Diversity and the Orientation of Philosophy: Views from Early China

Franklin Perkins

Part I

The turn in my own orientation toward philosophy came late in graduate school, prompted by a casual comment from one of my professors, who said something like: “It is great that you want to study Chinese philosophy, but I just don’t think that it would address the kinds of philosophical questions I am interested in.” His      remark was unsettling. At that moment, I was most interested in the relationship between thoughts, personal identity, and the thing that thinks. More specifically, my work was on Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz and I was trying to make sense of the tension between identifying as my monad (which contains the entire world, including all of the things that irritate me) and as a character within that monad. I couldn’t see any way that Confucianism or Daoism would help with this question. I had been reading Chinese philosophy since high school, but it had no connection to my academic work. Why? Was it not real philosophy? I realized that I was reading Chinese philosophy because it shaped how I lived and understood my life. It mattered to me. I was reading Leibniz largely      for the sheer joy of solving hard puzzles and learning new thoughts. I couldn’t think of what impact it would have on my life if I solved the puzzle one way or the other. At that point I decided I should reorient my academic work to philosophical issues that mattered to my own life, questions such as: should I be more or less upset about events in the world? I have been teaching and writing about Chinese philosophy ever since.

I didn’t know it at the time, but my      shift in orientation was a reversal of the turn that occurred at the start of modern philosophy in Europe. Up until sometime in the 18th century, philosophy was considered a human activity appearing across cultures, including China and India. The Jesuits who first moved to China referred to the      Confucian elite as “the philosophers.” In 1697, Leibniz wrote: 

But who would have believed that there is on earth a people who, though we are in our view so very advanced in every branch of behavior, still surpass us in comprehending the precepts of civil life? Yet now we find this to be so among the Chinese, as we learn to know them better. And so if we are their equals in industrial arts, and ahead of them in contemplative sciences, certainly they surpass us (though it is almost shameful to confess this) in practical philosophy, that is, in the precepts of ethics and politics adapted to the present life and use of mortals. (Leibniz, Novissima Sinica, “Preface,” section 3) [1]

What brought this inclusive view to an end? The turn that excluded everyone outside of Europe from philosophy was driven by racism and the need to rationalize European      domination and exploitation of other peoples [2] . But Leibniz’s reference to “practical philosophy” reveals another side to this re-orientation. Philosophy was transformed from seeking a way of living well in the world to an academic discipline modeled on the sciences. This change in the conception of philosophy more easily excluded non-European thought, but it did more. Hellenistic Philosophy–which had been so important for the formation of early modern philosophy–also faded into the background. Roman philosophers like Cicero and Seneca went the way of French philosophes like Voltaire, defined out of the discipline of philosophy (where they still largely remain). 

The ideology that went with this turn in Europe separated theory from practice, but we      need not fall into that trap. Leibniz explains that practical philosophy means living in accord with reason. Much of what Chinese philosophers did fits within the narrow and idiosyncratic boundaries of the modern disciple of philosophy. They staked out positions on how the world arose, on the nature of language and knowledge, on moral psychology and human nature. They argued and gave philosophical reasons to justify their positions. On this basis, we can and should include Chinese texts within any philosophy curriculum. In fact, if one assumes a naturalistic viewpoint, as most contemporary philosophers do, Chinese philosophers are often more relevant and closer to the truth than      philosophers in the history of Europe. At the same time, Chinese philosophers made their arguments in service of a project that differs from that of contemporary philosophy: that of living well and making the world a better place. Arguments were elements of a dao 道, a path or way. Losing sight of this difference in orientation causes us to miss the challenge that Chinese philosophies (like Indian and Hellenistic philosophies) pose to the way our discipline is now circumscribed. Just as the exclusion of other cultures from philosophy went along with a narrowing of the purpose of philosophy, the inclusion of other traditions should help us consider what else philosophy could be. In the second part of this essay, I’ll suggest some other possibilities for philosophy, building from some of my favorite passages from early China.

Part II

Now the Confucians do not get to the root of that by which they have desires but instead prohibit what they desire; they do not get to the source of that by which they feel joy but instead close the door to what they enjoy. This is like opening up the source of the Yangtze or Yellow River and then blocking it with a hand. [. . .] When the people of Yue get a python, they take it as the highest cuisine, but when those of the Middle Kingdom get one, they abandon it as useless. Thus, if they recognize that something is useless, even greedy people can yield it to others. If they do not recognize that something is useless, even temperate people cannot give it up. (Huainanzi, “Quintessential Spirit”) [3]

We tend to take our desires for granted—sometimes resisting them but more often planning our lives around filling them. In reality, as philosophers across times and cultures have pointed out, our desires always presuppose a certain interpretation of the world, most of all judgments about what is and is not useful. No thoughtful person believes that happiness or fulfillment maps directly onto external circumstances. The very same condition will make one person happy and the other disappointed. These      differences become visible when one looks across cultures, as the Huainanzi does in contrasting the people of Yue with those of the Middle Kingdom. Happiness depends on our interpretation of the world. I start every introduction to philosophy with this point, because interpreting the world is exactly what philosophy does and it is one of the things it has proven itself to be good at. I suspect it is no coincidence that the marginalization of this function of philosophy in modern Europe came along with the rise of capitalism, a cultural and political system based on the unbridled proliferation of desires. 

What people pursue and abandon differs; each has the perceptions of the heart/mind. Thus, affirming and denying have a dwelling. If one attains that dwelling, then there is nothing to deny. If one loses that dwelling, then there is nothing to affirm. As for the Danxue, Taimeng, Fanzhong, Kongtong, Daxia, Beihu, Qigong, Xiugu peoples, right and wrong differ for each, and their customs oppose each other. Ruler and minister, superior and subordinate, husband and wife, father and son all have that by which they serve each other. What is right for this one is not right for that one; what is wrong for this one is not wrong for that one. It is like the axe, hatchet, mallet, and chisel each has that to which it best applies. (Huainanzi, “Boundless Discourses”)

If our desires and emotions depend on an interpretation of the world, which interpretation is best? We might take our goal to be seeing the world as it truly is.      That is the view in many traditions, such as Stoicism and Buddhism.      They may be right, but I am skeptical that we could know we have found the true interpretation and that, if we did, this interpretation would be conducive to a happy, fulfilling life.      For the Huainanzi, the best interpretation will depend on the specifics of one’s culture and one’s particular roles. If that is right, then promoting a single philosophy is short-sighted and even imperialistic. One needs a diversity of philosophies and perspectives, so that the right tool is on hand for the right circumstance. Philosophers often present their goal as the elimination of ideas—we find the truth and get rid of the rest. Failure to achieve consensus suggests philosophy is not well suited to that task (unlike real sciences).  On the contrary, philosophy excels at multiplying perspectives, that is, providing a greater diversity of tools. I suspect that this is what draws most people to philosophy—not the desire to find the one truth but the joy of discovering new ideas. One of the fastest ways to add this diversity is by looking at philosophy across different cultures and traditions.

Huizi said to Zhuangzi, “I have a giant tree which people call the Stink Tree. Its great trunk is so twisted and gnarled it cannot be made to fit a level or line. Its small branches are so bent and twisted they cannot be made to fit a compass or square. Even if it stood in the road, carpenters would not look at it. Now, as for your words, they also are giant but useless. That is why the masses of people all leave them.”

Zhuangzi replied: “Have you alone never seen a weasel? It lowers its body and crouches to pounce, going east and west, jumping to ceiling beams, avoiding neither high nor low. It ends up in a trap or dies in a net. Now as for the yak, it is giant like the clouds hanging from the sky. This is the ability to be giant, but it cannot catch a mouse. Now you have this giant tree but are troubled by its having no use. Why not plant it in the village of no-place-at-all, the wilds of vast no-things, roaming by its side in non-doing, wandering at ease while sleeping under it. Its life is not cut short by axes and hatchets; things are no harm to it. Having nothing that can be used, what could trouble or bother it?” (Zhuangzi, “Wandering Far and Unfettered”) [4]

     Huizi describes a giant tree for which he can find no use, no value, no meaning. He compares Zhuangzi’s words to that tree. This dialogue is preceded by a similar one in which Huizi has a gourd so large that he can find no practical use for it. In frustration, he busts it up. Zhuangzi scolds him and says he could have cut it in half and used it as a raft to float around on a lake. In both cases, Huizi’s narrow focus on utility prevents him from finding meaning. In both cases, Zhuangzi suggests a use that is really a form of enjoyment, a “using” of the useless. That is the attitude he suggests we bring to      philosophy. These dialogues make a deeper point about philosophy and creativity. We often think of philosophy as evaluating options, and we have rules for how to do that, but this isn’t where Huizi falls short. As a representative of the "School of Names," he was famous for his analytic skills. His problem is lack of imagination, which is rooted in his focus on use but perhaps also his focus on analysis. The great philosophers are the ones who propose new options. Much of the Zhuangzi is about how to think of options we are currently blind to. Part of its strategy is using skepticism and humor to loosen the grip of our current perspectives, but often it juxtaposes radically different views, a function particularly well served by considering philosophies from different cultures.

Yu considered someone in the world drowning like he himself drowned them. Ji considered someone in the world starving like he himself starved them. This is why they had such urgency. (Mengzi 4B29) [5]

When [Yi Yin] considered the people of the world, if there was one man or one woman who did not receive the nurturing kindness of a Yao or Shun, it was like he himself shoved them into a ditch. That is the weight of taking the world as one’s own responsibility. (Mengzi 5A7)

Chinese philosophy formed in a time of great chaos and suffering, known as the Warring States period. Zhuangzi tries to help us find ways to enjoy life even in difficult conditions. The Confucians focus on how to save the world. Mengzi argued that people naturally care for others, going so far as to claim that regular people have certain things they would refuse to do even when facing death. Most people couldn’t bear to drown or starve someone. If we accidentally bump someone into a ditch, our first instinct is to apologize and pull them out.      We naturally care, but not enough to fix the world. In addition to philosophical arguments, Mengzi provides many strategies for how we can extend our care. The sages in these passages did it by cultivating a perspective in which their natural feelings of responsibility extended not just to those they had wronged but to those they could help. The issue for Mengzi isn’t that this perspective is the most accurate. It is a way of looking at the world that helps us to become better people and to make the world a better place. 

Although you promote sages in order to govern the world, that just promotes the benefits for great bandits like Robber Zhi. If you make bushels and pecks to measure with, then they will take bushels and pecks and rob with them. If you make scales and balances to weigh with, then they will take scales and balances and rob with them. If you make tallies and contracts to ensure trust, then they will take tallies and contracts and rob with them. If you make benevolence and rightness to regulate with, they will take benevolence and rightness and rob with them. How do we know this is so? Those who steal a buckle are executed; those who steal a state become feudal lords. The gates of the feudal lords are where humaneness and rightness exist. So, isn’t this stealing humaneness, rightness, sagacity, and wisdom? (Zhuangzi, “Breaking into Trunks”)

Looking at in this way, while it is true that good people cannot take a stand without the way of the sage, Robber Zhi cannot operate without the way of the sage either. But since the good people of the world are few with the bad people are many, the way of the sage has few benefits for the world while it causes much harm. (Zhuangzi, “Breaking into Trunks”)

The Zhuangzi frequently criticizes the Confucian commitment to using ethical values to save the world. What might seem like political apathy      reflects      a wariness of the ideological power accrued by philosophies and moralities. They are powerful tools that naturally tend to fall into the hands of those who already have power. Philosophy always plays a double-role, serving to rationalize the injustices of the dominant power structures while also providing ways of undermining them. Perhaps if we were to find the one true philosophy it would avoid this problem, but I suspect not. If one looks globally, radically different philosophies can be found serving the same unjust power structures. In spite of deep differences in ontologies and conceptions of human nature, Chinese, Indian, and European philosophies have all served to rationalize gender inequality. One important political role for philosophy, then, is continual critique. That critical function is sometimes a matter of evaluating arguments but it just as often comes from the ability to imagine alternatives and to see forms of oppression and exploitation that dominant philosophies render invisible. 

Zilu asked, “On hearing it, should it be immediately enacted?” The master said, “There are your father and elder brothers—how could you immediately enact what you hear?”

Ran Qiu asked, “On hearing it, should it be immediately enacted?” The master said, “On hearing it, it should be immediately enacted.”

Gongxi Hua said, “Zilu asked whether he should immediately practice what he heard, and you said, ‘There are your father and elder brothers.’ Qiu asked whether he should immediately practice what he heard, and you said, ‘On hearing it, it should be immediately enacted.’ I am perplexed. May I ask about it?”

The master said, “Qiu holds back; so I urged him forward. Zilu wants to excel others, so I hold him back.” (Analects 11.22) [6]

The definition I give students in my introductory classes is: philosophy is the attempt to form a coherent and justifiable understanding of your life. Seeking coherence means eliminating contradictions. In philosophy, justifiable means justifiable to others, using reason and empirical evidence without appeal to particular authorities or faiths. Both goals are best served through dialog. We need to be open to criticism and willing to take seriously arguments given by others. This process of philosophical discussion tends toward commonality and mutual understanding. At the same time, philosophy must help us make sense of our own lives and we start from different cultures, experiences, responsibilities, and tastes. The above dialogue is about accommodating these differences. The “master” is Kongzi (Confucius), and, like Socrates, Kongzi only did philosophy in face-to-face discussions. We know this dialogue, though, because it was included as part of the Analects (Lunyu). Its inclusion in a written text warns readers to take none of Kongzi’s statements as absolute. I cannot know what he would have said to me if he knew me. The only option is to read the sayings critically along with a process of self-examination. From the perspective of the teacher, the diversity of students requires us to present a diversity of views, so that each student can find what they need:

Those who concentrate on self-cultivation every day see where they are lacking; those who concentrate on broad learning every day see where they have extra. Those who every day see where they are lacking will every day have extra. Those who every day see where they have extra will every day lack more and more. (Wang Yangming, “A Record for Practice”) [7]

I have used passages from Chinese philosophies to suggest certain things that philosophy can and should do. The foundation is the ability of philosophy to provide new perspectives and interpretations, which give us more control over our own motivations, more options for creating or finding meaning, and more tools for criticizing dominant ideologies. Looking across world history, philosophy has proven itself to be good at these very things, and they make philosophy relevant. One need only consider how many people have lived the philosophies developed from Confucianism, Daoism, Buddhism, Hinduism, Stoicism, Epicureanism, and so on, and how much that contrasts the limited role played by contemporary academic philosophy. With the more practical orientation I am advocating here, no one can deny the intrinsic philosophical value of philosophies that arose outside of Europe. Moreover, diversity itself becomes important for philosophy. But in closing, one more limit should be mentioned. The narrowing of philosophy in Europe was linked to the formation of philosophy as an academic discipline within the modern university system. I accept the limits of that system, and everything I’ve said about philosophy here can be done within the confines of university courses and academic culture. It all stays on the level of ideas and broad learning. I said earlier that that goal for Chinese philosophers was not argument but what Wang Yangming refers to above as cultivating the self. Ideas alone are not sufficient for that task. Transforming oneself requires daily practices, changing our actions, cultivating habits, training our minds, and so on. These work best when done with others. We might call this philosophy as a way of life, or philosophy as a dao. That kind of work cannot be done within the university systems we now have, but one goal for public philosophy might be to explore what philosophy could be when extended beyond the grip of academia.

[1] The translation is by Donald Lach, in Daniel J. Cook and Henry Rosemont Jr., Leibniz: Writings on China (Chicago: Open Court, 1994), 46-47.

[2] This point is definitively established by Peter K. J. Park, Africa, Asia, and the History of Philosophy: Racism in the Formation of the Philosophical Canon, 1780-1830 (Albany: SUNY, 2014).