Lionel Jensen, Manufacturing Confucianism: Chinese Traditions and Universal Civilization (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1997).↵
E. Bruce Brooks and A. Taeko Brooks, The Original Analects: Sayings of Confucius and His Successors (New York: Columbia University Press, 1998).↵
Analects 2.4., trans. Raymond Dawson, (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1993), 6.↵
Analects 5.28, trans. Dawson, 19.↵
Analects 7.2, trans. Dawson, 24.↵
Analects 7.8, trans. Dawson, 24.↵
Analects 10.1, trans. Dawson, 35.↵
Analects 4.17, trans. Dawson, 14.↵
Analects 7.32, trans. Dawson, 27.↵
Analects 7.38, trans. Dawson, 27.↵
18
The Foundations of Confucianism
Although many have regarded Confucius as China’s most profound and influential thinker, Confucius did not consider himself a great mind. He claimed no originality for his ideas: “I transmit but I do not create. Being fond of the truth, I am an admirer of antiquity.”[1] Confucius believed that the example of the early Zhou dynasty provided his contemporaries with all the resources needed to address the moral and political concerns of the day. This was one reason why study was so important to him. Confucius’s greatest desire was to understand this legacy, put it into practice in his own life, and then teach these ideas and observances to others. He was convinced that much of the trouble in his China was the direct result of neglecting the lessons of earlier eras. Like many, both Chinese and non-Chinese, Confucius believed in a golden age of the past in which life was better. In this chapter, we will begin our study of the foundations of his thinking or, as he would prefer us to say, his understanding of the lessons of antiquity.
The Thought of Confucius
Virtually everything we know about the thought of Confucius comes from the Analects, the same small text we used to sketch out what few things we can say about his life. Tradition claims that Confucius had a hand in writing or editing several other Chinese classics, but most modern scholars doubt the truth of those claims. Therefore, we are dependent on the Analects for understanding his ideas.
With that single and rather brief book, grasping Confucian thought might seem to be relatively easy. Yet understanding his philosophy through the Analects is not at all a simple thing. The book is not easy to read. Unlike many other scriptures, such as the Bhagavad Gita or the Bible, it is not in narrative form. Nor is it systematic philosophy, like the Four Noble Truths. If there is an underlying order to the Analects, it is difficult to recognize. Occasionally, a careful reader can glimpse a theme or concept running through one of the twenty “books” in the collection, but a general pattern remains elusive. Furthermore, the sayings often make obscure and unexplained references to persons or events, and some of these baffle even longtime Confucian scholars. No doubt this motley quality of the Analects is due at least in part to the many individuals involved in its compilation.
The Nature of Confucianism
As we noted, Confucius lived during a particularly brutal time in Chinese history. Hostilities between kingdoms and corruption in government were on the rise. Almost by necessity, he thought about social and political matters. Many of his teachings were oriented toward the rulers and government officials, so much of his thinking falls under the category of political philosophy. He was not interested in the abstract questions of political philosophy as much as the practical ones: given the current state of Chinese civilization, how best do rulers rule? Confucius also spoke at great length about family life, and, again, his concerns are more practical than theoretical: what are our obligations to the members of our families, and how are they best carried out? Significantly, he connected family values and politics, an association that may sound familiar to current readers. Whether concerning the family or the state, Confucius’s main interest was in ethics or morality. Furthermore, he restricted his moral concerns to the human domain.[2] That anthropocentrism would put Confucius at odds with the Jains’ Mahavira, who insisted on the equality of all souls, regardless of their form of embodiment.
Confucius did not say much about souls, nor about gods and spirits. Ironically, the man who is generally considered China’s greatest religious figure—and who himself was later worshipped as divine—had very little to say about the spirit world. In the Analects, a student recalled that the Master did not speak of “miracles, violence, disorder, and gods.”[3] On another occasion, a student approached Confucius to ask how the gods and the ancestors should be served. The Master responded, “You are not able even to serve your fellow humans. How can you ask about the gods and spirits?” When the student asked about death, the Master said, “You do not even understand life. How can you understand death?”[4] Elsewhere, Confucius is quoted as saying that it is wise to keep the gods and spirits at a distance, although one should be reverent toward them. Confucius never denied the existence of the gods and spirits, but neither did he make belief in them central to his perspective. He strongly urged people to be moral, to practice goodness and kindness, but never does he indicate that one will be rewarded by god or enjoy a pleasant afterlife for doing so. He says, “Those who are humane rest content with humaneness.”[5] Being good is its own reward.
Considering Master Kong’s principal interest in humanity, might it be more appropriate to characterize Confucianism as a philosophy rather than a religion? There is certainly merit to that suggestion, especially if one regards religion as something having primarily to do with gods or spirits.
However, there are good reasons for including Confucianism under the rubric of religion or at least to regard it as both a religion and a philosophy. For one thing, Confucianism shares with the perspectives of the Buddha and Vedantic Hinduism a basic lack of interest in gods and the spirit world. Yet both Buddhism and Hinduism are ordinarily considered religions. Furthermore, Asians have never routinely made the distinction that Westerners often make between philosophy and religion. From an Asian point of view, philosophy must be pragmatic; it must be practiced, and it cannot be merely speculative or theoretical. This emphasis on practicing one’s beliefs brings Asian philosophy very close to what Westerners mean when they speak of religion. Certainly, Confucius himself thought following his way required hard work and cultivation, not just holding specific philosophical convictions.
“Confucianism may be included under the rubric of religion, regarded as both a religion and a philosophy. . . . Philosophy must be pragmatic; it must be practiced, and it cannot be merely speculative or theoretical. This emphasis on practicing one’s beliefs brings Asian philosophy very close to what Westerners mean when they speak of religion. Certainly, Confucius himself thought following his way required hard work and cultivation, not just holding specific philosophical convictions.”
There are other religious elements in Master Kong’s views as well. First, although he was reticent about the gods and spirits, he did speak of Heaven, or Tian. At least once, he suggested that Heaven itself authorized him to teach, and in so doing, he applied the Mandate of Heaven to his own work.[6] By the time of Confucius, the Chinese believed the will of Heaven concerned not only the ruler but everyone. Confucius thus saw Heaven as legitimating his values. Second, even though he was not greatly concerned with divine beings as such, he was very interested in ritual, especially the sacrifices that were performed for the welfare of the state. Confucius loved rituals, not so much because they pleased the gods, but because he thought they were salutary for human life. Had he been an outright atheist, it is possible that Confucius would have nonetheless urged his contemporaries to perform their religious rituals because the act itself helped shaped moral character.
Ideal Persons
The central thrust of Confucian thought is pragmatic, but these practical concerns are informed by a specific vision of the way human beings and human society ought to be. Before we turn to the practice of Confucian ethics in the next chapter, we should explore his ideals for individuals an
d human relationships. Beginning here will help us understand some of the subtle points of his ethics as well as connect Confucius to the other axial sages we have studied.
To Confucius, the highest type of person was the “sage.” Although the sage was the complete embodiment of his values, Confucius said in his later life that he had never actually met a sage and had given up hope of ever doing so.[7] He did not regard himself as a sage, although his followers and many others throughout Chinese history did.
Confucius also mentioned the ideals of the “good man” (shan jen) and the “complete man,” (ch’eng jen) which were often associated with particular stations in society. In casting these terms in the male gender, we are simply repeating the way that Confucius apparently thought about them; since he was someone who prized patriarchal values in the family and the society, it would be misleading to use more generic terms, such as the “good person” or the “complete person.”
The Gentleman
Although he mentions several ideal types, Confucius stressed one above all others: the junzi. Junzi is usually translated as the “gentleman” or “superior man.” We will follow the scholarly consensus and use the term gentleman, but it will be helpful to understand the Chinese sense of that word, since it differs somewhat from our contemporary usage. Westerners often use the word gentlemen as a generic term for males, as in “ladies and gentlemen,” but it can be used to refer to a specific kind of man, namely, one who is courteous and observes proper etiquette, as in “A gentleman always opens a door for a lady.” This latter sense is actually closer to the way Confucius used the term junzi, because mannerly behavior and being gentle (as the name suggests) are hallmarks of the gentleman. It is also instructive to remember that the English word gentleman was not always applied generically to refer to any man. In its original usage, the term was restricted to the nobility and indicated someone of high standing. In a similar way, Confucius intended the word junzi to designate someone who had attained a noble character and superior status. However, he understood nobility and superiority to be qualities that are earned by hard work, not bestowed as a birthright. The Buddha made the same point with his use of the word Aryan.
Based on his study of earlier Chinese culture, particularly the figure of the Duke of Zhou and other individuals associated with the early Zhou period, Confucius maintained that there are certain qualities or traits that define the gentleman. Because he was more interested in how and what people are than in what they do, Confucius characteristically discussed these ideal human beings in terms of their inner dispositions and not in terms of their deeds. Of course, there is a profound connection between being and doing, and Confucius was aware of this, but his teaching was centered on character rather than actions. He wanted people to be better people, not merely to behave better. Confucius thought moral improvement is part of our very humanity, the way we express and fulfill our greatest potential as persons. In other words, we become more fully human when we live the noblest and most moral life possible.
Humaneness
The gentleman had many qualities that distinguished him from others. The foremost among these was the quality of ren. Ren is usually translated as “humaneness” or “humanity.” Some translators prefer the terms kindness, benevolence,or simply goodness. Although rarely used, “compassion” would be an excellent translation. Confucius did not invent the concept of ren (it was an old term meaning something like noblesse oblige, that is, the duty of the aristocrat to be kind to those of lower station), but he was the first to make ren central to his teaching.
Although it is clear that he believed humaneness was the salient trait of the gentleman, Confucius never fully defined it. In the Analects, he refers to it rather obliquely, preferring to discuss examples of persons possessing it. Because of that approach, it is not clear whether Confucius thought ren was innate to human nature or a characteristic to be acquired. In either sense, ren was a virtue to which one was to aspire. If it were an inborn quality, it still needed to be cultivated and nurtured to come to full expression. If it were an acquisition, then it would also need cultivation and nurturance to be instilled. However he viewed it, as a natural potential or the product of education, Confucius believed that one must commit oneself to the hard work of being good.
Fortunately, Confucius did say enough about humaneness and the gentleman for us to assemble an idea of what he meant by ren. He repeatedly stated that humaneness involves following a version of the Golden Rule: “Do not impose on others what you yourself do not desire.”[8] For Confucius, this principle entailed another component of humaneness: reciprocity (shu). In response to a disciple’s question about humaneness, the Master said, “Now the humane man, wishing himself to be established, sees that others are established, and wishing himself to be successful, sees that others are successful. To be able to take one’s own familiar feelings as a guide may definitely be called the method of humaneness.”[9] Reciprocity is the method of determining what others may want or not want. Our own feelings, something presumably familiar to us, serve as the guide for making this determination. By understanding our own wishes, we may imagine, on the basis of our common humanity, what others desire. The Buddha called this practice “seeing others as being like yourself.”[10] We might call it empathy.
Of course, knowing what others may want or not want based on our own desires is one thing; acting on that knowledge in a compassionate way is something else. Confucius set a high standard when he explained what that means concretely. In the preceding passage, he says the humane person acts to promote the success of others. For many of us, that can be a real struggle. As Paul Tillich, the great twentieth-century Christian theologian, said, “There is something in the misfortune of our best friends that does not displease us.”[11] Whether such hidden hostility is inherent to our natures, as Freud might say, or the product of our conditioning, as Buddhism would contend, Confucius believed that animosity or poor behavior toward anyone was a major obstacle to realizing our full humanity. But with great effort, the gentleman has removed such an obstacle.
In other places, Confucius speaks of humaneness in the language of love. For one student, he summarizes ren by saying, “It is to love others.”[12] This simple directive might be misleading if it are not read in the full context of Confucian teaching. Confucius did not believe the humane person would—or even should—love everyone equally. In fact, it was on this very point that Confucianism was criticized by another leading school of the day, the Mohists, inspired by the philosopher Mozi. Mozi argued that the highest virtue for humans was “impartial caring” or “universal love” (bo-ai), unconditional love for all persons.
On the face of it, Mohist universal love sounds like a loftier ideal than the Confucian view of love. The Confucians and other philosophical schools, however, found the Mohist understanding unnatural, impractical, and actually inhumane. Impartial love, they argued, implied that one should treat one’s own family and friends in the same way as anyone else, even strangers. Confucius believed we should love others in proportion to the benefit we receive from them. Since it is obvious that we have benefited most from our parents, who have given us the gift of life, and the other members of our family, we are obligated to love and care for them the most. The universal love of the Mohists was widely viewed as undermining the ancient and deeply ingrained practice of filial piety. Partly for that reason, Mohism died out in the Qin dynasty.
Confucius not only thought filial piety was the most natural expression of human love; he also believed it was the basis of all forms of loving. In the first book of the Analects, he says, “The gentleman concerns himself with the root; and if the root is firmly planted the Way grows. Filial piety and fraternal duty—surely these are the roots of humaneness.”[13] Family life is the laboratory where we learn to love. Being a good son, he might say, is the key to being a good person. If I cannot learn to love my family, how can I hope to genuinely love others? By no means does Confucius believe love stops with the family. Lo
ve of family is the root, not the tree. From learning to fulfill our filial responsibilities, we extend our love to friends and neighbors, then to the village, the common people, and ultimately the whole of humanity. But as our love extends beyond, it rightly decreases in intensity. Confucius did not intend that we should not love those at a distance from ourselves, just that we love them less than those nearest to us. In promoting a love that discriminates among persons, Confucius may have chosen a more difficult path than the Mohists.
Accordingly, the disciples of Confucius found his path a hard one to walk. Discussing the Confucian way with another disciple, “Master Zeng said, ‘A Gentleman must be strong and resolute, for his burden is heavy and the road is long. He takes benevolence as his burden. Is that not heavy? Only with death does the road come to an end. Is that not long?’”[14] As the final lines of this passage imply, the discipline of striving for goodness is a lifelong process, and in the end, it may be unattainable. Confucius never guaranteed a conclusion to his way, such as Buddhahood or the liberation of the soul. A gatekeeper who had heard of Confucius’s reputation inquired of one his disciples, “Is that the [Kong] who keeps working towards a goal the realization of which he knows to be hopeless?”[15]
Wisdom and Equanimity
Humaneness, kindness toward others, empathy: these were the prime qualities of the junzi. But they were not the only ones. The gentleman was wise as well as compassionate. By wisdom, Confucius meant that one knew what was right and what was wrong, was a good judge of character, and possessed self-knowledge. He told his followers, “When you understand something, to recognize that you understand it; but when you do not understand something, to recognize that you do not understand it—that is wisdom.”[16] The quality of wisdom also meant that one thought for oneself. A gentleman did not blindly follow others, or as Confucius put it, “A gentleman does not behave as an implement.”[17]
The Age of the Sages Page 22
