Zhu Xi as the Reservoir of the Daoxue (道學) Movement

Hallo, this is Dr. Bin Song at Washington College to teach Ruism, global philosophies and religions.

The Ru tradition experienced a major reboot in its second millennium after being adopted as the state ideology in Han Dynasty (202 BCE – 220 CE). And there are two major historical backgrounds of this reboot. Firstly, the immigration of Buddhism and the establishment of Daoist religions stimulated Ru thinkers to create a new version of Ruism able to orient individuals’ life more comprehensively. Since seeking the genuine Dao, the Way, so as to provide guidance to all major aspects of human life is always a goal of Ru self-cultivation, these Ru thinkers referred to this historical reboot of Ruism as a Daoxue movement, and Daoxue (道學) means the learning of Dao. In English scholarship, we also call it Neo-Confucianism. Secondly, since the 8th century, the Chinese imperial system had endured a series of severe domestic and foreign threats. Ru literati therefore sought to overcome the threats and recover the ancient ideal of humane governance while creatively reinterpreting Ru classics. To such a reacting and synthesizing Daoxue movement, Zhu Xi (1130-1200)’s philosophy played the role of an intellectual reservoir into which his predecessors’ thoughts confluence and out of which later Ru thinkers derive and diverge. To evidence such a role, Zhu Xi condensed the originally expansive Ru classics into a new canon comprising four books, viz., the Great Learning, the Analects, the Mengzi and the Centrality and Commonality, and his 四书章句集注 (Commentaries of the Four Books) was thereafter officialized as a textbook for the systems of civil examination in East Asia.

Zhu Xi’s synthetic Ru philosophy, despite its extraordinary scope and complexity, pivots itself upon one singular concept, Li (理, translated alternatively as principle, pattern-principle, Pattern, or coherence, see Angle & Tiwald 2017:28-34), and aims to parse out the three phases and eight steps of self-cultivation articulated by the Great Learning which furnishes a comprehensive guide to the Ru way of life. According to the Great Learning, the realization of the ideal of peace and harmony among all under heaven rests upon the regulation of one’s state and the alignment of one’s family, which furthermore rest upon the cultivation of one’s genuine self comprising four major steps, viz., rectifying the heartmind, authenticating intentions, attaining the knowledge, and investigating things (格物, gewu). Zhu Xi maintains that the object of the ultimate step of gewu is Li, defined as “the reason why things come to be so and the rule how things ought to be so.” (Zhu 2002 Vol. 6 大学或问 An Inquiry into the Great Learning:512)For instance, the Li of a table is the sum of all the conditions which explain why the table is produced in a certain material with a certain shape so as to fit itself with all surrounding items in a given environment. Because the factual ways to fit oneself with all the others in a given context lead to the ideal state of harmonization in which all beings evolve and thrive together without undermining the essential identity of each, Li is both descriptive and prescriptive. In the natural world, Li refers to the patterns of changing realities which co-exist in the broadest ontological scale of the whole universe, viz., Tian. In the human world, Li designates the moral principles and social conventions which perfect human relationships so as to sustain the development of civilization, and hence, to manifest the cosmic harmony of Tian in the human realm.

With Li construed as such, appropriate intentions of the heartmind towards external things are those in line with Li so that one does not merely intend objectives sincerely, but also authentically. For Zhu Xi, the process of authenticating intentions to rectify the heartmind leads to the recovery of one’s genuine human nature endowed by Tian, a trope continuous with the teaching of the Mengzi and the Centrality and Commonality. And the process is characterized by accumulation, ecstasy and extrapolation. Accumulatively, one needs to broadly engage the world via activities such as reading classics, canvassing histories, studying the nature, having discussions with friends, and dealing with human affairs so as to learn each and every Li. (Zhu 2002 Vol. 6 大学或问:527-528) While one’s practical knowledge of Li continually increases, an ecstatic moment would transpire when one can comprehend the coherence of all Li in the universe, and hence, grasp the interconnection of all dimensions of moral living. (Zhu 2002 Vol. 6 大学章句 An Exegesis of the Great Learning: 20) After the ecstasy, one needs to extrapolate their general knowledge of the Li of the world into minute and novel details, and hence, keep being centered in the everyday moments of mundane life. (Chen 2000: 309-314)  

Among the three aspects of “thoroughly studying Li (穷理),” the ecstatic moment begs more attention since it reveals the overarching structure of Zhu Xi’s thought. The following chart illuminates the structure via illustrating Zhu Xi’s treatise of “On Ren (humaneness) (仁说).” I link my full translation of this treatise here, and I’ll read the most relevant few paragraphs in this treatise, and explain them later.

A Chart of Ren (Humaneness) according to Zhu Xi

The being of Heaven and Earth consists in creativity. When things and people come into existence, they are endowed by Heaven and Earth with their natures. Because of this, the human heartmind—within which human nature is embodied—has virtues which embrace all, penetrate all and thus, lack nothing. Nevertheless, one word can sum them up: Ren (仁, humaneness). Let me try to explain in detail.

There are four virtues for the creativity of Heaven and Earth: initiation, permeation, harmonization, and integration. The virtue of initiation governs them all. In their operation, these virtues are manifested in the four seasons—the vital-energy of spring permeates them all .

Correspondingly, there are four virtues for the human heartmind: Ren, righteousness, ritual-propriety, and wisdom—the virtue of Ren embraces them all. When these virtues come forth and function, they are manifested in the human feelings of love, obligation, respect, and judiciousness—the feeling of commiseration pervades them all.

Therefore, when discussing the creativity of Heaven and Earth, if we simply say, ‘the initiative power of Qian (Heaven), the initiative power of Kun (Earth),’ then its four virtues and their functions are encapsulated.

For discussing the magnificence of the human heartmind, if we simply say, “Ren is what the human heartmind is,” then its four virtues and their functions are summarized.

So, the virtue of Ren is actually what the human heartmind—which is produced and sustained by the creativity of Heaven and Earth—consists in. It functions when the human heartmind engages with things. When feelings are not aroused, the virtue is already there. When feelings are aroused, it functions inexhaustibly.

If we can sincerely embody and preserve the virtue of Ren, then we have in it the fountain of all goodness and the root of all deeds. This is why the teachings of the Confucian school (Ruism) urge scholars to pursue, keenly and unceasingly, the virtue of Ren.

As demonstrated by the chart, several categorical dyads have structured Zhu Xi’s philosophy. Firstly, with Li construed as principle, Qi (气) is the material vital-energy pervading the entire universe, the dynamics of which manifests the normativity of principles. The dyad of principle and vital-energy is thus, albeit with an emphasis on process and change, comparable to the one of form and matter in ancient Greek philosophy. Secondly, the relationship between Li and Qi is further interpreted as the one of Ti (体, substance) and Yong (用, function). The Ti of a thing is what the thing per se consists in in its enduring form, while its Yong is the manifested functions of the thing when it engages with other things. Thirdly, Xing (性, nature) and Qing (情, feeling) characterize the dimensions of human heartmind which correspond to the dyads “Li-Qi” and “Ti-Yong.” For Zhu Xi, human nature is equivalent to the Li or Ti aspect of the heartmind, while the nature is signified by four cardinal virtues of Ren, righteousness, ritual-propriety and wisdom. Human feelings are the Yong, viz., the manifested functions of Qi, aspect of the heartmind. Using a contemplative language, Zhu Xi also describes the aspect of principle, substance or nature of the heartmind as underlying one’s experience of inner peace and centrality prior to any concrete feeling aroused by external things. Therefore, another dyad of “non-aroused (未发)” and “being-aroused (已发)” indicates one’s respective experiences of spiritual formation in the different states of heartmind characterized by the aforementioned dyads.  

Understood as such, the system of Zhu Xi’s thought per the chart can be explained as follows: 

According to the Classic of Change, The nature of Tian is creativity. Creativity primarily means initiation. The initiative power of Tian is manifested jointly by the proactive Heaven (Qian, the most Yang hexagram) and the receptive Earth (Kun, the most Yin hexagram). There are four virtues, viz., four generic traits, of the creativity of Heaven and Earth: initiation (which means Tian creates everything from nothing), permeation (which means Tian’s creativity pervades everything), harmonization (which means everything dynamically co-exists within Tian), and integration (which means each created thing is endowed with a nature and all things comprise an interconnected whole within Tian). The virtue of initiation governs them all. These four virtues are manifested in the proceeding of cosmic vital-energy during the course of four seasons. The vital-energy of spring permeates them all.

Those four virtues are the principle and living substance of Tian’s creativity, while the four seasons manifest its vital-energy and function. Therefore, for discussing the creativity of Tian, when the initiative power of Qian (heaven) and the initiative power of Kun (earth) are mentioned,  both the four virtues and their functions are encapsulated.

The lower part of the chart is about human beings. It has a parallel structure to the upper one. Human beings are born from the process of cosmic creativity of Tian, and the endowed human nature is the virtue of Ren embedded in the human heartmind. There are four cardinal virtues for the heartmind, viz., Ren, righteousness, ritual-propriety, and wisdom, and the virtue of Ren embraces them all. When the heartmind is aroused and engages with things, the four virtues are manifested as four incipient moral feelings.

There are two alternative ways to name these four feelings. For Zhu Xi, they are the feelings of love, obligation, deference, and judiciousness. For Mengzi, they are the feelings of commiseration, shame and disgust, deference, and distinguishing right and wrong. Zhu Xi’s alternative way to name the feelings derive from Mengzi, but is more succinct. Overall, the feeling of love or commiseration pervades all the other feelings.

The four virtues are the principle, substance, nature or non-aroused status of the human heartmind. The four human feelings for Zhu Xi, which are the four moral incipient sprouts for Mengzi, manifest the vital-energy, function, feeling, or aroused status of the heartmind. Therefore, for discussing the magnificence of the human heartmind, once it is pointed out that Ren is what the heartmind consists in,  then both its four virtues and their functions are summarized.

In a word, Zhu Xi’s treatise of “On Ren” demonstrates the cosmological root of the distinctively good human nature, which is summarized by the cardinal human virtue, humaneness. While urging individuals to rediscover and nurture such a cosmically endowed human nature via cumulatively studying and practicing Li, Zhu Xi’s philosophy can be understood overall as an all-encompassing ethical metaphysics which aims to manifest the supreme harmonization of Tian’s creativity in the human world. 

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Zhang Zai

bajoo tree

芭蕉詩

芭蕉心盡展新枝,新卷新心暗已隨。

願學新心養新德,旋隨新葉起新知。

On the Basjoo Tree

The basjoo tree

perfects its core

to unfurl a new stem.

Unnoticed, a new curl of

a new core

is already emerging.

I love to learn

with a renewing mind-heart

to cultivate new virtues,

so that,

soon after a new leaf,

a new stem of knowledge

will arise.

Commentary:

Zhang Zai (1022-1077 CE) was a pioneering Ru philosopher of the so-called Dao Xue (Learning of the Way, 道學) movement, which is usually called Neo-Confucianism in English. Zhang is famous for his treatise, The Western Inscription (西铭), in which he grounds the Ru virtue of filiality (xiao, 孝) on the cosmic piety of human beings towards the heavens and the earth.

In this exquisite poem, On the Basjoo Tree, Zhang Zai uses the image of a Basjoo tree to express his Ruist thinking concerning the relationship between the world and human beings. For Ruists, the cosmos, called tian (天), is an all-encompassing process of continuous novelty and creativity. Correspondingly, the ethical commitment of human beings is thought of as a constant renewal process of learning such that a condition of dynamic harmony (he, 和) is continually being created in the evolving situations of human society.

The biological peculiarity of the Basjoo tree is that what looks like its trunk is actually composed of curled-up stems packed together, so that when one curled stem becomes mature, a new leaf is unfurled and its stem then grows into a new branch of the plant. For Zhang Zai, this feature of the Basjoo tree represents perfectly the core of Ruist aesthetics: the world continually renewing itself. Thus, in the second half of the poem, Zhang Zai says he loves to learn with the Basjoo tree and in that way to continue to nurture and renew his virtues and to uncover new knowledge about the world.

Some use of puns or word-play in Chinese is crucial for the poem’s diction. In Chinese, 心 (xin) can mean “mind,” “heart” or “core.” It is used by Ruists to refer to the undivided central capacity of human consciousness and encompasses its intellectual, emotional and volitional dimensions. Therefore, a standard English translation of the Ruist idea of xin is “mind-heart.”  Because xin also means “core” in Chinese, the curled-up stems making up the trunk of the Basjoo tree is portrayed by Zhang Zai as its xin, and its continual unfolding symbolizes a renewing of the human mind-heart that longs for continual learning and self-cultivation. Also, the Chinese term for “stem” (zhi, 枝) has the same pronunciation as the Chinese term for knowledge (zhi, 知). So, as each new stem is unfurled, it symbolizes a virtuous Ruist learner who has garnered a new piece of knowledge. Please pay attention to the fact that for Zhang Zai, knowledge and virtue are intertwined in the self-cultivation of a human being, and so these renewals are manifestations of the transformation of one’s own mind-heart. This reminds us of the first three paragraphs of Great Learning (Daxue, 大学), which lays out a detailed procedure for Ruist self-cultivation based upon attaining knowledge (致知), rectifying one’s mind-heart (正心), and illuminating one’s bright virtues (明明德).

Another important lesson from Ruist poetry is that in the perspective of comparative literature, Ruists are fond of using the same image to express multiple meanings. For example, “lotus” is an image heavily used in Buddhist literature to express Buddhism’s commitment to eliminating desires and anxieties and thereby to search for release from the suffering process of reincarnation through Buddhist practice. However, in Zhou Dunyi’s “On Loving the Lotus,” the lotus is described as “Inside, it is open; outside, it is straight” “It neither sprawls nor branches,” and in this way the lotus becomes a Ruist image, symbolizing the Ruist moral ideal of an upright and honest noble-person (junzi, 君子). Similarly, the Basjoo tree is an icon also popular in Buddhist literature where its trunk is actually “empty” once you account for all the unfolding stems. But in Zhang Zai’s poetry, the Basjoo tree becomes an icon expressive of the Ruist metaphysical insight concerning the constant creativity of Tian (cosmos) and the Ruist ethical commitment to the constantly being renewed self-cultivation of human beings.

(Translated and Commented by Bin Song)

Introducing a New Ruist (Confucian) Ritual: Tian-worship and Confucius-veneration (敬天尊孔)

There is a religious ritual system in Ruism which has been translated as ‘The Three Sacrifices’ (三祭, sanji): Sacrifice in celebration of Tian (Heaven), sacrifice in celebration of distinguished teachers such as Confucius, and sacrifice in celebration of one’s ancestors. Traditionally, the sacrificial ritual in celebration of Tian could only be performed by an emperor, the so-called Son of Tian (天子). This ritual used to take place in the suburb of a capital such as this:

The 'Platform of Tian' (天壇) in Beijing
The ‘Platform of Tian’ (天壇) in Beijing

The sacrificial ritual in celebration of Confucius was performed in Confucian temples such as this:

Confucius Temple in Nanjing
Confucius Temple in Nanjing

Everyone is allowed to perform this ritual. However, because Confucius is taken to be the common teacher of everyone in the Ru tradition, the main participators in this ritual were the Ruist literati.

By comparison, the ritual of sacrifice to one’s ancestors is more private. It is either performed before an ancestral altar in each individual household, in cemeteries, or in an ancestral temple shared by an extended family. It looks like this:

An ancestor altar in household
An ancestor altar in household

At this time, I would like to introduce a new ritual which combines the first two rituals, which I am calling a ritual of Tian-worship and Confucius-veneration(敬天尊孔).

The major reason that such a combination is needed is that in a contemporary context, the celebration of Tian can no longer be performed by an emperor alone. As a Ru committed and connected to the all-encompassing transcendent power of Tian, not just an emperor but every person has the need and right to celebrate it. Actually, traditional Ru literati also realized the egalitarian power of the idea of Tian, since each individual Ru was free to interpret this idea in his or her own particular way in order to counteract the ideologies and political policies which may have been endorsed by his or her emperor. This was a distinctive Ruist check and balance system within the traditional Chinese dynastic polity. However, because the polity was imperial, the ritual aspect of Tian-worship could not be decoupled from the monopoly power of the emperor. Nowadays, the political context of emperor has died out, and every Ru has accordingly recovered the right to perform a ritual of Tian-worship.

The reason I suggest combining the ritual of Tian-worship and the ritual of Confucius-veneration is that the relationship among Ru, as students of Confucius, is egalitarian. They are friends (友, you), committed to the Dao of Tian (天道, tiandao), who are trying to realize dynamic harmony at all levels of human existence in accordance with Confucius’ teachings. Therefore, when an occasion arises for Ruist friends “who are coming from afar” [Analects, 1:1] to join each other and to advance their Ruist learning, they will be able to perform the ritual of Confucius-veneration and the ritual of Tian-worship at the same time. This will remind the Ruist community that when studying the tradition, each Ru is not only a student of Confucius, but also a citizen of Tian (天民, tianmin). In this way, each Ru will continually nurture the feeling of gratitude towards the ultimate origin of their personal lives and personal energy; simultaneously, they will enhance their devotion to a life of manifesting Tian’s creativity in a distinctively human way in accordance with Confucius’s teaching about ‘humaneness’ (仁, ren).

Based upon these reasonable considerations which encourage the creation of an updated ritual (“to create rituals according to what is right,” – “以義起禮”, 禮記∙禮運), during the first ‘Ruist Friends From Afar’ Retreat in North America, held at Marsh Chapel, Boston University, on July 1-3rd, 2016, and before any formal readings and discussions even began, Ru friends performed a new Ruist ritual of Tian-worship and Confucius-veneration.

We tried to make the set-up of the ritual simple, since simplicity and authenticity are a consistent concern which traditional Ruist rituals convey. The set-up of the ritual looked like this:

We used a Chinese landscape painting to symbolize Tian. It was hung out in front. Then, we placed a Confucius statue on a small table in front of it, and an altar in the middle for holding incense. The painting we chose was drawn by Wang Hui (王翚, 1632-1717 CE) during the early Qing dynasty. A digital version of it looks like this:

This painting was selected by courtesy of Yair Lior, as Yair, among all the friends who attended the retreat, is a Ru versed in Chinese art history. The ‘Tian’ which this painting depicts feels solemn and energetic. In choosing the painting, we made sure that it was one which included Heaven, Earth, and Human Beings, since these three are the constitutive co-creators (三才) within Tian. In future, we have a plan to choose some western landscape paintings to symbolize the same Tian. This is because Tian’s creativity is all-encompassing, whether in the East or in the West, and one major concern of the participants of the retreat was how to share the Ru tradition’s wisdom and experience with fellow Americans.

The performative act of the ritual was also simple. At the beginning of the ritual, a Presider held two sticks of incense, bowed to Tian three times, and then stepped aside a bit, and bowed to Confucius once. After this, the Presider placed the incense in the altar, and then handed another couple of sticks to a second Ruist friend. After all friends had completed their celebrations, we stood in a line facing the altar, meditated for a while, and then completed the ritual.

There is no strict meaning for the numbers mentioned above. Neither does any step in the sequence have to be rigorously followed. After the Presider has performed the ritual, each friend can follow it in his or her favorite way: bowing to Tian but not bowing to Confucius, or as we elected to do during the retreat when some friends didn’t feel comfortable performing a religious-seeming ritual, giving them the option to wait in the reading room during the entire event. In a word, the performance of this suggested ritual is entirely voluntary.

However, because I was lucky enough to be supported by friends to act as Presider of the ritual, I tried to endow a Ruist meaning in my mind at each step of the ritual. Once again, these meanings were my own interpretation, and they are heuristic, and not in any way prescriptive. Future practitioners will surely choose whether to follow my interpretation or not according to their own understanding of the Ruist tradition. Here was my thinking:

I used two sticks of incense to symbolize Yin and Yang, the two most basic forms of cosmic reality in the Ruist cosmology. In this way, holding two sticks of incense while bowing to Tian symbolized that Tian is an even higher cosmological concept than Yin and Yang, since the power it refers to creates everything in the universe including these two realities. I bowed three times to Tian because, as I mentioned earlier, Tian includes three parts: Heaven, Earth and Human Beings. This trinitarian idea of Tian in Ruism underpins the Ruist commitment to Tian as both ecological and humanistic.

We all bowed to Tian in front of the statue of Confucius because we wanted our celebration of Tian to witness to our common teacher Confucius, who taught us to treat Tian as what is ultimately meaningful and powerful, that is, what is transcendent for human life. Each friend may also choose whether or not to bow to Confucius after bowing to Tian depending upon how comfortable he or she feels about bowing to a statue of a human being.

In conclusion, what I have set out in this essay is the totality of the new Ruist ritual of Tian-worship and Confucius-veneration performed during the first retreat. The effect of the performance, I have to say, felt good and appropriate. Friends told me that it was simple and felt authentic. Their feelings toward Tian and toward Confucius were expressed and enhanced. In this way, they also felt more at home in this beloved Ru community and in the more than 2,500 year-old living Ru tradition.

Dynamic Harmony (和, he) as a Principle of Civil Disobedience

(An earlier version of the article was firstly published in Huffington Post: https://www.huffpost.com/entry/a-catechism-of-ruism-conf_2_b_10449592)

Hallo, this is Dr. Bin Song teaching and researching at Washington College. As we have learned from previous units of the course, students may already have a sense of the significance of “harmony” or “harmonization” for the Ru tradition. As the character of Ru implies, being a Ru is to utilize one’s cultural knowledge and skills to harmonize all involved beings in a civilization. But what does the Ru tradition mean by “harmony”? Is there any distinction of the Ru conception of “harmony” from other traditions? In this unit, we’ll focus upon these questions. As a conversation starter, I’ll use political philosophy as an example, but please do keep it in mind that the implications of harmony is far-reaching in the Ru lifestyle, and we’ll discuss these implications later.

By all commonsense standards, which may of course be lacking in academic sophistication, the mainland of China is not democratic. The appointment of the General Secretary for the Chinese Communist Party is similar to the selection of the Pope in Roman Catholicism: a small circle of high bishops hold a closed meeting, white smoke rises up, and a new Pope marches out. Accordingly, everyone begins to cheer! In China, the people can’t vote for local magistrates beyond the village level. People can’t openly criticize any governmental malfunction unless ‘the criticisms are of good will.’ I am here quoting the words recently used by China’s foreign minister to berate a Canadian journalist after she had challenged the lack of essential human rights available to people in mainland China ( please click here). There are no television debates, there are no campaigns; often people even know who will be the No.1 political leader, and sometimes also the No.2, almost a decade before he or she actually steps ‘unto the throne.’

Primarily for this reason, I am infinitely sympathetic with the protest carried out by Hong Kong’s young people in 2014, the so-called ‘umbrella revolution,’ when they realized their right of universal suffrage could be ‘cashed out’ by being required to vote only for candidates for chief executive who have been either approved or assigned in advance by China’s central government. This reminds me of my own experience of voting for a ‘deputy of the people’s congress’ (人大代表) when I was in college. China has the strangest ‘congress’ in the world. Although it is called ‘the people’s congress,’ and its main functions are, like other congresses around the world, to pass laws and oversee the functioning of the government, the deputies making up the congress are almost all elitists from various areas of the country: they are city or province magistrates, high governmental officials, directors of giant corporations, presidents of universities, famous entertainers such as singers, film stars or presenters on TV talk-shows, etc. As I said, what is most ludicrous is that citizens can only vote for those representatives who have already been assigned from ‘above.’ I can never forget that in 2000, my sophomore year in college, I was called up to vote for the deputies of congress on behalf of my university. There was only one candidate and I didn’t even know who she was, what her political beliefs were, or how or whether she would fight for the people’s rights and interests. Even so, a label with her name was stuck to a voting box waiting for everyone’s ballots. When I realized how ridiculous this was, I quit, and never voted again.

This gloomy picture of contemporary Chinese politics poses a special challenge for Ruism, the most political of the traditions of ancient China, which always strives to realize ‘humane government’ (仁 政). The question for modern Ruists is: where does the tradition stand today? Actually, a western political observer has noticed a discouraging phenomenon in China’s various democratic movements, such as the umbrella revolution in Hong Kong: a Ruist voice is lacking (click here). When people search for ideological resources to back up any appeal to democracy, they are more than likely to appropriate ideas and slogans from the West, such as Victo Hugo’s, ‘When dictatorship is a fact, revolution is a duty.’ Nevertheless, in my view, Ruism is a tradition deep enough to provide an indigenous ideological resource to back up the contemporary Chinese people’s appeal to democracy, and the only remaining job for contemporary Ruists is to let people know what these ideas are, and then to try to help put these ideas into practice. In the remainder of this essay, I will argue that the spiritual, ethical and political goal of Ruism, ‘dynamic harmony’ (和, he), is the sort of democratic idea that can point to the correct direction for political reformation so badly needed in China and in all other related places in the world.

The basic meaning of ‘harmony’ is ‘being together,’ and the etymology of both its Chinese character, 和, and its English translation, harmony [Gr. άρμονία], relates to music. However, there is a significant difference between the ancient Greek philosophers and the ancient Ruist thinkers in regard to their understanding of musical harmony. For the Pythagoreans, musical performances furnish great occasions to ponder those perfect mathematical laws, such as the calculable proportions among notes and pitches within instrumental performances. In this way, playing music is a way of applying universal laws to particular performances so that an intended harmony is produced. For Ruists, I think they would not disagree with Pythagoreans’ conception of harmony, since being harmonious in general requests a certain set of rules to follow in order to counteract disharmonies. However, the tendency of embodying and practicing abstract ideas makes the Ru tradition distinctively more emphasize the bodily and participatory dimensions of harmonization. For Ruists, playing music (樂, yue) is like joining a magnificent banquet comprised of a variety of factors: performing instruments, singing, dancing, reading, ritual-playing, drinking, eating and so on. In this way, the pattern-principle (理, li) governing the performance of one single element, such as how to correctly play a harp, will be analogically adopted by the other elements even though it may be manifested in completely different ways, such as by the dancers who must translate musical notes into body language in order for the dance performance to unfold together with the playing of the instruments. Here, the key to harmony is not one of pondering universal mathematical laws beyond particular performances, but the creative inter-play among each human participant in accordance with each different situation. Understood in this way, playing music is a dynamic process leading to endless novelty while simultaneously manifesting a recognizable set of pattern-principles. It is not a matter of applying static, universal mathematical laws onto concrete instrumental performances, but rather one of engendering novel expressions of recognizable pattern-principles which have been played out by other co-players or earlier exemplary musicians. Because of this dynamic and diversifying essence of the Ruist idea of ‘harmony,’ I always suggest translating 和 as ‘dynamic harmony’ in order to distance it from its Pythagorean cousin. In Ruism, this distinct understanding of ‘dynamic harmony’ is nicely summarized by Confucius in Analects, 13:23: ‘The exemplary person searches for harmony without uniformity, but the petty-person searches for uniformity without harmony’ (君子和而不同,小人同而不和).

Clearly, this idea of ‘dynamic harmony’ is what sets the foundation for the peoples’ conception of good politics. It requires a humane government that does not do what the current Chinese government has done to the people of Hong Kong and the citizens of mainland China, that is, to ignore appeals from minorities and other under-represented groups of people, and then to impose uniform laws from above. An harmonious process of governance ought to be based upon an all-encompassing process of negotiation and compromise, participated in by all relevant groups of people, which then allows all the people to live and flourish together in the same society. We find references that this is the Ruist understanding of humane governance in some of the earliest Ruist classics.

In the Zuozhuan (Zhaogong 20 昭公二十年), a scholar-minister, Yanzi 晏子 (?-500 B.C.E), whose later thought had a great influence on the Ruist tradition, is recorded to have remonstrated with the Duke of Qi when the duke praised a minister whose ideas always coincided with his own. First, said Yanzi, the process leading to dynamic harmony in governance is like cooking a delicious soup using diverse ingredients, or playing pleasing music using varying instruments. Additionally, Yanzi argued that a harmonious and good government must also be based upon a creative tension within diverse factors:

“When the duke says, ‘Yes,’ Ju (據, the minister whom the duke of Lu had praised) also says ‘Yes’; when the duke says ‘No’, Ju also says ‘No’. This is like mixing water with water. Who can eat such a soup? This is like using the same kind of instruments to produce music. Who can enjoy such music? This is why it is not all right to be uniform (同, tong).”

According to this passage, when the current Chinese government only allows candidates for chief-executive or deputy to the people’s congress who have been assigned from above, they are doing exactly what Yanzi criticized: they are mixing water with water and using the same kind of instruments to produce music—and who enjoys that? From this and other similar Ruist texts, we also find that the Ruist idea of ‘dynamic harmony’ does not mean that there should be no conflict during the process of harmonization. The diversity of interests expressed by different groups of people on which any form of dynamic harmony is based almost inevitably leads to conflict. But it does mean that people do not see such conflict as a source of eliminating antagonism, but rather as a great opportunity leading to change and growth. This requires that people with different interests need to listen to each other, become educated about their topic, and negotiate with one another. Furthermore, doing so constrains personal interest and requires accommodation to the ideas of others, and then, necessitates finding sustainable solutions which allow each inter-connected group to complement the others, and to thrive together in the same society.

Understood in this way, in a case in which unjustified uniform laws have been imposed from above, the Ruist idea of ‘dynamic harmony’ can be seen as a principle of civil disobedience. It urges citizen disobedience because harmony must be based upon an integrated diversity. Ruists believe that a dominant voice cannot be accepted from any authority unless it succeeds in harmonizing appeals voiced by varying groups of people all the way from bottom to top. It is ‘civil’ because the essential Ruist method for dealing with conflict is non-violent and ought ultimately to be oriented toward the establishment of a new harmony. This requires the human co-participators in this conflict-resolution process to creatively invent new forms of ritual-proprieties (禮, li), making the necessary negotiations and compromises practicable and sustainable. In a certain perspective, what Hong Kong’s young people have done in their peaceful demonstrations is a perfect example of how ‘dynamic harmony’ can be practiced in a modern situation: “I protest, I disobey, but I do this as a responsible and educated citizen. Therefore, I will respect the dignity of all involved humans, including my political enemies, using peaceful and civil manners, but I will fight for my basic human right to the death, since without taking account of other people’s diverse democratic views, there can be no humane government, and neither can there be true ‘dynamic harmony’ in human society.”

Confucianism as Not An Atheism

QUFU, SHANDONG PROVINCE, CHINA - 2015/03/19: Dragon carved stone steps leading to Dacheng Hall, also called the Hall of Great

One of the most perplexing aspects of Confucianism is that people easily misunderstand it as a 100% humanism. An example is that, when early Jesuit missionaries went to China and found Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucianism of “Pattern-Principle” (理)and “Matter-Energy” (氣)was taken to be orthodox by Confucian elite, they categorized Confucianism as a form of “atheism” and thus, thought it deeply corrupted.

In Christianity, even love towards one’s neighbors is ultimately driven by divine grace. That means it is God who commands and makes us love our neighbors. However, because Confucianism lacks this kind of “divine agency” concept, it is very hard for Confucians to say when we love our parents and kids, it is ultimately and exclusively “Heaven” (天) who drives us towards this love.

The divergent situation is that Heaven in Confucianism is an all-encompassing constantly creative cosmic power. It lacks the Christian feature of “agency.” The Heavenly creation is spontaneous, natural, and if we use a term in modern control theory, it can also be self-organized in certain circumstances such as on the earth, but there is no guarantee that every creation of Heaven is ordered according to human expectation. Since Heaven is constantly creating, the essence of human beings, as an organic part of Heaven, is also constantly creating. This constantly creating human nature is named by “Ren” (仁) in Confucianism. An impressive allegory made by Neo-Confucianism is that this human nature “Ren” embodied in humans is like the “kernel” (果仁)contained in the nutshell (果壳), so represents the essential of life. But what is distinct in Confucianism is, Heaven provides the creative energy to human beings, but how humans, as an “agent”, use this energy is solely due to themselves.

As a matter of fact, when Confucians feel united with Heaven through an arduous process of self-cultivation, they would love a myriad of things under Heaven. But in this mystical situation, we can say, the great body of ours which we form with Heaven makes us want to love, but how to love concretely is still exclusively due to ourselves. In this way, the idea of “Heaven” as the divine reality in Confucianism provides ultimate axiological and aesthetic motives for humans’ universal love, but it can’t provide the “agency” which is the last crucial link leading to a concrete action of human love.

In this sense, it is wrong to characterize Confucianism as an “atheism”, since “Heaven” is indeed the divine reality which provides the ultimate axiological and aesthetic values to human deeds. But it is not a “theism” too, since “Heaven” is not a personal God and lacks the Christian-like “agency”. In fact, It is a non-theism. What Confucians worship about “Heaven” is a benevolent but wild cosmic creative power, without any anthropomorphic sort of purpose, will or plan. Correspondingly, the Confucian humanism is a non-theistic humanism, and in this strictly defined sense, it is a spiritual humanism.