The purpose of moral cultivation, of course, was more than simply creating better individuals. Confucius believed the practice was essential to a better society and government. Did he think the answer to the social and political problems of the Zhou period would be solved by putting everyone on a program of moral self-cultivation? Probably. If he thought such a thing were feasible, it would undoubtedly have improved the welfare of the state, but as a realist, Confucius did not anticipate such a thing. It seems likely that he did not think the common people were equipped with the time or the intelligence to undertake this regimen. That did not mean he thought commoners were incapable of being moral; they simply required another approach.
This is where government played its greatest role in society. For Confucius, the primary function of the ruler and the ruling class was to provide for the welfare of the common people, and not for self-aggrandizement and the acquisition of power, the attitude that was becoming increasingly popular on the eve of the Warring States period. To encourage the well-being of the whole of society, Confucius thought it was vital for the ruler and the elite ruling class to practice the arts of moral self-cultivation and act as moral exemplars for all citizens. Virtue, he thought, starts at the top and spreads throughout the kingdom. The more virtuous the ruler, the more virtuous the people.
This theory of the ruler’s moral influence in a country is based on the ancient Chinese understanding of virtue, which was discussed at the beginning of this section on East Asia. As we recall, virtue, or de, was believed to be a kind of force or power that came to reside in people of moral and compassionate character. The kinder one was, the more this virtuous power accrued to the individual. The natural and irresistible response to virtuous acts by those who benefited from them was called bao, the sense of gratitude and desire to reciprocate in kind by acting virtuously oneself. Through years of practicing virtue, one might accumulate enough virtuous energy to be morally charismatic. An individual with a cache of moral charisma could inspire others to become more virtuous themselves. Confucius believed this transaction occurred almost by magic. Without legislation or proclamations, the virtuous ruler could affect the well-being of his state effortlessly simply by being a moral example: “The Master said, ‘Guide them by edicts, keep them in line with punishments, and the common people will stay out of trouble but will have no sense of shame. Guide them by virtue, keep them in line with the rites, and they will, besides having a sense of shame, reform themselves.’”[9] In this way, Confucius assumed that humans would “obey the unenforceable.” Confucius advised rulers to refrain from the use of force: “In administering your government, what need is there for you to kill? Just desire the good yourself and the common people will be good.”[10] He even predicted that one hundred years of moral rule could completely eliminate killing within the realm.
The direction of moral charisma does not move only from the top down. Confucius taught that social superiors could be influenced by their subordinates. This is one reason why he encouraged his followers to take government positions, where they would be situated to influence both the lower classes and the ruler and his court. Even the commoners could contribute to the welfare of society by cultivating virtue. Once someone approached Confucius and asked why he did not participate in government, and he answered this way: “The Book of History says, ‘Simply by being a good son and friendly to his brothers a man can exert an influence upon government. In so doing a man is, in fact, taking part in government.’”[11] For Confucius, the personal moral character of each citizen has an impact throughout a society. The goodness of the individual does make a difference in the world.
* * *
Martin Luther King, Jr., Where Do We Go from Here: Chaos or Community?, (Boston: Beacon, 1967), 100.↵
Analects 1.14, trans. Dawson, 4. ↵
Analects 12.1, trans. Dawson, 44.↵
Analects 7.8, trans. Dawson, 24.↵
The Wu Jing comprised the Book of Odes, the Book of Changes, the Book of Rites, the Book of History, and the Spring and Autumn Annals.↵
Analects, 7.14, trans. Dawson, 25.↵
Analects 7.16, trans. Dawson, 25.↵
Analects 8.4, trans. Dawson, 28.↵
Analects 2.3, trans. Lau, 63.↵
Analects 12.19, trans. Lau, 115.↵
Analects 2.21, trans. Lau, 66. ↵
20
Early Confucianism and the Rise of Daoism
Mention the name Confucius, and many Americans will conjure the image of an old Chinese man sporting a Fu Manchu beard and moustache spouting wise sayings that are just pithy enough to fit on those little slips of paper in fortune cookies. This impression of Confucius is due mainly to the immense popularity of the forty-four Charlie Chan movies made in 1930s and ’40s. These films reflected stereotypes of East Asians in the early twentieth century, and many Chinese and Chinese Americans today consider the films offensive. Charlie Chan, who was played by European American actors and not an actor of Chinese heritage, was a bright and often funny detective who supposedly had an encyclopedic knowledge of Confucius and quoted him at critical junctures in the movie. He would often preface a statement with “Confucius say . . .” and repeat a proverb in Pidgin English. Some of the proverbs were fairly funny: “Optimist only sees doughnut, pessimist sees hole.”[1] Some were gems of wisdom: “Death one appointment we must all keep, and for which no time set.”[2] There is actually a website listing nearly five hundred of these witticisms, but as far as I can tell, not one of them actually came from Confucius.[3]
Be that as it may, I mention Charlie Chan simply to note that many of us think of Confucius as a wise old man with an aphorism for every occasion. That image, actually, is not far off the mark. To the degree that the Analects portray Confucius accurately, he seems to have preferred to make brief statements to provoke further thought or to make forthright assertions, rather than to construct logical arguments to persuade people to accept his viewpoint. Rarely did he feel the need to justify his position rationally. He was more of an Aesop than an Aristotle.
Just How Good Are We, Really? The Mengzi–Xunzi Debate
Because of his style of teaching, Confucius’s disciples, following his death, found themselves in the position of not only interpreting his words for themselves but also of defending his views against criticism from other schools of philosophy. This was the Period of One Hundred Philosophers, after all. Increasingly, members of the Confucian school, which was known as the School of Scholars (rujia), were challenged to discuss issues with rival philosophers and to provide rational arguments for their perspective.
Mengzi
The first noteworthy thinker to attempt a comprehensive argument for Confucius’s philosophy was Mencius (385–312 bce), a fourth-century disciple of Confucius’s grandson. Mencius is the Latinized form of Mengzi, or Master Meng. Because he was the first major Confucian interpreter, Mengzi’s explanation of the sage’s thought was very influential. Mengzi’s version was officially accepted as Confucian orthodoxy, although not until the Song dynasty, over one thousand years later. But even before that, many Confucians understood Confucius through the mind of Mengzi. Mengzi was to Confucius as Paul was to Jesus.
A few aspects of Mengzi’s personal life are worth noting. One is that he took a three-year leave of absence from his job to mourn for his mother following her death. Even Confucius would have been impressed with such filial piety! He spent much of his life as an itinerant political consultant, like Confucius, traveling from state to state offering advice to rulers. Apparently, not even one monarch accepted his guidance. He ultimately settled and gathered a small school of disciples around him. These disciples compiled his teachings into a collection known as the Mengzi, or the Mencius. At the time, it was common simply to use the author’s name for a book’s title. The Mencius consists primarily of his conversations with his students, who reputedly recorded their teacher’s words verbatim.
Two matters in particular seem to have been of special concern
to Mengzi: the role of government in promoting the human good and the fundamental quality of human nature. The first item he shared with Confucius, who also had much to say about the function of government. Like Confucius, Mengzi encouraged rulers to foster moral development in their subjects, as parents would in their children. He also maintained that virtue was a much more effective means of governance than was the use of force or punishment.
He based his confidence in virtue on the second item: his understanding of human nature. This is where Mengzi parted company with Confucius. Confucius said a great deal about government but virtually nothing about human nature. Either he thought the matter irrelevant to his practical concerns, or the concept of human nature was not a notion current in his day. It was probably more the latter. The term ren xing, human nature, was not discussed much by any Chinese philosopher until about the Period of the Warring States, at which time it became a central issue of debate.
Mengzi contended that human nature was inherently good. In one of the most famous passages in the Mencius, Mengzi defended the idea of human goodness with a thought experiment:
The reason why I say that all human beings have hearts that are not unfeeling toward others is this. Suppose someone suddenly saw a child about to fall into a well: anyone in such a situation would have a feeling of alarm and compassion—not because one sought to get in good with the child’s parents, not because one wanted fame among one’s neighbors and friends, and not because one would dislike the sound of the child’s cries. . . . From this we can see that if one is without the feeling of compassion, one is not human. If one is without the feeling of disdain, one is not human. If one is without the feeling of deference, one is not human. If one is without the feeling of approval and disapproval, one is not human. The feeling of compassion is the sprout of benevolence.[4]
Mengzi used this argument to demonstrate that something deep within the human heart responds naturally out of compassion, without any ulterior motivation. This is a strong argument for Mengzi’s view, but not an incontrovertible one. The bystander’s response might be motivated by something other than compassion or humaneness. Today, sociobiologists, for example, might argue that the motivation is the genetically determined instinct to act in ways that preserve the species.[5] If true, humans are no different from other species in this respect, and humaneness could not be the trait that distinguishes humans from other animals, as the Confucians believed. Still, for many, Mengzi’s case was compelling.
Yet if all humans are born with intrinsic benevolence, Mengzi must explain why humaneness does not seem to be the prevailing condition of daily life. Based on empirical evidence, one might easily draw the opposite conclusion: people are just no damn good. In the Period of Warring States that would have been an easily substantiated claim, but Mengzi had a response to that criticism: The reason we fail to be good in our daily lives is that we have neglected to cultivate our innate virtue or have had most of that goodness stripped away from us by environmental factors, such as growing up under abusive conditions. As goodness diminishes, evil tendencies begin to manifest themselves. In the Parable of Ox Mountain, Mengzi explained how a fundamentally compassionate nature can be distorted into an inhumane one simply by disregarding the need to nourish it:
The trees of Ox Mountain were once beautiful. But because it bordered on a large state, hatchets and axes besieged it. Could it remain verdant? Due to the respite it got during the day or night, and the moisture of rain and dew, there were sprouts and shoots growing there. But oxen and sheep came and grazed on them. Hence, it was as if it were barren. Seeing it barren, people believed that there had never been any timber there. But could this be the nature of the mountain? . . . Kongzi said: “Grasped then preserved; abandoned then lost. Its goings and comings have no fixed time. No one knows its home.” Was it not the heart of which he spoke?[6]
With this little story, Mengzi effectively countered the argument that empirical evidence refutes the claim of humanity’s innate goodness. The denuding of the mountain forest is similar to the way our environmental conditioning can strip away our natural goodness. Constant exposure to wickedness gradually degrades us. The parable also helps us understand what Mengzi may have meant when he asserted that humans are innately humane. The quality of goodness is like a plant shoot that requires careful tending in order to thrive. Compassion is native to the human heart but needs encouragement to mature and come to full expression. Even when it appears that people are evil to the core, shoots of humaneness still lurk just beneath surface, simply awaiting appropriate conditions to come forth. Mengzi thought the home was especially important in providing those conditions for nurturing goodness. The practice of filial piety and the parental love for the child were essential to actualize the potential for kindness.
Because humans have this innate quality, they are naturally more responsive to a ruler who governs by virtue than one who rules by force. There is something within us that is naturally attracted to goodness. Seeing others acting morally and compassionately evokes within us the desire to do the same. Kindness begets kindness.
Mengzi was also responsible for drawing out some of the religious dimensions of Confucian thought. Confucius stated that Heaven had endowed him with virtue. It is not clear whether Confucius was referring to himself alone or simply including himself in an endowment given to all people. For Mengzi, it is unambiguous: all humans are furnished by Heaven with goodness. Our proper response to this gift is to foster those good qualities within, and by so doing, we serve Heaven itself. Serving Heaven is now less a matter of feeding choice cuts of sacrificial meat to the gods and more a matter of following the Way of Heaven in our daily lives. Heaven prefers the sacrifice of self to the sacrifice of sheep.
Xunzi
The chief opposition to Mengzi’s views came from a Confucian who was born about the time Mengzi died. Xunzi lived most of his life in the third century (310–219 bce), near the end of the Zhou dynasty and the East Asian Axial Age. Although he and Mengzi were probably more alike than different, Xunzi took exception to Mengzi’s belief that human nature is basically inclined toward the good. This difference in views was really the first major disagreement within Confucian ranks.
Most interpreters of Xunzi understood him to be saying that human nature is fundamentally wicked, which was just the opposite of Mengzi’s view. Because humans are basically evil, they naturally tend toward selfishness and a state of anarchy. Some interpreters tried to explain Xunzi’s harsh position in a way that mitigated its negativity. They contended that Xunzi was too influenced by his political context—the Warring States Period—which they said made him overemphasize human depravity. Others suggested he was merely trying to balance Mengzi’s overly sanguine estimation of humanity. Mengzi saw the doughnut, but Xunzi reminded everyone that there was also a hole.
Recent scholarship on Xunzi suggests he was not so much saying that humans are naturally immoral but that their natures are amoral, without moral inclinations one way or the other.[7] What we require, he thought, was a reformation of this amoral nature into one that has a refined moral sensitivity. For this reason, humanity needs moral cultivation. Because the work of instilling morality was essentially a matter of creating a “second nature” for humans, moral cultivation would be a long, hard process, involving the family, educational institutions, and the state. Like Confucius, Xunzi thought the practice of rituals and social etiquette was central to this procedure. However, he did not see li—these rituals and manners—as a natural expression of human nature. In fact, he believed them to be artificial human constructs designed for the benefit of people living in society. This was a rather novel point of view. Xunzi was in effect saying the Way was rooted not in Heaven, but in human societies that deemed morality essential to their existence and welfare.
“For Mengzi, perfection came by nurturing a natural development. For Xunzi, it involved using humanly devised strategies for shaping amorphous raw material.”
Xunzi advocated mor
al education, particularly an education that featured the study of tradition and ritual, just as Confucius and Mengzi did. And like the other two, Xunzi believed that human beings were morally perfectible. The difference seems to be in the way Mengzi and Xunzi conceptualized the process. For Mengzi, perfection came by nurturing a natural development. For Xunzi, it involved using humanly devised strategies for shaping amorphous raw material. At the end of the day, I think they both saw the doughnut.
Confucianism after the Axial Age
Xunzi died near the end of the Zhou dynasty and the beginning of the Qin dynasty. After his death, Confucianism was temporarily suppressed by China’s new rulers but ultimately emerged as the dominant cultural force that shaped the Chinese ethos for two thousand years.
Qin Dynasty
The Qin dynasty ruled briefly in the last quarter of the third century bce (221–206 bce). This dynasty marked the unification of China, but it was not a happy time for Confucians or Confucianism. The ruling philosophy of the Qin was Legalism, one of the many competing schools of thought in that age. Legalism was essentially a Machiavellian approach to governance. It embraced the use of military and police force as a way to keep order and relied on the centralization of authority. Because the Qin rulers perceived Confucianism as a threat to their sovereignty, Confucian texts were burned, and many Confucians themselves were tortured and killed. Although their regime was often cruel and lasted only fifteen years, the Qin rulers were impressive enough that the country of China is now known by their name.
The Age of the Sages Page 24
