Philosophy as a guide through uncertainty: A Review of Leah Kalmanson's Cross-Cultural Existentialism
Rita Kimijima-Dennemeyer
Introduction
The word ‘philosophy’ is often accompanied by the image of a wizened academic who spends all day with his nose stuffed in books, his myopic eyes squinting at page after page as he proceeds, day after indistinguishable day, in his life of solitude and thought. Although some modern-day academic philosophers may indeed fall into this stereotypical mold, this is not the only way to do philosophy. Leah Kalmanson’s Cross-Cultural Existentialism: On the Meaning of Life in Asian and Western Thought offers one such perspective that challenges commonplace notions of philosophy.
Central to the book’s argument is the notion that philosophy can be something that we do, not merely something that we study. The book traces an intellectual history within East Asian philosophy. It begins with the writings of the 20th-century Korean Buddhist nun, feminist, and political activist Kim Iryŏp, and follows her influences back to ancient Ruist (Confucian) metaphysics. As Kalmanson traces these interconnected influences in East Asian thought, she simultaneously compares and contrasts the ways in which these thinkers and western existentialists have conceived of and responded to the uncertainties of human life. In doing so, her book reveals striking differences between the two traditions.
Western existentialism is often characterised as a rather cynical approach to life. Many of its philosophers were influenced by a post-war environment where faith was shunned and utopia was unlikely. It is no surprise that such a historical context gave rise to the intellectual movement that it did. In contrast, East Asian Buddhism, Ruism, and Daoism did not arise from such circumstances. Therefore, much of the despondence that is apparent in the likes of Sartre or existentialist predecessors such as Nietzsche are nowhere to be found among texts from these traditions. Some of the key terms associated with western existentialism, Kalmanson argues, are therefore merely one of several ways of framing the issues at hand. She then endeavors to provide an alternate vocabulary for understanding the questions that confronted western existentialists.
Redefining existentialism
Kalmanson’s targets of redefinition are the key terms associated with existentialism: anxiety, absurdity, alienation, authenticity, and freedom. She agrees that an acknowledgement of the finitude of our own lives may bring about a certain unease. Yet, rather than ‘anxiety,’ a Ruist might choose to describe the condition as you (憂), or solicitude–a word denoting a conscientious cultivation of the self through ritual. Rather than characterizing the universe as ‘absurd,’ or vast and unknowable, one may approach life with jing (敬), or seriousness–a grounded awe of the world in which we exist. Instead of ‘alienation’ and a belief in nothingness, we may cultivate jing (靜), or stillness–an acknowledgement of the universal energy (qi 氣) that exists both within and outside of ourselves. And rather than striving to become our ‘authentic’ selves–an act that presupposes some ‘self’ to which we can be truer–one might be better off living with cheng (誠), or sincerity–an enactment of the self through behaviour, or the self as a creative process.
Although this terminology may offer a more positive, and in many ways palatable, way of approaching existentialist issues, the observation of conceptual similarities in different schools of thought is nothing new. What is unique about Kalmanson’s redefinitions of existentialist terminology are the explicit calls to action implicit within them.
Philosophy as action
Rusim, along with positing a philosophy of how we understand the world, also prescribes a particular way of life. Unlike western existentialism, which sees the culmination of anxiety, absurdity, alienation, and authenticity as individual ‘freedom,’ Kalmanson likens this goal to that of ziran (自然), or spontaneity, in Ruism. This word denotes a particular energetic state in which new creations spontaneously arise from that which has come before it. The cultivation of the self through solicitude (you 憂), seriousness (jing 敬), stillness (jing 靜), and sincerity (cheng 誠) is not intended to result in individual liberation, but rather in a state of mind that can harness knowledge and opportunity to enact universal change. Furthermore, the practices that culminate in ziran are not possible in isolation. Ruists believe that we can only transform the universal energy, qi (氣), through meditative study of past scholars. The state of ziren, therefore, is much larger than the self: it is a product of everything that has come before us, and something that changes not only ourselves but the world around us.
This framework for approaching existentialist issues offers a holistic role for philosophy in the meaning of life. Cross-Cultural Existentialism challenges us to see philosophical reflection not as something separate from our lives, but rather as part of the process of creating meaning in our own lives. The Liji, or Book of Rites, which is a collection of Zhou-dynasty Ruist texts, begins one section with the sentence: “From the ruler down to ordinary people, all must regard the cultivation of the self as the root.”[1] Furthermore, Kalmanson notes that many East Asian political movements have been influenced by philosophical thought. For example, Kim Iryŏp used Buddhist meditation and ritual as a karmic practice fueling her feminist activism, [2] and early Japanese leftists found inspiration in the Buddhist notion of a “pure land”–the spiritual realm inhabited by enlightened beings–as a way of conceptualizing their utopian vision. [3] East Asian philosophy, according to Kalmanson, is not a solitary activity, but rather a foundation for meaningful lives.
This understanding of philosophy is a breath of fresh air within a sea of academic jargon. Like all philosophy, western existentialism to a great extent carries with it the burden of inaccessibility. The names Sartre, Beauvoir, Nietzsche, and Kierkegaard are often confined to the sphere of intellectuals and shunned from the sphere of normal, universal humanity. Terms like anxiety and absurdity are complex concepts that merit more explication than the short definitions I gave earlier in this review, a part of philosophical tradition for Kalmanson. Such examples throughout the text expand the notion of “philosophy” beyond its ordinary usage.
Nonetheless, at times Cross-Cultural Existentialism seems to fall into this same trap as other works of academic philosophy. Kalmanson has a tendency to throw long lists of terminology at the reader without always providing sufficient explanation, and she often refers to languages with which the target audience would likely be unfamiliar. Even as a speaker of Japanese myself, who could infer some meaning from the characters my language shares with Chinese, I often found it difficult to keep track of definitions. There are likely better introductory resources for learning about East Asian philosophy, which offer clearer explanations of the concepts that Kalmanson discusses. Readers who already have some background in East Asian philosophy will no doubt gain more from her text compared to a naïve reader. Ultimately, although Kalmanson challenges our commonplace notions of philosophy, Cross-Cultural Existentialism does not always succeed in a presentation of ideas that is accessible to all.
Conclusion
At its best, Cross-Cultural Existentialism is an intensely personal volume. At times, it feels almost like a self-help book with its emphasis on reframing existential issues in a more positive light and its emphasis on change. Indeed, in her final words of the book, Kalmanson says, “My hope upon this conclusion is that this book might speak to others who, like me, are at times exhausted in the face of persistent existential uncertainties, and who find in the promise of philosophical communion a source of creative renewal.” Although Cross-Cultural Existentialism certainly does offer valuable insight into cross-cultural philosophical parallels, it is, more than anything else, an invitation. Rather than asking the reader to argue with her on the appropriateness of the connections she draws between western existentialist and Buddhist, Ruist, and Daoist concepts, or the accuracy of the definitions she provides, Kalmanson invites us to engage in philosophy as a source of inspiration for transforming the world.
Cross-Cultural Existentialism asks us to take philosophy into our lives as a means of enacting meaningful social change. Her book is implicitly political, with numerous references to activist movements that have taken inspiration from East Asian philosophy. Instead of confining existential philosophy only to one’s own life, these examples suggest ways in which it can be extended to make the world at large a better place. The blurring of lines between the personal and universal offers an alternative approach to much of western philosophy. What Kalmanson tells us is that if philosophy is, as its etymology suggests, a love of wisdom, then perhaps we ought to use that wisdom to enact meaningful change in the world. This sentiment gleaned from East Asian philosophy is very similar to western philosophy’s Ancient Greek roots, where philosophy was a public activity, and philosophers were not hidden within ivory towers, but rather shouting on the street in a busy marketplace. Perhaps that is by far time that western philosophy return to these practices as well.
Footnotes
Johnston, Ian, and Ping Wang. Daxue; and Zhongyong. Bilingual Ed./ Translated and Annotated by Ian Johnson and Wang Ping. ed. Hong Kong: Chinese University Press, 2012, 45-47.
Kim, Iryŏp, Robert E. Buswell, and Jin Y. Park. Reflections of a Zen Buddhist Nun. Honolulu, 2014.
Curley, Melissa Anne-Marie, and Richard K. Payne. Pure Land, Real World: Modern Buddhism, Japanese Leftists, and the Utopian Imagination. Pure Land Buddhist Studies. Honolulu, 2017
