tiantai, and Huayan texts. The two truths according to the Madhyamaka teaching Many Mahāyāna Buddhists emphasize that the way things appear to us is contingent upon the way our perceptions, thinking, and language refer to them. Everything we encounter or experience in the world we inhabit comes to our attention as a referent of our own intentional acts. This implies that all things are compound phenomena, built upon a manifold of interrelated components. The apparently particular identity which each such thing implies for us in fact involves patterns of interdependence and extrinsic relationships. The first chapter of the Zhonglun (Middle Stanzas) illustrates this with the example of the correlative dependency between “causes and results” (yinguo 因果): a certain thing may appear to be a cause only if there is another thing identified as the result following it.4 The same also applies in reverse; that is, without a cause preceding it, a certain thing cannot be identified as a result. The identity of things cannot be established beyond such mutual dependency, and nor can their existence.5 In this sense, no thing in our world exists independently and apart from extrinsic relationships; things in our world are not inherently existent. In other words, “emptiness” of inherent existence (kong 空) embodies that which grounds those things’ interdependent arising. Therefore emptiness is not at all the same as nonexistence, but rather has the foundational, sustaining, or positive significance of “true emptiness” (zhenkong 真空), “the real mark of all dharmas” (zhufa shixiang 諸法實相), and “the nature of all dharmas” (faxing 法性). Emptiness is ambiguous, as it embodies both a nullifying and a sustaining significance: In a positive sense, emptiness sets up or sustains things’ interdependent arising, yet, at the same time, it denies that any of those things abides in an “intrinsic nature” (wuzixing 無自性).6 This negative 4

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The Chinese Zhonglun (中論) is Kumārajīva’s (344–413) translation of Nāgārjuna’s (c.150) Mūlamādhyamaka-kārikā, transmitted together with *Piṅgala’s (third-century) commentary. The Chinese tradition considered the Zhonglun as a unitary and homogeneous text. Together with the Da zhi du lun 大智度論 (Sanskrit: *Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa) – a commentary on one of the large Prajñāpāramitāsūtras, also translated by Kumārajīva – the Zhonglun belongs to those early Madhyamaka sources only known and transmitted in the Chinese tradition. These two texts were fundamental for the development of the Chinese Sanlun, Tiantai, Huayan, and Chan schools. See Pingala’s commentary in the first chapter of the Zhonglun (T30:1564.2.c13–18). Chapter 24 in the Zhonglun expresses the sustaining significance of emptiness: “[Only because] there is the meaning of emptiness/can all dharma(s) [interdependently arising]

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side means that none of the particular things which we identify in virtue of our intentional acts and to which we refer by means of linguistic expression is intrinsically, ultimately, and really the thing it appears to be, nor is it self-identical given the irreversible and unceasing changing in/through time. No thing or object of our observation, intentional acts, or any linguistic referent is intrisically existent or real; those are all reifications and constructions. This also applies to “emptiness,” which, like any other name, is nothing but a “provisonal/false designation” (jiaming 假名). Our clinging to reifications inseparably bound up with our linguistic references to the world we inhabit entails “inversions” (diandao 顛倒) confusing falseness with realness.7 Hence the focus of the Zhonglun mainly consists of deconstructing those inversions and reifications, emphasizing the negative implication of emptiness. But this does not really deny the positive, foundational, and ultimate sense of “true emptiness” which is beyond words and thought. Chapter 24 highlights that aspect. Setting up and sustaining all patterns of interdependency and correlative opposition, it is not even correlatively dependent upon an opposite non-emptiness.8 Instead, “true emptiness” rather implies that terms such as “emptiness” and “non-emptiness,” like all correlatively dependent opposites, are “ultimately empty”; that is, “empty of any intrinsic nature” (wuzixing). Hence, “ultimate emptiness” (bijingkong 畢竟空) devoid of correlative opposites, such as being and nonbeing, emptiness and nonemptiness, as well as falseness and realness (feixu feishi 非虛非實) is what this foundational sense truly implies. Ultimately, true emptiness is irreducible, “inexpressible” (bukeshuo 不可說) and “inconceivable” (bukesiyi 不可思議). By contrast, all cognizable things of our intentional acts, as well as all referents of our names and linguistic expressions, are built upon patterns of “interdependency and correlative opposition” (xiangdai 相待). This implies a falsehood which occludes our insight into true emptiness on/of the conventional level

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be complete” (T30:1564.33 a22). Similarly, the chapter on “Sentient Beings” in the Kumārajīva version of the Vimalakīrti-nirdeśa states, “All dharma(s) are set up owing to (the root of) non-abiding” (T14:475.547c22). Here, emptiness means “non-abiding” (= not abiding in an intrinsic nature), which is the “root” of the interdependent arising of all things. One of the larger versions of the Prajñā-pāramitā-sūtras translated by Xuanzang (玄奘 602–64) explains the term “inversion” (diandao 顛倒): “All kinds of deluded beings variously produce attachments; in virtue of their differentiations and inversions the thought of real existence arises where there is no real existence . . . non-realness is said to be realness in virtue of deceptive differentiations and inversions within the realm of all constructed dharma(s)” (Da bole boluomiduo jing 大般若波羅蜜多經) (T07:220.418c25–419a4). See the Zhonglun: “If there is a dharma which is not empty, then there is the dharma of emptiness, too. In fact there is no dharma which is not empty; how then is it possible that there is the dharma of emptiness?” (T30, No. 1564, p. 18, c7–8).

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of linguistic expression. Hence, when explicating our understanding of true emptiness, we must differentiate between the ultimate and the conventional, according to the crucial Chapter 24. Again, pervading the way we conventionally exist, unreality persists, and rests upon true emptiness in the specific sense that emptiness ultimately sustains the interdependent arising of things in our illusory and ephemeral world. In other words, emptiness implies that truth and falsehood are inseparable. Yet according to the Zhonglun, a genuine understanding of true emptiness cannot confuse the two, and therefore must differentiate between the realms of the conventional and the ultimate.9 This differentiation between the two truths realizes and expresses an insight into the inevitable falsehood of the language upon which we must rely even while explicating that sense of true emptiness. The term “conventional truth” is ambiguous, as truths of this kind are only modifications of the ultimate meaning of the Buddha-dharma (= Law of the Buddha, fofa 佛法), and thus cannot be taken literally. Ultimately, they are not true, but false. However, conventional falsehood may inversely point back towards or lead to that truth, and in this sense it is instructive and not deceptive.10 As an instructive sign, such conventional falsehood may carry a truth value in a provisional and limited sense, and only in view of those limitations can we refer to the “conventional” as “truth.”11 By the same token, such truth does not become even provisionally true until its limitations are made completely transparent; that is to say, like the deceptive views of the heretics, it must finally be deconstructed – its falsehood must be revealed, as is demonstrated, for instance, by Nāgārjuna’s refutations of the viewpoints of “Small Vehicle” or Abhidharma Buddhists in his Zhonglun and Vigrahavyāvartanī (Huizheng lun 迴諍論). In other words, the differentiation between the conventional and ultimate must also be applied to the term “emptiness.” Understood or seen as a “provisional/false name” (jiaming), “emptiness” may have an 9

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See Chapter 24 in the Zhonglun: “If a person does not understand how to differentiate between the two truths, he/she does not understand the true meaning of the profound Buddha-dharma” (T30:1564.32c18–19). The Buddhist notion of “dependent co-arising” is an example of this. From a Madhyamaka point of view, all arising involves patterns of interdependence, and interdependent arising is sustained by emptiness, which yet denies the reality of things based on those patterns. Hence, ultimately, there is no real arising. Dependent arising is a conventional truth which points back to what ultimately is non-arising. See, for example, the Da zhi du lun: “A ‘mark of arising’ is not really comprehensible; therefore, it is called ‘non-arising’” (T25:1509.319a13). This conforms to Brook Ziporyn’s explanation, according to which the conventional is “locally coherent, but globally incoherent” (Ziporyn 2009a: 238).

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instructive effect on our efforts to realize ultimate truth,12 for, in most cases, conventional falsehood evades our awareness; even if we point to it, we do this, too, by means of our conventional language. Like a blind spot, it is concealed to us on the level of linguistic expression(s). However, the term “emptiness” may shed light on this problem by falsifying even itself. It paradoxically denies what it simultaneously signifies, to bring about our genuine understanding of the true and ultimate meaning beyond linguistic expression(s). Such self-falsification via “performative contradiction” reveals what the term “emptiness” truly is: it is a “false name” which lays out the inseparability of truth and falsehood in our understanding. When we attempt to ascertain the ontological status of that falsehood, we also see that emptiness of inherent existence implies ontological indeterminacy. The specific term for this indeterminacy is the “middle way” (zhongdao 中道), which denies both the real existence and the complete nonexistence of things rooted in patterns of interdependence. Furthermore, no thing that pertains to the conventional realm has any invariant or definite identity (juedingxiang 決定相), which also means that those things are ontically indeterminate. All this correlates with the pragmatic sense of the Buddhist soteriology of detachment and liberation. For instance, a given person may appear to be a teacher in a certain regard and a student in another; ultimately, however, this person must be empty, in order to be constantly ready to adopt either role, contingent upon everchanging circumstances. In a similar fashion, falsehood, though it persists in the conventional realm, is empty or devoid of any invariant or definite quality, since it can be either deceptive or instructive, depending upon circumstances. Concealed from us, falsehood is deceptive, and may entice us to cling onto the unreal as if it were real, which entails harmful effects (= inversions). However, falsehood revealed, as is the case with the selffalsifying and conventional term “emptiness,” can be instructive – it may cause us to dissociate our understanding from all deceptive influences or reifying tendencies, and thus trigger or inspire our realization of ultimate truth. What is crucial here is our insight into this ambiguity of falsehood, which may convert the deceptive into something instructive, as if a medicine is made from poison. Consequently, the Zhonglun stresses that we depend upon the conventional, in order to accomplish the ultimate: to 12

See Zhonglun (T30:1564.30b23). The Sanskrit term is prajňapti, and the Chinese translation according to Kumārajīva is jiaming 假名. The Chinese term jia implies two meanings, “false” and “borrowing.” This ambiguity in the Chinese term is absent in the Sanskrit expression.

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accomplish ultimate truth is to reveal all conventional falsehood, precisely on the basis of the instructiveness of this self-same falsehood.13 This same approach also seems to be expressed in the way the Lotus Sūtra talks about the “ultimate meaning,” the “rare treasure,” or the “One Vehicle.” On the one hand, we are recommended not to take the Buddha’s teachings literally, and not to regard his performances as reflecting the way he truly is in his nature. On the other, the sūtra stresses that all the Buddha’s words and appearances are nonetheless trustworthy and not deceptive; indeed, they are even indispensable or essential to our understanding. Because it is inexpressible, the definite content of the “ultimate meaning” is nowhere directly explicated in this sūtra; instead, our understanding is guided by the instructiveness of conventional falsehood, here termed “skilful means” (fangbian 方便), and the deployment of those means obviously restricts the devaluation of the negative sides of our lives. In a similar way, the Da zhi du lun (大智度論) stresses that there is no medicine without sickness; the two, as opposites, are correlatively dependent; also, the Vimalakīrti-nirdeśa and other sūtras state that delusions incorporate wisdom. Inversely pointing back to its opposite, the negative aspect of things reveals an instructive, salutary, or positive aspect, which highlights the inseparability of truth and falsehood in Mahāyāna soteriology. Consequently, to understand the positive significance of true emptiness, and thereby to discern an indestructible core that sustains reality in our existence, is to see always and fully pervasive falsehood and everchanging illusion as a constantly present inverse form of instructiveness. However, this realization does not really reach beyond the soteriological point of view in our understanding; any attempt to interpret that reality in ontological or metaphysical terms inevitably provokes us to cling onto reifications, which, instead of revealing falsehood, conceal it, and thus entail further “inversions” and other harmful effects. Our “inversions,” which are closely bound up with our clinging, mistake falsehood for truth. In other words, we confuse the conventional, upon which we rely, with the ultimate. Therefore, we must constantly differentiate between the two truths, to avoid clinging onto the unreality and reifications that inevitably arise from the conventional level of our linguistic expression(s). To differentiate between the two truths is to rely upon the conventional, and yet maintain the awareness of its emptiness and falsehood. This, effectively, brings about our insight into the 13

Chapter 24 in the Zhonglun says, “If we do not rely upon the conventional truth, we cannot realize the ultimate; without realizing the ultimate, we cannot accomplish nirvāṇa” (T30:1564.33a2–3).

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ultimate – that is, paradoxically enough, differentiating in this manner in fact realizes inseparability, whereas separating, or seeing truth and falsehood as independent or mutually excluding realms, entails reifications confusing the two. Such differentiation does not really reach beyond the level of linguistic expression, and thus cannot be taken literally; yet in a provisional sense, it is necessary, in order for us to highlight the inevitable falsehood in our linguistic way of understanding true emptiness. From the viewpoint of the Chinese sources, the differentiation between the two truths suspends any apodictic claim implying metaphysical or ontological significance. According to Deguchi, Garfield, and Priest’s (2008) dialetheist reading of the Indo-Tibetan sources of Nāgārjuna’s thought, the realms of the conventional and ultimate account for the inconsistent nature of reality; however, even that view contravenes the sense of true emptiness.14 From the pragmatic point of view in the Chinese Zhonglun, by contrast, differentiating in this manner realizes “the profundity of the true Buddha-dharma,” enacting an awareness of the inseparability of truth and falsehood in our understanding (Zhonglun, Chapter 24, T30:1564.32c18–19). Mind and reality according to the Tathāgatagarbha and Yogācāra teachings Emptiness sustains the unreality of interdependent arising in a manner that all falsehood points back to and, thus, inversely manifests the ultimate truth of emptiness. Hence such a manifestation of true emptiness is an inexhaustible and yet inverse form of instructiveness, which we can only disclose if we fully realize the ambiguity of all falsehood – that is, if we 14

On the basis of Tibetan and Sanskrit sources, Jay Garfield and Graham Priest develop the understanding that Nāgārjuna defends the idea of “true contradictions at the limits of thought.” This further implies that the Madhymaka notion of the two truths has a metaphysical or ontological significance. That is to say that although the two-truths doctrine is coherent in terms of rationality, it leads to inconsistency regarding the nature of reality; there must be “two realities,” one indicated by each of the conventional and the ultimate, and this is called “dialetheism.” Such an ontological interpretation of “true contradictions” subsumes the Madhyamaka concept under one of the modern views of logic called “para-consistent logic”; see Deguchi, Garfield, and Priest (2008: 395–40); Garfield (2002: 86–109). Priest explains the ontological implications of this contradiction: “Nāgārjuna’s enterprise is one of fundamental ontology, and the conclusion he comes to is that fundamental ontology is impossible. But that is a fundamental ontological conclusion – and that is a paradox” (Priest 2002: 214). For a critical discussion of Garfield’s and Priest’s interpretation, see Tillemans (2009). Moreover, the Chinese exegetical tradition of the early Madhyamaka works does not conform to this interpretation; Seng Zhao’s (僧肇 374–414) Emptiness of the Unreal (Buzhen kong lun 不真空論, T1858:45.152a2–153a6) explicitly denies the understanding of the two truths as two realities, or the inconsistency of the nature of reality.

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always see the instructive and salutary sides of unreality, in addition to its deceptive and harmful aspects. According to those who expound tathāgatagarbha doctrine (rulai zang 如來藏), this means that there really is an indestructible and all-pervasive potential to become (a) Buddha in every sentient being, since our ever-changing and unreal world, which we constantly produce, must be seen as inverse manifestations of buddhahood.15 The term Buddha-nature (foxing 佛性), as explicated in the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra, is closely related to that meaning. Hence Buddha-nature or tathāgatagarbha understood as the potential for buddhahood indestructibly persists in our world and, in that sense, is equivalent to the reality that constitutes the inconceivable and positive aspect of true emptiness, sustaining our realm of falsehood and impermanence. This seems also to be the view that may have inspired the discussion about “birth/life and death” in the chapter “Inversion and Reality” in the Śrīmālādevī-sūtra. The sūtra text refers to inconceivable and indestructible reality as tathāgatagarbha, specifying that without it, neither our transformation into the state of liberation, nor the interdependent arising of things, could be grounded and sustained. If we seek to properly comprehend the intention behind the doctrine of this chapter, we must become fully aware of both our inversions, which shape the way we exist in our world, and the real ground which sustains it all.16 This point of view also modifies the Madhyamaka understanding of emptiness. In this context, the positive connotation of emptiness is attributed to the sustaining sense of tathāgatagarbha, called “non-emptiness,” while “emptiness” simply accounts for the nullifying or deconstructing aspect of tathāgatagarbha. These two aspects of tathāgatagarbha are not 15

16

Tathāgata is used as a synonym for Buddha, and one of the meanings of garbha is “embryo”; the compound expression tathāgatagarbha seems to imply that all the delusions and defilements of sentient beings nonetheless contain the potential to become a Buddha, probably on account of their nature as inverse instructiveness. The Chinese translation rulai zang literally means “store of the tathāgata” and is often used in the sense of storing the innumerable Buddha-virtues and achievements that mark the whole path of transformation of all sentient beings. Tathāgatagarbha scriptures often incorporate elements of Yogācāra and Madhyamaka teachings, which represent the two major Indian Mahāyāna schools. Yet tathāgatagarbha certainly also implies specific characteristics distinct from these other views. In his discussions on the classification of doctrines, Fazang seems to be the first observer to set the particular features of tathāgatagarbha doctrine apart from those of Yogācāra and Madhyamaka (T44:1846.243b23–27). See Huiyuan’s (慧遠 523–92) commentary on the Śrīmālādevī-sūtra (T12:353.222b5–14), explaining that life and death are not intrinsic or real features of our existence; they are only marks (xiang 相) inversely hinting at the reality (shi 實) of tathāgatagarbha. In the genuine sense, they are nothing but tathāgatagarbha, similar to the false snake that is in fact the rope, or the falsely perceived North Pole that is in fact the South Pole. Huiyuan stresses that these images illustrate what the sūtra means by the “inseparability (buyi 不異) of falsehood and reality” (X19:351.893a10–13).

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contradictory; they are complementary and relate to each other in a dynamic way. The complete nullification of all reifications in our understanding turns into full insight into the sustaining aspect, and vice versa; “emptiness,” which nullifies all deceptiveness, discloses “nonemptiness,” which is what truly sustains our becoming a Buddha in this specific way.17 This non-duality of emptiness and nonemptiness indicates the coincidence between ontological and epistemological issues. Hence tathāgatagarbha signifies what really sustains the entire continuing yet changing process of our transformation from a non-awakened into an awakened being; its functioning as the ground (yi 依) embraces both the “defiled” (ran 染) and the “purified mode” (jing 淨) of our existence: our ignorance and inverse views are the causes and conditions which lead to harmful fruits full of suffering and our dislike of it, and this in turn triggers or brings about delight in the search for nirvāṇa and its ultimate realization, as well as the exploration of the Buddha-dharma. In such a way, the “functioning of the ground” (yiyong 依用) embraces both the “defiled” and the “pure” mode. The two are interdependent and opposite links, neither of which alone can express a true understanding of the functioning of tathāgatagarbha as a whole. When we understand tathāgatagarbha as the ground of both the defiled and the pure mode, it also means that those opposites are not essentially different; that is, not different in nature. Yet the two cannot be viewed as identical either, since as soon as our conceptualizing mind construes identity in order to comprehend the inconceivable sense of that reality, we must realize that this is a construction which differs from what is not constructed. In the process of adopting and internalizing the Buddha-dharma, we must see our own (mis-)understanding(s) as being sustained by the functioning of tathāgatagarbha, which is constantly present to us in the form of such inverse instructiveness. The viewpoint from which the sūtra expounds that doctrine is that of our non-awakened mind. As it undergoes the transformation into the state of awakening, this defiled understanding must realize the inseparability of reality and falsehood, precisely by means of differentiating between the constructed (youwei 有為) and the nonconstructed (wuwei 無為) realms. According to the Śrīmālādevī-sūtra’s view of tathāgatagarbha, the seemingly paradoxical coincidence of inseparability and differentiation accounts for the dynamics of the awareness that is essential if we are to 17

See the Śrīmālādevī-sūtra, T12:353.221c16–17, the Awakening of Faith to the Great Vehicle (Dasheng qixin lun 大乘起信論), T32:1666.576a27–b5, and the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra T12:374.523b12–19 discussing the dynamics between emptiness and non-emptiness in a similar way.

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realize the inconceivability of the Buddha-dharma. Such a realization must be aware both of the inevitable inversions defiling our understanding and of the coextension of those defilements with the undefiled ground sustaining them. In other words, tathāgatagarbha must be seen as the intrinsic nature of our ordinary mind, because all the falsehood that inevitably arises as soon as we act upon our conceptual understanding also enfolds within itself an inverse instructiveness embodying the truth and reality that sustains such inversions. Consequently, tathāgatagarbha, as the intrinsic nature of our delusions, is the “pure mind”; the sūtra speaks of the “intrinsically clear and pure mind that is nonetheless covered up by defilements.”18 In our transformation into the state of liberation we must restore the “pure mind,” by accomplishing the full awareness that it is this “source of mind” (xinyuan 心源) that sustains the entire process of such transformation. “Original awakening” (benjue 本覺) is another term for such a source, and “ultimate awakening” (bijing jue 畢竟覺) denotes our fully accomplished awareness, according to the Chinese treatise Awakening of Faith to the Great Vehicle (T32:1666.576b11–18). In contrast to tathāgatagarbha understood as the intrinsically pure mind that sustains both our false world of entities arising and ceasing and the true state of liberation, the Yogācāra system grounds the construction of the worldly realm on the delusory or defiled mind, called ālayaconsciousness. This term denotes our mental bondages to a circular system of self-perpetuating unreality, but it also designates the ground for the process of our purifying transformation.19 Unlike the Madhyamaka and tathāgatagarbha teachings, Yogācāra argumentation does not resort to the meaning of inverse instructiveness to realize the realm of truth, yet it maintains the sense of inseparability of truth and falsehood, developing the concept of the “three natures” (sanxing 三性) which feature the contrary ways according to which different sentient beings may shape their existence. Ālaya-consciousness, according to the second chapter of Asaṅga’s Compendium of the Great Vehicle (Mahāyānasaṃgraha-śāstra, She dasheng lun 攝大乗論, fourth century CE), refers to a subtle or deeper level of our consciousness, which evades the surface level of our conventional, 18 19

T12:353.222b28. “Intrinsically clear and pure mind” is referred to literally as “the mind clear and pure by nature” (zixing qing jing xin 自性清淨心). This term has been expounded by many Buddhist texts in different ways. This presentation follows Asaṅga’s Compendium of the Great Vehicle (Mahāyānasaṃgraha-śāstra, She dasheng lun 攝大乗論) (fourth century CE), which has been translated into Chinese three times along with the commentaries of Vasubandhu (fourth century CE) and was very influential in China during the sixth century. A Sanskrit version is no longer extant.

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ordinary, or everyday awareness. Moreover, it is the receptacle of all of our impressions and “habitual forces” (xiqi 習氣, vāsanā),20 which shape the way we act, speak, think, and feel, as well as the way we perceive, respond to and build up the world in which we live. Another related term is that of “defiled seeds” (zaran zhongzi 雜染種子). In a metaphorical sense, the ālaya-consciousness is like a storehouse where those impressions and habitual forces are collected and stored, like seeds in the ground, until all the conditions necessary for their fruition are fulfilled. In this process of ripening, they turn into the fruits that surface on the level of our sensory consciousness, and make up the delusory world of external objects. In addition, our sensory perception, experience, and discrimination of these external but unreal objects are also subject to the same process. Collected and stored as habitual forces, they too undergo the process of ripening, like seeds developing into fruits, and turn into the varying types of sensory consciousness that unfold their cognizing activity on the surface of our conventional awareness. All sensory function and all objects of conventional experience arise from that subtle level of mind. In this sense, ālaya-consciousness is called the “ground,” the “storehouse consciousness,” and also “fundamental consciousness.” The Compendium designates the ālaya-consciousness as the cause which gives rise both to our sensory capacities and to the world of external objects disclosed by the senses. As that which is capable of resuming the influential or habitual forces from such sensory functioning, this same ālaya-consciousness is then in addition called “fruit,” or result. This is because its content consists of those impressions which, in a metaphorical sense, it collects and stores like seeds in the ground. In other words, there is a dynamic or interactive relationship between the two levels: the subtle level gives rise to the surface level of our sensory manifold, and the habitual forces of that fruition, in turn, “fumigate” (xunxi 熏習) or permeate the subtle level, which is receptive to all impressions. This model of mutual conditioning seems to constitute a circular system of self-perpetuating unreality, which also fits the image of saṃsāra – the defiled and self-perpetuating world in which we live. Hence ālaya-consciousness also accounts for the continuous and unceasing process whereby things arise and cease. Moreover, ālayaconsciousness is also considered the principle which sets up the life of sentient beings. 20

Chinese xiqi, which equates to Sanskrit vāsāna, is often translated as “impressions”; however, the contexts in which it occurs often imply the continuous influences of those impressions and their significance as a habitual force.

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The external world, as it is presented to our sensory capacities, is called “defiled” or deceptive, because its unreality and emptiness evade our sensory awareness. Things are mistaken for real entities belonging to an external and independent world; hence the unreality with which the sensory realm is shot through is beclouded on that level of awareness. Moreover, not only are the external objects of our perceptions illusory and deceptive; the perceiving subject, believed to be the “self” sustaining our sensory functioning, is so too. The falsehood of this self, which also evades our awareness, represents a source of defilements or deception even deeper than the world of external objects. Chinese Yogācāra scriptures, such as the Compendium, often refer to this false self as “defiled intentionality” (ranwuyi 染污意, kliṣṭamanas). It designates a level of consciousness which clings to an illusive self, taking the continuous functioning of the ālaya-consciousness as the object of its clinging.21 Though it is the ground of the defiled or deceptive realm that we experience as the world we inhabit, ālaya-consciousness does not constitute subjectivity in the sense of a persistent or real self. Our false assumption of a self or subject sustaining our experiences of arising and cessation results from the habitual influences of “defiled intentionality.” Moreover, defiled intentionality is also involved in all delusions related to both selfhood and selfishness. The functions and patterns of activity ascribed to the ālayaconsciousness are expounded from the soteriological point of view; this implies a concept of transformation, by which deluded sensory consciousness turns into true wisdom. The model of this transformation envisioned by the Yogācāra masters emphasizes that this turn or shift concerns the tendency or quality of the “fumigating” (influential) forces (xunxi). The negative forces or defiled seeds must be diminished by increasing the positive or pure seeds, because the quality of fruition generated by the ālaya-consciousness corresponds to and depends upon the quality of the forces to which this receptive level of consciousness has been exposed. It is listening to the Buddha-dharma that generates the seeds and habitual tendencies based upon which the purified mind gradually evolves. The Compendium explains the heterogeneity between those pure seeds and the nature of ālaya-consciousness: the seeds merely reside in ālaya-consciousness, without really merging into it. Conjoined in mutually conditioning function and operation, the two poles of this relation, seeds and ālaya-consciousness, are described as differing from one another like the two constituents in a mixture of milk and water 21

The Chinese term ranwuyi corresponds to the Sanskrit kliṣṭaṃ manas; my English translation follows the Chinese of Xuanzang.

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(T31:1594.136c8–11). However, the pure seeds impede the further collection and storage of defiled seeds, and thus exert a healing effect upon the ālaya-consciousness, and induce a qualitative transformation in the nature whereby it sustains our world. The increase of the pure seeds thanks to the “habitual forces of correct listening” (zhengwen xunxi 正聞熏習) entails the decrease of the defiled seeds. This concept of transformation, which is also called “turning deluded consciousness into true wisdom” (zhuanshi chengzhi 轉識成智), implies the replacement of the defiled with the pure seeds. The Compendium uses various terms to expose the complexity of the subtle mind, which not only sustains our unreal world but also undergoes this purifying transformation. Based on the teaching of the “three natures” (trisvabhāva, svabhāvatraya) or “three marks” (trilakṣaṇa, lakṣaṇatraya), the Compendium explains that the defiled and purified forces, though neither interfused nor interdependent, are also not completely separated from each other. This scripture discusses the concept of ālaya-consciousness in conjunction with the doctrine of the “three natures” called “the nature of other-dependent arising” (yitaqixing 依他起性, paratantrasvabhāva), “the nature of attachments to what is thoroughly imaginary” (bianji suozhixing 遍計所執性, parikalpitasvabhāva), and “the nature of perfected reality” (yuancheng shixing 圓成實性, pariniṣpannasvabhāva).22 Theses “three aspects” characterize the nature of the existence of sentient beings as it arises from the ālayaconsciousness. The term “other-dependent arising” thus implies that things are not really what they seem to be, but rather are mere images or mere consciousness. These things thus point back to what sustains them or sets them up, or manifest that upon what they depend, which is the ālayaconsciousness that is receptive to the habituating forces of these images. If the unreality of these things, which is sustained by the “nature of otherdependent arising,” is not realized, and instead is confused with reality – that is, if things are seen as real entities inherently existing – then this nature is not pure but veiled or defiled; it appears in the deceptive mode of falsehood called “the nature of attachments to what is thoroughly imaginary.” However, complete awareness of the unreality and emptiness of these apparent things amounts to the realization of the true, pure, or undefiled mode called “the nature of perfected reality.” The Compendium also explains that these three natures must be distinguished, and yet they are in truth inseparable.

22

My English translation of these Chinese expressions follows Xuanzang’s Chinese translation.

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However, the crucial point is that the other-dependent nature cannot itself be viewed as neutral, or as neither defiled nor undefiled, since it is not a mode beyond or separate from the other two natures; it appears either in the defiled (deceptive) or in the undefiled/purified mode. Hence it potentially includes both components – the pure (true) and the defiled (deceptive) (T31:1594.140c7–11). The way in which sentient beings exist in their unreal world that arises from the ālaya-consciousness includes the potential for both of these opposites; they are not interfused, and, once ripened to fruition, they stand out against each other. The two are opposite and potential modes built into the nature of our existence, which does not extend beyond “mere-consciousness” (weishi 唯識), and which emerges from the seeds or habitual forces that are collected and stored in the ālaya-consciousness. The Huayan and Tiantai approach to truth and reality In the last section of his famous treatise on the meaning and teaching of the One Vehicle (Huayan yisheng jiaoyi fenqi zhang 華嚴一乘教義分齊章), Fazang – influenced by tathāgatagarbha, Yogācāra, and Madhyamaka alike – illustrates the dynamics between “truth embracing the branches of falsehood, and falsehood pervading the source of truth” (T45:1866.499a22–3): It is like the bright surface of the mirror, which causes purified and defiled images to appear upon it. Even though the purified and defiled images appear on this surface of the mirror, it never loses its brightness and purity. Only thanks to the brightness and purity of the mirror, which is never lost, can the purified and defiled images appear. We realize the brightness and purity of the mirror due to the appearing of purified and defiled images. Conversely, thanks to the brightness and purity of the mirror, we realize that the purified and defiled images are just apparitions. Hence, the two meanings are of one single nature. Despite the apparition of purified dharmas, the brightness of the surface does not intensify. Even though defiled dharmas appear, the purity of the surface remains undefiled. Not only is the surface undefiled, on the contrary, it is just because of these [images] that the brightness and purity of the mirror become evident. We must realize that the principle and way of true suchness is like this. Not only does its immutability and intrinsic purity bring about defiled and purified arising, but also, it is due to this accomplishment of defiled and purified [states] that its intrinsic purity becomes fully evident. Not only does the defiled and purified [arising], which never fully passes away, shed light on that intrinsic purity, but also, it is on account of the intrinsic purity that the defiled and purified [arising] can be accomplished. Therefore, the two meanings entirely embrace each other within one single nature, which is devoid of duality. (T45:1866.499b2-12)

This explanation presents Fazang’s view of the three natures (trisvabhāva) interpreted after the doctrine of tathāgatagarbha. The two meanings or

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aspects of purified truth and defiled falsehood embody non-duality qua polarity (inseparability qua differentiation), which characterizes not only each of the three natures (trisvabhāva), but also all three together as one dynamic nature in the interplay of distinguishable aspects (T45:1866.499a13–b12).23 In the same section, Fazang extends this dynamic perspective also to Madhyamaka and tathāgatagarbha doctrines, quoting from the Da zhi du lun and the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra. The two aspects of truth and falsehood, or purified and defiled dharmas, are correlative opposites, which in fact are equally unreal and empty, like all apparitions. The two are not essentially different from each other, even though they must be differentiated to point back to what truly sustains their interdependency, which is true emptiness (not the same thing as nonexistence), and is here called “intrinsic purity.” Hence, the way in which Fazang describes this dynamic of non-duality qua polarity involves three aspects: the two correlative opposites, and intrinsic purity; however, he mentions only two aspects – the two correlative opposites, on the one side, and intrinsic purity, on the other – which actually implies the same meaning. Their interplay in a dynamic whole is also called “the single one nature devoid of duality.” None of the three can be constituted and understood apart from the other two, and neither can the single one nature. However, the whole section aims at portraying the dynamics of the “dharma-realm as interdependent arising” (fajie yuanqi 法界緣起), which basically implies the endless interplay of an infinite number of elements, viewpoints, and perspectives mutually constituting, referring to, and mirroring each other, explained in terms of “interpenetration and integration without obstruction and obstacles” (tongrong wuzhang wuai 通融 無障無礙) (T45:1866.499a23) etc. In order to describe and analyze its differing but interrelated parts, Fazang often uses the two opposite categories “sustaining force of identity” (tongti 同體, literally “common body”) and “sustaining force of difference” (yiti 異體, literally “differing bodies”), both of which are coextensive and coexistent and, therefore, without mutual obstruction. To apply these insights to the previous discussion, these two are inseparable in constituting “the single one 23

The “two meanings” or “two aspects” of the “nature of perfected reality,” here identified with tathāgatagarbha, are called “[change] in accordance to conditions” (suiyuan 隨緣) and “invariability” (bubian 不變); those of the “nature of other-dependent arising” are called “apparent existence” (siyou 似有) and “emptiness of self-nature” (wuxing 無性); those of the “nature of what is thoroughly imaginary” are called “imagined existence” (qingyou 情有) and “non-existence in the sense of principle” (liwu 理無). Fazang seems to combine or harmonize the trisvabhāva (sanxing 三性) and trividhā niḥsvabhāvatā (san wuxing 三無性) doctrines with one another (T45:1866.499a13–15).

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nature devoid of duality.” In their dynamic interplay, all the differing elements together realize the “one single nature devoid of duality” due to this “sustaining force of identity.” Conversely, in this form of interplay there are differing elements relating to one another only thanks to the “sustaining force of difference.” The two aspects are equally relevant for this dynamic as a whole, which not only integrates but also specifies all elements; in this way, the two also specify each other, while mutually integrating without obstruction. Oneness in terms of wholeness, on the one side, and diversity in the sense of complexity, on the other, are interdependent. All the uncountable aspects together constitute the dynamic of the interplay between them, in the same way that their interplay constitutes each of those aspects. This is also the case with each single event that arises due to the concurrence of multiple circumstances. Even though those circumstances occur prior to the event that they cause, their meaning and identity as certain circumstances become evident only due to the event that follows after them. Both sides must equally be taken into account if we are to see either one of them; non-duality must be seen in terms of polarity in the same way that we must see non-duality to understand polarity; the same is true of inseparability and difference, and of past, present, and future, etc. In our efforts to see and understand our world detached from delusions, clinging, and reifications, we must adopt this dynamic, by constantly performing a change of aspects in our understanding. In the same section, Fazang explains that the number “ten” is the numeric symbol for the complexity in the interplay of differing aspects, while the number “one” stands for the oneness and wholeness of its dynamic nature (T45:1866.503c4–20). Hence the two are mutually complementary and each embraces the other. This further means that each of the ten embraces all ten, since oneness (= the one) contains all ten, and each of the ten contains the one (T45:1866.503c19). Such mutual embracement marks the oneness of the “dharma-realm” as an “inexhaustible complexity of mutually constitutive layers” (chongchong wujin 重重無盡). If adapted to a strategy by means of which the meaning of “dharmarealm as interdependent arising” can be fully presented, this insight must be explicated according to ten aspects or viewpoints that simultaneously realize both the infinite complexity and the oneness of that meaning. This furthermore implies that each of these ten aspects must be capable of mirroring or embracing all ten of them. A presentation of this kind would truly realize the sense of “dharma-realm as interdependent arising,” and thus conform to the way in which the enlightened being sees the realm of enlightenment – ultimate truth, according to Fazang. With the intention

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of clarifying this ultimate viewpoint, at the end of the same section Fazang discusses his master Zhiyan’s (智儼 602–68) scheme of “interdependent arising viewed from the [perspective of the] tenfold profundity” (shixuan yuanqi 十玄緣起) (T45:1866.505a11–507c3). In the tradition of the Huayan School, this scheme is considered to embody the essential tenet of the Huayan Sūtra (Avataṃsaka-sūtra) – the immediate and most completed expression of the viewpoint from which the enlightened being sees the realm of enlightenment. Fazang’s discussion of the ninth link in this scheme refers to the aspect of mind and the way it functions as the unifying and diversifying force in the complex dynamic of interdependent arising (T45:1866.507a8–15). This short passage particularly emphasizes that all the other nine meanings variously manifest “the one single tathāgatagarbha as the intrinsically pure and clear mind.” Diversified into ten virtues (shide 十德), this mind is the single force that embraces all ten, in the same way that each of the ten also embraces this mind; thus it fully realizes the inexhaustible sense of the dharma-realm. However, Fazang’s view, which represents the way in which the fully awakened realizes ultimate truth/reality, does not allow for the ontological primacy of mind, since all ten aspects are equal in realizing their mutual embracement, even though they vary from each other. This could have been the major reason why, in his commentary to the Huayan Sūtra (Huayan jing tanxuan ji 華嚴經探玄記), Fazang replaced the ninth link, the “gateway of skilful accomplishing through the rotating manifestation of mere-mind” (weixin huizhuan shancheng men 唯心迴轉善成門), with the term “gateway of embracing all virtues through the perfect illumination of the mutuality between the primary and secondary” (zhuban yuanming jude men 主伴圓明具德門).24 In this scripture, Fazang’s comments on the sūtra chapter of the ten bhūmi discuss the topic of mind in a modified way, which he calls “mereconsciousness according to the ten gateways” (shimen weishi 十門唯識) (T35:1733.346c26–347c24).25 The term “mere-consciousness” is explained in the light of various meanings, based on Fazang’s fivefold classification of the doctrine: (1) Small Vehicle Teaching; (2) Initial 24

25

Jingyuan’s (淨源 1011–88) Song commentary on Fazang’s Treatise on the Golden Lion (Jin shizi zhang yunjian leijie 金師子章雲間類解) mentions that Chengguan (澄觀 738–839) recorded that it was Fazang who made this change (T45:1880.666b3–5). Hence the Huayan tradition distinguishes between two versions of the “tenfold profundity”: (1) “the old tenfold profundity” in Zhi Yan’s commentary to the Huayan sūtra (T35:1732.15a29–b21), his treatise on the tenfold profoundity in the Huayan sūtra (T1868), and Fazang’s presentation in his treatise on the One Vehicle; and (2) “the new tenfold profundity” in Fazang’s commentary on the Huayan Sūtra (T35:1733.123a27–b5) and in the discussions of later Huayan masters. The term shimen weishi (十門唯識) occurs in T35:1733.347b28.

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Great Vehicle Teaching [Prajñāpāramitā and Yogācāra]; (3) Final Great Vehicle Teaching [tathāgatagarbha]; (4) Sudden Teaching [of the Vimalakīrti-nirdeśa-sūtra]; and (5) Perfect Teaching [of the Avataṃsakasūtra]. The varying meanings of “mere-mind” refer only to the four teachings of the Great Vehicle. In the explication of the “perfect teaching,” the two terms “mind and consciousness” do not occur any more, since this ultimate level discloses the “dharma-realm as interdependent arising,” and hence accomplishes the “inexhaustible complexity of mutually constitutive layers.” In other words, this level, which presents the viewpoint from which the fully awakened being sees the nature of ultimate reality in its inexhaustible complexity, sublates the concept of “mere-mind.” Fazang seems to see the difference between his teaching (= the perfect teaching of the Avataṃsaka-sūtra) and the tathāgatagarbha meaning of pure mind as a question of viewpoints between the awakened and the non-awakened. The tathāgatagarbha doctrine aims at disclosing a sense of ultimate reality for that type of understanding which, even while it is defiled, seeks to accomplish transformation into the state of full awakening by restoring the sense of the intrinsically pure and true nature of mind. By contrast, Fazang’s understanding of reality suspends and goes beyond the distinction between defiled and pure mind. His inexhaustible sense of “dharma-realm as interdependent arising” accounts for the perspective through which the already fully awakened being entirely oversees the realm of awakening, devoid of any limits and without obstruction and discrimination yet including all the viewpoints of the non-awakened. This is complete insight, in the sense that such a view embraces not only the tathāgatagarbha meaning of ultimate truth, but also the Madhyamaka, Yogācāra, and Hinayāna (= Small Vehicle) types of understanding. According to this completely awakened state of being, diversity in manifesting the full sense of ultimate reality is coextensive with oneness realized via the mutual reflecting and mirroring of all the various views that aim at disclosing the nature of reality. In other words, Fazang does not really deviate from the constructivist paradigm that understands reality and truth as a system of mutually constituting views and aspects of observation. This comes also close to Zhiyi’s (538–97) Tiantai view of “Contemplating the Mind as the Inconceivable Realm” (Guan xin jishi busiyi jing 觀心即是不思議境) in the Great Calming and Contemplation (Mohe zhiguan 摩訶止觀), which highlights the Mahāyāna sense of ontic–ontological indeterminacy.26 Yet, in contrast to Fazang, Zhiyi’s 26

For a translation of this passage, see Kantor (2009: 334).

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discussion does not really integrate the tathāgatagarbha and Yogācāra doctrines of mind into the Tiantai classification of teachings. Zhiyi, like Sanlun master Jizang (549–623), denies the reality of what is signified by the name “mind.”27 Though he denies the existence of a real mind, he points out that we cannot deny the existential relevance of this false view, as it ineradicably shapes the way we perceive and think of ourselves and our world. We cannot avoid thinking that all things that concern our life, existence, and awareness are comprehended, understood, and judged by an entity that we believe to be our real mind. He therefore holds that, in our practice of contemplation and introspection, the “false/provisional mind” may provide a point of departure for the realization of the full awareness of that falsehood which constantly pervades the way we relate to our world. Zhiyi’s “Contemplating the Mind as the Inconceivable Realm” examines and uses “mind” as a provisional means or useful fiction, by means of which we can reveal the persistent falsehood that would otherwise evade our conventional awareness like a blind spot. In the dynamic performance of the “threefold-contemplation within/of/ qua one-instant-of-mental-activity” (yi xin san guan 一心三觀), mind recognizes itself as the source of all delusions and falsehood, and at the same time thereby realizes that this same delusion is precisely identical to the true potential for our transformation. The object and the agent of/in this contemplation are not really distinguishable; “contemplation of emptiness” (kongguan 空觀) realizes the falsehood of all reifications and of all referents of our intentional acts, “contemplation of the false/provisional” (jiaguan 假觀) realizes the instructive value of all falsehood, “contemplation of the middle” (zhongdaoguan 中道觀) sustains and realizes the reciprocal relationship of the previous two restricting and complementing each other. Hence, in the “threefold contemplation,” each of the three embodies and reveals all three of them. This is regarded as the ultimate skill in dealing with all types of contingency in a soteriologically salutary manner. Achieving the insight that this ambiguity or ontological indeterminacy of mental activity is irreducible – that it is neither mere falsehood nor mere reality/truth – is precisely what is referred to, in the title of Zhiyi’s work, as “mental activity contemplated as the inconceivable realm.” 27

See Jizang’s argument in his commentary on the Diamond Sūtra: “Why is it called the inverted mind? Because no mind can be found if we investigate it with respect to the three temporal marks [consisting of the past, the present, and the future]; yet according to the viewpoint of the sentient beings, the mind does exist. However, this is just an ascription of existence to something that does not [really] exist; therefore it is called inversion” (T33:1699.120b12–13). Similarly, Zhiyi comments on the Golden Light Sūtra (Suvarṇaprabhāsottama): “Mind arises from conditions, therefore it is empty. Since we only say that mind exists in a forced sense, it is provisional/false. This does not extend beyond the [true] nature of all dharma(s), therefore it is the middle” (T39:1783.8a1–4).

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Conclusion The way in which Buddhists conceive of the inseparability of truth and falsehood implies that ontological and epistemological issues coincide. Truth and falsehood as correlative opposites are mutually constitutive and interreferential. This means, in an epistemological sense, that our understanding of and insight into truth requires and includes the experience of falsehood, since inseparability implies that falsehood manifests truth as an inverse form of instructiveness. Moreover, the way we relate to, shape, and construe the world we inhabit correlates with the degree to which we realize such an understanding and insight. This means, in an ontological sense, that falsehood is a significant feature of that reality which constitutes the way we exist in our world. Hence, from this ontological point of view, there is also inseparability of reality and falsehood. The epistemological sense of inseparability coincides with the ontological sense, because both the present world and the way we exist in it are dependent upon our epistemic stance in relation to it. Constructivist theory in Mahāyāna Buddhism thus claims that cognitive systems of sentient beings are not capable of distinguishing between the conditions of real objects and the conditions of their cognition, because their cognition does not have an independent access to a reality which is extrinsic to that cognition.

9

Being and events Huayan Buddhism’s concept of event and Whitehead’s ontological principle

Vincent Shen

Reality as multiple events dynamically related The twentieth century witnessed a shift in the philosophical vision of reality from the ontology of substance to that of event, which was later better articulated as an ontology of dynamic relation. According to my reading of the history of Western philosophy, the ontology of substance that had been dominant since Aristotle was replaced in the early twentieth century by the ontology of event that was piloted in Whitehead’s works, such as Concept of Nature (Whitehead 1920), The Principle of Relativity with Application to Physical Science (Whitehead 1922), and An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Natural Knowledge (Whitehead 1925). After almost a decade, in Process and Reality (Whitehead 1929), Whitehead systematically elaborated the ontology of event into an ontology of universal relativity articulating a view of reality as dynamically related (thus, relativity means relationality) which is still very inspiring for this world of globalization containing the Internet and networking systems that exemplify an ontology of dynamic relation. In fact, a certain kind of ontology of dynamic relation has long since been the basic vision of reality articulated in the history of Chinese philosophy. For example, the Daoist concept of dao that penetrates all things and makes them one (dao tong wei yi 道通為一), the Confucian concept of ren 仁 that represents the interconnectedness between human beings and all things, and the Buddhist concept of interdependent causation (yuanqi 緣起), etc. – all these philosophical traditions present us with an ontology of dynamic relation. In what follows, I will compare Huayan Buddhism’s metaphysical vision with that of A. N. Whitehead, both of them emphasizing that events in dynamic relation constitute the fundamental elements of reality. In Huayan Buddhism, all events are organically related to each other and thereby constitute a harmonious and dynamic network of existents as 152

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metaphorized by Indra’s Net of Jewels, in which one jewel reflects many other jewels and many reflect one. In Whitehead’s view, events, or actual entities in Process and Reality, constitute the basic elements of the universe that are in the proces of creativity in which many are integrated into one while adding a new one to the many. The purpose of this comparative work is to philosophically articulate an ontology of dynamic relation in support of a theory of strangification.1 Here I understand the term “events” more in the sense of basic dynamic ontological units that bring about happening, neither in the sense of the Heideggerian event as the “happening of truth,” nor in Alain Badiou’s sense of event that emphasizes the making of an event by force in order for a subject to become one among a multiplicity of beings. For me, prior to the happening of truth, there is something that happens, and, prior to the subject who by way of forcing makes an unprecedented event, there is already the multiplicity of events related to each other in a dynamic process. In this chapter, I will propose a vision of that which exists, or an ontology, by comparing, or rather contrasting, two visions of events, namely Huayan Budhism’s concept of event in its doctrine of Ten Mysterious Gates (shi xuan men 十玄門), and Whitehead’s concept of event/actual entities in his theory of ontological principle.2 The fact that we need to appeal to their texts to facilitate our philosophizing means, as Paul Ricœr said, text nous donne à penser; that is, other philosophers’ works trigger our own thinking, because philosophizing is never an isolated singular event. In using philosophical discourse, we think by appealing to what has been thought and laid down in texts over the history of philosophy. Thus there is a movement of thought and philosophizing in quoting, interpreting and thinking through texts and discussing matters that have arisen in the history of philosophy. In short, the act of philosophizing is always related to others’ philosophy, and a text is always in a context. The gate of relying on shi in Huayan Buddhism The doctrine of Ten Mysterious Gates (shi xuan men 十玄門) of Huayan Buddhism3 contains the “Gate of Relying on shi 事 (actualities, 1

2 3

“Strangification” is the neologism I use to denote the act of going out from one’s self to reach out to Many Others, from what is familiar to strangers. See the last two sections of this essay. Whitehead, in his early works, used the term “event,” which later, in Process and Reality, was replaced by “actual entities” and “actual occasions.” The Huayan School is named after its core scripture, the Avtamsaka Sutra (Flowery Splendor Scripture, Huayanjing, 華嚴經), which has three Chinese translations: a sixtychapter version, the most popular one, translated in AD 420 by Buddhabhadra (359– 429); an eighty-chapter version, translated in AD 699 by Sikshananda (652–710); and a

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events, phenomena) to Explain Dharmas (or Laws) and Produce Understanding” (tuoshi xianfa shengjiemen 託事顯法生解門), which, when combined with Huayan’s doctrine of “Universal Causation of Realms of Dharmas” (fajie yuanqi 法界緣起), offers us a vision of reality as composed of multiple events mutually penetrating each other; that is, internally and dynamically related to one another. The doctrine of Ten Mysterious Gates expresses the idea that all things in the world are involved in a network of dynamic relation, or, in Huayan’s terms, the realm of dharmas is such that all shi (actualities, events, phenomena) penetrate each other without any obstruction. Through understanding the Ten Gates, one may enter into the Mysterious Sea of the Great Huayan Sutra; that is why they are called the Mysterious Gates. The Ten Gates mutually approach and penetrate each other, act and function on each other without obstructing each other. Concerning this particular gate of relying on events, Zhiyan 智儼, in his Huayan Yisheng Shixuanmen (華嚴一乘十玄門), explains that it is “focusing on intellectual understanding, in relying on shi, to manifest the dharma of li 理, using various kinds of shi to illustrate various kinds of li. By this we are approaching one of Buddha’s Laws in illustrating it by a particular event or phenomenon” (CBETA, No.1868 0518c06, English translation mine). Here, shi means events, actualities, or phenomena, while li means principles, reason or noumena. From this perspective, Zhiyan seems to put emphasis on the ontological priority of shi. Fazang, in an explanation of this Gate that differs from Zhiyan’s, says that understanding an event as it is is somewhat similar to seeing the appearance of dust, or the smallest particles of reality; this is how, in this case, the li of no birth and death would present itself to our minds, and it is in this way that we produce understanding. Fazang therefore seems to perceive li as the emptinesss or without-self-nature of each event or actuality, that event as it is is without self-nature, or empty. For Fazang, the particles of dust are round and small, this is shi; whereas the nature of the dust is empty, this is li. What does “emptiness” mean here? Generally speaking, the concept of “emptiness” means three things in Buddhism. On the ontological level, forty-chapter version, translated in AD 798 by Prajna. In India, we don’t find a school of Buddhism that relies only on one sutra. The first patriarch of this school is Du Shun, who might have initiated some basic philosophical positions of the Huayan School, such as the Dharma of dependent causation, the mutual penetration of li and shi, and so on. His disciple, Zhiyan, the second patriarch, started to systematize the doctrine of five divisions of Buddha’s teaching and that of Causal Arising of Realms of Dharma (Dharma-dhātu). Zhiyan’s disciple Fazang, the third patriarch, was conventionally recognized as the real builder of this school’s philosophical system, later to be carried on by Chengguan, the fourth patriarch, and Zongmi (宗密, 780–841), the fifth patriarch.

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emptiness means interdependent causation or dependent co-arising and therefore is without self-nature: yuanqi xingkong (緣起性空). This is what Fazang mean by saying that the small particles of reality are empty. On the spiritual level, emptiness means spiritual freedom in terms of nonattachment, not even to the concept of emptiness. Finally, on the linguistic level, emptiness means that all languages are human constructs and there is no fixed correspondence between a linguistic term and reality. When Fazang says that round and small particles of dust are events (shi), whereas their true nature is empty, he means they are empty in the first sense of yuanqi xingkong 緣起性空; that they are in the dynamic relation of interdependent causation or dependent co-arising and therefore without self-nature or substance of their own. He does not mean that they are nonbeing; he simply means that they are mutually related and have no self-nature beyond this dynamic mutual relation. Since all shi have no substance or self-nature of their own, the shi as shi, or events as events, should always follow li and be understood by it. From this persepective, Fazang’s understanding of this principle seems to put emphasis on the epistemological priority of li. It is by knowing first the empty nature of shi that we can truly understand shi and deal with it. As to the other two meanings of the term “emptiness,” it is in the Sanlun School and Chan School that emptiness as nonattachment (spiritual emptiness) and as mere linguistic construction without real reference (linguistic emptiness) are featured as crucial. Thus the Sanlun School emphasizes spiritual emptiness using linguistic emptiness to argue for it. For the Sanlun School, kong 空 (emptiness) means that the nature and character of all dharmas, together with the dependent causation, are all devoid of reality. All differentiations, whether between being and nonbeing, cause and effect, or coming into existence and going out of existence, are only temporary names of human constructs and therefore empty in their true nature, so as to give free rein to spiritual enlightenment and freedom, without any attachment. For Chan Buddhism, emptiness means understanding the ultimate no-gain, and therefore accepting suffering and death as they are; there is no attachment, not even to nirvana. Therefore one’s heart is without fear, terror, attachment, regret or anxiety. For Chan, wisdom is the enlightenment of one’s own heart through the details of everyday life. In things big or small there is the dao of enlightenment. Thus spiritual emptiness and freedom are emphasized in Chan Buddhism: absolutely no attachment, including no attachment to emptiness itself, will give one’s heart absolute freedom. In comparison with Sanlun and Chan, Huayan puts its emphasis more on the ontological meaning of emptiness, which means interdependent causation or dependent co-arising. Understood in terms of Huayan’s

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idea of fajie yuanqi 法界緣起 (Universal Causation of Realms of Dharmas), this will bring us to the One Mind as the ultimate cause of all li and shi. Fajie yuanqi 法界緣起 (Universal Causation of Realms of Dharmas) Because of the systematic character of the Ten Mysterious Gates, which mutually penetrate and support each other, the Gate of Relying on shi should always be understood in reference to the doctrine of Ten Mysterious Gates, which is philosophically related to the doctrine of Six Characters and the doctrine of Universal Causation of Realms of Dharma. In short, the doctrine of Six Characters says that each dharma possesses the six characteristics of universality, specialty, similarity, difference, integration and disintegration, so that each dharma is at once one and all, one reflects Many Others, and Many Others reflect one, and thus the world is in perfect harmony. When one dharma arises, all dharmas arise in the meantime, and vice versa. This ontological network of “one in many and many in one” is best depicted and metaphorized by Indra’s Net, composed of many jewels, in which one jewel reflects all other jewels and all other jewels reflect one jewel. As to the doctrine of “Universal Causation of Realms of Dharmas” (fajie yuanqi 法界緣起), this involves two concepts: the “dependent causation,” which says that all things arise from dependent causation, and ultimately all of reality from the One Mind; and the “realm of dharma” (dharmadātu), which denotes the whole universe as including fourfold realms: the realm of events, the realm of principle or reason, the realm of events and principles or reasons mutually penetrated, and the realm of all events mutually penetrated. Fazang says, This little particle of dust arises through causes. This means a dharma. This dharma is manifested in accordance with wisdom and possesses a variety of functions. This implies a realm. Because this has no nature of its own, it can never be divided nor equalized. It is harmonious without the twofold character of similarity and difference and is identical with reality. It is like the realm of empty space, which extends everywhere, permeates everything, manifests itself wherever it may be, and is always very clear . . . If neither nature nor character exists, it becomes the realm of dharmas of principle. When both fact and character are clearly in existence without obstacle, it becomes the realm of facts. When principle and fact are combined without obstacles, the two are at the same time one and one is at the same time two. This is the realm of dharmas. (Chan 1963, 415)

Here the term “realm” (jie 界) can be understood differently according to the context in which it appears. Thus it can be understood as the actual

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differentiation and limitation in the case of shi (events, actualities, and phenomena); and as “true nature” (xing 性) of things in the case of li (principles or reasons or laws); while there is a higher realm combining both into a realm of li penetrating the realm of shi. I tend to see Huayan’s distinction between li and shi in a different but more Chinese way than, say Madyamika’s or Sanlun Buddhism’s distinction between the mundane view (sudi 俗諦) and the true view (zhendi 真諦). This is supported by what Fazang himself said in Huayan Youxin Fajie Ji (華嚴遊心法界記), namely that, “when we talk about the Mind of True Thusness, there li means the true view; whereas when we talk about the Mind as life and death, there shi means the mundane view” (CBETA, No 1877. 0644a01, my translation). However, different from Sanlun Buddhism, Huayan Buddhism, instead of taking a position of negative dialectics in the Two Views, positively affirms the realm of shi and li mutually penetrated, and the realm of all shi mutually penetrated without obstruction. The concepts of li and shi also refer to the two Gates manifested by the One Mind in the Awakening of Faith in the Mahayana, the book that has had the most impact on all schools of Chinese Mahayana Buddhism. As Du Shun, the first patriarch of Huayan Buddhism, says, To say that the two gates of li and shi are roundly fused into One Reality, is to see again two gates in this Reality: the first is the Gate of the Mind of True Thusness, and the second is the Gate of Mind of Life and Death. The Gate of the Mind of True Thusness is the li, whereas the Gate of Mind of Life and Death is shi. This is to say emptiness and being are not two, they exist in themselves roundly fused together, although they differ in being either manifest or implicit, but they have no obstruction with each other. (Lou 1983: 7, my translation)

Therefore li and shi are the two manifestations of the One Mind, which is the Mind of all sentient beings. This is quite different from the notion of God with his conceptual prehensions, as it appears in Whitehead’s philosophy. Li, shi, and the One Mind Ultimately, both li and shi should refer to the doctrine of Dependent Causation for their explanation. This doctrine emphasizes that the One Mind, which is non-substantial and therefore non-caused, is the ontological origin from which all things arise. Seeing all events as manifestations of the One Mind, this ontological vision seems to say, in comparison with Western traditional metaphysical discourse, that Mind is the Being of all beings, while “beings” are seen as events, unlike the Aristotelian “being” or the Thomistic ens. Thus, in order to avoid a substantialist misinterpretation of the term “Being of beings,” I prefer to adopt Whitehead’s

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non-substantialist ontological discourse. By this I mean that Huayan’s reference to the One Mind as the ultimate explanation of the dependent causation of all dharmas is quite similar to Whitehead’s ontological principle that refers to God’s conceptual prehensions as the ultimate ground on which all other actual entities, eternal objects, and reason arise. Both of them refer to Mind as conceiving all li and shi. They differ in that, for Whitehead, God is the final interpretation of actual entity. He is the greatest among all actual entities. However, for Fazang, the One Mind, though it could manifest through li and shi, is itself not to be seen as one of the shi. For Du Shun, to say that li and shi are mutually penetrated is to say that li comprehends and penetrates all differentiated and limited shi events and all shi events identify themselves with li. To say that all shi events are mutually penetrated is to say that all shi events, when comprehended by li and identifying themselves with li, reflect li in all other shi events and reflect them in the Realm of shi events in accordance with li. It is worth mentioning here that historically Huayan’s concepts of li and shi had great impact on the neo-Confucianism which emerged in the Song dynasty. The relation between li and shi, as two manifestations of the One Mind, depicts a world of perfect harmony, as shown by the theory of Ten Mysterious Gates, according to which all things are coexistent, interwoven, interrelated, interpenetrating, mutually inclusive, reflecting one another, and so on. But what do li and shi mean? Put briefly, li means principle, universal, reason, the abstract, law, noumenon, judgment, knowledge, etc.; whereas shi means a thing, actuality, event, the particular, the concrete, phenomenon, matter, etc. If li and shi could be mutually penetrated and thereby all shi events mutually penetrated, there is one in many and there is many in one, and the whole universe is an organic whole, like the Net of Indra, where every particular jewel reflects all other pearls and all pearls reflect every one particular pearl. Therefore there is mutual inclusion and mutual implication of one and many: The one and the many established each other. Only when the one is completely the many can it be called the one, and only when the many is completely the one can it be called the many. There is not a separate one outside the many, for we clearly know that it is one within the many. There are not the many outside of the one, for we clearly know they are the many within the one. The reason is that they are not many [separately] and yet they can be many coincided with the one, and that it is not independently the one and yet it can be one coinciding with the many. Only when we understand that dharmas have no self-nature can we have the wisdom about the one and the many. (Chan 1963: 423)

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However, in Huayan Buddhism, this reference to the One Mind as the ultimate cause of origin of all things has the consequence of reducing the dimension of Many Others and its dynamic energy to strangify, to go always beyond, and this can be seen in the historical development of Huayan Buddhism. Historically speaking, this tendency to take the One Mind as the Ultimate Reality must have been influenced by the Awakening of Faith in the Mahayana, whose impact on later Chinese Buddhist schools was overwhelming. Not only Huayan, but also other schools of Chinese Mahayana Buddhism, such as Tiantai, Chan, and Pure Land, have all come to take One Mind as the Ultimate Reality. Huayan’s later change from its focus on li to the One Mind was also influenced by other Buddhist sects. The fourth patriarch of Huayan Buddhism, Chengguan (738–839), also studied Tiantai Buddhism and Chan Buddhism. Especially under the influence of Chan, he made his own rereading of the verses “Heart, like a painter, is able to depict the worlds. All five aggregates come from it. No dharma was not produced by it” (Takakuso, Vol. 10: 102, my translation). In the eighty-chapter version of the Avatamsaka Sutra, Chengguan changed the concept of li in Fazang’s philosophy into the concept of xin (heart 心), and the concept of nature of principle (lixing 理性) into the concept of nature of heart (xinxing 心性). Also, he seemed to be very fond of Tiantai’s method of zhi guan (cessation and insight) and the doctrine of Mutual Prehension of li and shi. In his elegant response to Emperor Shun’s question concerning the Essential Dharma Gate of Mind, he says, In order to attain the origin of pure heart One should understand that the self is empty. In body and form you’ll find nothing real. All thoughts and deliberations have no true origin, really. All of a sudden the spiritual enlightenment arises, Penetrating all worlds immediately. Like the real gold discovered from hidden treasure As if the sun shines off the darkness misty. If you compare your heart to the Buddha You’ll see your heart with Buddha forms an identity. (Lou 1983: 375, my translation)

So it seems that what Chengguan wanted was to see the Buddha’s heart in the ordinary heart, to achieve the Buddha’s wisdom by using the spiritual resources of his own wisdom. When Huayan was merged with Chan, as we can see from the fact that Huayan’s fifth patriarch, Zongmi, was himself also a Chan master, without further support from the state and deprived of praxis accessible to the general public, Huayan was to lend its own way to Chan Buddhism.

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The tendency to forget the generosity to Many Others In Huayan, there is positive affirmation of Many Others as events. However, especially after Chengguan, the dimension of Many Others was to be subsumed and integrated into the concept of One Mind. And with Zongmi, it merges completely with Chan Buddism. Thus, with Chan Buddhism’s affirmation that all sentient beings are already Buddha, which encourages a return to one’s own heart to see one’s own original Buddhahood, the status of Many Others would be reduced to the enjoyment of one’s own rich spiritual resource only, without the need to go beyond, to reach out to Many Others. In Chan’s idealistic position (and that of Tiantai and later Huayan), we find an infinitely rich spiritual resource in the Heart that is one’s own, to be realized also, and quite profoundly, in the details of everyday life. This is one of the most important contributions of Chan Buddhism to Chinese wisdom. However, we should be careful to point out that it is also here that Chinese Mahayana Buddhism tends to lose or forget its openness to Many Others. Chan Buddhism interprets the life of wisdom as the enlightenment of one’s own heart in everyday life and in ordinary virtues. In everything great or small in everyday life there is the dao of enlightenment, and there is no need of any transcendence whatsoever. As Hui Neng says, If one’s heart is even, there is no need of obeying obligations. If one’s act is right, there is no need of practicing dhyāna [concentration]. There is gratitude when one is filial and nourishing his parents; there is justice when the superior and the inferior are sympathetic one to another. When one knows how to cede to elders, there is harmony among the noble and the mean . . . Prajñā is to be sought in one’s heart, there is no need of searching for metaphysical truth in the external world. Just to listen, to say, and to cultivate one’s self in this way, the Western paradise appears just in the present moment. (TSD, Vol. 48: 352, my translation)

It is here that the openness and the unconditional generosity to Many Others in Chinese Buddhism have undergone a process of reduction. Chan Buddhism radicalizes the proposition “all sentient beings can become Buddha” into “all sentient beings are originally already Buddha.” If all sentient beings are already Buddha in their own hearts, they have no need of any exteriority. Also, since the self-nature of everyone, the bhūtatathatā, reveals itself in the self-sameness of the absolute heart, there is no place for Many Others. Chan Buddhism has long since permeated both the intellectual life and everyday life of Chinese people. We should say that the loss of the dimension of the Other, or, even better, of Many Others, for the benefit of achieving Self-enlightenment in Chan Buddhism has brought about huge changes to Buddhism in China. According to Nāgārjuna and Asanga

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in the Indian tradition, the Buddhisattva’s way of life should lead to compassion and altruism for the benefit and enlightenment of Many Others, of all sentient beings, without expecting any return from them. Yet Chan Buddhism in China would interpret it as the enlightenment of one’s own heart in the details of everyday life. Though this has the merit of unfolding the infinitely rich resources in people’s own hearts and incorporating Buddhism into the everyday life of Chinese people, by the same token it has limited Chinese life and philosophy within the constraint of immanence, without any necessity to be open to and reach out to Many Others, to go outside one’s self, to go to strangers and foreign lands. Chan’s focus on self-enlightenment, among other things, had a huge impact on Chinese thought in capturing it, unfortunately, within a certain form of self-enclosure. Given the absolute heart is revealed in everyone’s self-nature, it is thereby an advantage for Chinese people to explore human subjectivity; however, it also led them to neglecte the dimension of Many Others. Today, more efforts should be made to bring the dimension of Many Others back into Chinese culture. We need the strategy of strangification and the original generosity toward Many Others in order to transform Chinese culture, already rich in spiritual resources, into a renovating cultural dynamism complemented by infinite resources from Many Others and the strangers of which there are always many. As I see it, Huayan Buddhism in itself could still be seen as a most comprehensive system of philosophy that has indeed provided a harmonious solution to the relation between one and many. However, its tendency to linger on the resource of the One Mind or the heart with no need to reach out to Many Others, thereby losing its original generosity toward Many Others, provokes us to look for a solution within Whitehead’s philosophy, which is also concerned with the dynamic relation between one and many. Creativity, harmony, and universal relatedness When we read Whitehead’s Process and Reality, his comment that his philosophy of organism seemed to “approximate more to some strains of Indian, or Chinese, thought, than to Western Asiatic or European thought” (Whitehead 1978: 7) could be misleading. We should see this remark as no more than an intuitive hint of the comparative proximity between his philosophy and Chinese philosophy. Whitehead would have had considerable knowledge of Indian philosophy, including Indian Buddhism, due to the influence of his elder brother, Henry Whitehead, who served almost thirty years as Bishop of Madras in India, and James

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Wood, his colleague at Harvard, who was an expert on Indian philosophy (Lowe 1990: 194–5). This might have provided the background for his writing on Buddhism in his Religion in the Making. In saying this, I mean, historically speaking, that Whitehead’s discussion of Buddhism is more concerned with the Indian than with the Chinese version, such as the Chinese Mahayana Buddhism developed in the Sanlun, Weishi, Huayan, Tiantai, and Chan Schools. Whitehead puts “creativity,” together with one and many, in the Category of the Ultimate. Thus we may suppose that he takes creativity as the Ultimate Reality. In traditional Western metaphysical terms, creativity is the Being of all beings. However, Whitehead sees Being as becoming or process, in which many become one and one becomes many. For him, “creativity” is the principle of togetherness, by which many enter into one to form a complex unity; it is also the principle of novelty, by which the new complex unity adds to the many and creates again a new togetherness. Thus creativity is the principle of “novel togetherness,” in which there is unceasing progress from disjunction to conjunction, thereby creating a novel entity other than the entities in disjunction. The novel entity is “at once the togetherness of the ‘many’ it finds, and also it is one among the disjunctive ‘many’ which it leaves. The many become one, and are increased by one” (Whitehead 1978: 21). Creativity is therefore not limited to the Christian understanding of creatio ex nihilo, in which only God creates, while other creatures that appear to create are in fact only imitating God’s creativity. Rather, according to Whitehead, there is creativity wherever there is integration of many into one which adds a novel one to the many. This process from many to one and from one to many is quite similar to the ultimate principle established in Huayan Buddhism’s idea of mutual penetration of one and many, seen as a dynamic process. Therefore we see that Whitehead’s emphasis on creativity and harmony is very close to Chinese philosophy. Neither of the two schools is limited by a static and purist vision of harmony. Instead, they both cherish a dynamic idea of harmony that brings differences, contrasts and tensions to an optimal harmony. Take, for example, Whitehead’s categoreal obligations. Category i, that of Subjective Unity, says that the many feelings in an incomplete phase are compatible for integration by reason of the unity of their subject (Whitehead 1978: 26); and Category vii, that of Subjective Harmony, says that the valuation of conceptual feelings is mutually determined by the adaptation of those feelings to be contrasted elements congruent with the subjective aim (Whitehead 1978: 27). The first is concerned with the data felt, whereas the seventh concerns the subjective form of the conceptual feeling. Together, both

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express a pre-established harmony in the concrescence of any subject (Whitehead 1978: 27). This is to say that the many, when integrated into one, should be able to maximize their harmonious integration, while still keeping with the difference of many, thus forming a contrasted tension in harmony. The ideal of harmony is also cherished by Huayan Buddhism. The problem is this: if each thing and every person is allowed to fulfill its/his/ her own nature, how, as many, they can come together to achieve an optimal harmony? Huayan Buddhism emphasizes the ontological vision of mutual penetration of one and many, thus depicting a world vision of what Thomé Fang (1981: 294) calls “comprehensive harmony,” which is very close to Whitehead’s vision. This is one of the reasons why I have been inspired to bring together Whitehead’s philosophy and the philosophy of Huayan Buddhism. Now, both concepts of creativity and harmony are very closely related to, and founded on, the vision of universal relativity or dynamic relation among all things in the universe. Here I will focus on Whitehead’s ontological principle that is integrated in a world vision of process and relativity, as shown by the principle of relativity and the principle of process. The ontological principle refers to actual entity as the last resort of the explanations of all that exists, including eternal objects. This principle leads to the idea that all eternal objects rely on the final interpretation of actual entity – that is, on God’s thoughts or conceptual prehensions – in order to exist. For Whitehead, each actual entity, by its prehensions and objectifications, is related to and directs towards other actual entities. Whitehead’s three principles, namely the principle of relativity, the principle of process, and the ontological principle, offer us a vision of the cosmic process in which all actual entities are dynamically related in the process of being and becoming, in which one and many unify and differentiate in an ever-extending cosmos. As we discusssed above, Huayan Buddhism’s Gate of Relying on Shi (actualities, events, or phenomena) in Order to Explain All Dharmas (especially Buddha’s laws) and Create Understanding is quite similar to this. Huayan Buddhism also puts the emphasis on the mutual penetration of one and many, thereby depicting a world vision of universal relatedness – or, better, an ontology of dynamic relation. For Huayan’s philosophical doctrine of Universal Causation of Realms of Dharmas, it is the One Mind, non-substantial and non-caused, that is the ontological fundamentum upon which all things, including the realm of events or phenomena, the realm of principles or reasons, the realm of events and principles mutually penetrated, and the realm of all events, all arise.

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The philosophical visions implied in this comparison show us a dialectical movement between enlightenment and strangification, and an ontology of dynamic relation between one and many that invites generous creativity. Process, relativity and ontological principle What amazes me most in Whitehead’s philosophy is his vision of the dynamism of going beyond oneself to others, interpretable, as I see it, as an original generosity to Many Others, and contributing thereby to the constitiution of Many Others, as a kind of gift to Many Others. For Whitehead, this is the most basic cosmic energy and it is essential to his ideas of creativity and universal relativity leading to optimal harmony. A concept of original generosity and gift can be made explicit in Whitehead’s Category xviii of explanation that presents the ontological principle, together with Category iv that presents the principle of relativity, and Category ix that presents the principle of process. For me, this idea of reaching out to Many Others with an original sense of generosity and gift is just what is needed to counteract the tendency to shrink within oneself; an eventual return to one’s own mind, or the One Mind, and thereby the possible prison of immanence in the last phase of Huayan, that of Chengguan and Zongmi, for example, and in Chan Buddhism where one obtains enlightenment in realizing that all sentient beings are already Buddha. First, the principle of relativity says that all entities, both actual entities and non-actual beings and states of affairs (such as eternal objects, feelings, and propositions), have the potential to be an element in a real concrescence of many into one. In other words, it belongs to the nature of a “being” that it is a potential for every “becoming.” This is the “principle of relativity.”4 It means that every actual entity, with its vectorial energy, always goes outside itself to the other in its signifying activities that objectify, together with all objects and feelings, into Many Others’ concrescence. Etymologically the term “concrescece” comes from the Latin word concrescere, which means the process of growing together in a biological sense, such as the case where many cells grow together in an organ as a whole. In Whiteheadian metaphysics, it means 4

Whitehead’s original text says (iv) “That the potentiality being an element in a real concrescence of many entities into one actuality is the one general metaphysical principle character attaching to all entities, actual and non-actual; and that every item in its universe is involved in each concrescence. In other words, it belongs to the nature of a ‘being’ that it is a potential for every ‘becoming. ’ This is the ‘principle of relativity’”(Whitehead 1978: 22).

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the process of many actual entities integrating into a complex unity; as Whitehead says (1978: 21), “the production of novel togetherness is the ultimate notion embodied in the term ‘concrescence’.” Therefore the many in question are related to each other internally and dynamically by this dynamic energy of going beyond each actual entity to reach out to Many Others. Second, the principle of process says that how an actual entity becomes constitutes what that actual entity is; so that the two descriptions of an actual entity are not independent. Its “being” is constituted by its “becoming.” This is the “principle of process.” In Category viii, it is said that two descriptions are required for an actual entity: (a) one which is analytical of its potential for “objectification” in the becoming of other actual entities, and (b) another which is analytical of the process which constitutes its own being (Whitehead 1978: 23). The term “objectification” refers to a process somewhat similar, though in a different context, to the act of “strangification,” understood as an act of going beyond oneself to Many Others, from that with which one is familiar to strangers, to foreign areas. Both concepts are concerned with the process of going beyond oneself to reach out to Many Others. If we take Whitehead’s doctrine of objectification seriously, it is not limited to mental or conscious activity, as Descartes and Locke would conceive, but rather refers to the extensive continuum that exists in the “mutual objectification” by which actual entities prehend each other (Whitehead 1978: 76). I understand the term “extensive” in the sense of extending to Many Others, in which the act of objectification occcurs, and we can translate mutual objectification as a primary process of communication even before mental activity or consciousness come into play. This extensive character, if seen in one actual entity, is called the “prehension ”of that entity, but, conversely, when seen from the viewpoint of the receiving others, it is called “objectification.” That is why Whitehead says, when defining a nexus, that “a nexus is a set of actual entities in the unity of the relatedness constituted by their prehension of each other, or – what is the same thing conversely expressed – constituted by their objectification in each other” (Whitehead 1978: 24). However, we may still ask, ultimately speaking, where does this original generosity come from according to Whitehead? The answer may be found in his Category xviii of explanation, which reads, That every condition to which the process of becoming confirms in any particular instance has its reason either in the character of some actual entity in the actual world of that concrescence, or in the character of the subject which is in

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process of concrescence. This category of explanation is termed the “ontological principle.” It could also be termed the “principle of efficient, and final, causation.” This ontological principle means that actual enties are the only reasons; so that to search for a reason is to search for one or more actual entities. (Whitehead 1978: 24)

This principle, namely the ontological principle, allows us to understand that for Whitehead, unlike for Plato, eternal objects do not give us the ultimate explanation of everything, and therefore we should not concern ourselves with a Platonic reading of Whitehead’s philosophy. Eternal objects themselves should find their reasons in an actual entity. Even if eternal objects represent the ideal constituents of cosmic and individual experiences, these ideal constituents should themselves have their ultimate explanation in an actual entity. For Whitehead, they exist in the conceptual prehensions of God, or, in the thinking of God the Ultimate (Final) Actual Entity. This is the reason why, for Whitehead, God is necessary in order to explain why there are ideal components in the world. According to Whitehead, God, in His primordial nature, conceives with His conceptual prehension the entire realm of eternal objects. His magnanimous mind is generous in conceptually prehending all marvelous possible worlds of potentialities constituted by eternal objects. Again, in His consequent nature, God perceives through His physical prehension the totality of the real world. As Whitehead says (1978: 250), “Thus the consequent nature of God is composed of a multiplicity of elements with individual self-realization. It is just as much a multiplicity as it is a unity; it is just as much one immediate fact as it is an unresting advance beyond itself.” Here, at the end of his description of his system, Whitehead is giving us a hint that God does not stop and will never stop. He is still going on: “But the principle of universal relativity is not to be stopped at the consequent nature of God. This nature itself passes into the temporal world according to its gradation of relevance to the various conscrescent occasions” (Whitehead 1978: 350). In my language, God is still going on strangifying. Sometimes Whitehead calls this the Superjective nature of God. In the Category of the Ultimate, we find that the creativity that proceeds from many to one and again from one to many involves in its own creative process a kind of ontological generosity. I have argued elsewhere that creativity itself is generosity (Shen 2004: 9–13). However, in Whitehead’s vision of the cosmological process, this is to be realized through the contrast between God and the world. In referring to the ontological principle, it is God who in His thinking perceives the nature and structure of all eternal objects, and it is He who molds eternal objects in such a way as to become suitable for ingression into the real world; and

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there He uses the ideality of eternal objects to attract and engage the world of actual entities into a more universalizably and intensely related integration. The world is forming into ever larger and more intensely integrated societies, and God perceives them all in His consequent nature, so as to immortalize the inner values and meaningfulness of all that happened, is happening, and will happen, in His physical prehensions and His loving memory of them all. And God still goes on endlessly objectifying in his creative adventure. This is a Whiteheadian vision of creative creativity, which could be said to work by the logic of dynamic contrast. On the one hand, the socialization of actual entities needs to refer to eternal objects in order to attain their universalizable characters and objective structures; on the other hand, all possible universalizable characters and objective structures unfoldable by eternal objects should only be realized by the social activity of actual entities going from potentiality to actuality. In this process, the world moves towards higher and higher degrees of complexity; that is, towards the fuller realization of the universalizing characters and intelligible structures brought into this world by eternal objects. Eternal objects are the ideal paradigms that attract creative novelty in the cosmic process of creativity: to create is always to introduce new eternal objects and their abstract hierarchy into the real world, or to realize them in a new way or new shape. The process of creativity is permeated through and through with the dynamic contrast between God’s thinking and His operating of the eternal objects in the real world constituted of the sum total of all actual entities. Therefore, the contrast between God and the world is the ultimate dynamic contrast pushing the universe into an unceasing process of creativity and strangification. Concerning the dynamic contrast between God and the world, Whitehead says, It is as true to say that God is permanent and the World fluent, as that the World is permanent and God is fluent. It is as true to say that God is one and the World many, as that the World is one and God is many. It is as true to say that, in comparison with the World, God is actual eminently, as that, in comparison with God, the World is actual eminently. It is as true to say that the World is immanent in God, as that God is immanent in the World. It is as true to say that God transcends the World, as that the World transcends God. It is as true to say that God creates the World, as that the World creates God. God and the World are the contrasted opposites in terms of which Creativity achieves its supreme task of transforming disjoined multiplicity, with its diversity in opposition, into concrescent unity, with its diversity in contrast. (Whitehead 1978: 348)

For me, the truth implied in this dynamic contrast of God and the World is not that God would satisfy Himself with this contrast, or that God would prefer to stay in this situation of contrastive tension, but rather that

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this is the logic or economy by which God the Final Interpretation of all actual entities, as made clear by Whitehead’s ontological principle, goes always beyond to Many Others. In other words, God strangifies always in the world in the making, and the optimal harmony is always achieved by way of contrasting tensions, not to mention contradictory oppositions. Conclusion In contrast to Huayan’s tendency, at the end of its historical development, to reduce Many Others and the comprehensive harmony of the many to one mind/heart, the most inspiring idea from Whitehead’s philosophy today is that every actual entity tends towards Many Others by its own internal dynamic energy, and that every actual entity receives objectifications from Many Others, and also objectifies itself upon Many Others. When thinking of God, the Final Interpretation for Whitehead – besides His primordial nature that apprehends conceptually all eternal objects, and His consequential nature that apprehends physically the whole universe – there is always His superjective nature, by which God, out of His own generosity, again and again goes beyond Himself and projects Himself into the universe. I call this a process of strangification, the term I use to characterize the act of reaching out beyond oneself to Many Others, here interpreted on the cosmic level by Whitehead’s philosophy. This unceasing process of generously going beyond oneself to Many Others has very important cosmological, religious, and ethical consequences: the process of cosmic creativity should not be seen as a process of self-reflection or bending upon itself, or even merely a selfreflective noesis noeseos. Inspired by Whitehead, I perceive the whole process of creativity as an ever-enlarging, ever-enriching and everintensifying process with the generous dynamism of going beyond any possible self-enclosure to reach out to Many Others. Although Whitehead’s philosophy concerns itself too much with the cosmic process without paying enough attention to the human lifeworld and human historicity,5 his vision of cosmic strangification could inspire us also on the level of human affairs, such as in the construction of a new social and political theory. The reason is that, before we can establish any sort of reciprocity, emphasized, for example, in Marcel Mauss’s Essai sur le don (Mauss 1923–4) as the principle of society, there must be first a generous act of going beyond oneself to Many 5

It is true that Whitehead’s later works, such as Adventures of Ideas and Modes of Thought, have attempted some remedies of this, although they are still not fully unfolded and systematically developed.

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Others, thereby establishing reciprocity accordingly. The idea of reciprocity, although related to intersubjectivity, is still conceived within, or simply the extension of, the framework of the philosophy of subjectivity. However, for me, the new principle for society and ethics today should base itself on the original generosity and strangification as the act of going beyond oneself to Many Others for the purpose of fulfilling their goodness.6 In other words, the spiritual resources that I may find within my own mind/heart are never sufficient justification for keeping my heart to myself. If they are self-sufficient or the experience of enlightenment could indeed reveal the Absolute Truth, then the Truth of Reality Itself would become finite, which is not the case. Therefore, my mind/heart should always be enriched by my unconditional openness and generosity to Many Others. The so-called “Many Others,” whether interpreted as all things in Nature, or as so many people, familiar or strange, or as the divine and the ideal, are always demanding of my respect and that I go beyond myself to reach out to them in an act of original generosity. As to the “self” involved in this process, we may have a Self-open-to-others, or, better, a self-in-the-making, which can, by way of doing good to Many Others and creating works in its act of generosity, come to a non-substantial self and enrich it, which at the same time always lead towards further openness and creativity. On the other hand, self-transcendence and strangification always create moments of emptiness that bring to us the experience of enlightenment. Here, Whitehead’s cosmology can benefit from Huayan Buddhism in particular or Chinese Mahayana Buddhism in general. For me, emptiness has a very profound meaning, which is not limited to the ontic level of nonbeing. Emptiness extends to spiritual freedom and ontological possibilities or potentialities. As mentioned above, in Chinese Mahayana Buddhism, we can discern three meanings of the term “emptiness”: the ontological, the spiritual, and the linguistic. Among them the most interesting for Chinese Mahayana Buddhism is spiritual emptiness, which means that the spirituality of a sage consists in total freedom, in not attaching him-/herself to any achievement, neither being nor nonbeing, neither dualism nor non-dualism. He/she should not attach him-/herself to any spiritual achievements, not even to the achievement of emptiness itself. For example, although all three meanings can be found in Sengzhao’s On the Emptiness of the Unreal (Buzhenkonglun 不真空論), he

6

This could also be seen in Derrida’s ethics of gift and Levinas’s Totalité et Infini, characterized by Derrida as a “masterpiece of generosity” (chef-oeuvre de générosité).

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interprets it, in appropriating Daoist language, as the spiritual achievement of a sage. He says, The sage moves within the ten thousand transformations but does not change, and travels on ten thousand paths of delusion but always goes through. This is so because he leaves the empty self-nature of things as it is and employs the concept of emptiness to make things empty.7 (Chan 1963: 356)

I am of the opinion that this spiritual freedom or emptiness is most important for human self-cultivation, a factor somewhat neglected in Whitehead’s cosmological discourse. It is from Chinese Mahayana Buddhism and Chinese philosophy that we can learn the richest resources for self-cultivation and the mind/heart’s spiritual freedom. However, even if our mind/heart itself is an immensely rich resource, it should not refuse to, indeed it exists in a way always, to go beyond itself in the process of strangification for the goodness of Many Others, by which one’s own self is enriched.

7

Italicised “empty” corrected from the original translation’s “vacuous.”

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Harmony as substance Zhang Zai’s metaphysics of polar relations

Brook Ziporyn When trying to classify classical Chinese thought in terms of familiar metaphysical taxonomies, we are usually more likely to reach for a term like “monism” than for one like “dualism,” for there is some justice to the intuition that robust ontological dualisms require some very specific presuppositions and procedures that may not have been available or attractive to most classical Chinese thinkers. But the category “monism” can also seem like a rather strained fit, since in trying to make sense of many of the most impressive Chinese thinkers, we seem to end up with rather weird kinds of monism. This strain, though, is just the point, for it is precisely the weirdness of these monisms that is of greatest interest to comparative philosophy. For this reason, among others, the work of Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–77) deserves close attention. What he came up with in this tapping and plumbing of the hints and half-arcs of the prior Chinese traditions is what I will claim here to be a kind of monism which takes “harmony” as its ultimate category. The question “what are all things?” is answered by Zhang: “harmony.” Harmony is the specific character of the “One” that all things instantiate in this system, the principle to which all apparently other things are reduced in this monism. But what kind of monism can that be? And what sort of harmony? For “harmony,” as a concept, even as a word, must be harmony “of” something. It is a concept that intrinsically encodes a relationship between at least two distinct terms, which guarantees the logically prior existence of a diversity of entities, since harmony is a property that is only intelligible as some kind of relationship between at least two elements. This makes it an almost perfect antonym for a category like “substance,” which served as the ideal lynchpin for the most representative European monism, that of Spinoza. For “substance” is by definition what cannot be “of” anything: what is always a subject, but never a predicate of something else. So say our Indo-European grammars, and so say (perhaps for that reason, as Nietzsche and others have suggested) our most basic metaphysical traditions and intuitions. Harmony cannot be a substance, 171

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therefore, since harmony cannot be a property belonging to any one thing considered in isolation, but only a relationship between some prior pluralities of things. No thing is itself intrinsically a “harmony,” just as no thing is “far.” We may say that it is composed of harmonious elements, but those elements can be harmonious only with respect to their differences; when we assert a monism, we are asserting that in some sense the differences of things are less essential than what is substantial about them, than what pertains to their essence. This essence, this substance, then, cannot itself be a harmony; harmony cannot be what is substantial about the monistic One. What would it mean, then, for “harmony” to be a substance? Or even the only substance, the one substance, the sole ultimate substance of all things? Surely nothing could be more absurd. But this is how I will be describing the thought of Zhang Zai as a monism of harmony. If we wish to use metaphysical language to describe this system, we are tempted to called it a monism asserting that harmony is not merely the ultimate substance upon which all other things depend (what Jonathan Schaffer calls “priority monism”) but is even (corresponding further to Schaffer’s “existence monism” (Schaffer 2007)) the sole substance, the only thing there is, what all things ultimately are. Perhaps it could be argued that the ancient Pythagorean intuitions point toward a kind of priority monism of harmony: what all things ultimately depend on is number, which is to say that the source of their being, and the account of their character and behavior, derives from quantifiable relations, which are modeled directly on the idea of musical harmony. But in Zhang Zai we have Harmony as the primary term not just of a priority monism, but of an existence monism. That would leave us with a substance monism of Harmony, Harmony as a substance, as the sole substance. Not only do all things have the necessary character of being harmonious (with one another), nor is it merely that all things depend upon some prior Harmony as their source or reason. Rather, all things simply are Harmony, Harmony is all there is. Whatever else can be said about things is being said about Harmony. The absurdity of this position, qua metaphysics, should make us question whether we need to call it something other than a metaphysics, and raises questions about what the alternatives to metaphysics might be. We could perhaps proceed to analyze Zhang Zai’s thought without referring to substance at all; indeed, it would be quite reasonable, for the very reason pointed out in the first two paragraphs above, to say that Zhang Zai cannot mean anything like “substance” by his terms like “Great Harmony,” “Dao,” “Great Void,” or “Qi.” We can simply say that the whole problem of substance is a peculiar feature of Indo-European metaphysics, and thus we need to find a completely different way of

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approaching these seemingly substance-like first principle terms in Zhang’s thoughts, as in all Chinese thought, where relationship seems to be given an assumed priority to anything appearing to “stand alone,” as substance does, by definition. In a universe where we simply deny that anything can stand alone, the whole question of substance arguably never need arise. That would mean either that the seeming foundationalism of Zhang’s big claims, and the classical antecedents which he draws on and attempts to systematize, is not foundationalism at all, or at least not in the sense of implying any kind of logical, temporal or ontological priority. Or we might try to develop a different sense of “foundation” that would not require priority of any of these kinds. Our task would then be to try to understand what these seemingly foundational, or alternatively foundational, terms are really doing: if and how they are serving the traditional roles of substances or foundations in spite of not being substances and foundations (accounting for things, being necessary to every explanation, forming part of the best or final ontology, producing or nurturing or sustaining less pervasive entities, and so on). I am not averse to either of these approaches. I believe we can arrive at useful results from either direction, and that pursuing this question in these two alternative ways can produce mutually illuminating nuances of spin. In other words, I will try to think about Zhang’s big concepts as “foundational substance,” but in a way that I hope will lead to a result that shows that the concept of substance itself has to be radically rewritten in the process. Rather than say this makes it an unnecessary addition to the analysis, I claim that this helps draw out important aspects of Zhang’s theory that have useful implications for comparative philosophy, drawing into question the immanent complexities and instabilities of the everyday concept of substance itself. Part of the work, of course, is already done by monism itself, which can serve as a reductio ad absurdum of the very idea of substance, and thus consorts well with a traditionally non-substance metaphysics, such as we arguably have in the classical Chinese sources. That is, just as ancient monotheists were regarded by pagans as dangerous atheists, substance monists, who assert that the category substance is really only applicable to one thing, and that this is the only thing that exists, and that this includes all things as its modes, are also denying that any of these modes is a substance, are denying substantiality to all lesser things. they are denying all substances except one. And for intrinsic structural reasons, a single substance stops being very much like a substance conceived in its original sense, as a member of a set of many substances which have to interact and be related to one another somehow. The rejection of substance altogether and the assertion of a monistic single substance are thus a mere hair’s

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breadth apart – if that. Here we have already a reduction of the usual notion of substance as something that can stand alone to a holism: there is only one substance and it is what all putative lesser substances really are, which means that those putative substances are not really substances, which means that they do not really stand alone: the one substance is what all apparently separate and distinct things really are, which means that all things are inseparable, as we see, for example, in Spinoza. The whole, the one, the substance: in monism, these are strict and literal synonyms. I would like to look at Zhang Zai in the context of this tradition of monism. By “monism” I mean the claim that in some sense or other only one entity really exists. In general, we may stipulate that whatever justification such doctrines have may derive from some consideration like the following. Non-monism requires the existence of multiple nonidentical entities. But for entities to be many and to be nonidentical, for these two characteristics of multiplicity and nonidentity, to succeed in being the predicates referring to any entities, requires that these multiple nonidenticals be in some kind of relationship to one another, for no entity considered solely in itself, outside of relations of any kind, has any property that can be called “multipleness” or “nonidentity.” These are not properties that belong to any single individual entity, by definition. Thus all difference, to be in any meaningful sense difference (to be distinguishable from non-difference!), requires some sort of comparison, which requires commensurability, which requires some shared medium in which comparisons can be made. To count as “different,” things must also be in at least some minimal sense the same, i.e., to use Spinoza’s phrase, must “have something in common.” This consideration compels us to posit some factor that is all-pervasive within any range of items declared to be related to one another, even if that relation is the barest relation of simple “difference.” This allpervasive factor will be the One which all things are, which must be presupposed for beings to be beings, which is instantiated in all existences without exception, which cannot be subtracted from any thing without thereby eliminating the thing’s being what it is. But the question then arises, what kind of factor can do this job? What is the One that all things are? Not all monists have named it simply “the One” – this quality of Oneness per se, about which no more can be predicated – as Plotinus attempted to do. How is it possible that there are alternative answers to that question, even among those who agree to a monism? Whence are these different conceptions of the One derived, and what are their consequences? This odd question, what “kind” of One is the One, seems an important clue to the nature of any given monism. All

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monisms, we may suggest, must take some term from experience as the primal metaphor for “the one” which is being claimed as all-pervasive, as present in every token of existence or experience. The character of this metaphor does a lot of the work in addressing the typical problems that must be addressed by monisms. Among these we may single out the following five as the most crucial and representative questions: (1) What determination can be given to the one omnipresent entity that really exists? Is it modeled, metaphorically or otherwise, on some other entity from finite experience or conceptuality? Or is it determined just as “oneness” per se, or as the negation of all finite and differentiated terms (both sensory and conceptual)? (2) If the former, is it a metaphor, or some other kind of modeling, or what? (3) If all things are reducible to some single all-pervasive term, how does this necessarily infinite term produce the finite entities of experience, i.e. the (correct or incorrect) appearance of multiplicity? (4) Once these are produced, these multiple finite appearances must in some sense simultaneously express and distort the infinity and oneness of the primal infinite entity. How? (5) How do we account for the mistaken perception of this kind of infinite unity and this kind of finite multiplicity, i.e. the existence of ordinary, seemingly non-monistic experience? How is the mind that differentiates objects, regarding them as ontologically distinct, derived from the primal all-encompassing term? What exactly is the relation between ordinary non-monistic experiences, whether sensory or conceptual, and the monistic truth? I will consider the thought of Zhang Zai as a particular type of monism. What I want to do is think about how he dealt with the above five points. For ease of comprehension, I will give here a brief version of the answers in Zhang’s case as I see them, before exploring my reasons for saying so in the rest of the chapter. (1) The one thing is not described as a pure negation of all finite and diverse things, but is modeled on a particular. However, this particular is chosen for its unique characteristic of also including the negation of all finite, divided, static, isolated, and diverse things. The model for the one is qi, which Zhang asserts to be identical to both “the Great Void” (taixu 太虛) and “the Great Harmony” (taihe 太和). Qi is chosen specifically because it is capable of providing an intuitive sense in which “Harmony” and “voidness” can be thought of as aspects of one and the same thing, a unity which inherently involves both the negation of any finite form (voidness) and the unity of all finite forms (Harmony). In other words, what all things really

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are is qi, but what qi really is is also the Great Void, and thus what both qi and the Great Void really really are is the Great Harmony. Qi is the one substance, but it turns out that its being-qi is a predicate of something more basic, the Great Harmony. The question is, does Harmony have ontological priority over qi, rather than the other way around? Or does voidness? Are voidness and Harmony aspects of qi? Or are qi and voidness aspects of Harmony? Or are Harmony and qi aspects of Harmony? Or are they three alternative names for the same thing, each drawing out one aspect of its character, allowing for no genuine ontological priority among them? How shall we adjudicate this question? (2) In any case, it is no metaphor: it is concretely before us as any concrete physical, psychological, or conceptual entity. It is not a reflection, a metaphor, or a participant in the absolute: it is a part of it, but one whose “nature” involves a process of self-transcending, equally concretely. (3) This provides the answer to how the infinite unity produces finite entities and both separates and unites them: the polar structure of harmonizing extremes is imported into the absolute monistic unity itself, on the model of qi that condenses into finite things and disperses into imperceptible open space, which Zhang compares to the relation between water and ice. The dual-level ontological structure is thereby built into the definition of the absolute: because the absolute is Harmony-voidness-qi, it must have two aspects; otherwise it could not be a Harmony. It must have the two forms of “absolute as such” (water, qi in the form of voidness) and “absolute as nonabsolute” (ice cubes, qi in the form of separate things) and be the Harmony of these two forms. A voidness that remained voidness would not be the real voidness, which is Harmony of voidness and non-voidness. This consideration perhaps tilts us toward granting ontological priority to the aspect of “Harmony” over those of “qi” and “voidness.” (4) The “ice cubes” are water; all concrete separate finite entities are the Great Void which is qi which is the Great Harmony, i.e. the Harmony between this ice cube and (1) its dispersion into formless water and (2) every other ice cube. Even ice cubes are water; even concrete things are voidness, are qi, are Harmony. Ice cube both expresses the nature of water and, if viewed just as “cube” and as “ice” but not simultaneously also as “water,” distorts and obstructs the expression of that nature: that nature is “harmony,” which is not seen if only one extreme, this particular chunk of ice, is viewed in isolation.

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(5) Ordinary experience is a smaller, limited example of “Harmony,” or “the joining of inner and outer” (he neiwai 合内外). Sensory knowledge is a limited and minor example of transcending the border between inside and outside, between my body and the space that surrounds me. The true knowledge that transcends ordinary sense experience, and ordinary thinking, is just a more expansive example of the same basic tendency to overcome boundaries, in accordance with the basic nature of “water” which pervades every “ice cube” – the nature of Heaven and Earth which pervades every individual particular, including every human being. Let us now back up and look at Zhang’s system in detail to see where we are getting these conclusions. Zhang’s thought had a seminal impact on the character of the NeoConfucian movement of the Song dynasty (960–1279). Particularly influential were his anti-Buddhist and anti-Daoist polemics, and his “Western Inscription” (Ximing 西銘 ), which offered a monistic grounding for an altruistic morality which left room for the preservation of role distinctions. It seems that the earlier “founders” of the movement, Zhou Dunyi (1017–73) and Shao Yong (1011–77), did not share Zhang’s ardent exclusionary attitude toward the “heterodox” teachings of the Buddhists and Daoists; on the contrary, both borrowed heavily from these teachings, and did not make the kind of statements warning about their dangers that later became commonplaces of the Cheng brothers (Cheng Hao, 1032–85, and Cheng Yi, 1033–1107) and Zhu Xi (1130– 1200). This trend, of course, went back to Han Yu (768–824) in the Tang dynasty, and had affected many Northern Song scholars, but among the earliest Neo-Confucian luminaries it is most pronounced in Zhang Zai. Zhang’s reasons for this attitude are set forth in his major work, Zheng Meng 正蒙 (Correcting Youthful Ignorance), where he develops his own metaphysical position in contrast to that of the heterodox teachings, which he is able to use as a justification for traditional Confucian roleethics. The last chapter of this work is divided into two parts. The first is the famed “Ding Wan” 訂頑 (“Correcting Obstinancy”), later called the Western Inscription (Xi ming); the second is the “Bian Yu” 砭愚 (“Puncturing Ignorance”), later known as the Eastern Inscription (Dong ming), the counterpart of the Western Inscription, written on the opposite wall of Zhang Zai’s study. These two inscriptions taken together may be seen as an important summation of Zhang’s views, written by his own hand. Nonetheless, the latter work, the Eastern Inscription, has not received as much attention as the Western Inscription, which formed one of the cornerstones of the later Neo-Confucian movement. The Eastern

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Inscription is the last few lines, dealing with ethical matters, of a longer disquisition summing up Zhang’s key metaphysical and epistemological doctrines, placed at the very end of his book. Zhu Xi and Lü Zuqian’s anthology of early Neo-Confucianism, Jinsilu 近思錄, includes the few lines comprising the Eastern Inscription but not the rest of the discussion from which they are drawn. Indeed, in looking at the excluded part of the passage from which this Eastern Inscription is taken, we find that it is perhaps more philosophically satisfying than either the more famous work, the Western Inscription, or the few anthologized lines on ethical matters that are excerpted and anthologized from it. The excluded first part of this essay sets forth in more abstract and less romantic terms than the Western Inscription the metaphysical basis for Zhang’s rejection of Buddhism and Daoism. Since this rejection would come to have such farreaching consequences, it would be of value for us to get a clearer notion of Zhang’s metaphysical views that he associated with his rejection of Buddhist and Daoist worldviews; and this text, inasmuch as it is his own summation of his views on this subject, is a good place to start. This chapter will be an attempt to examine how, in the first section of this text, Zhang puts forth a metaphysical view which reinterprets the heterodox notion of “voidness” so as to make it a justification of the cardinal importance of human relationships, rather than an undermining of these relationships, as it had been in the heterodox teachings. This will be done by defining the Nature of material force, the one substance of all things, as a joining of polar opposites (yin and yang, qian and kun, etc.), and hence as a necessary alternation and “Great Harmony” between condensed and dispersed material force (individualized forms and the Great Void), manifested in the individual condensed forms as their interaction and mutual stimulation or responsiveness (gan 感), i.e. their relationships with one another. This will legitimize both the alternation of life and death and the cardinal importance of human relationships, both of which were repudiated by the Buddhists, as an expression of the ultimate. In the course of this discussion we will also try to shed some light on Zhang’s important notion of human Nature, particularly his influential distinction between the qi-constitution Nature and the Heaven and Earth Nature, which, we will hold, can only be correctly understood in the context of Zhang’s distinctive ideas on the one Nature of Heaven and Earth as inherently polar and double-sided. Below is a translation of the entire passage from which Zhang Zai’s “Bian Yu” or Eastern Inscription is drawn: Whatever can be in any describable condition (ke zhuang 可狀) whatsoever is Being (you 有). All Being is images (xiang 象). All images are material force.

Harmony as substance: Zhang Zai’s metaphysics of polar relations 179 The nature of material force is originally void and spiritual; thus spirit and the Nature are inherent in material force (qi suo gu you 氣所固有). This is why “the ghosts and spirits embody things and leave none out.” “Perfect integrity” is the heavenly nature. “Ceaselessness” is the heavenly decree. When a human being is able to be perfectly authentic (cheng 誠), his Nature will be completely actualized, and his spirit exhaustively [known]. [When he is] ceaseless, the decree will act and he will be able to understand transformation. If study has not reached the point of understanding transformation, it has no real attainment. [Zhang’s note: Without Qi, is there any image? Without images, is there any idea?] That which unifies Being and Nonbeing, Voidness and Fullness into one thing is the Nature. If they are not unified, the Nature is not completely realized. Eating, drinking, and sexuality are all the Nature. How could these be destroyed? However, since Being and Nonbeing are both in the Nature, how could it be “without duality” (wudui 無對)? Zhuangzi, Laozi, and the Buddha have long put forth this theory [of non-duality]; but does it ultimately penetrate to the true principle? Heaven [and Earth] encompass and uphold all things within themselves; their mode of interaction and response (gan 感), their Nature, is simply the two poles of qian and kun, yin and yang, and that is all. [In this state] there is no joining of inner and outer, and hence no leading astray by the senses; [but] when it is picked up and given to [individual] people and things, there comes the appearance of “difference,” which derives from the tininess [of individual forms] [zuiran yi yi 蕞然異矣]. Human beings able to “exhaustively realize their Natures and know Heaven,” and thus not give rise to [erroneous] views on the basis of this tininess, are very few. [In human beings] Being and Nonbeing are a unity, and inner and outer join. [Zhang’s note: The ordinary man and the sage are the same in this.] This is whence comes “the mind of man.” As for the sage, he does not exclusively (zhuan 專) take sense perception as his mind; thus he is able not to take sense perception as his sole function. That which has nothing it does not respond to and interact with is Voidness. This response and interaction is precisely the joining [of inner and outer], what is meant by the hexagram xian 咸 (Influence and All-Inclusiveness).1 Because all things are originally a unity, this unity can bring together the different; because it can bring together the different, it is called response and interaction. If there is no difference, there can be no joining or bringing together. The Nature of Heaven [and Earth] is qian and kun, yin and yang. Because of these two poles, there can be stimulation, response, and interaction; because they are originally a unity, there can be joining. Heaven and Earth give birth to all things; although their endowment is different, none of them cease mutually stimulating, responding and interacting for a moment. This is what is called the Nature, and the Way of Heaven.

1

I translate the hexagram’s name in accordance with Zhang’s own interpretation, given in Zhang Zai (1979:179).

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Stimulation, response, and interaction are the marvelous spirituality of the Nature; the Nature is the substance of stimulation, response, and interaction. [Zhang’s note: Whether in man or in Heaven, it is ultimately one.] Only the polarities of expansion and contraction, movement and rest, end and beginning are capable of bringing unity. Thus with respect to the marvelousness of all things it is called “Spirit.” With respect to its penetration of all things it is called “the Way.” With respect to its embodiment of all things it is called “the Nature.” The substantiality of the perfect void is substantial without being fixed; the movement of the perfectly still is movement without exhaustion. Since it is substantial without being fixed, it is one and yet scattered [into difference]. Since it is movement without exhaustion, it is ever coming and going.2

I will now try to analyze this text section by section. The first phrase in this ontology is both difficult and pregnant with meaning. Zhuang 狀 can mean literally appearance or form, or, more broadly, any describable condition, state or situation. I take the meaning here to be simply that anything of which anything at all can be predicated, anything that can be spoken of or indicated in any way, even if merely to say that it is inexpressible, is to be defined as Being. This would seem to be an attempt to avoid any talk of anything other than Being, for example the Nonbeing of the Daoists and the sunyata (emptiness) of the Buddhists; to the extent that these refer to anything at all, that they signify any state, condition, or entity, Zhang tells us they are to be defined as types of Being. As such, he goes on to say, they are “images.” What does Zhang mean by this term? Elsewhere, he says, “Through images we recognize the mind; but to devote oneself to images is to lose the mind. The mind is what knows images, but the mind that stores up images becomes merely an image itself; can it still be called the mind?”3 Images, we may say, are concrete mental conceptions, the immediate fixed notions of apprehended objects. These images, Zhang goes on to say, are a subcategory of material force, qi. Elsewhere Zhang speaks of the relation between material force and images as follows: That which flows along with heaven and earth and penetrates everywhere is what we call “material force.” It does not refer only to what can be known after meeting the eye in the form of rising steam or vapor, or condensations and consolidations. Since we can use the names vigorous, compliant, moving, stopping, vastly flowing, and translucent [for various types of qi in the more abstract sense], these are 2 3

Zhang Zai, Zheng Meng, using the text given with collected commentaries in Zhang Zai (1998). Zhang Zai, Zheng Meng, Daxin pian, Chapter 7, in Zhang Zai (1998, Vol. VI: 12).

Harmony as substance: Zhang Zai’s metaphysics of polar relations 181 all merely namable images (ke ming zhi xiang 可名之象). But if images are not material force, what is it that is referred to as images? If time is not an image, what is it that is referred to as time?4

Zhang here establishes his thoroughgoing monism: whatever is, in any sense, no matter how abstract, as image or simply as state or predicate, is ipso facto simply material force. There is nothing besides this material force. To the extent that it can be named in any way, that any characteristics can be predicated of it, it is an “image.” In other words, all images are material force (other than which there is nothing) in its condensed form, coagulated into distinct particular entities, as apprehended and named by the mind. But what are the characteristics of this one substance, of which all things are made? Our text continues: “The Nature of material force is originally void and spiritual; thus spirit and the Nature are inherent in material force (qi suo gu you 氣所固有).” Here Zhang introduces the term Nature (xing 性). In general, Zhang defines the Nature of something as a synonym for “subtance” (ti), which he defines as weichangwu 未嘗無, “that which it has never lacked,”5 i.e. its inherent properties, the characteristics without which it ceases to be itself. The inherent properties of the material force are to be vacuous and spiritual (xu 虛 and shen 神). This introduces the doubleness that will be the theme of the rest of the chapter, and will mark the foundation of Zhang’s metaphysics, on the grounds of which he will reject the heterodox schools. Material force, according to Zhang, inherently implies its apparent opposites, i.e. voidness, spirit, and the Nature. Voidness is insubstantiality, the lack of apprehendable images or entities. Material force is here asserted to include the inherent necessity to veer to voidness, its apparent opposite, which Zhang will later associate with responsiveness. This ability to include both poles is for Zhang, as we shall see, the characteristic feature of marvelousness or spirit, and the Nature, which are associated with the inconceivable life-giving function of the universe, and with the highest expressions of human moral and spiritual life. All these things seem to be the opposite of material force, taken in its most literal sense as palpable congealed forms or determinate images, but here they are asserted to be in fact inherent parts of that material force; it is part of the nature of material force to function in such a way as to veer to its opposite, to produce these things, to embrace both poles of the process of dispersal and aggregation, of alternation and responsiveness. If it did not do so, it would not be material force.

4 5

Zhang Zai, Zheng Meng, Shenhua pian, Chapter 4, in Zhang Zai (1998, Vol. V: 700). Zhang Zai, Zheng Meng, Chengming pian, Chapter 6, in Zhang Zai (1998, Vol VI: 794).

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This assertion, too, is to be understood in the context of Zhang’s monism; by holding that qi is itself spiritual (possesses marvelousness) and possesses the Nature, he prevents these latter things, apparently the opposite of material force, from being taken as a separate realm of their own. They are rather part of what material force is, and their existence can be no objection to the assertion that material force is all that exists. But this presents Zhang with a problem: what kind of thing is this material force, what kind of nature must it have, to be able to manifest in such radically different ways, modes so apparently different that they commonly lead to the conclusion that vacuity, spirit, and the Nature are completely separate realms from material force, or that objective things are merely illusory, and only the spiritual side of things, and/or their emptiness, is real? It must have a nature that accommodates these two sides, since both are inherent and neither is merely accidental. This consideration will be the ruling principle behind Zhang’s discussion of the Nature of this material force throughout the rest of the work. Zhang will consider a comprehension of this double-sided nature of material force to be the key to understanding all the pairs of opposites operative in human life. All the two-termed alternations of human life (day and night, life and death, etc.), as well as all two-termed relationships of responsiveness and interaction (lord and minister, father and son, husband and wife, etc.), are for him manifestations of this single Nature, the essential character of which is this doubleness. In the broader metaphysical sense, this doubleness is seen in mutual inherence of material objects and their opposite, voidness. These are in fact simply the condensed and dispersed forms of material force. Thus Zhang makes his famous assertion that voidness is precisely material force: Once one understands that voidness is precisely material force, then Being and Nonbeing, hidden and manifest, marvelousness and transformation, nature and destiny can all be unified into a oneness and seen as not-two . . . The coagulation and dispersal of material force in the Great Void is like the freezing and melting of ice in water . . .6

The water-and-ice image used by Zhang here is helpful for an understanding of his meaning. Both the ice, with its identifiable forms (equivalent to the images of congealed material force) and the formless water are the same substance, water. Thus what is called “Nonbeing” is in fact just the lack of images, but this is the same material force as the images, but in the dispersed form. The ability of material force to embrace both form and formlessness is its Nature. 6

Zhang Zai, Zheng Meng, Taihe pian, Chapter 1, in Zhang Zai (1998, Vol VI: 471, 496).

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Thus in the present text Zhang goes on to say of this Nature of material force: That which unifies Being and Nonbeing, Vacuous and Full, into a single thing is called the Nature. If they are not unified, the Nature is not completely realized. Eating, drinking, and sexuality are all the Nature. How could these be destroyed? However, since Being and Nonbeing are both in the Nature, how could it be “without duality” [or without opposition, wudui]? Zhuangzi, Laozi, and the Buddha have long put forth this theory [of non-duality]; but does it ultimately penetrate to the true principle?

This passage is of crucial importance for understanding Zhang’s metaphysics. Much has been made of Zhang’s distinction between the qi-constitution Nature (qizhi zhi xing 氣質之性) and the Heaven-andEarth-Nature (tiandi zhi xing 天地之性). Kasoff (1984) interprets the above assertion about food and sexuality being the Nature as a reference to the qi-constitution Nature. He translates the passage, “Drinking, eating and sexuality are all [part of the physical] nature. How could they be extinguished?” (Kasoff 1984: 73) Kasoff takes the qi-constitution Nature to signify that “the ch’i-constitution possesses certain attributes or qualities . . . This nature consists of the needs and desires that are part of having a physical existence” (Kasoff 1984: 73). This implies that the qiconstitution Nature is itself different in all beings, whereas the Heavenand-Earth Nature is the same in all, and the former can block the latter (Kasoff 1984: 73). The suggestion that Zhang asserts that human beings have two conflicting natures is still voiced in the most recent scholarship. Such an interpretation is not necessary if we understand Zhang’s notion of the Nature as inherently a doubleness, a unification of yin and yang, which remains the same in the material force in both its congealed and dispersed forms. The qi-consitution Nature and the Heaven-and-Earth Nature are not two natures, I will contend; they are the one Nature in two different forms, as it appears in already condensed forms or in the dispersed material force of the void, and in either case this Nature will have the same character, i.e. it will be the unification of opposed polarities. Zhang’s habit of speaking of the Nature in these two forms in fact follows precisely from this conception of the character of the Nature itself. The qi-consitution Nature and the Heaven-and-Earth Nature are two and not two in just the senses in which Zhang speaks of the Nature in general as something that is necessarily two and not two, an inclusive unification of polar opposites. To understand Zhang’s meaning when he speaks of these two forms of the Nature we must first comprehend that, for him, the Nature and doubleness are in fact interchangeable ideas: the Nature is doubleness, doubleness is the Nature.

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Even Zhu Xi, who considered this distinction one of Zhang’s greatest contributions, and interpreted it in accord with Cheng Yi’s more dualistic conception of principle and material force, took pains to stress that this distinction did not mean that there were two natures; rather, it was a way of indicating that the Nature could be thought of either in the abstract sense, according to what it was in itself, its essential characteristics, or as it appears when within condensed material force, in individual beings: Qi-constitution refers to the activity of yin and yang and the five phases; the Nature is the total substance of the Great Ultimate. To speak of the qiconstitution Nature is merely to speak of this substance when it has fallen within the qi-constitution; it does not mean that there is a separate Nature [distinct from the Heaven-and-Earth Nature] (Zhang 1979: 43).

This means that there is only one Nature: the Nature of material force, which is characterized by the polarity of yin and yang. Zhang says elsewhere, “The Nature is the totality that joins all twoness (zonghe liang 總合 兩).”7 This Nature remains the same whether in the dispersed and formless material force, or in the coagulated material force of distinct individual beings; in fact, the meaning of “Nature” is precisely that which never changes, and is the same in all different conditions. Zhang uses the image of ice and water once again to make this point: “The Heaven-Nature in man is just like the water-nature in ice: although the state of freezing or meltedness is different, the thing itself is the same.”8 In either condition, Zhang asserts, this Nature is perfectly “Good”; it is the Great Harmony, Equilibrium, the Great Void, and is described with all the positive value terms that go with these cosmic terms. Even in all individual forms, it never loses this “Goodness”: The Nature in man is never not Good. It is simply a question whether he is good at returning to it or not. If he goes beyond [what is necessary for] the transformation of Heaven and Earth, this is not being good at returning to [the Nature].9

Wang Fuzhi comments on this last remark: “Food and sensuality are used to nourish life; this is the transformation of Heaven and Earth” (Wang 1970: 128). I believe this comment accurately represents Zhang’s meaning. To be good at returning to the Nature thus means to perceive the original function of the impulses of that Nature, that combination of yin and yang, that unification of duality, that exists in our own present physical constitution, and not to use it for other purposes, or make the individual form of it an end in itself. This means not to lose sight of the original character of this Nature, which is the inclusion of 7 8

Zhang Zai, Zheng Meng, Chengming pian, Chapter 6, in Zhang Zai (1998, Vol. V: 808). Zhang Zai (1998, Vol. V: 804). 9 Zhang Zai (1998, Vol. V: 821).

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opposites, and hence the transcendence of any one-sidedness such as one’s own material form, the particular condensation of material form that one happens to be. The Nature is the self-transcendence of this particular form toward the totality that embraces both form and the formlessness from which all forms condense. Returning to the Nature is a matter of realizing this fundamental all-embracingness as the original Nature of which one’s present one-sidedness is a manifestation, and thus transcending that one-sidedness to make one’s mind again all-embracing. As we shall see below, this all-embracingness is manifested in the universal process of alternation and of interaction and response, on both the cosmic and the human levels. Zhang continues to indicate how this all-Good Nature manifests in the qi-constitution: After things have taken form (xing 形), they have it as the qi-constitution Nature; if [the things, esp. man] are good at returning to it, then the Heaven-and-Earth Nature is maintained within it. Thus there is that in the qi-constitution Nature that the exemplary man does not take as his [whole] Nature. (Wang 1970: 823)

The qi-constitution is itself one’s innate “capacity” – i.e. the specific inborn constitution and capacities of each particular human being – and may be taken as the cause of differences; but this is to be distinguished from the Nature of the qi-constitution, which is simply the one Nature. This interpretation is supported by Zhang’s own pronouncement on this matter in another work: “The qi-constitution is like what people call the Nature’s material force. Within material force there is [due to its Nature] hard and soft, slow and fast, clear and turbid. The palpable constitution (qizhi) is what is called capacity (cai 才).”10 Given this basic understanding, it is not difficult to comprehend what is meant by the statement of Zhang’s quoted above, i.e. that the exemplary man does not take this qi-constitution Nature as his whole nature. As Wang Fuzhi puts it, “Not to take it as his Nature means that he does not depend upon it as his own Nature and rest in it” (Wang 1970: 131). In other words, the Nature qua its appearance as a particular fixed form is not to be taken as the whole Nature, for the Nature is precisely the embracing of opposite poles, i.e. that which cannot be adequately encompassed by any one particular form, by any one pole as divorced from the totality of its correlatives. A cube of ice is not to take frozen water in this particular shape as its nature; its nature is to be water, which can be not only every possible frozen shape but also melted into formlessness. The qi-constitution Nature of an ice cube is “water in the frozen state.” Its 10

Zhang Zai, Jingxue liku, “Xue dayuan, shang,” in Zhang Zai (1979: 113).

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Heavenly-Nature is simply “water.” These are not two, and yet we can see how one can distort or block the comprehension of the other. This is a question of one-sidedness or incompleteness of the ice cube’s apprehension of its nature, brought about by the fact that as a particular frozen form it is necessarily the one-sided expression of the whole nature of water, while at the same time being nothing but an expression of that nature. Zhang continues, “The hardness or softness, slowness or swiftness of different human beings is a question of their degree of capacity. This is due to the one-sidedness of their material force [in its coagulated form].”11 Wang interprets “capacity” (cai) to mean, “Becoming a fixed form from the rising or falling material force of one particular time” (Wang 1970: 131). This is a freezing of one moment in the total process, and hence fails to reflect the totality. At the same time, its particular configuration cannot help being a manifestation of that whole process, one integral part of that cycle of rising and falling; thus one can learn to “return” to the nature of the totality through investigation of one’s own one-sided endowment and form. It is the Nature of material force to condense, and to alternate between opposite poles; hence it is its nature to condense into one-sided configurations, which freeze the process at one pole of that alternating process. But these retain the Nature of twosidedness that made their one-sidedness possible, the encompassing of the other term of the process of fluctuation without which this condensed form of one term would not have been possible and would have no meaning. We can now understand Zhang’s notions of the Nature and interactivity as noted in the rest of the Eastern Inscription. Zhang continues, “However, since Being and Nonbeing are both in the Nature, how could it be ‘without duality’ (wudui)? Zhuangzi, Laozi, and the Buddha have long put forth this theory (of non-duality); but does it ultimately penetrate to the true principle?” The Nature encompasses both Being and Nonbeing; hence it must of necessity possess duality and opposition (dui) within itself. The heterodox teaching that the Absolute (dao, Buddhanature) is a pure undifferentiated Oneness, or a quiescence with no determinate marks and no conflict, is thus dispensed with forcefully. What makes the Nature the Nature is precisely that it unifies opposites; therefore its own definition includes those opposites, and it cannot be what it is without them. The true Absolute substance is, for Zhang, material force which is also the Great Void, and therefore the Great Harmony; it is an eternal process of the positing and resolution of oppositions. As Zhang puts it elsewhere, “Where there are images, there must be 11

Zhang Zai, Zheng Meng, Chengming pian, in Zhang Zai (1998, Vol VI: 830).

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duality (dui 對); where there is duality, there must be opposition (fan 反); where there is opposition, there must be enmity (chou 仇), and enmity must return to Harmony and be resolved.”12 Thus does Zhang refute the pure abstract oneness of the heterodox metaphysics. From this we can understand Zhang’s next assertion, i.e. that this Nature is itself interaction and stimulation/response, which imply also temporal alternation: “Heaven [and earth] encompass and uphold all things within themselves; their mode of mutual interaction and stimulation/response (gan), their Nature, is simply the two poles of qian and kun, yin and yang, and that is all.” But when individual forms appear, they retain this nature, and hence are able to interact and respond with one another. The Heaven-and-Earth Nature has as yet no “inner and outer”; it is explicitly the oneness of these poles. But for the qi-constitution Nature this same oneness of opposite poles, this interaction and response, manifests as a joining of inner and outer. As the Eastern Inscription says, [In this state] there is no joining of inner and outer, and hence no leading astray by the senses; [but] when it is picked up and given [individual] people and things, there comes the appearance of “difference,” which derives from the tininess [of individual forms] [zuiran yi yi 蕞然異矣]. Human beings able to “exhaustively realize their Natures and know Heaven,” and thus not give rise to [erroneous] views on the basis of this tininess, are very few. [In human beings] Being and Nonbeing are a unity, and inner and outer join. [Zhang’s note: The ordinary man and the sage are the same in this.] This is whence comes “the mind of man.” As for the sage, he does not exclusively (zhuan 專) take sense perception as his mind; thus he is able not to take sense perception as his sole function.

Ordinary perception is a kind of joining of inner and outer; this is the ordinary mind of man. Since it is simply this same Nature of joining opposites, this ordinary mind of sensual perception is itself a manifestation of the Great Harmony; but it is only one very narrow form of this Nature, and if it is clung to as the whole Nature it blocks the apprehension of the vast universality of this joining of inner and outer, this interactivity and response of opposites. As Zhang puts it elsewhere, When people say they have knowledge, it comes from the sensations of the sense organs. Human perception comes from the joining of the inner and the outer. But he who knows that [this principle of] joining inner and outer [extends] beyond the knowing of the sense organs has knowledge far in excess of others.13 12 13

Zhang Zai, Zheng Meng, Taihe pian, Chapter 1, in Zhang Zai (1998, Vol. V: 529). Zhang Zai, Zheng Meng, Daxin pian, Chapter 7, in Zhang Zai (1998, Vol. VI: 13–14).

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Thus it is that sensual perception, which is itself nothing but the joining of inner and outer and hence a manifestation of the unity of opposites that is the Nature, can be a fetter to fully realizing one’s Nature. At the same time, it can be a valid starting point for gaining a comprehension of what that Nature is, i.e. a joining and harmonization of alternating opposites, interactivity and response. The sage “fully realizes his Nature, and thus does not let the narrowness of perceptual knowledge fetter his mind . . . Perceptual knowledge comes from the interaction with things; it is not the knowledge of the Virtue-Nature; the knowledge of the Virtue-Nature does not itself grow out of perceptual knowledge.”14 This “VirtueNature knowledge” is not the same as what we call consciousness; but it is called a kind of “knowledge” because it is a broader application of the same principle as that behind perceptual consciousness, i.e. the joining of inner and outer, the interactivity and response of opposites, based on their fundamental oneness as manifestations of the same material force. This is also the “knowing” of Heaven, which has no mind and yet can be spoken of as knowing since it is the joining of opposites. Hence Zhang can say, “Heaven’s knowing of things does not use sense organs, thought or [even] a mind; but its principle of knowing them (zhi zhi zhi li 知之之 理) goes beyond that of sense organs, thought or mind.”15 The principle of knowing is simply the joining of opposites. This is the responsiveness and interactivity of all things in the world, their ceaseless alternation, their simultaneous oneness and twoness, the manifestation of their single material force. This material force alternates between congealed individual forms and voidness, the formlessness from which all forms congeal and which embraces them all. The fact that a particular image or form is also implicitly this voidness means that it is participating in this process of alternation and response. Its voidness is its responsiveness. Hence the Eastern Inscription continues, That which has nothing it does not respond to and interact with is Voidness. This response and interaction is precisely the joining [of inner and outer], what is meant by the hexagram xian 咸 (Influence and All-Inclusiveness). Because all things are originally a unity, this unity can bring together the different; because it can bring together the different, it is called response and interaction. If there is no difference, there can be no joining or bringing together. The Nature of Heaven [and Earth] is qian and kun, yin and yang. Because of these two poles, there can be stimulation, response and interaction; because they are originally a unity, there can be joining. 14

15

Zhang Zai (1998, Vol VI: 3–4). Our analysis here allows us to see that there is no need to differentiate between the meanings of Zhang’s phrase dexing suo zhi 德性所知 and of his phrase and dexing zhi zhi 德性之知, as has sometimes been recommended. I regard them as synonymous. Zhang Zai, Zheng Meng, Tiandao pian, Chapter 3, in Zhang Zai (1998, Vol. V, 665).

Harmony as substance: Zhang Zai’s metaphysics of polar relations 189 Heaven and Earth give birth to all things; although their endowment is different, none of them cease mutually stimulating, responding, and interacting for a moment. This is what is called the Nature, and the Way of Heaven. Stimulation, response, and interaction are the marvelous spirituality of the Nature; the Nature is the substance of stimulation, response, and interaction. [Zhang’s note: Whether in man or in Heaven, it is ultimately one.] Only the polarities of expansion and contraction, movement and rest, end and beginning are capable of bringing unity. Thus with respect to the marvelousness of all things it is called “Spirit.” With respect to its penetration of all things it is called “the Way.” With respect to its embodiment of all things it is called “the Nature.”

The true unity of things is this Great Harmony, the joining of sameness and difference, the responsiveness and interaction of all things in their alternations. There can be no oneness without this difference and separation into individual things; the Great Void “cannot help” becoming these individualized forms, and since these individual forms are at the same time the Great Void and material force, they “cannot help” interacting and responding to one another. Thus we can see how Zhang undercuts the heterodox metaphysics; he asserts that the true “voidness” consists of response and interaction of determinate forms, and their alternation, not of their removal. Since this absolute Nature of things is precisely interaction, it is manifested perfectly in the relationships between these individualized things. For Zhang, as a good Confucian, two-termed relationships meant the five two-termed role relations of traditional Confucian ethics, i.e. the proper relations between human beings, enumerated as that between ruler and minister, father and son, elder and younger brother, husband and wife, and friends. It also meant twotermed temporal alternation of opposites states, such as day and night, and life and death. Both of these ideas become forceful weapons in Zhang’s hands for attacking the metaphysics of the Buddhists. Zhang says, If one comprehends [the alternations of] day and night, and yin and yang, then one can understand the Nature and Decree, from which one can come to understand the sage and the ghosts and spirits.16 They [the Buddhists] want to talk directly and exclusively about the Great Void, and not trouble their minds with day and night, yin and yang; thus they have never perceived Change. If one who has not perceived Change wants to avoid the trouble of yin and yang, day and night, there is no way to do it. Moreover, if Change has not been perceived, how can one speak of the “realm of reality”?17 16 17

Gui shen 鬼神. These two terms are also interpreted by Zhang as a pair of opposites in a process of alternation and mutual response, i.e. as expansion and contraction. Zhang Zai, Zheng Meng, Qiancheng pian, Chapter 17, in Zhang Zai (1998, Vol VI: 668–9).

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The fundamental unchangeable Nature of material force in all its forms is its doubleness, its simultaneity of yin and yang, which manifests in condensed entities as a temporal alternation between these poles and the necessity of response and interaction. The Buddhists desire to be free of samsara, i.e. life and death, or to have the void without the concrete particularized forms, or, as Zhang puts it elsewhere, to have Heaven without Earth, to have comprehension of the highest without comprehension of the lowest; moreover, they wish to be free of the fundamental human relationships. All of these Buddhist desiderata are founded on a failure to understand the Nature, which is precisely this alternation and relationship, and hence the endeavors of the Buddhists are dangerous, misguided, and bound for failure. Thus the distinguishing breakthrough of Zhang’s new metaphysics, what distinguishes him from previous qi theorists and from previous voidness theorists, is his integration of these two ideas – i.e. his reinterpretation of the idea of voidness as the dispersed formlessness of qi, and the concomitant reinterpretation of qi as the concretion of voidness, and hence his view of the Nature of that one substance as the necessary ebb and flow between these opposite poles. This provides an immanent justification of the self-diversification of the one, the finitization of the infinite, the multiplicity of forms by which the oneness is expressed, even the ontological difference between the oneness and manyness, the distinction between these aspects (oneness and manyness) of the One, as necessarily intrinsic to the One. The One is doubleness per se, which therefore cannot appear as any particular one, or even merely as Oneness, or Noneness. On these grounds, we may perhaps risk the assertion that Harmony is really the ruling category here, and is granted a kind of ontological priority which qualifies Zhang’s system as a true metaphysic of Harmony as substance. This created a justification for Confucian conceptions of the necessity of alternations in the realm of nature and the primary significance of social-role relationships in the realm of man, as opposed to the heterodox notions of emptiness and Nonbeing which were aimed precisely at the eradication of these relationships and alternations. This was one of the first of many attempts to give a comprehensive metaphysical foundation to these relationships and alternations, to assert that they were direct expressions of the very ground of being itself, the ultimate truth, thus combating the heterodox notion that they could ever be escaped or overcome. Viewed from afar, we notice an interesting comparative result. Western monisms, both priority monisms and existence monisms, arguably tend to prioritize independence and transcendence, which may serve as the foundation for a universal. This shared and necessary relation to their

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source may in turn serve as the foundation for the connection of all things, and thus some kind of Harmony among them. Zhang’s monism reverses these relations: it prioritizes the inherent Harmony of an intrinsic twoness as the innermost nature and necessary condition of all possible existence implies the unrestrictability to any given form (and thus “transcendence” of all forms), which implies universal interconnection, which enables production and sustainability. For Zhang, it is because of the intrinsic doubleness/Harmony of any possible existence that all things can connect, that they can be produced and sustained, and that in their nature they transcend any single form. Are Chinese monisms the opposite of Western monisms, then? Is the one two? Or are the two one?

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A lexicography of Zhu Xi’s metaphysics John Berthrong

Introduction This chapter addresses certain structural issues in Zhu Xi’s 朱熹 (1130– 1200) mature metaphysics. It is issues and questions of just these kinds that often fascinated or frustrated generations of scholars studying Zhu’s immense philosophical project. The discussion will be divided into two main parts. The first section is an introductory discussion of the notion of what we take metaphysics to mean in terms of contemporary comparative philosophy. The second section is a presentation and brief description of those elements, or four domains, as I call them, broadly construed, that constitute the elements of Zhu Xi’s ‘metaphysics’. The font of Western speculation on matters metaphysical, of course, has been grounded in Aristotle’s work, followed by the generations of philosophers who have trailed in his footsteps. Moreover, metaphysics has a less precise series of richly sedimented meanings as well. Metaphysics has come to define the most abstract set of theories, hypotheses, rubrics, and principles that can be applied to this cosmos or any possible alternative cosmos. It is also closely linked in the discussion of its daughter disciplines of ontology, cosmology, and axiology. It is usually thought to define the most common, expansive, or all-pervading features and descriptions of the cosmos, again expansively understood. However exciting metaphysics may seem to those favorably inclined towards it as a historically hallowed philosophical endeavor, it has fallen on hard times in the modern Western world. It is fair to say that most Western professional philosophers now steer clear of formulating or approving of novel metaphysical schemes. Of course there were other epochs of global philosophy wherein metaphysics flourished, and still do in the modern Western world. For instance, Alfred North Whitehead, one of the last great metaphysicians of the twentieth century, in his less rhetorical moments, had an admirably austere and even somewhat bland speculation about the ultimate principles for any cosmic epoch. In his chapter on the theory of extension, Part III of Process and Reality, he writes, 192

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Some general character of coordinate divisibility is probably an ultimate metaphysical character, persistent in every cosmic epoch of physical occasions. Thus some of the simpler characteristics of extensive connection, as here stated, are probably such ultimate metaphysical necessities . . . The more ultimate side of this scheme, perhaps that side which is metaphysically necessary, is at once evident by the consideration of the mutual implication of extensive whole and extensive part. If you abolish the whole, you abolish the parts; and if you abolish any part, then that whole is abolished. (Whitehead 1978: 288)

So we are left with the less than exciting fact of extensive co-ordination, contact, overlap, and contiguity as metaphysical principles. These kinds of metaphysical principle are hardly a clarion call to a new worldview or an inspiration of the renewal of the person, society, or the shared ecology of the Earth. Metzger (2005) has an interesting observation about one reason why contemporary Chinese philosophers continue often to have some interest in metaphysics, especially when compared with their Western counterparts. Metzger’s hypothesis is that this interest is not grounded in any particular affinity for a specific metaphysics but rather is epistemological in nature. To simplify what is a very complicated theory, Metzger argues that during the rise of the early modern and the slightly later Enlightenment project, Western philosophers embraced a profound epistemological skepticism about the ability of the human mind to comprehend any substantial truth about reality, or what he calls a profound epistemological pessimism about our ability to know or recognize the truth (of reality and hence the possibility for “true” metaphysics). The great modern Chinese scholar Wang Guowei (1877–1927) perfectly captured the problem when he wrote, “the theories that can be loved cannot be regarded as true, and the theories which can be regarded as true cannot be loved” (quoted in Metzger 2005: 51). However, New Confucians, following their ancestors, reject this pessimism and often affirm, as is the case with Mou Zongsan (1909–95), an epistemological theory of intellectual intuition that allows a person to know both the phenomenal and noumenal world (Billioud 2012). What about the case of Zhu Xi? The immediate candidate for a synopsis of daoxue’s 道學 first principles would, of course, be the Taijitu shuo 太極圖 說, a document long recognized as the Song Neo-Confucian metaphysical/ cosmological founding manifesto in Zhu’s understanding of the authentic daotong 道統 Transmission of the Way. Moreover, it is true that Zhu does deploy all the elements of the Taijitu shuo as he goes about explicating the Confucian dao. But before I offer my own take on this terminological debate, we will review the influential suggestions about Confucian nomenclature of David L. Hall and Roger T. Ames (1987; 1995; 1998).

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David L. Hall and Roger T. Ames provide the following definition of a fairly standard Western understanding of philosophical cosmology: In the Western tradition, cosmology has carried two principal connotations. First, ontologia generalis, general ontology, which is concerned with the question of the be-ing of beings. The second sense is that associated with the term scientia universalis, the science of principles. The first type of cosmology is well represented by the project of Martin Heidegger, who pursued the question, “Why is there something rather than nothing at all?” The second type of speculation addresses the question: “What kinds of things are there?” Whitehead represents this sort of philosophic activity. (Hall and Ames 1987: 199)

Hall and Ames submit that Master Kong was proposing neither a Western-style theory of general ontology nor a science of coherent principles in terms of a cosmological worldview. Rather, Master Kong’s “is an aesthetic understanding, an ars contextualis, in which the correlativity of ‘part’ and ‘whole’ – of focus and field – permits the mutual interdependence of all things to be assessed in terms of particular contexts defined by social roles and functions” (Hall and Ames 1987: 248). They note, Our focus/field model must be understood in terms of the general vision of ars contextualis. It is the “art of contextualization” that is most characteristic of Chinese intellectual endeavors. The variety of specific contexts defined by particular family relations or socio-political orders constitute the “fields” focused by individuals who are in turn shaped by the field of influences they focus. (Hall and Ames 1995: 273)

In a later work, Ames (2011) has an alternative definition of ars contextualis as creatio in situ (situated creation) as opposed to the notion of creatio ex nihilo favored by Christian philosophical theology. Both of the terms stress two points that have become familiar in the contemporary study of Song daoxue, namely that its structure of thought emphasizes (1) the contextual nature of myriad things and (2) that cosmic creativity is a result of these complex and process-oriented relationships that obtain between and among the things and events of the world. Zhu Xi inherited and expanded this classical cosmological axiological (even kalogenic in Ferré’s sense to be discussed below) sensibility as an ars contextualis, although he is eager to account for the coherent principles that inform the contextualization of the focus/field of the myriad things and events (wushi 物事) constituting the cosmos.1 Zhu Xi’s ars contextualis is a particular kind of axiological cosmology, an ars contextualis that 1

Robert C. Neville (1995: 27, 40) holds that “a more specific study than either ontology or metaphysics is the examination of the system of categories distinguishing, integrating, and interpreting all the various kinds of determinations there are . . . It is the kind of speculative philosophy Whitehead and Peirce did, and it can be called cosmology.” He further notes

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addresses the question of what kinds of things and events comprise and are manifested in the cosmos. Moreover, as we shall see below, Zhu’s “learning of the way” (daoxue ) closely resembles Julia Ching’s and Robert Neville’s notion of an architectonic axiological cosmology. It is architectonic in the sense that Zhu created an elaborate explanation for the structure of the cosmos. Further, Zhu’s system always holds a fundamental concern for moral and aesthetic (kalogenic) values embedded in the architectonic structure of the cosmos. And finally, Zhu always embraces an intersubjective sense of ethical self-cultivation and conduct; we are never alone in the world but always embedded in the cosmos and connected ethically with our fellow human beings. The term “kalogenic” (and “kalogenesis”) was devised by Frederick Ferré to express the place of beauty in an account of cosmology. His large philosophic project shares the same Western roots as mine, namely a linked concern for American naturalism, pragmatism, and process thought. He defines kalogenic thus: As we look into the question of fundamental entities, therefore, we can reasonably insist that whatever they are, they must be actual. I plan to argue, in addition, that in the process of becoming actual they give rise to beauty; that is, that actuality is inherently kalogenic (from the Greek kalós, “beauty,” added to the familiar “birth or coming to be” stem, genesis). (Ferré 1996: 340)

There is also another reason to introduce Ferré’s process metaphysics at this point. He makes an argument that there is no reason why a contemporary process metaphysics need follow Whitehead’s philosophical theory as found in Part 5 of Process and Reality. He holds that if the world is highly complex and composed of a myriad of objects and events, as is the case for daoxue, then creativity as process can be the outcome of the interaction of the myriad things and events without the necessity of positing something like Whitehead’s primordial nature of God. The

that when we add a theory of values, an axiology, to the mix, “axiological cosmology is therefore more ‘realistic’ than the philosophy of organism.” If we accept for the moment that Zhu’s fundamental worldview is a form of axiological cosmology, then it is plausible to argue that his philosophy is both realistic and pluralistic. The best general introductions to Zhu’s thought in English include Ching (2000), Munro (1988), Levey (1991), Kim (2000), Tillman (1992), Wittenborn (1991), and Bol (2008). Levey’s dissertation provides very detailed discussions of the best Chinese scholarship up to the 1990s about Zhu’s philosophy. It should also go without saying that the various translations and interpretive works of Wing-tsit Chan also add depth to our understanding of Zhu’s achievements. Daniel Gardner’s (1990) translations from the yulei are also an excellent introduction to part of Zhu Xi’s extensive educational project. Needless to say, the Chinese, Korean, and Japanese literature on Zhu is vast and growing (Fang 2003). Bol’s work is not only an introduction to Zhu but to whole Neo-Confucian tradition.

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world can get along on its own in terms of creativity, and I believe that this is Zhu Xi’s theory as well.2 One of the most interesting features of one of Zhu’s cardinal domains is what I call harmonizing cultural outcomes. One of the key elements of the daoxue notion of harmony is that it refined, indeed expressing an example of wen 文 as a form of elegance or beauty. Although Ferré’s kalogenesis, obviously, is not central to an emic outline of daoxue vocabulary,3 it adds an element helping to locate Zhu’s philosophy in the emerging world of global comparative philosophy. I believe it sharpens the reading offered below of Zhu’s architectonic vision as a kalogenic axiological cosmology. What follows is an exploratory outline of certain key domains and their philosophical lexicon that facilitated Zhu Xi’s daoxue synthesis. The four paradigmatic domains of Zhu Xi’s kalogenic axiological cosmology BenTi 本體 = coherent principles and conditions Yong 用 = dynamic functions or processes He/Wen 和/文 = harmonizing cultural outcomes De 德 = axiological values and virtues

Elaboration As I noted above (see note 2) there is now emerging a genre of works that not merely seek to explain various aspects of the historical and philosophical developments of the Confucian tradition but constitute studies devoted to contemporary elaborations of the tradition. In the Chinese intellectual world this contemporary elaboration is known as the New

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I have argued this point at some length in Berthrong (2008), Expanding Process. Zhu Xi therefore avoids some of the problems of the relationship of the primordial and consequent nature of God that has so bedeviled Whiteheadian scholars for so long. There are two very good current studies by Ames (2011) and Angle (2009) that go over the philosophical vocabulary of the Chinese Confucian tradition, including the NeoConfucians. For the Japanese tradition, John Allen Tucker (1998; 2003; 2006) has written extensively on the philosophical lexicography of a variety of Japanese Confucian philosophers, and of course the Japanese are particularly concerned to articulate a careful and fulsome understanding of the philosophical vocabulary of the Chinese Confucian Way. However, this project is different in that it focuses on the work of just one leading Song figure, Zhu Xi, and his massive synthesis of the work of his revered Northern Song masters. If there ever was a sedimented tradition of philosophical lexicography, it is daoxue organized and summarized by Zhu.

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Confucian movement. Such elaboration is still very rare in English or other European languages. What I am presenting below is an outline of what I consider to be many of the key philosophical lexicographical terms embedded in Zhu Xi’s daoxue. It is clearly not exhaustive (Qian 1971).4 Moreover, it is concerned with what contemporary New Confucians consider to be Zhu’s philosophical cosmology, or, as I would put it, Zhu’s kalogenic axiology and cosmology. For instance, it is not connected nearly as much to Zhu’s political (Yu 2003) or ritual theory as would necessarily be the case if it were a presentation of a much broader range of Zhu’s daoxue.5 But the task of cataloging the domains and elements of Zhu’s kalogenic axiology/cosmology is extensive enough, as we shall see below. The presentation of these domains simply seeks to capture the range of terminology Zhu used in explaining his vision of the Confucian cosmos as an architectonic kalogenic axiological interpretation of tian 天, di 地, and ren 人. Illustrating one of the problems in making such a presentation is found in simply trying to give an English translation of these three terms. Di and ren are probably rendered easily enough as “earth” and “humanity” (human beings). However, what are we to make of the English translation of tian, certainly a critical notion in daoxue cosmology? To translate it as “Heaven” (“heaven”) immediately evokes West Asian theological undertones that are not accurate. I have often resorted to the “supernal” as a more neutral rendition when Zhu is not talking simply about the sky above but more in tune with tian as closely related to dao 道. The four key domains outlined below define, catalog, and arrange the intricate architectonic web that schematizes the four major fields and foci of Zhu Xi’s complex kalogenic axiology (cosmology) in terms of his philosophic lexicography. This set of terms and concepts are obviously not exhaustive of Zhu’s massive corpus but they partially encompass the cosmological vision of the Southern Song master – although, for instance, Zhu’s political and ritual concerns only register tangentially in these four domains per se, even though these profound social issues would have mattered greatly to him. In this study I will make use of a few clusters of terms to illustrate each of Zhu’s four domains in order to illustrate the 4

5

Still the standard for Zhu Xi’s philosophical lexicography is Qian Mu’s (1971) fivevolume study of all the aspects of Zhu’s daoxue. Along with a magisterial commentary on Zhu’s philosophy, Qian also provides an exegesis of the terminology Zhu used in creating his version of the Confucian Way. For Zhu’s political life, Yu Yingshi’s (2003) study is exemplary in this regard. As mentioned above, the most extensive general discussion of all aspects (including philosophical lexicography) is Qian Mu’s (1971) justly famous study of Zhu’s daoxue. Especially since the 1980s there has been a massive revival of the study of Zhu in the PRC (Fang 2003). Of course, in Taiwan, Hong Kong, Korea, and Japan, and in the Chinese diaspora, the study of Zhu Xi never ceased.

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ordered complexity of his philosophical vision. One major claim is that when Zhu Xi described any of the events shi 事 or things wu 物 of the world, he would have recourse to this set of terms either singularly or, more commonly, as clusters of concepts, some vague and some complex, that allowed him to explain, describe, and even commend the vast variety of things, events, dispositions, characters, actions, inner and outer social and mental states, roles of personal and social activity, and modes of cultivation that any person must seek out in order to become a worthy student of daoxue, the Teaching of the Way. It is because typically the terms are found in related clusters I have chosen to call these clustering patterns “domains.” Moreover, I have attempted to replicate Zhu Xi’s Song wenyan 文言 literary Chinese vocabulary as my model for these four architectonic domains. But we can transpose Zhu’s terminology into English as well (hopefully). Such a transposition is part and parcel of contemporary comparative global philosophy. Of course I recognize that to translate is to betray the richness of the original, especially in the Chinese philosophical tradition wherein terms are sedimented over time and are not replaced from time to time with new terms in various European daughter languages of Greek and Latin, as is the case in the Western philosophical tradition. Therefore I suggest the following English transpositions for Zhu’s lexical domains: States/conditions/formats ⇒ forms, patterns, formatting, or coherent principles that “format” or texture the things and events of the cosmos (li 理); the coherent principles/patterns suoyiran 所以然 for the natural dispositions and sedimentation of all things and events. The fundamental patterned matrix of the dao. Functions/processes ⇒ the dynamics of any given situation; most cogently the functions and processes, field and focus of qi 氣 as the protean power of cosmological auto-telic generativity shengsheng buxi 生生不息. Civilizing cultural achievements ⇒ the trait of unification of the formal and dynamic dimensions constituting the emergence of an event or thing (he 和 and wen 文) encoding the cosmic, social, and personal balance needed to achieve harmony – a harmony that generates beauty, wen, as a kalogenic axiology. Axiological values and virtues ⇒ the kalogenic values that are achieved, shared, and embodied through the selection of appropriate yi 義 cultural norms or coherent principles or patterns, li 理, expressed as de 德, achievement or moral goals; refined wen 文 virtues, roles and conduct appropriate in terms of civility; rites and ritual propriety, li 禮.

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In order to defend the case for how Zhu Xi arranged and organized his complex kalogenic cosmology, I have selected two clusters of terms to illustrate his lexicography for each of his four domains.6 Of course, Zhu’s actual lexicon is much larger, but the two sets of terms taken from each domain exemplify the connection, indeed relationships, that obtain between and among Zhu’s worldview domains. The genesis of Zhu’s cosmological order, as numerous studies of the development of his thought have demonstrated, occurred during his great philosophical turn, roughly between his thirty-seventh and forty-second years. During this highly creative time Zhu remembered, embraced, and referenced a short phrase from Zhang Zai that shaped his new cosmological vision: xin tong xing-qing 心統性情, or the mind-heart links (or orders or co-ordinates) the nature and emotions.7 We can see clearly here three of the key elements of Zhu’s domains, namely that of the formal (ti), dynamic (yong), and unifying functions (xin). Moreover, the fact of this linking (tong 統) by the mind-heart of the nature and emotions would, if successful, encourage Zhu Xi to articulate his philosophy as an axiological worldview of kalogenic values. Like all Confucians Zhu sought to create kalogenic values in his world. I have outlined below two collections of concept clusters for each of the four domains. First domain: ti 體 – states, conditions, field(s), formats, and textures Tian 天, supernal (heaven), and tiandao 天道, or the Supernal Dao, along with di 地, earth, and ren 人, the person, constitute the grand triad of daoxue cosmological discourse, analysis, reflection, and cultivation. Tian, di, and ren function as the supernal, the earth, and the human beings that form the main narrative cosmological triad for the Ru 儒/Confucians – and the inclusion of di as earth reminds Ru/Confucian thinkers that human beings are part of the organic matrix of all things wu 物 and events shi 事 in a unified (for Zhu Xi) cosmos or pluriverse. One axiom defining the relational nature of the cosmos is tianrenheyi 天人合一, the unity of supernal heaven and humanity, or tiandirenheyi 天地人合一, or the unity of the supernal heaven, earth, and humanity. Tian functions as the benti 本體 6

7

While Qian’s five volumes (1971) have provided scholars the most famous contemporary lexicon of Zhu’s thought, I have developed a smaller, though more extensive, lexicon than the eight items listed in this paper, but it is not necessary to reproduce the whole lexicon here in order to make the case for the interconnection of the four domains in Zhu’s kalogenic cosmology. From each domain I have selected two clusters of terms that form Zhu’s mature thought. Zhu Xi often uses the binome tongshe 統攝 from Zhang Zai to explicate how the mindheart controls, orders, or unifies human nature (formal dimensions) and the emotions (dynamic dimensions).

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qua fundamental profound constituting format of the coherent patterning of the dao and of the things and events of the cosmos/pluriverse. Li 理 functions as the state, condition, pattern, constructive patterning, order, format, coherent principle, or rationale suoyiran 所以然 as the texturing, patterning disposition of the cosmos. Li as the dali 大理 is, for instance, a concept found in the classical Ru/Confucian Xunzi as the great ordering pattern of the world. It was also found in the work of Zhuangzi as well. While not one of the most noteworthy concepts in the classical lexicography, li becomes a critical concept, even a defining element, in Song and post-Song philosophical discourse. As the supremely excellent order, form or pattern of the cosmos, li is identified as taiji 太極, the Supreme Polarity (Ultimate) of the yinyang 陰陽 vital energies of qi and also as a defining format of dao. Second domain: yong 用 – dynamic functions or processes Xin 心, or the mind-heart, functions as the living center of the human person. The mind-heart needs to be cultivated by proper ritual with complete integrity, jing 敬, in order to realize true virtue/ethical achievement, de 德. This rigorous demand for moral self-cultivation requires an elevated level of informed intention, zhi 志, or steadfast conformation seeking the goal of matching the daoxin 道心, the mind-heart of the dao or the benxin 本心, root mind-heart. This moral goal of the achieved conformation to the daoxin is contrasted to renxin 人心, the human (passionate) mind-heart prone to error. One seeks to zhengxin yangshen 正心養神, to correct the mind-heart, in order to cultivate spirit as the human expression of the mind-heart of the dao. Jiao 教 is the act of teaching, education and learning as a prime process or method by which a person becomes a junzi 君子, a profound, or xian 賢, worthy, person; with further education and self-cultivation the junzi might even become a sheng 聖, sage, the highest and most perfect state a person can aspire to achieve. Sagehood, however, functions as an ideal that is hardly ever achieved, and then only by the sages of the earliest and mythic past. The root method of Ru/Confucian self-cultivation is the process of learning, educating, teaching, self-cultivation, and authentic ethical action. See also the section below on gewu, the investigation of things, as the daoxue specification of the proper methodology of jiao. Third domain: he 和 and wen 文 – civilizing cultural outcomes Gewu 格物 is the investigation or rectification of, or even the reaching towards, the things and events in order to extend or rectify knowledge – a key (and highly contested) epistemological concept for the examination of or reflection on the concrete objects and events of the world and/or the

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proper cultivation of the mind-heart. Gewu is critical in order to zhujing qiongli 主敬窮理, reside in reverence, in order to exhaust (comprehend) coherent patterns or order through gongfu 工夫 as a structured effort of the self-cultivation of the person’s mind-heart. See also jiao 教and jing 敬. Here again, daoxue theory affirms the human ability to know both the phenomenal and the noumenal aspects of the cosmos. Quan 權 is the weighing of difficult choices, assessing, discerning, and discretion in making problematical and complex decisions for which there is no clear or precise guidance, admonitions, or precedent from the sages. Discretion is linked to the highest form of human knowledge qua wise discernment. It is often held to be rather provisional in nature even for a sage, much more for an ordinary scholar. Yet it is a confounding task for any person when confronted with a novel moral decision (Analects/Lunyu 9.30). Whatever the novel choice to be made, it must be in accord with the spirit of the classical teachings of the sages by weighing all the possible permutations of the situation in light of the teachings of the classics. Fourth domain: de 德 – kalogenic axiological values and virtues Cheng 誠 is sincerity, genuineness, integrity, authenticity, and the selfactualization of the moral virtues and roles such that one achieves a morally harmonious life via various forms of xiushen 修身, self-cultivation by means of such as the praxis of jing 敬, reverent mindfulness or attentiveness. This praxis of cheng is the “how” of the moral self-cultivation of the five constant virtues and roles. When a person reaches a certain advanced stage of the process of cheng, an important result is zide 自得, acquiring authentic selfrealization for oneself no matter what the situation as a moral person may be; this means being able to get the dao for oneself in service to others. Moral self-cultivation, if it is to be successful, also demands authentic courage, yong 勇, in order to realize shendu 慎獨, the integration of one’s xin 心, mind-heart, into full and authentic morality and social praxis. He 和, or harmony; zhong 中, or centrality, balancing; and renxing 忍性 (nai 耐), or patience, are designations of the goals or outcomes of the successful cultivation of all the virtues necessary for humane flourishing as the goal of de 德, virtue. One seeks harmony but not complete uniformity, tong 同, or, as Confucius (Kongzi) defines it, he er butong 和而不同, “harmony without uniformity.” Moreover, one needs enduring patience (renxing 忍性) to achieve these noble ends and to bring unity (heyi 合一) to supernal heaven, earth, and humanity, tian di ren heyi 天地仁合一. What ultimately made Zhu Xi’s cosmology so impressive? Or, for critics, what made it both a powerful and a mistaken form of Neo-Confucian

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discourse?8 Was it merely, as I note above and below, the sheer quantity of his work? There are probably many reasons to be impressed or annoyed with Zhu, as many accomplished Qing and contemporary scholars were and are. One reason is because of Zhu’s willingness to present, as I have tried to indicate in the appended chart, a richly layered and comprehensive cosmological vision. By layers I mean that Zhu moved back and forth from the abstract to the more concrete in his interpretation of the Confucian Way. For instance, he was famous for the abstract li–qi dyad, though he would have maintained that he was only following the philosophical reflections of his great Northern Song masters. Again later scholars have recognized that in exploring the highly abstract li–qi dyad, Zhu was exploring the Confucian Way in a highly abstract fashion. Zhu could become more concrete and talk about the more tangible dao–shen dyad, which he took to be on the way to fully material embodiments when discussing the xing– qing dyad of human dispositions and emotions arranged and ordered by the mind-heart, xin. Hence Zhu moved from the highly abstract li–qi dyad by attempting to explain how his more abstract cosmological explanations could be connected to the more concrete topics of social and personal selfcultivation, much less the political and social duties and engagements of his day. Moreover, Zhu had an oft-employed methodology for ordering the connections of concepts in any level of his cosmology. This characteristic method is his explanation of how the things and events of the cosmos emerge in terms of their various forms and dynamics, and how these forms and dynamics were unified to constitute the particular and concrete reality of the things or events under investigation. I believe that the key to unpacking the layered connections we see in Zhu’s cosmology arise from the notion Zhu borrowed from Zhang Zai’s use of tong 統 as that term signifies that which interconnects, unifies, or creates a harmony. This was what Zhu found so cosmologically appealing in Zhang Zai’s epigram that the mind-heart unifies nature and emotion. This means that things become through the unification directed by the mind-heart of nature (states and formats) and emotions (dynamic functions). There is nothing startling about such an observation within classical or Neo-Confucian philosophy, or, for that matter, in Western philosophy. But what remains distinctive about Zhu’s method in NeoConfucian circles is how he explains the aggregating process and how this process of unification helps to order his kalogenic cosmology. Moreover, 8

Of course Mou Zong-san (1908–95), the most modern scholar who has written a highly influential critique of Zhu Xi, still almost always called him “Master Zhu,” which indicated that Mou felt that while Zhu was gravely mistaken in his presentation of the Confucian Way, he was still a great philosopher.

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Zhu mines the vast vocabulary of the Chinese Confucian tradition (from classical and the late Tang and Northern Song) in order to suggest the various organized levels of lexicography involved. One reason lexicography is important schematically is because it is the way Zhu can both honor his various classical and Northern Song masters, and build up a sufficient fund of terminology in order to express the complexity of his philosophical vision on many different levels. The manner in which Zhu carries out the articulation of his cosmology generally follows, when he is being systematic, a distinct path. One could call this a dao 道 in the sense that it is a pattern of philosophical construction that is a path or order that follows a pattern, and it is this kind of robust and coherent patterning process that has been long recognized as so typical of Zhu’s mature thought. So let us begin with the domain I call states, conditions, fields, formats, textures, etc., or, in Zhu’s language, the domain of ti 體. The two sets of terms I have selected to represent the domain of ti/ form or pattern are tian or tiandao 天道, to be understood as supernal heaven, and li 理, as coherent principle, order, pattern, etc. Tian generally functions as the benti 本體, the fundamental constituting format or coherent ordering or patterning of the myriad things and events of the Way, the cosmos/pluriverse. But being even more specific, and here Zhu is following Cheng Yi most of all, the famous specific name for the ordering of the cosmos is, of course, li 理. Li plays the role of the rationale, the suoyiran 所 以然 for the unity of the dao and of the myriad things and events that constitute the concrete particularity of the Way. As is commonly recognized, li plays such an essential role as the rationale or organizing pattern of the cosmos and its constituting things and events that Zhu’s philosophy was later called lixue 理學, the teaching of the coherent principle or pattern. Of course, the coherent rationales or principles are co-ordinated by the xin 心 as dynamic mind-heart of the person. Naturally the aim of the mind-heart, when serving as the dynamic function of coherent rationales, is the means by which a person is able to conform her- or himself to daoxin 道心 (the mind-heart of the dao), or, as Zhu would often put it, the benxin 本心, root mind-heart. So how does Zhu explain how this dynamic functioning of the mind-heart works? For Zhu the most important element of such self-cultivation would be part of jiao 教 as the process of learning, teaching, and education in general. Zhu Xi has many extended discussions of what goes into the process of good education and teaching. All of these are aimed at allowing the person’s mind-heart to be conformed to the mind-heart of the dao. It is definitely not a mere academic exercise. Moreover, exciting as some of the forms of sudden enlightenment championed by other Neo-Confucians might be, Zhu believed that his ordered and orderly step-by-step process of consistent educational

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self-cultivation was eminently suited to the talents and dispositions of most students. Sudden enlightenment of the mind-heart might be possible for a very small group of students of the Way, but it would simply not work for most people, and I believe Zhu Xi would have grouped himself with those in need of his educational program. Zhu has a variety of terms he uses to explain the cultural outcomes of such an educational regime. Some of these point to the actual outcomes per se, and some focus on the process necessary to achieve these outcomes. For instance, Zhu’s extended discussion of how he understands gewu as the investigation, rectification or connection with the things and events of the cosmos helps to explain his comprehensive educational program. As we noted before, the notion of tong as the active seeking of unity pervades Zhu’s understanding of gewu as an educational process that helps one to both understand and participate in the generation of things and events. For instance, jiao 教 and jing 敬 (reverence) as the process of learning in order to make evident the proper reverence for the things and events of the cosmos are part and parcel of the investigation of things. However, while Zhu was inspired to use Zhang Zai’s epigram delineating a tripartite process of the mind-heart’s unification of nature and emotions, there is actually always a fourth domain to Zhu’s cosmology. Once the person has weighed all the difficult choices present in any perplexing situation (quan 權), this choice becomes part of a kalogenic domain of axiological values and virtues. As the various contributors in Angle and Slote’s recent volume (2013) on Confucianism and virtue ethics demonstrates, Confucians always had a perennial fascination with the ethical outcomes of action since all actions can be interpreted in social and personal ethical terms. Such achieved values can indeed become the foundational embodiment of humane virtue. So two of the most telling of these kalogenic virtues are cheng 誠 and he 和. Cheng is not only the process of the self-actualization of integrity and authenticity, it is also the outcome of a person’s ability to zide 自得, to “get it for oneself” – and as the Song Confucians would never tire of reminding us, getting of the dao for oneself is always in service of others. Such an outcome was viewed as the harmony and centering, zhong 中, of self-cultivation of the virtues necessary for humane flourishing. In this sense Zhu would always have a place for the fourth domain of kalogenic outcomes and virtues. As I noted above, the various items in the philosophical lexicography detailing Zhu Xi’s daoxue clearly can only be a partial catalogue of his huge corpus. The modern collected edition of Zhu’s works runs to twenty-seven volumes. Zhu’s output was vast and it touched on every aspect of traditional Chinese culture and Confucian studies. Since the focus of this study has been the philosophical ordering methods of Zhu’s

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work, it is limited in scope even when we consider the elements of comparative philosophy necessary for the task. As with all great philosophers there is no single perfect interpretation of their work. But what we can seek to achieve is a plausible and warranted interpretation. Hopefully it is plausible and warranted because it relies on a substantial review of Zhu’s thought pertinent to its object, in this case an exploration of the major philosophical domains of Zhu’s daoxue. This has been the goal of what must remain a preliminary examination of the lexicographical structure and vocabulary of Zhu’s philosophical achievement. Appendix While it might serve simply to confuse what is already complicated enough, I have tried to present the four domains in the following chart. Architectonic of ti 體, yong 用, he 和, de 德: states, functions, unification, and moral outcome li 理 coherent and ordered principle ⇔ qi 氣 vital and configured energy dao 道 the Way or Path ⇔ shen 神 spirit and feeling xing 性 nature, dispositions, tendencies ⇔ qing 情 emotion, desire

STATES/CONDITIONS 體

FUCTIONAL TRAITS 用

Axiological values and virtues

和德 → 心

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Unifying traits xin 心, mind-heart, unifying nature, xing 性, and emotion, qing 情 yi 易, change/transformation Taiji 太極, Supreme Ultimate/Polarity he 和, de 德 cultural moral manifestations manifesting humane flourishing The praxis of hede 和德, normative moral outcomes Self-actualization integrity/cheng 誠 as harmonious moral unification/he 和 de 德, centrality/zhong 中, patience/renxing 忍性 and joy/le 樂: achieving concern consciousness youhuanyishi 憂患意識.

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Xiong Shili’s understanding of the relationship between the ontological and the phenomenal John Makeham

In China, Xiong Shili 熊十力 (1885–1968) is typically regarded as one of the most important philosophers of the twentieth century. Conventionally, Xiong is also recognized as a founding figure of the modern New Confucian school of philosophy. Xiong’s philosophical training, however, began with Buddhist philosophy – in particular, Yogācāra Buddhism. Yogācāra (Yuqie xingpai 瑜伽行派, yogic practice) is one of the two most influential philosophical systems of Indian Buddhism, along with Madhyamaka. Introduced into China as early as the fifth century, there was a major revival of Yogācāra in China over the first three decades of the twentieth century. Over the thirty-year period from the early 1920s to the early 1950s, Xiong moved from a largely uncritical belief in Yogācāra philosophy to a position where it served as a foil for his own syncretic system of metaphysics. His criticisms of Yogācāra grew progressively more trenchant over this period. The incremental nature of this transition is reflected in the different versions of his major philosophical writing, Xin weishi lun 新唯識論 (New Treatise on the Uniqueness of Consciousness).1 As indicated by the title, Xin weishi lun is presented as a commentary on, or critical response to, Xuanzang’s 玄奘 (602–64) Cheng weishi lun 成唯識論 (Demonstration of Nothing but Consciousness), a foundational text in East Asian Buddhist philosophy. The New Treatise consists of an interpretive summary, discussion, and critique of key Yogācāra teachings that feature in Cheng weishi lun. In his commentaries on Cheng weishi lun, Kuiji 窺基 (632–82) attributes all authoritative opinions to Indian Yogācāra exponent Dharmapāla(Ch. Hufa 護法, sixth century). Because of this, in subsequent East Asian treatments, “Dharmapāla” effectively functions as metonym for views expressed in Cheng weishi I wish to express my thanks to the Australian Research Council for providing grants to support the research underpinning the findings presented in this chapter. 1 This English rendering of the title is based on Xiong’s own idiosyncratic gloss of weishi 唯識.

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lun, which is typically labeled as Dharmapāla’s commentary. Xiong follows this practice. Xiong is highly critical of Yogācāra philosophy (as represented by major figures in the school such as Vasubandhu (fourth century), Dharmapāla, Xuanzang, and Kuiji) for promoting what he regards to be ontological dualism and pluralism. At the heart of his critique is the charge that key Yogācāra thinkers had effectively substantialized the concept of seeds (bīja; zhongzi 種子) – originally just a heuristic metaphor – by presenting seeds as the ontological basis of all things. Despite his criticisms of Yogācāra, Xiong was a syncretic philosopher who drew extensively from both the Sinitic Buddhist and Confucian traditions.2 He was particularly inspired by the view found in Yijing 易經 (Book of Change) that the cosmos is perpetually and vigorously changing. He also subscribed to the notion of the mind as inherently enlightened, but obscured by defilements, a view common to several Sinitic systems of Buddhist thought – Tiantai, Huayan, and Chan – influenced by the Dasheng qixin lun 大乘起信論 (The Awakening of Mahāyāna Faith). This was also a view that shaped Neo-Confucian philosophy. Aims The central metaphysical problem Xiong grappled with in the New Treatise – and indeed throughout his life – was the relation between the ontological and the phenomenal. Opposed to ontological dualism and pluralism, he was an ontological monist but in a particular sense – his monism is not reducible to a single quality or characterization.3 Xiong sought to develop an ontological monism that was combined with a phenomenological dualism (experienced through ultimate truth and conventional truth) and encapsulated in this understanding of the ti 體–yong 用 polarity. Identifying the ontological with the phenomenal, he insisted that phenomena are not different from Reality even if they are not identical. Ontologically they are not different; phenomenologically our experience of them is not the same. As the editors note in the Introduction to this volume, metaphysics is centrally concerned with the question of the nature of reality. Reality (shiti 實體, *tattva)4 is the single most important concept in the literary edition of New Treatise (1932) and is invoked frequently, albeit under a variety of names, including true nature (zhenxing 真性), real principle (shili 實理), 2 3 4

I prosecute this case in Chapter 8 of Makeham (2014) and in the Introduction to my annotated translation (Makeham, 2015). Xiong’s monism is also illustrative of the sort of monism-as-holism described by Brook Ziporyn in his chapter in this volume. Occasionally I have suggested what I believe would have been the particular matching Sanskrit terms in square brackets, based on typical Sinitic Buddhist usage.

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the nature (xing 性), the mind (or inherent mind) (xin 心), principle (li 理), or just ti 體. In the vernacular edition of New Treatise (1944), shiti 實體 is largely replaced by benti 本體: “the true aspect (shixiang 實相, *tattvasya-lakṣaṇam) of myself and the myriad things as they inherently are” (Xiong 2001: Vol. III, p. 20). For Xiong, Reality is the “locus” that ontologically grounds the phenomenal world yet is not different from the phenomenal world, just as the sea supports the waves yet is not different from the waves. The focus of this chapter is Xiong’s ontology and it draws its findings principally from the 1932 literary edition of New Treatise. I seek to explain why Xiong insisted that Reality cannot be sought independent of phenomena despite his also claiming that phenomena are not real. I present my explanation after first investigating Xiong’s views on a range of related issues that shed light on his understanding of the relation between the ontological and the phenomenal: reality and its relation to mental and material dharmas, productive power and its relation to habituated tendencies, the nature (xing 性) and its relation to form-and-vital stuff (xingqi 形氣), and principle (li 理) and its relation to vital stuff (qi 氣). In each of these pairs, the former term is associated with the ontological and the latter term is associated with the phenomenal. The Confucian dimension of Xiong’s metaphysical syncretism is represented in his accounts of the nature and form-and-vital stuff and of li and qi, in his view that Fundamental Reality is actively creative and morally inflected, and in his use of the Book of Change. I argue that Xiong was logically compelled to identify the ontological with the phenomenal, insisting that phenomena are not different from ontological Reality (even if we experience them differently), that one cannot talk of the nature independent of the psycho-physical, and that the nature includes vital stuff within it. In doing so, he sought to account both for the ontological – what is – and for the phenomenological – how we experience – exclusively privileging neither. To privilege either would be to undermine it, by falling into the trap either of eternalism (changjian 常見) or of nihilism (duanjian 斷見). Reality and dharmas I begin with Xiong’s revisionist account of “transformation” (zhuanbian 轉變, *pariṇāma), in which he presents Reality as nothing other than an uninterrupted holistic process of constant transformation (heng zhuan 恆轉) that cannot be reduced to subject–object characteristics. In this context he introduces and elaborates two concepts derived from the Book of Change: “contraction” (xi 翕) and “expansion” (pi 闢), adapting them

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to characterize the inherent processual qualities of transformation when viewed from the perspective of conventional truth. Xiong appeals to the concept of transformation to explain phenomenal appearance. The transformation of consciousness is a key concept in Yogācāra philosophy of mind and cognitive epistemology. In order to establish his positive thesis, Xiong takes critical aim at the account of transformation presented in Xuanzang’s Cheng weishi lun, according to which consciousness – the mind – is bifurcated into a “transformer” (nengbian 能變) mode and a “transformed” (suobian 所變) mode. Cheng weishi lun presents all experience as contained within the transformations of consciousness. Consciousness’s transformations into a perceiving part (subject) and an image part (object) characterize a range of cognitive activities, including those of each of the eight consciousnesses.5 Karmic “seeds” (bīja) or potentials emerge from the eighth consciousness (ālaya-vijñāna), giving rise to the “manifest activity” of the seven consciousnesses and causing or “perfuming” future seeds. Transformation is one of the concepts Xiong developed to present the absolute unity, and indeed non-duality, of the ontological and phenomenal. To this he wedded concepts taken from the Book of Change, adapting them to characterize transformation. What is transformation? Xiong explains it as follows: One contraction and one expansion is called transformation.[6] (These two “one” words simply highlight different tendencies in dynamism. This is not saying that contraction and expansion each have self-nature (ziti 自體). Nor can one say that contraction precedes and expansion follows.)[7] It has always been [the case] that movement’s constant transformation is continuous and without end. (Here “movement” is another name for “transformation.” Just as the first movement ceases the next movement arises. It is like the uninterrupted flash upon flash 5

6

7

The five sensory consciousnesses are the visual, auditory, olfactory, gustatory, and tactile. The sixth consciousness or mano-vijñāna (mental consciousness) is the thinking consciousness. It also brings together and differentiates the sensory impressions derived from the five sensory consciousnesses. That is, it can think about what the other five consciousnesses perceive; the five sensory consciousnesses do not have this reflective capacity. The seventh or self-centered consciousness (manas) is the source of self-attachment; and the eighth, or storehouse consciousness (ālaya-vijñāna), retains the impressions of past experiences and “perfumes” new experiences on the basis of that previous conditioning. Although the locus classicus of these two concepts is the “Attached Phrases Commentary” of the Book of Change it is tempting to trace the intellectual genealogy of his understanding of these concepts in terms of contraction and expansion to Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–77) – “qi 氣 must coalesce to form the myriad things; the myriad things must disperse to return to the Ultimate Void” (Zhang 1978: 7) – which, closer to Xiong’s own time, had been commented on by both Yan Fu 嚴復 (1853–1921) and Liu Shipei 劉師培 (1884–1919). See also the related discussion of Xiong’s later views on qi in JeeLoo Liu’s chapter in this volume. Round parentheses in passages of translation are Xiong’s interlinear autocommentary.

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of lightening – this is what is called “continuous.” It is not a previous movement’s continuing into a later moment of time that is called “continuous.”) . . . As contraction consolidates it comes close to being matter. It is the basis for nominally talking about material/form dharmas (sefa 色法). The vigor of expansion is such that it is utterly unimpeded (zhi shen 至神). It is the basis for nominally talking about mental dharmas (xinfa 心法). Because the material and the mental lack reality (shishi 實事, *dravya) there is transformation only. (“Real” means real constitutive entity. This is because neither material nor mental dharmas have real self-nature (ziti 自體, *svabhāva). (Xiong 2001: 41)

For Xiong, contraction is the basis for nominally (jia 假, prajñapti) talking about material dharmas – physical phenomena – and expansion is the basis for nominally talking about mental dharmas – mental phenomena. (As such, contraction and expansion are conventional perspectives, not ultimate perspectives. It is important to bear this in mind.) Material dharmas are associated with the contracting tendency of constant transformation; mental dharmas are associated with the expanding tendency of constant transformation: It has always been the case that material and mental dharmas are devoid of selfnature. If one were to talk of their Reality then it would be constant transformation. Material dharmas are when the movement of constant transformation is contracting; mental dharmas are when the movement of the constant transformation is expanding. Fundamentally, contraction and expansion are separate and contrary trends in movement – this is transformation’s unpredictability. Thus it appears to be like arising and ceasing. Yet although [transformation] seems to be an illusion it is real and not empty. (Xiong 2001: 41, 48)

For Xiong, the claim that there are real material objects and real minds is a misguided conceptual elaboration. Material and mental dharmas are devoid of self-nature. The various dharmas extinguish at the very moment of their generation. There is only the ceaseless flow of instant upon instant of generation and extinction. Rather, the Reality of material and mental dharmas is “constant transformation”: I regard the self-nature (zixing 自性) of the phenomenal world to be inherently empty. (“Zixing 自性” is the same as saying “ziti 自體.”[8]) It exists only because of the attachments of false discrimination (wangqing 妄情). (“Phenomenal world” is the collective name for the various material and mental dharmas that are conventionally attached to. If all of the material and mental dharmas appropriated by views based on false discrimination and the conceptions constructed by the sixth consciousness (yixiang 意想) are cut away, then what thing can be named as the phenomenal world?”) If one understands that the phenomenal world in fact does not exist then one knows that there is no means for causes as condition

8

In this comment Xiong is emphasizing that he is using zixing 自性 in the sense of svabhāva.

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(yinyuan 因緣)[9] to be established. It is only because the phenomenal world to which false discriminations are attached is empty that inherent Reality, which is not empty, is able to be profoundly realized by means of proper attentiveness. (“Inherent” means “inherently so of itself” because it is not established by the conceptions constructed by the sixth consciousness. “Reality” is an alternative name for Fundamental Reality. “Attentiveness” (zuoyi 作意) means “reflection through accurate cognition” (guanzhao 觀照). Correct wisdom reflected through accurate cognition tallies with the truth, and is far removed from deluded misguided conceptual elaboration, hence it is said: “attentiveness.”) There has only ever been this Reality. Apart from it there is no phenomenal world to which it stands in contrast. (Grasping neither material nor mental images, and also grasping neither non-material nor non-mental images; being far removed from all conceptual realms [constructed by] the sixth consciousness, in profound mystery that which is encountered is True, and in profound stillness Fundamental Reality is revealed. Could there additionally be a phenomenal realm to which this stands in contrast and which can be talked of?) It is for this reason that in talking about productive power[10] I define it on the basis of Reality and do not explain it in terms of causes as condition. (Once the phenomenal world has been dispatched, what causes as condition are there to talk of?) (Xiong 2001: 54)

In other words, just as with the analogy of the ocean and waves employed in the most influential text in East Asian Buddhism, Dasheng qixin lun, phenomena are not different from Fundamental Reality. In themselves, however, they have no self-nature, no independent existence.11 Elsewhere Xiong explains that he used the concept of productive power (gongneng 功能) – which he presents as the dynamic aspect of Fundamental Reality – as a skillful means, an expedient: In the chapters “Transformation” and “Productive Power,” I nominally established [the concept] of constantly transforming productive power in order to highlight the flow of Fundamental Reality. I nominally established this term so as to show that mental and material dharmas both took flow or transformation as their basis. As with the Prajñāpāramitā literature [teaching of] the inherent emptiness of conditioned phenomena and their characteristics, this leads people to 9

10 11

One of the Four Conditions. The Four Conditions are central to Yogācāra accounts of causality, particularly for explaining the causal relationship between seeds, consciousness, and cognitive objects. According to Xiong, a key defining characteristic of the standard Yogācāra view of causes as condition is that causes themselves bring to completion their own effects. Thus the seeds of visual consciousness, functioning as cause, bring to completion their own visual consciousness effects. Much of Xiong’s analysis and discussion is devoted to critiquing the Yogācāra view – which he associates with Vasubandhu and Dharmapāla/Xuanzang – that seeds are causes, in particular the idea that seeds are the cause of consciousness. The dynamic aspect of Fundamental Reality. This perspective has obvious connections with the notion of li shi wu ai 理事無礙 (the unobstructed interpretation of the absolute and the phenomenal) as interpreted by the Huayan thinker Fazang 法藏 (643–712) in relation to the Dasheng qixin lun. See Gregory (2002: 157); and the discussion in Vincent Shen’s chapter in this volume.

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begin to grasp the import of Reality. Although the establishment of this concept [on the basis of] skillful means seems to differ [in approach] from that of the Mahāyāna Madhyamaka School, the end goal is certainly the same–this is beyond question.12

In addressing the topic of material dharmas – physical phenomena – in Chapter 5 of the New Treatise, Xiong aims to provide an explanation for conventional accounts of the phenomenal world. At the heart of conventional accounts, we are told, is the view that physical phenomena offer physical resistance. Xiong explains that in reality there is no resistance; what we deludedly take to be resistance is actually the process of “constant transformation” (heng zhuan 恆轉) in which the movement or transformation of phenomena – dharmas – seems to tend towards contraction. Contrary to the conventional view, because of the nature of constant transformation, phenomena – having no self-nature – offer no resistance. As the process of transformation coheres (sheju 攝聚), there is apparent contraction: “the illusory construction of countless moving points” (Xiong 2001: 72–3). As stated in Chapter 2 of the New Treatise, “Constantly coalescing, and so without any prearranged agreement, countless points of movement are illusorily constituted, the tendency of which seems to be towards solidifying – this is called ‘contraction’” (Xiong 2001: 41). These moving points – analogous to atoms – appear to have material form but do not. Xiong also employs the concepts of contraction and expansion to elucidate mind and its relation to Reality. He uses the term “mind” in two different senses. When employed as shorthand for inherent mind (benxin 本心) it is synonymous with Reality. Xiong also uses “mind” to mean consciousness, and on occasions he uses the binome “mindconsciousness.” When employed in this sense it does not have the sense of “Reality.” In this latter sense it is associated with the category of “mental dharmas” and, just like material phenomena (material dharmas), mind does not have real existence – it is devoid of a discrete self-nature. There is, however, a self-nature or Reality that makes mind possible. This self-nature or Reality is called constant transformation. As the expression of the power of constant transformation’s self-nature, mind is not different from constant transformation and so is not different from Reality.13 12 13

See Xiong (1935). This is reminiscent of the two aspects of the one mind (yixin kai ermen 一心開二門) in the Dasheng qixin lun. In its true aspect it is the mind as Suchness, the all-pervading, undifferentiated absolute reality (dharmakāya). It its other aspect (its conventional aspect) it is the mind that is subject to birth-and-death, and identified with the ālayavijñāna, but grounded in tathāgatagarbha (womb/matrix/embryo of the buddhas). The ālaya-vijñāna also has two modes: an enlightened mode equivalent to the undifferentiated absolute body (dharmakāya) of the Buddha, and an unenlightened mode. See also

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“It is not the case that the mind is identical to Fundamental Reality (xin fei ji benti ye 心非即本體也).[14] Nevertheless, because the mind definitely is not transformed by things, it may be said that the mind is not different from Fundamental Reality (xin ji benti er 心即本體耳)” (Xiong 2001: 83).15 Thus, on the one hand, “mind does not have a real self-nature within itself” (Xiong 2001: 79). Yet, on the other hand, mind as Reality bears the hallmarks of being holistic in its constitution: This mind has no “you” and “me,” and is not constrained by time or space; it is an undifferentiated [whole] without duality and distinctions, and is inexhaustible and without end . . . The mind of a single person or a single thing is the mind of heaven and earth and the myriad things. This is not something that physical substance can separate and so they are thoroughly interconnected. (Xiong 2001: 81)

In providing this description Xiong explicitly references the Huayan 華嚴 doctrines of “one and many are united” and “layer upon endless layer.” Here mind can be seen to be consistent with the Huayan doctrine of the unobstructed interpenetration of the absolute and the phenomenal (li shi wu ai 理事無礙), as propounded by Huayan and Chan patriarch Guifeng Zongmi 圭峰宗密 (780–841).16 Constancy in change The question whether the mind is quiescent or moving occupied Xiong for much of his life and became a key issue of contention in the series of exchanges he had with Lü Cheng 呂澂 (1896–1989) in 1943.17 Throughout most of the 1920s Xiong had upheld the view that the ontological character of the mind is transformation alone. Under the influence of Ma Yifu 馬一浮 (1883–1967), however, beginning in 1929, Xiong adopted the view that the mind is characterized simultaneously by transformation (change, activity, movement) and constancy (quiescence, being undisturbed). He continued to uphold this view until the mid-1950s, when he finally reverted to the view he had originally maintained in the 1920s.18 In the New Treatise, Xiong expresses this view of constancy in change as follows: Whether moving or at rest it is as one; dissolving the divisions of time and space. (This mind does indeed flow incessantly yet it is also profoundly tranquil and

14 15 16 18

Vincent Shen’s essay in this volume for further discussion of Dasheng qixin lun and the “two aspects of one mind.” This is analogous to mind as subject to birth-and-death or the unenlightened mode of ālaya-vijñāna. This is analogous to mind as Suchness or the enlightened mode of ālaya-vijñāna. See Gregory (2002: 158–65). 17 On these exchanges, see Lin (2014). See Li (2010: 201–32).

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undisturbed. In regard to its incessant flow it is nominally termed “moving.” In regard to its undisturbed, profound tranquility it is nominally termed “at rest.” Being both in motion and at rest it is devoid of the characteristic (xiang 相) of continuously arising (liuzhuan 流轉) and so time cannot be securely established. Being both in motion and at rest yet lacking a domain, space cannot be securely established either.) Extremely subtle yet manifest; extremely close at hand yet godlike. Empty and devoid of characteristics yet replete with a myriad phenomena.[19] (Hence it says “Extremely subtle yet manifest.”) Without arising from its seat yet extending all over the dharma-realm (fajie 法界).[20] (A verse from the Flower Ornament Sutra [Avataṃsaka-sūtra; Huayan jing 華嚴經] says: “According to conditions, one follows one’s feelings and nothing is out of place, yet all the while one constantly occupies the seat of enlightenment.”) (Xiong 2001: 69)

Although the phenomenal appearances of arising and ceasing, change and movement, never cease for a moment, they are not real and do not abide even momentarily. They are what they are because of what we mistakenly impute to them through deluded attachment. Xiong is at pains to draw our attention to the ceaseless flow of these phenomenal appearances because it is in this ceaseless flow that inherent nature/Reality is revealed: “One’s inherent nature has always been just as it is. Since it has not transformed into something different, it is said neither to change nor to move” (Xiong 2001: 69). This, in turn, provides the key to interpreting a series of paradoxes and seeming contradictions: Arising is precisely non-arising (sheng ji wu sheng 生即無生) because arising does not exist (bu you 不有). (“Does not exist” means that there is nothing to impede.) Ceasing is precisely non-ceasing (mie ji fei mie 滅即非滅) because ceasing does not rest (bu xi 不息). (“Does not rest” and so is not empty nothingness.) Change is precisely unchanging (bian ji bu bian 變即不變) because change is always constant (zhen 貞). (“Constant” is to be firm and immovable. Because something is always just like its nature, then for this reason it is referred to as “ever-constant” (heng zhen 恒貞). This is why with things and with people, with ordinary people and with sages, their natures never change. It is just like water – even though it is able to become ice it does not lose its water-nature.[21]) Movement is precisely nonmoving (dong ji fei dong 動即非動) because movement does not shift. (Master Zhao’s 肇公[22] “Wu bu qian lun” 物不遷論 (Things Do Not Shift Treatise)

19 20 21

22

Chong mo wu zhen wan xiang senran 沖漠無朕萬象森然 is a phrase attributed to Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107) in Cheng Yi and Cheng Hao 程顥 (1981: 153). Dharma-realm is the universe as the Buddha sees it and so coextensive with everything. This is the universe that features in the key scripture of Huayan Buddhism: Huayan jing. This analogy seems to be based on Zhang Zai, Zheng meng 正蒙 (Correcting Ignorance), in Zhang Xichen (1978: 22). For analysis of the water and ice metaphors in Zhang’s writings, see Brook Ziporyn’s essay in this volume. This is a reference to the Buddhist monk Sengzhao 僧肇 (c.378–413). In the original text of Zhao’s essay “Things Do Not Shift” the unstated premise is that no event can depart

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develops this thesis. The Well (jing 井) Hexagram in Change says: “The well stays in its place [but its water always] shifts.”23 “To shift” is “to flow.” This says that it flows inexhaustibly yet it always stays in its place. This is what is meant by not shifting.) When this is understood, the myriad phenomena will all appear as “Suchness” (zhenru 眞如, *tathatā). (Reality cannot be sought independent of phenomena.) The True Ruler (zhen zai 真宰) is to be discerned amongst the flow [of phenomena] (The True Ruler does not refer to a spirit or a god; rather it refers to the regularity in this flow that cannot be thrown into disarray. It is like when we are confronted by a bewildering array of feelings and yet in the midst of these feelings there is always a profound calm, all of one’s responses are perfectly appropriate, and one is able to have the restraint not to seek for things. This is the meaning of True Ruler.) and in activity it does not stop being still. (Xiong 2001: 69–70)

“Non-arising,” “non-ceasing,” “unchanging,” and “nonmoving” are all references to inherent nature, to Fundamental Reality. Arising, ceasing, change, and movement are references to phenomenal appearances. That which ontologically underpins nonexistent phenomenal arising is this non-individuated inherent nature which itself is non-arising. That which ontologically underpins phenomenal ceasing is this nonindividuated inherent nature which itself is non-ceasing. That which ontologically underpins phenomenal change is this non-individuated inherent nature which itself is unchanging. And that which ontologically underpins phenomenal movement is this non-individuated inherent nature which itself is nonmoving. Failure to see this is due either to attachment to things or to being mired in the notion of emptiness, the belief that absolutely nothing exists: From talking about arising without yet understanding that arising is non-arising, right through to talking about moving without yet understanding that moving is non-moving – this is to be attached to things. From talking about non-arising without yet understanding the arising of non-arising, right through to talking about moving without yet understanding the moving of non-moving – this is to be mired in emptiness. (Xiong 2001: 70)

Being mired in emptiness blinds one to the Absolute (shiji lidi 實際理地), to Reality, to the nature, which can be affirmed only by introspection.

23

from its moment of occurrence and move to another moment of occurrence (CBETA T45n1858_p0151a08–51c29). This enabled Sengzhao to argue that past things are still and do not move. Past things do not reach the present because they do not move from the past to the present. If they moved they would not be past things. Here Xiong is not interested in this original argument. Sentence from “Xici, shang” 繫辭上, Zhou Yi 周易, 8.18a, Shisan jing zhushu (Ruan Yuan 1985). Xiong’s interpretation differs from that of the standard one given by Kong Yingda in Zhouyi zhengyi, according to which it is the village or hamlet that changes over time but the well stays in its place.

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Being attached to things is caused by a failure to understand that phenomenal appearances have no self-nature, by looking no further than conventional truth: It is due to following conventional truth that the mundane world is accepted as proven. Earth is nothing but earth, water is nothing but water, right through to the myriad existents . . . Because absolute truth is experienced, however, there is a categorical refutation of conventional knowing. Hence, earth is not thought of as earth, because earth’s nature is empty. What is manifest before one is Reality (zhenti 真體), perfectly clear. (Xiong 2001: 70)

Xiong asserts that phenomenal appearance – the world established by conventional truth – is, in fact, nothing other than Suchness. “Reality cannot be sought independent of phenomena” and “the Ruler (zhuzai 主宰) is to be discerned amongst the flow [of phenomena]” (Xiong 2001: 70). Here Xiong might seem to affirm the Madhyamakan thesis that absolute and conventional truths are ultimately identical. Whereas a thoroughgoing Madhyamakan perspective would insist that emptiness is itself empty, that emptiness is also conditioned because it depends on a network of conditions and has no self-nature, Xiong, however, effectively posits Fundamental Reality/Suchness/inherent nature/the Absolute as the “locus” in which phenomenal/conventional reality is ontologically grounded, just as the sea supports the waves yet is not different from the waves. Although Suchness/Reality ontologically grounds the phenomenal world, crucially it is not different from the phenomenal world. Productive power and habituated tendencies, the nature and form-and-vital stuff, and principle and vital stuff Arguing that “Reality cannot be sought independent of phenomena” and that “the Ruler is to be discerned amongst the flow [of phenomena]” provides Xiong with a basis on which to present his account of the relationships between productive power and habituated tendencies, between the nature (xing 性) and form-and-vital stuff (xingqi 形氣), and between li 理 and qi 氣. I will address the connection with ti 體 and yong 用 later since Xiong’s position is not consistent. One of Xiong’s (many and frequent) criticisms of Dharmapāla concerns the concept of “productive power” (gongneng 功能), which for Xiong is the dynamic aspect of Fundamental Reality. As we have seen, Xiong described Reality as nothing other than an uninterrupted holistic process of constant transformation that cannot be reduced to subject– object characteristics: “With regard to incessantly transforming

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Fundamental Reality, when the power of its movement is broken down (fenxi 分析)[24] it is said to be an alternation of one contraction and one expansion. In directly treating incessantly transforming Fundamental Reality as a category it is called constant transformation” (Xiong 2001: 53). He also refers to constant transformation as “productive power.” Xiong identifies three main differences between his understanding of productive power and that of Dharmapāla. First, whereas for Dharmapāla productive power is synonymous with seeds, for Xiong productive power is a further characterization of Reality (albeit, like all verbal characterizations, it is employed nominally, as a skillful/expedient means.) The second main difference is that for Xiong productive power is the totality of all things, whereas for Dharmapāla it is individuated: “Taking productive power to be the causal condition for the phenomenal world Dharmapāla divided the phenomenal world into numerous discrete constitutive entities” (Xiong 2001: 56). The third main difference, according to Xiong, is Dharmapāla’s conflation of habituated tendencies (xiqi 習氣) with productive powers by treating habituated tendencies as seeds. Habituated tendencies are the karmic residue of past actions: “It is like when burnt incense has extinguished and there still remains a lingering smell” (Xiong 2001: 59). As Xiong explains, there are said to be two types of seed: those which have always existed and are already stored in the ālaya consciousness when a sentient being is born and which give rise to the “manifest activity” of the seven consciousnesses, and seeds which begin to arise: “this refers to the first seven consciousnesses’ perpetual perfuming of habituated tendencies” (Xiong 2001: 59), thus causing future seeds. Dharmapāla’s “fundamental error” lay in “his conflation of habituated tendencies with productive power, thus leading him to say that in addition to productive power which had existed without a beginning there were productive powers which began to arise” (Xiong 2001: 59). Xiong instead proposes using the concepts of heaven (tian 天) and humans (ren 人) – another variation on the ontological and phenomenal distinction – to elucidate the relationship between productive power and form-and-vital-stuff: Productive power is a matter for heaven; habituated tendencies are a human capacity . . . “Heaven” does not refer to an independently existing god in some external sphere but rather refers to the principles by which humans are able to live. “Humans” are all those who, ever since the beginningless existence of sentient 24

Xiong uses the term “breaking down” to describe the mistaken analytical approaches applied to the understanding of Reality adopted by ancient Indian atomists; key Yogācāra thinkers such Vasubandhu, Dharmapāla, Xuanzang, and Kuiji; and modern-day scientists.

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beings, have brought to completion their productive power, retaining it with self-creativity, so bringing to completion their own individual life . . . Habituated tendencies begin together with form-and-vital-stuff. For example, in human life the existence of this body and also the physical world this body encounters are collectively called “form-and-vital-stuff.” We have form-and-vital-stuff to enable us to live, and habituated tendencies commence together with them. As for productive power, it is that by which form-and-vital-stuff is able to be constituted and is the controller of form-and-vital-stuff. (Xiong 2001: 60)

Xiong further endorses the view that this distinction between productive power and form-and-vital-stuff is like the Neo-Confucian distinction between the moral nature (yili zhi xing 義理之性) and the psycho-physical nature (qizhi zhi xing 氣質之性), but emphasizes that, because of the vital role the nature plays in coalescing the psycho-physical, “one cannot talk of the nature independent of the psycho-physical”: [Cheng] Yichuan 程伊川 [1033–1107] said that the moral nature is simply the name given to the original goodness in the psycho-physical [nature]. In other words, it is simply to talk of the principle by which the psycho-physical [nature] coalesces. Thus the moral nature and the psycho-physical nature do not exist as two. Many Ming ru ridiculed Yichuan for saying that there were two roots [to human nature]. They had not grasped Yichuan’s meaning. The [idea of a] psycho-physical nature had originally been developed by [Zhang] Hengqu 張橫渠 [1020–77],[25] and the two Cheng brothers[26] both adopted his teaching. [Cheng] Mingdao 程明道 [1032–85] also said: “To talk of the nature without talking of vital stuff (qi 氣) is incomplete; to talk of vital stuff without talking of the nature is unclear. To treat them as two is wrong.” It is thus evident that the nature includes vital stuff within it such that it is all-pervasive; it cannot be separated into two. In commenting on the passage in the Analects “[Humans] by nature are close to one another” [17.2], in his Collected Annotations on the Analects Zhu Xi 朱熹 [1130– 1200] said: “Here ‘human nature’ collectively refers to the psycho-physical.”[27] He used the word “collectively” precisely because the inherent nature exists within the psycho-physical. (Xiong 2001: 64)

Xiong’s “concept matching” does not stop there – he further suggests that the relation between productive power and habituated tendencies can be understood in terms of principle (li) and vital stuff (qi): “As for productive power, it is that by which form-and-vital-stuff is able to be constituted and is the controller of form-and-vital-stuff. Thus its wondrousness (lingmiao 靈妙) can be described as god-like, and the models it provides as it issues forth are also called principles” (Xiong 2001: 60). The relationship between li and qi was central to Neo-Confucian metaphysics but became vexed due in large part to an obfuscation in 25 27

Zhang Zai. 26 Cheng Yi 程頤 (Yichuan 伊川) and Cheng Hao 程顥 (Mingdao 明道). See my discussion of this passage in Makeham (2003: 213–14).

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Zhu Xi’s writings between the goal of giving li a logical priority over qi (so that there would be a “pattern/norm” for a given thing to conform to and hence exist), and the actual ontological privileging of li over qi.28 Xiong avoided the trap of granting Suchness/Reality/the nature/productive power ontological and temporal precedence over phenomenal-world reality by insisting that “one cannot talk of the nature independently of the psycho-physical . . . The moral nature (yili zhi xing 義理之性) and the psycho-physical nature (qizhi zhi xing 氣質之性) do not exist as two . . . The nature includes vital stuff within it such that it is all-pervasive; they cannot be separated into two” (Xiong 2001: 64). The manifestation of Reality through function Just as Neo-Confucian philosophers experienced theoretical difficulties with the li–qi relationship, so too Xiong changed his views about the ti– yong relationship. Above we noted that the mind or consciousness – when understood as belonging to the category of mental dharmas, rather than

28

Zhu’s default position on the relationship between li and qi can perhaps be described as one endorsing some form of immanent transcendence: li exists within the realm of qi while simultaneously also extending beyond the realm of qi. On occasions, however, Zhu also pronounced that li is able to exist independent of qi: Someone asked: “Given that where there is li there is qi, it would seem that they cannot be separated into what is prior and what comes after.” Zhu replied: “Fundamentally, li is prior. One cannot, however, say that today there is this li and tomorrow there is this qi. Yet li necessarily has priority. If, improbably, the mountains, rivers, and the earth all ceased to exist, ultimately li would still be here.” (Li 1986: Vol. I, p. 4) Rejecting any suggestion of temporal priority, here Zhu effectively presents li as transcendent to qi, as theoretically being able to exist (subsist?) beyond the boundaries of qi. Given that some Chinese thinkers, at least, did entertain the possibility of transcendence then this should serve to give pause when blanket claims are made about the lack of transcendence in Chinese metaphysics. Robert Cummings Neville (2000: 151) defines transcendence as follows: “transcendence is that to which reference can be made, in any sense of reference, only by denying that the referent lies within the boundaries of a specifiable domain, whatever else is supposed or said about the referent.” If we follow this definition, I would also question the assertion made by the editors in the Introduction to this volume: “Chinese thinkers did make a distinction between the realm of ‘what is with (specific) forms’ and that of ‘what is without (specific) forms.’ . . . but there is no transcendental distinction between the two realms.” The following passage by Kong Yingda 孔穎達 (574–648) calls this claim into question: It is the way that comes first and it is form that follows after. It is the way that exists above form and form that exists below the way. Hence that which is external to and exists above form is called the way; and that which is within [the field of] form is called phenomena. Although form is situated on the boundary between the two banks/sides of the way and phenomena, form exists [on the side] of phenomena, not on the [side] of the way. (Kong 1985: Vol. I)

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as a synonym for Reality – has no self-nature. The 1932 literary edition of the New Treatise Xiong relates that the theory of conditioned arising is an “apophatic mode of explanation” (zhequan 遮詮)29 that provides an expedient means for dispelling attachment to the view that consciousness has self-nature: Since ancient times there have been many who have written on fundamental wisdom. The most sublime exponents of the apophatic mode of explanation are certainly the Buddhists, with the Emptiness Schools (kong zong 空宗)[30] being especially skilled. Only this school commanded a fully penetrating insight into principles and so their theses encountered no obstacles. With the arrival of the Existence School (you zong 有宗),[31] only then did [Buddhists] begin to turn their back on the apophatic mode of explanation, instead advocating the manifestation of [Fundamental] Reality through function (ji yong xian ti 即用顯體). (Xiong 2001: 38)

For Xiong there is nothing in ontological Reality that can be established, so the proposition that it can be established through function is meaningless. “As a word, ‘function’ refers to the flow of Reality and describes the expression of Reality. In this expression there is no thing, and in this flow there is no abiding. Accordingly, it is not possible for there to be anything established in function.” In the 1944 vernacular edition of the New Treatise, however, Xiong attempted to rehabilitate the concept of “manifesting [Fundamental] Reality through function,” even denying that it was a view associated with the teachings of Asaṅga, Vasubandhu, and Dharmapāla (whom Xiong regarded as promoting the view that phenomena have self-nature and thus as guilty of ontological dualism, or even pluralism): Function (yong 用) is manifest through Reality (ti 體) . . . Reality is function’s Reality. Separated from function there is absolutely no Reality . . . It is like unraveling a rope – we know that it has no self-nature. In other words, the rope is not a real, discrete thing but simply the manifestation of hemp. From the characteristics of the rope we directly see that it is the manifestation of hemp. From this analogy, the meaning of “manifesting [Fundamental] Reality through function” can be understood. (Xiong 2001: 79–80)

What might have prompted Xiong to change his mind? In both cases he remains adamant that phenomena (function) lack self-nature. The analogy he uses in the vernacular edition suggests that his main concern was to reinforce the idea not only that Reality is ever-present but also that it is the ontological underpinning of the non-real phenomenal world. 29 30

Argument developed on the basis of what may not be said of something; via negativa. Madhyamaka School. 31 The Yogācāra School.

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Conclusion The stated aim of this chapter was to explain why Xiong insisted that Reality cannot be sought independent of phenomena, given that he also maintained that phenomena are not real. While Xiong’s views are consistent with Mahāyāna notions of “non-duality” and “inseparability” (see the discussion by Hans-Rudolf Kantor in this volume), my explanation focuses more particularly on the Buddhist notions of eternalism (chang jian 常見) and nihilism (duan jian 斷見). Eternalism is the view that there are enduring existents (and is typically associated with the view that the self exists in life and persists after death); and nihilism or annihilationalism is the view that all things lack intrinsic reality (and is typically associated with the view that sentient beings cease when they die). In turn, the Middle Path – the doctrine of conditioned arising – avoids these extreme views by claiming that there is no independently existing entity with selfnature to exist eternally or to be annihilated in the first place. Xiong, however, was not willing to apply the doctrine of conditioned arising to his conception of Reality. Equally, he did not want to fall into the trap of extremist attachment (bianzhi 邊執) to eternalism, a position he risked succumbing to given his characterization of Reality as constant/ continuous/uninterrupted/“that which has always been.” To this end he was logically compelled to identify the ontological with the phenomenal, insisting that phenomena are not different from Reality even if they are not identical,32 that one cannot talk of the nature independent of the psycho-physical, and that the nature includes vital stuff within it. By imbuing Reality with these characteristics, the Scylla of eternalism is avoided. (If phenomena are not different from Reality, and phenomena arise and cease moment by moment, then eternalism is avoided.) And despite Xiong’s nihilistic characterization of the phenomenal world (dharmas have no self-nature, they cease at the very moment of their arising, and the phenomenal world is empty), precisely because the phenomenal is ontologically accommodated through its relation with a Reality that does not arise or cease, the Charybdis of nihilism is averted. (Just as the waves that appear in the sea have no intrinsic self-nature, they are not different from the sea. Moreover, it is due to the waves that we are alerted to the sea.) Why was it important to Xiong to avert nihilism? First of all it provided the space for a morally inflected universe. This is where the Confucian side of his syncretism gains added traction. Second, and more 32

Ontologically they are not different; phenomenologically our experience of them is not the same.

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fundamentally, without conventional truth we would not awaken to ultimate truth.33 In the end, however, we need to abandon attachment even to Fundamental Reality, which, like phenomenal reality, is ultimately a mental construct, a nominal designation (prajñapti): Now, the matter which fundamental wisdom thoroughly investigates is the Reality of the universe. In referring to the term “Reality of the universe,” I am simply following convention. In fact, all [that this amounts to is] revealing one’s own lot (zijia benfen 自家本分)[34] and then calling it the Reality of the universe . . . If one releases [the constraints] on “one’s own lot” it will fill the Six Enclosures;[35] if one rolls it up it can be concealed in a secret place . . . Although it has always been absolutely nothing . . . yet it is not nothing . . . Although it gives rise to the myriad existents . . . it does not belong to existence . . . Hence, dispel both existence and no-existence; sever names and images at the ford of constant stillness . . . Roll up or release at will; cease verbal distinction-making [upon the realization of that which lies] beyond snares and traps[36] . . . This must be incisive, personally experienced – only then will [one’s experience] accord with [what lies beyond]. (Xiong 2001: 92–3)

33

34 35 36

This is consistent with Hans-Rudolf Kantor’s observation in his chapter in this volume that falsehood or conventional truth is a heuristic principle that discloses the path to true liberation. It is also consistent with one of the central teachings of the Dasheng qixin lun: if there were no non-awakening there would be no awakening. A phrase used in Chan Buddhism to refer to inherent mind (benxin 本心). The four cardinal directions, above and below; that is, the universe. The locus classicus of the fish-trap and rabbit-snare allegory is the “Wai wu 外物” chapter of Zhuangzi.

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