ISUD Congress, July 2009—Beijing International Studies ...



Blending Traditions:

On Taoism, Chan Buddhism, Confucianism, Humanistic Marxism

By

Kevin M. Brien

Part One takes the form of a brief original story involving both a Taoist character and a Chan Buddhist character. The story is intended as an artistic symbol pointing beyond itself toward an ideal mode of being that I take to be common to both Taoism and Chan Buddhism. It is a mode of being of peace; a mode of being that is at once aesthetic and spiritual, that involves a holistic existential awareness of the interconnection of human beings with one another and with nature at large, as well as a lived attunement to the interconnection of all things with all things. Part Two takes the form of a dialogue involving five characters who come together to discuss aspects of Chinese philosophy in relation to humanistic Marxism. They critically discuss some main themes associated with Taoism, Confucianism, Chan Buddhism, and humanistic Marxism. The dialogue works toward a tentative critical synthesis of these perspectives. Blending as it does the humanism of three great mainstream Chinese traditions with humanistic Marxism, such a synthesis if fully carried out, could, I believe, potentially go a very long way in helping to reinforce efforts to guide the "great tide of human reality" in the direction of social justice and world peace.

Part One

When they first glimpsed each other that day, it was shortly after Lao Zi,[1] the older, had emerged from his crude wooden hut. It was before dawn. For a moment he stopped on the door step as he lightly touched the large pocket of his robe to assure himself he had his writing materials with him—brush, ink stick, and rice paper. The soft breeze sent long strands of his gray hair gently circling in the air. The younger, Kumarajiva,[2] approached from below toward the hut set on the side of a hill sprinkled with small trees. Older and younger greeted each other with smiles, but no words.

They both walked to a place where there was a clear view of the bay below; both sat down cross-legged; both listening to the sound of the distant waves advancing and retreating, both breathing slowly, quietly, deeply in-and-out—both becoming one with the sound of the waves rolling in and rolling out, one with the breath, one with everything. [3] They went on like this for a while as the dawn slowly approached. Muffled voices began to come up from below where the village fishermen were preparing their nets as well as their small boats for the day's work; their voices mixed with the sounds of birds already beginning to greet the new morning. As it grew lighter still, more and more birds joined in the lovely chorus.

But just as the sunrise was about to happen, the sounds of the fishermen below, and those of the birds all around, became completely silent; the only sound remaining was the rhythmic sound of the waves advancing and retreating. Then, all of a sudden, the new sun springs up over the horizon sending a long banner of liquid gold shimmering over the surface of the bay. After a few moments the voices of the fishermen and the birds begin to pick up again—and the day had begun.

Still no words being said, the two friends stood up, smiled at each other, and walked down hill, turned left at the bottom, walked along the bay, and then through the main village, passing children here and there, and women working outside their huts, as well as some old men who were not working with the fishermen by the bay or out in the fields with the farmers. The villagers smiled and waved at the two friends, and they smiled and waved at them. Soon they had passed out of the village and were facing open country.

The pair walked on, and the symphony of the insects and the birds was all around them—crickets, cicadas, bees, insects of all sorts; and many different kinds of birds—all singing, playing happily together. The pair stayed one with the symphony, one with their breathing, one with their walking, one with everything; and they mused on the interconnection of all things with all things.[4]

Soon the path they had taken brought them through the village fields, where they could see the farmers already at work in the distance. Five or six plows were fanned out across the sprawling field moving in huge concentric arcs in their general direction. As they kept walking along the path they would soon pass close to one of the plows; and as they came closer and closer, the water buffalo pulling the plow became larger and larger. They could hear the sound of the crude wooden plow furrowing through the earth, the sound of the straining hemp rope of the harness that connected the animal to the plow, and the animal itself farting in the harness.

When they were very close the farmer and the two friends all smiled as one, and nodded hello; and almost simultaneously the water buffalo let out a resounding bellow, as if to join in the greeting. So close were they that the two friends could see their reflections in the huge brown pools of the animal's eyes; and they mused on

the interconnection of all things with all things. As they kept walking the plow passed them, and gradually the sound of the furrowing plow faded away as the sounds of crickets, cicadas, bees, and birds became prominent again; the air was full with the smell of the newly turned earth; the air currents caught long wisps of Lao Zi's grey hair and sent them fluttering in the breeze.

As they continued walking, the terrain changed and the flats of the farmers' fields gave way to gently rolling hills at first; they walked up one hill and down another, with the hills becoming gradually higher and higher. At one point they reached the top of a hill from which they could see a small pond in the distance below, partially shaded by a lone gnarled and twisted tree; but in the far distance they could make out rocky, craggy mountains that seemed somehow to beckon them. They would stop at the small pond to rest a while in the shade of the tree—for most purposes a useless tree, one that seemed planted in "the realm of Nothingwhatever," but awaiting them to take a nap if they wished. [5]

They walked downhill toward the pond. Approaching it, they could see stands of bamboo close to the pond's edge, also clumps of tall cobalt-blue iris swaying in the breeze, their long shadows rippling on the pond surface in the late afternoon sun, their sweet fragrance enveloping them. New voices joined the symphony of nature here. Frog Island was not very far out in the pond. All the frogs on Frog Island—all except Old Frog—were playing and cavorting, sliding off the rocks into the water, pulling themselves back onto the rocks again, sliding, pulling back, ever again, advancing and retreating it seemed.[6] Their frog voices—rivet!, rivet!, rivet!—intermingling with the hum of bees, the songs of birds, the cadences of insects.

Only Old Frog remained still, and quiet too. But as Lao Zi and his friend drew close to the edge of the pond and slowly sat down there, Old Frog looked at them out of one eye; when he saw it was Lao Zi, though, he know everything was all right and the eye closed; for Old Frog and Lao Zi knew each other well. The two friends went on being one with their breathing, one with the rhythm of the in-and-out. Not far from where they sat they noticed a skinny little frog at the edge of the pond. It was afraid; it would reach out to the water with its trembling frog's leg, pull it back again, reach out again, pull back again. The other frogs on Frog Island continued to cavort, but paid no attention to skinny little frog.

The friends could see skinny little frog's pulsating, beating breast; they knew it was very afraid. Witnessing skinny little frog's fear, but without speaking to one another, both friends mused on their own fears, their own apprehensions, their own doubts. They knew everyone had their own skinny little frogs. They mused and felt compassion for the little frog, wondering just how long skinny little frog would stay there at the edge of the pond afraid to join the other frogs. Each felt that he himself was that skinny little frog in a way, and that the frog was him.[7]

After a while Old Frog began to stir; they sensed that he was going to do his trick, and wondered if perhaps this would provide the diversion that would allow skinny little frog to finally enter the water and join the other frogs. Slowly Old Frog moved over to a rock overhang just a few feet above the water, positioned himself at the very edge of the overhang, and in one motion pivoted up on his head, so that his back legs were straight up in the air, while his front legs touched the ground balancing himself.

As Old Frog stayed suspended like that, all the other frogs that had been cavorting with one another scrambled up on Frog Island, stopped their motion and, mesmerized, they stared at Old Frog because none of them could do this trick. However, skinny little frog does not move; he too is mesmerized! After what seemed the longest time Old Frog suddenly pivots off his head, and in a slow-motion summersault tumbles down into the water, with all four legs splayed out as far as possible so as to catch the air like a falling leaf riding the wind. Then plop! Old Frog hits the water.

As Old Frog pulls himself out of the water and goes back to his original position, all the other frogs resume their playing and cavorting. Still, though, skinny little frog does not move. Nor do Lao Zi and his friend the monk, Kumarajiva, move. Sitting cross-legged at the edge of the pond, both stay one with their breathing; both muse on the interconnection of all things with all things. Kumarajiva himself muses again on his own shortcomings, his own apprehensions, his own doubts, his own skinny little frogs. He feels he is that frog, and that the frog is him. But he knows, too, that below such apprehensions is that great well spring within him into which he can reach, that great well spring that is the "Buddha nature" itself, that great well spring of calm and tranquility from out of which the currents of creative energy can flow when one is ready to draw from that well.[8]

Slowly Kumarajiva reaches out, puts his hand into the water, reaches right down to the bottom, feels for a suitable rock, then picks up a small, round, flat stone which he slowly removes from the water. He lets the water drip off the stone he continues to hold. Just as Kumarajiva does all this, the many frogs cavorting around Frog Island freeze in panic—all except Old Frog. They realize something has entered the water, perhaps a predator, perhaps a snake. After a few seconds the frogs realize it is safe and resume their cavorting. In the meantime skinny little frog had entered the water, rapidly swam out to Frog Island, and joined all the other frogs!

Still holding the wet stone in his hand, Kumarajiva softly motions to his friend with his other hand. Lao Zi smiles, reaches for the ink stick, brush, and rice paper in his pocket, slowly hands them to Kumarajiva, who proceeds to grind the ink stick into the wet stone to make ink. When ready, he carefully writes out some characters in calligraphy that say:

Oh skinny little frog!

Sentient beings all know fear.

Don't stop the struggle.

Kumarajiva is not far away.[9]

The friends were happy to see skinny little frog now playing with all the other frogs on Frog Island, sliding into the water, pulling himself back out, sliding in and pulling out again—all the frogs happy together—rivet!, rivet!, rivet! Lao Zi smiled broadly, then said: "I like frogs too!"; he paused, then said: "It seems to me that the 'Buddha nature' is rooted in the Great Tao. What do you think?" [10] "Perhaps so!" responded Kumarajiva. Both remained silent for a while, musing on the interconnection of all things with all things.

Before leaving the pond the two friends shared dried fruit, tree nuts, rice cakes, and refilled their makeshift flasks with clear water from the pond. When ready, they stood up, and began to slowly move away from the pond so as not to disturb the happy frogs. After a few steps, though, Kumarajiva glanced back over his shoulder to look at the little frog a last time. The little frog was happy; Kumarajiva smiled a deep but barely perceptible smile. Then the two friends picked up their pace, for they still had a long distance to go as they headed for the foothills of the mountains. The sun glided beneath the horizon behind them; it got darker and darker; the ground gradually got steeper and steeper, then leveled off somewhat, then got steeper again.

They continued onward and upward like this for a long time, staying one with their breathing, one with their walking; until finally they were climbing the last hill they would climb that day. At the top of this hill they would stay up all night visiting with the full moon. Finally they reached the top; from there they could now see the full moon in the distance, caught in the rocky arms of two mountain crags like a gigantic ball clutched by a massive giant's arms. After a while the mountain's arms release the moon from their embrace. The moon gradually rises higher and higher in the sky, and then rises higher still, spreading its light everywhere, kissing the ground everywhere.

Both friends remain very quiet, musing on the interconnection of all things with all things. Then after a long while, Lao Zi reaches into the pocket of his robe, takes out a small flask filled with water, cups one of his hands, and carefully pours water into the cupped hand. He puts the flask down, brings both hands together still holding the water; then looks into his hands, and sees therein the moon's reflection in the little pool of water standing in his cupped hands. In one very slow motion he bends over slightly while bringing his hands slowly upward toward his face. Lao Zi slowly drinks the full moon! [11]

Both friends stay awake all night as companions of the full moon; both continue to muse on the interconnection of all things with all things; both continue to stay one with the full moon; both continue to stay one with their breathing; both continue to stay one with everything.

Part Two

It is a warm summer day and a few graduate students have gathered at an outside café shortly after a session of their summer school class on Chinese philosophy. They continue to explore various strands of the Chinese philosophical perspectives they have been studying.

Keith: Rachael, how do you feminists react to the comments our teacher just made about Confucius himself, and the Confucian view of women? [12]

Rachael: Well, this feminist believes he was somewhat heavy handed in his comments. Perhaps he's unconsciously trying to curry the favor of the women in our class. You know, evaluation points, and all! Think of the ancient Greeks who also saw women as inferior to men. That does not stop us from finding value in the writings of Aristotle and Plato, say. And what of our whole Western tradition concerning women; and the fact that even in our own country, it took so long for women to be allowed to vote? Not that I'm endorsing what seems to have been Confucius' own attitude toward women.[13] But those times were those times!

Alisha: For my part I can't help but think about what Lao Zi must have thought about Confucius: Too much male! Too little female! [14]

Arnold: You must have in mind the female metaphors for the Great Dao that Lao Zi presents in the Dao De Jing—the Dao as "the subtle and profound female organ," as "the mother of all things under Heaven," as "the mother of the universe";[15] and, in contrast, perhaps the Confucian tradition that construes women to be inferior to men?[16]

Alisha: You have it!

Brent: One of the things I find most compelling about the Analects, is the notion of the junzi ('gentleman' or 'superior man') at play in it. Scholars of the period have made clear that Confucius, while adopting the term junzi from the earlier Chinese tradition, radically transmuted the original meaning the term had. [17] Where it originally applied to someone (presumably a male 'someone') who was an offspring of the ruling class, Confucius gave it a very different meaning. For him junzi connoted "someone whose moral standards and superior understanding" were such that the person was worthy of having a high official position.[18] It was no longer a matter of heredity!

Rachael: Add to that a related point I came across last night. The very ambiguity and vagueness of much of the language of the Analects makes it amenable to new interpretations in new circumstances. In our own 21st century, why could not "the term junzi [be extended] to apply to women as well as men"? [19] Consider a parallel shift in relation to the use of the term 'men' in our own country's hallowed Declaration of Independence. Remember how the second paragraph opens: "We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal. . . ." The term "men" here originally applied only to males—and white males, at that. It was only much later, and only after various amendments to our Constitution had been made giving women and blacks the vote, that the meaning of the term "men" was extended to include men and women.

Alisha: Let's go back to "those times" for a moment. Let me mention in this context a famous saying attributed to Marx, to the effect that the ruling ideas of a given period reflect the ruling practice of the period. [20] Throughout recorded history sexist ideology and sexist practice have prevailed throughout most of the world—even in our own time. For thousands of years what we call "sexism" came hand in hand with civilization—one of its attendant hierarchal structures. It seemed to be self evident that women were naturally inferior to men. The practice was so dominant that it was not challenged in any real way, but was just believed to be in the very nature of things; so "self evident" that the question did not even arise that perhaps it was cultural, rather than simply given naturally.

Keith: So that it was "natural" for Confucius not to challenge the notion that women were inferior to men?

Alisha: Of course! He lived in the midst of the chaotic disintegration of the feudal structure into which his birth had thrown him. He looked back to the early phases of the Zhou dynasty, some five-hundred years before his own time. There was a feudal structure, yes; and one with all its hierarchal structures—including structures within which women were taken to be naturally inferior to men in various ways. But this feudal structure presumably worked well for those ancient times; it was viable! There was good government; there was a felt concern about the well-being of common people; and things were relatively stable and peaceful in ancient western China then. The example of virtue, namely excellence, in governmental leaders was manifested in the very person of the Duke of Zhou. Here was a model that Confucius looked toward for the solution to the serious upheavals of his own times. For him what was problematic was the decay of what had been a viable feudal structure.[21]

Keith: OK! I see that Confucius repeatedly embraced the perspective of the Sages of the early Zhou dynasty as an ideal—one that Confucius believed would help his Chinese contemporaries to extricate themselves from the disastrous chaos into which they had plunged, and to bring peace back after much vicious warfare. But this meant Confucius was espousing as an ideal a return to an earlier feudal structure, and a patriarchal one too, that had historically proven itself not to be viable. What kind of remedy is that? Is this not much like saying that because Soviet Communism had failed so very miserably, the remedy for such failure would have been a return to Soviet Communism. [22]

Brent: Ugh! You miss the point, Keith. Those times were those times!—as Rachael already pointed out. The remedy of capitalism you would have advocated was not on the historical horizon until much more than a thousand years after Confucius lived. Sure the social order of the early Zhou dynasty that Confucius endorsed was feudal in character, and also patriarchal, just like it was in our own European Middle Ages, some 1500 years after Confucius. My own guess is that Confucius believed feudalism to be the naturally given social order, just as he presumably took patriarchy with its attendant patterns of male/female relationships to be naturally given. His focus was on what could be changed within such presumably naturally given social orders. He was enamored of the early Zhou dynasty because of the virtue of its leaders, and the excellence of its government. A return to genuine virtue, to real excellence was the remedy Confucius offered!

Keith: Let me pick up on the theme of virtue then. We learned in class a few days ago about the "Five Relationships" and corresponding virtues that Confucians promulgated. [23] Presumably they were developed articulations of the 'virtues' associated with the early Zhou dynasty. For every key relationship, the "Confucian Way" prescribed a codified configuration of rituals and proprieties, as well as traditionally associated virtues. We learned that the husband/wife relationship was one such key relationship for which traditional rituals were prescribed, as well as the associated virtue of 'submission' on the part of the wife, and I guess probably some sort of goodness ('righteousness', yi) on the part of the husband. But it seems plausible to me, given the Confucian emphasis on rituals and proprieties, that there was probably much more actual submissiveness than actual goodness; that is, perhaps just a facade of goodness in many husband/wife relationships.

Rachael: Perhaps you've got a good point about part of the story; but there is more to the story still. To help bring out what I have in mind, let me shift attention from the "husband/wife relationship" to another one of the "Five Relationships" Confucius was so concerned about, namely the "father/son relationship". Confucius was ever so careful to associate the virtue of "filial piety" (xiao) with the "father/son relationship"; but it was not the case that he was simply calling for filial piety on the part of the son. He was also advocating a dynamically interrelated virtue on the part of the father, namely, the ideal of "kindness", even if the ideal were never fully actualized in practice. He was calling for virtuous relations between father and son, such that the father was a really good father, and the son was a really good son.

Alisha: Similarly, Confucius was advocating virtuous relations between and among all the persons involved in the other key relationships he brought into focus: older brother/younger brother, ruler/subject, and friend/friend. The remedy for the social chaos that was reeling through China in the time of Confucius was, in his mind, genuine virtue! The practice of such virtue had to begin within the family itself, and then gradually spread to the larger society.

Rachael: To be sure, just as in any society, a given father/son relationship can be anything but virtuous. A given father can be cruel and abusive to his children; and there can even be societies where child abuse is quite widespread; just as it is in our own US society, by the way! The remedy for such a situation is not a general social abandonment of having children altogether; but rather the widespread development of the practice of really good parenting, one that nurtures children to be good little people, who will in turn grow up to be good citizens. Remember the place in the Analects where it says: "A man filial to his parents, a good brother, yet apt to go against his superiors—few are like that!. . . .When the root is firm, then the Way may proceed. Filial [piety] and brotherly conduct—these are the root of humaneness [ren], are they not?"

Keith: Ah! Now it comes to light! A society of submissive and obedient robots—ever ready to kowtow to fathers, older brothers, and all the various officials on up the social ladder, right up to the emperor.

Brent: Come on, Keith; you should know better than that! You're conflating what might be called imperial Confucianism with Confucius himself—who was not a Confucianist, any more than Marx was a Marxist. If I'm not mistaken, it was about 350 years after the death of Confucius that Confucianism became the state ideology; and it was imperial Confucianism that extolled filial piety as its cardinal virtue, and that turned Confucianism into a doctrine of submissiveness and obedience, thereby arbitrarily and effectively detaching it from all the other virtues with which Confucius himself understood it.[24] It's quite a distortion of Confucius' own moral position to reduce it to filial piety, isolated from all the other virtues he espoused. For Confucius himself, the cardinal virtue was humaneness (ren)!

Rachael: Nicely put, Brent. Also, I can put my finger on a few passages from my text that bear directly on this issue of Confucius allegedly advocating robot-like obedience? Here goes: In response to a question about "what is shameful', Confucius said: "When the Way prevails in the state, serve it. To serve a state that has lost the Way—this is shameful indeed." [25] And again: "The man of high ideals, the humane person, never tries to go on living if it is harmful to humaneness. There are times when he sacrifices his life to preserve humaneness." [26] Hardly a call for unquestioning obedience!

Brent: Maybe we could help Keith to see things more clearly, if we talk more about what Confucius seems to mean by humaneness (ren), as this is the cardinal overarching virtue for him. We've all heard about the so-called golden rule since our childhoods; but I was surprised to find that, long before the advent of Christianity, Confucius himself was advocating this very principle. You were talking about this in class a few days ago, Arnold, and you have your book open now. Would you mind to read the passages you brought up in this connection?

Arnold: My pleasure!—and I have the two places marked, too. The first goes like this: "Is there any single word that could guide one's entire life? The Master said: "Should it not be reciprocity? What you do not wish for yourself, do not do to others." [27] And the second one goes this way: "As for the good [humane] man: what he wishes to achieve for himself, he helps others to achieve; what he wishes to obtain for himself, he helps others to obtain—the ability simply to take one's own aspirations as a guide is the recipe for goodness [humaneness]." [28]

Brent: Thanks, Arnold! Since Keith missed class the other day, would you try to reformulate some of your comments for us now?

Arnold: Sure! . . .In the formulation of the golden rule Confucius gives us, there's an interesting inversion of the formulation most of us know about; and in a subtle way I find his formulation more attractive, as a moral guide I mean. I've been experimenting with both formulations in my head for some weeks now; a kind of phenomenological experiment, that is. When I focus on the formulation Confucius gives for a few minutes, actually meditate mindfully on it, and then let it slip to a subliminal level in my head as I go about my day, the principle seems to function like a personal reminder to assess an action with respect to the kind of impact it might have on others before I actually undertake the action—like an on-going inner voice that approves of my contemplated action, or deters me from doing it, as the case may be.

In contrast to this, however, when I carry out the same experiment after having meditated on the formulation that we Westerners are more familiar with, the principle does not seem to play out in this way at all, but at best as an afterthought when some action I've already done bothers me in some way, and sometimes there is quite an interval between the action and the afterthought. But maybe it's just me!

Keith: Now you are really making a big stretch! The two formulations are logically equivalent with one another. That is: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you" is logically equivalent to "Do not do unto others as you would not have them do unto you." What kind of obfuscation are you trying to get away with?

Arnold: Of course, if you abstract from all content, and assess the two formulations in isolation, they would be logically equivalent. That is what most Westerners would do, given the cannons of interpretation that are dominant in our tradition. We tend to interpret the golden rule in terms of the abstract universal that neatly dissociates it from all other context. But I don't think this is the way that Confucius understood his version of the rule; and I don't think this is the way most Chinese people would view it.

Keith: Now you really baffle me!

Arnold: Is not Socrates famous for saying that bafflement and confusion usually precede true understanding? [29] In any case, try to think of Confucius' so-called negative formulation of the golden rule in association with the second passage I cited above. Let me read it again: "What he [the humane man] wishes to achieve for himself, he helps others to achieve; what he wishes to obtain for himself, he helps others to obtain—the ability simply to take one's own aspirations as a guide is the recipe for goodness [humaneness]." [30] Chinese readers of the Analects construe this as the positive formulation of the golden rule.

Moreover, I believe Chinese readers would view the meaning of each formulation as involving the meaning of the other. They would not interpret the formulations in abstraction from each other, or in abstraction from the wider context of the Analects. Rather they would see both formulations as contextually embedded in a network of implicitly understood ideas and practices discussed in the Analects that would inform their interpretations.

Brent: Thanks, Arnold. That really helps to clarify things for me. Presumably, then, this means that the cardinal virtue of humaneness (ren) embraces both the positive and negative formulations of the golden rule. But also that it connotes empathetic understanding of others, and an "intuitive ability to amend or suspend the dictates of dutifulness—or to apply them flexibly—when holding to them rigidly would involve imposing on others what you yourself do not desire"; and it also means that "the ability to combine roll-specific properness with some sort of context sensitivity is an essential aspect of the overall virtue of Goodness [humaneness]." [31]

Alisha: Wow! The more I understand the Analects, the more do I feel that the moral perspective presented in it constitutes a much more rich-textured understanding of virtue ethics, than the versions that are currently being explored by our own Western philosophers, at least the ones I've come across.

Much more than that, it seems to me that maybe Confucius' overarching virtue of ren is exactly the sort of cultural remedy we need in our country, given the chaotic times in which we ourselves have been living. Think of it! Ren as the antidote for our own national dis-ease; indeed perhaps the antidote for the world-wide dis-ease, that has been affecting/infecting all people, to one degree or another, in all countries for so long. Of course, along with Confucius, we would need to be careful to recognize that ren is a moral ideal that no human being can completely actualize. [32]

We did not talk about Mencius in class yet, but I've been reading ahead; he was a Confucian who put the point so aptly, nearly two hundred years after Confucius: "A drowning empire must be rescued with moral principles."[33] Have we in our own country not been drowning, in a sense, for so long? Do we ourselves not need viable moral principles to guide us out of our cultural chaos?

Brent: In this connection think of the rise of Barack Obama on the national stage, and now the world stage. Perhaps it is not too much of a stretch of the imagination to think of this man who has now become the President of our country as a person of ren; not a person who fully actualizes ren, mind you; but one who presently, at least, seems to come quite close to doing so. Perhaps we can understand his election by the American people as an existential recognition on their part of the dearth of humane practice in so much of our body politic, in the corporate board rooms and elsewhere throughout our economy, in so many of our schools, even in so many of our families, and of course in the dungeons of our jails?

Arnold: A caveat if I may, though! I agree that Obama is a very remarkable man, and seems to have unusual moral integrity, given what we've seen of him in action so far. But now we seem to be talking about the notion of ren in a way that abstracts it out of the complex network of particular social relationships with respect to which Confucius himself presumably understood it. I believe that if we lose sight of this wider context, our understanding of Confucius will likely be distorted.

The person of ren as gradually revealed in the Analects is very much aware of all the proprieties, all the rites and rituals associated with the various social niches in the social order of his time. He has conscientiously learned about them, studied them, and practiced them in the context of his own social niche(s); and has taught, encouraged, and reinforced the appropriate proprieties and rites that are traditional for other people filling other social roles in the social order. Associated with any given social role, Confucius associated an intricate traditional set of rituals and proprieties that essentially defined the identity of the persons who happened to be in those roles; and, in turn, Confucius offers moral norms that have been derived from those traditional social roles that various individuals had occupied in a complex network of social relations.

To highlight the issue I'm most concerned about, though, let me put it this way—but as a rhetorical question at first. What difference might there be between a Confucian person of ren on the one hand, and a humanistic Marxist person of ren, say, on the other? But let's put this issue on hold for a while—ok?

Rachael: What you you've just been saying reminds me of some of the Taoist readings we explored earlier in our course. We began to get some sense of why Taoists, especially Lao Zi, were so much at odds with the "Confucian Way". I remember quite clearly an especially significant passage from the Dao De Jing, one that I even memorized. It goes:

Therefore, only when the Dao is lost does De disappear.

Only when De is lost does humanity appear.

Only when humanity is lost does righteousness appear.

Only when righteousness is lost does propriety appear.[34]

We had a lot of discussion about this passage, and we saw there was general consensus that the references to "humanity", "righteousness", and "propriety" in this passage were references to themes at the center of the Confucian way, from which Lao Zi is critically differentiating himself.

Brent: Good that you remind us about this passage! Earlier we saw that Lao Zi was making a contrast between walking the "Confucian Way" and walking the "Taoist Way"—or should we rather say "gliding" on the Taoist way? The Confucian way is concerned with the social realm, human relationships, moral rules, and political life; moreover, it presupposes a certain traditional paradigm of social life that was associated with "the peaceful, benevolent, and culturally distinguished government typical of the periods of ideal rule, particularly that of the early years of the Zhou dynasty." [35] However, Lao Zi himself does not accept this paradigm of social life; and he sees the Confucian way as imposing undesirable constraints on people, and he will have none of it.

Rachael: The Taoist way is quite different.[36] It is a spiritual way, really! The Dao De Jing is reflective, mystical, poetic, and spiritual; and it is richly metaphysical in character. "[It] stresses the relation of a transcendent Dao with the totality of its creation"; [37] and it calls for living in harmony with this transcendent Dao.

Keith: Now you've got my head spinning! Can we return to a comment that Arnold made a short while ago; one that I think would have Chinese Marxists turning over in their graves—something about a Marxist person of ren?

Arnold: You must be referring to the rhetorical question I posed about a speculative contrast between a Confucian person of ren and a humanistic Marxist person of ren. The qualification humanistic is crucial here; for orthodox Chinese Marxists would indeed be turning over in their graves. You see orthodox Marxism was formulated and elaborated long before the early works of Marx became available, before they were published even—in any language.

His early writings are rich-textured explorations of a profoundly deep humanism. But orthodox Marxism dismissed these early writings as Marx's immature philosophical meanderings, if I can put it that way. Orthodox Marxists contend that Marx himself effectively repudiated his own early works, and they view the later works of Marx as the only ones that are acceptable and worth while. In my own view, however, the alleged split between the early and the late Marx, coupled with the repudiation of the humanism of the early Marx, has not only done great violence to Marx's thought, but it has also served to perpetuate a totalitarian orthodox version of Marxism that had stripped off the humanism so important to Marx himself—and throughout his life's work; and, moreover, it has served to perpetuate a totalitarian practice in many countries. [38]

Keith: Ok! But how does this bear on speculation about a Marxist person of ren?—alright, then, a humanistic Marxist person of ren.

Brent: One thing that seems directly relevant here to me is the fact that Chinese scholars maintain that "humanism . . .characterize[s] the entire history of Chinese philosophy." [39] Concerning Confucius himself, one of the Chinese scholars I've been exploring holds that while "the humanistic tendency had been in evidence long before his time. . . .it was Confucius who turned it into the strongest driving force in Chinese philosophy. . . .His primary concern was a good society based on good government and harmonious human relations. To this end he advocated a good government that rules by virtue and moral example rather than punishment or force." [40]

Arnold: And Marx would have agreed!—that is, if we abstract from the particulars of the social order Confucius took as his model, namely that of the early Zhou dynasty. So Confucius and Marx are both alike in that they both were great humanists, both in many of their theories and in their practices; but they differ with respect to the specific kinds of humanism they respectively advocated. These differences, in turn, have to do with the differing models of social order that they embraced as ideals. To be sure both Confucius and Marx were concerned about harmonious human relationships—but they differ with respect to the concrete specifics of just what it might be that constitutes harmonious human relationships. In contrast to Confucius, it is evident that the ideal social order for Marx is one in which the full and free development of each person is dialectically bound up with the full and free development of every one in the community—of everyone. It presupposes an historical development in the course of which hierarchal social and economic structures that are exploitative and oppressive have been transcended—including feudal ones. [41]

Alisha: But how would the positive and negative views of the golden rule that Confucius presents compare with the humanistic Marxist perspective, though?

Rachael: Let me try to respond! Given what I've read about Marx's projection of an unalienated society, it seems clear to me that Marx has adopted an ethics of freedom, his own version of a virtue ethics—but not identical to the version associated with Confucius, though. In contrast to a dominant view in the Western tradition that sees the human individual as an autonomous ego-self, motivated by self interest, and engaged in a competitive struggle with others—you know, affirming oneself as against others—Marx calls for a mode of being wherein one affirms oneself, not as against others, but together with them. He calls for the many-sided creative development of all individuals in a community, wherein the fully developed free expression of each is dynamically bound up with the fully developed free expression of all. [42]

Arnold: Good! Yes, and this parallels the positive version of the golden rule Confucius espoused—that is, what you wish for yourself, you should wish for others. But in contrast to Confucius, Marx envisions a social order that does not presuppose hierarchal feudal structures, that is, ones that would constrain individual development within highly elaborated social roles accompanied by an array of rites and rituals that foster the uneven development of individuals within pre-set parameters—pre-given niches of permissible development.

Keith: What about Marx and the negative version of the golden rule Confucius gives?

Rachael: The best I can do on that right now parallels Confucius, but it's not formulated negatively.

It came up in another course I'm also taking this summer; and in fact I have to leave for it soon.

It's not formulated by Marx in just this way; but it presumably captures his intent: "So act that the particular mode of being-in-the-world in terms of which you act can become universal." [43] Mind you, only a non-oppressive, non-violent, non-racist, non-sexist mode of being in the world can be universalized. We could reformulate is like this: Do not act in oppressive, violent, sexist, or racist ways toward anyone; as you would not have them act toward you.

Keith: Ok, thanks! Before Rachael has to leave, though, can we go back to Lao Zi for a few minutes? How about the relation between Marx and Lao Zi? Are they compatible, complementary, contradictory?

Rachael: Well, I'm not fully confident about this yet, but it seems to me a humanistic Marxist could indeed consistently be a Taoist. This is complicated stuff, though! Perhaps I can at least mention a step in that direction which I learned about when I heard an interesting paper about Li Dazhao at the philosophy conference last December. [44] He became an important Marxist figure in China in the early 20th century. (Such a pity he was executed by a Manchurian warlord on account of his beliefs!) He had been a Taoist before he became a Marxist theoretician; moreover, he remained a Taoist even after he had become a Marxist. Presumably he saw no contradiction at all between the Taoist understanding of reality and Marx's "materialist conception of history".

However, the paper I heard was one that challenged a prominent Western commentator on Li Dazhao, who criticized him for supposedly holding contradictory positions. What the paper showed, among other things, was that this critic of Li was interpreting Marx along the lines of a very narrow orthodox Marxism, which holds that alleged objective laws of social development will supposedly bring about the new socialist day all on their own, and presumably without sustained committed activity on the part of human beings struggling to bring it about.

Had this in fact been Li's own interpretation of Marx, then there would indeed have been a conceptual contradiction between it and the Taoist perspective Li embraced. For this perspective construes human activity guided by ideals as an inherent dynamic dimension of the dialectical "tide of great reality" (da shizai de pubu), as Li called it. This "tide of great reality" is Li's name for "the world as a ceaseless process of creativity….in which there is no bifurcation between cosmic forces and human activity"; thus it is a process that includes human consciousness, human spirituality, and human activity; a process in which, as Li puts it, "[t]he material and the spiritual are originally one." [45] Sorry, though, I can't offer much more than this right now.

Arnold: That's really intriguing; I'll definitely have to explore Li Dazhao's work when I can. To fully work out this out from the perspective of humanistic Marxism would be exciting.[46]—But before I lose it, can I say some things on the metaphysical side right now? It seems to me that the metaphysics of Taoism, as I understand it, meshes quite nicely with humanistic Marxism, even though Marx himself did not articulate a metaphysical position.

Nonetheless, having studied many works concerning Marx's dialectical method of explanation, I believe it is clear that Marx did hold metaphysical and methodological presuppositions such as these: a) that reality is dialectical in character through and through; b) that reality must be understood as process-like in character, and as undergoing continuous change (whether on smaller scales or larger ones); c) that all empirically accessible things and events are the specific way they are at a given phase of their development by virtue of a complex array of dynamic interacting factors; d) that in the ongoing dynamic interaction of these factors relatively stable configurations can maintain themselves in dynamic equilibrium (sometimes for long periods); e) that in their ongoing development the dynamic equilibrium of these configurations can become increasingly upset; f) that as their development continues these configurations can reach bifurcation points where significant transformations can occur; g) that these transformations can involve a chaotic breakdown of the configuration in many cases, or a kind of jump to a configuration with a higher level of complexity or a lower one—depending on the specific circumstances. [47]

Keith: Arnold, assuming you're on target about Marx, are you saying that Taoism embraces the very same kind of perspective?

Brent: I've heard you speak about Marx before, but for Keith and myself can you clarify all this with respect to Taoism—especially Lao Zi?

Arnold: What if we ask Alisha to pick up on that, since she asked a lot of questions about this in our earlier class sessions? Can you find those passages in the Dao De Jing?

Alisha: Give me a few seconds!—Got it now!—Let me read from our text. These are the passages about which we had lots of discussion:

The Dao produces the One.

The One turns into the Two.

The Two gives rise to the Three.

The Three bring forth the myriad of things.

The myriad of things contain Yin and Yang as vital forces,

Which achieve harmony through their interactions.[48]

It [the Dao] operates with a circular motion/and remains inextinguishable….

It is functioning everywhere and thus becoming far reaching.

It is becoming far reaching and thus returning to the original.[49]

Reversion is the movement of the Dao.[50]

As I remember, we didn't feel really clear about what "the One" referred to. But a few of our fellow students, who aren't here now, thought that it referred to the Dao itself as a sort of undifferentiated whole, an inexhaustible reservoir of "being-without-form"—and I don't have a better interpretation. Most of us agreed that "the Two" referred to the dynamically opposing forces or energies of Yin and Yang, both of which "the One" somehow differentiates out of itself. Moreover, we adopted what seems like a really good interpretation by a Chinese scholar that "the Three" represents three different alignments of the opposing forces of Yin and Yang—one in which Yin is relatively dominant over Yang, one in which Yang is relatively dominant over Yin, and one in which Yin and Yang are in dynamic balance and harmony with one another. From these different alignments of Yin and Yang, as well as all the ongoing shifts in the alignments between them, come all the "myriad of things"—all the ten thousand things! [51] The Dao itself is "something like an omni-principle underlying all things", and it "exhibits [its] power…through [empirically] observable functions." [52]

Each of the ten thousand things goes through its own particular kind of ongoing development; but gradually there occur slight, then minor, and then eventually major shifts in the alignment of interacting forces. Thus each of the myriad of things goes through its full process of development so far as all other relevant interacting conditions allow; but eventually each of the ten thousand things degrades, as what had been a balanced harmony of interacting forces breaks up, and eventually each of them reverts to a sort of chaos; but subsequently new manifestations emerge from out of the chaos. And so it goes in an inextinguishable cyclical double movement—the movement out and the movement of return.

Arnold: Nice going, Alisha! Can some one do more on the movement of "reversion"? [53]

Rachael: Let me try!—Imagine the flow of a stream on a quiet summer day when there is no breeze. Imagine the water flowing quite slowly, but manifesting gentle ripples, small whirlpools, lazy eddies, and fine soft foam. Then imagine after a while that a breeze begins to pick up, and gradually gets stronger. Imagine the flow of the stream also picking up. Imagine that you are carefully observing the changes in the flow of the stream as it passes by a not-so-large rock protruding from the water; and focus with a relaxed concentration on the whirlpools forming around the rock—ones that are now larger than the whirlpools that formed when the stream flowed quite slowly.

Continuing to observe the whirlpools, note the dynamic structure that they have; a kind of dynamic funnel that sort of goes back and forth on its axis, but that also maintains its general shape as the flowing water enters the whirlpool itself, spins the whirlpool out of itself, and then passes down stream. Still observing the whirlpools imagine that there is a gathering storm upstream that causes the breeze to turn to wind, and the stream to now flow more swiftly and with more volume. What will happen to the whirlpools you have been observing? If you were observing closely, you would have seen that the whirlpools you had been watching underwent a very interesting transformation in which their dynamic balance and equilibrium collapsed into a sort of watery chaos around the rock, and that subsequently the watery chaos around the rock gathered itself together, and spun out of itself significantly larger whirlpools—ones that allowed a larger volume of water to pass through them while maintaining a new dynamic equilibrium.

Brent: Is this what you're suggesting? Think of the stream as a symbol for the Dao; think of the formation of the smaller whirlpools as but a few of the myriad things established when the alignment of opposing forces is just right; think of the dynamic structure of the whirlpools being maintained as long as the conditions are in dynamic harmony with one another; think of the collapse of these dynamic structures when the conditions change so as to break up their balanced harmony (reversion); and then think of the formation of new whirlpools out of the relative chaos of the moving stream in the changed conditions.—Is this it?

Alisha: That's the way I see it, anyway! Also, it seems to me that this is a position fully consistent with Chan Buddhism as well, even if the language might be different. Remember the story we read at the beginning of our course about the Taoist and Chan Buddhist characters who went on a long trek into the hills, and then kept company with the full moon through the night? [54] It brought out the Chan Buddhist perspective concerning the interconnection of all things with all things; a view that holds that everything becomes the specific thing it is at a given time via a complex pattern of dialectically interrelated factors in a process of "conditioned genesis"[55]; that there are no metaphysical substances of any sort; that everything is what it is by virtue of shifting configurations of interconnected factors.

Brent: That was nice, Rachael and Alisha, about the metaphysical parallels between Taoism and Marxism; but maybe someone could add something about "historical materialism" and Taoism. How about your own take on this, Arnold, even if you are not really well acquainted with Li Dazhao?

Arnold: Well!— Consider that a very special concern of Taoism is to recognize the various patterns at play in the "tide of great reality," if I can use Li Dazhao's phrase.[56] Thus it would be quite natural for a Taoist, who were to become aware of it, to embrace the understanding of the broad patterns of human cultural evolution projected in the humanistic Marxist comprehension of "historical materialism". Here, though, I stress humanistic as opposed to orthodox Marxism.

Keith: What's the difference? Doesn't orthodox Marxism, as well as the humanistic version you embrace, focus on "forces of production," "social relations of production," and the "social superstructure"?

Arnold: Yes, to be sure! But the way of understanding these notions, and the dynamic relations between them, are very different in the two versions. Importantly, humanistic Marxism construes these notions as dialectically interrelated dimensions of human praxis—that is, the ongoing self-making activity of specific groups of human beings acting upon external nature and interacting with one another as they shape themselves in the process.

Keith: Can you explain?

Arnold: I'll try!—Humanistic Marxism views the "forces of production" primarily as the collective activity of specific human beings working and acting in specific ways; it views the "social relations of production" as the specific patterns of social interrelation constituted by specific human beings as they collectively act and interact in the processes of production and distribution; and it views the "social superstructure" as the network of forms of consciousness, dominant ideas, legal codes, political systems, (etc.) that is dialectically generated on the basis of such concrete human activity, shaping it and being shaped by it. [57]

Rachael: Am I correct it thinking that orthodox Marxism views the forces of production as an autonomous historical "something" standing over against specific human individuals who are so many seeming puppets in relation to this "something"—and that it views the social superstructure as a kind of epiphenomenon of the ongoing development of the forces of production and the social relations of production? [58]

Arnold: That's a good way of putting it! Thus, humanistic Marxism comprehends the development of human beings over historical time as the process of their own self-making—that is, as so many changing modes of self-making, which are interpreted in terms of the changing dialectical interplay between the three interrelated dimensions of human praxis. Moreover, not only is the dimension of the social superstructure always an important efficient cause in the interplay between the three dimensions, but in periods of increasing social conflicts leading to a bifurcation phase, and an eventual transition to new modes of self-making, elements of the social superstructure would have a relative primacy in shaping the ongoing trajectory of development. [59]

So it seems clear that a modern-day Taoist, who would be concerned to comprehend the various patterns at play in the "tide of great reality," would also be concerned to comprehend the patterns of "the great tide of human reality" disclosed by Marx, which such a Taoist would construe as so many interrelated dimensions of the "tide of great reality."

Keith: Ok, Arnold, listen!—Alisha just reminded us of the story we read many weeks ago about the Taoist and Chan Buddhist characters who kept the full moon company all night, and who played with the skinny little frog along the way. I really liked that story!—especially the kind of interconnection with nature the characters had, the mode of peace that was suggested in the story, and the kind of spirituality they seemed to experience. I can connect with all that.

So let's suppose for sake of the argument that you are correct about the sort of speculative connections between Marxism and Taoism you've been making. Even so, how could there possibly be any connection between Marxism and such a mode of peace and spirituality? How could there be?

Arnold: I would agree that there is no connection between orthodox Marxism and such a mode of peace and spirituality—but it is far different when humanistic Marxism is considered. Keith, if you are up for an eye-opening experience, I urge you to get a copy of Marx's Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844—and study it! [60] When I first encountered this work some years ago, the stereotypical distortion of Marx that is still dominant in the US and elsewhere fell off me like an old snakeskin.

In it the great humanism of Marx comes through like a shining beacon. Among other things he brings into focus the alienated plight of human beings in the context of the capitalist system—and not just workers, but capitalists too, all of us in fact! He explains the way in which workers are alienated from their own activity, from the product of their activity, from one another, from their own humanity, and even from nature and their own bodies.[61] Importantly, however, he does not project such an alienated plight as an oppressive condition that can never be overcome. Rather, in this early work which adumbrates his understanding of human history, he already views the historically conditioned forms of human nature as arising on the basis of specific modes of human praxis; furthermore, he points to what he considers the real possibility of an unalienated mode of human activity—one which he characterizes as "free conscious activity.” [62]

Keith: So, Arnold, you're effectively saying that orthodox Marxism, in the former Soviet Union and elsewhere,

is actually a fundamental betrayal of what Marx had in mind.

Arnold: Yes!—no question about it!

Rachael: I second that!—And if I'm not mistaken, Marx's notion of "free conscious activity" would have the following connotations. It would be activity that has transcended all of the interrelated dimensions of alienation that are so dominant in capitalist social formations. It would be activity that is spontaneous and creative, and that is experienced as an end in itself. It would be conscious activity which involves joy and pleasure in the very process of the activity, and not just as an aftermath—if that. Thus it would be conscious activity which no longer serves merely as a means to ends which are external to it. Moreover, it would be conscious activity which is no longer a one-sided development of the individual; but instead it would involve the many-sided development of the individual's potentials. However, it would be the sort of activity which does not involve or imply the denial or oppression of the other as it affirms itself.[63] It would be activity that is non sexist, non-racist, non-violent, non-oppressive, and non-exploitative. Consequently, social justice would naturally flow from the wellspring of such "free conscious activity"— wherever it was actualized in practice.

Arnold: Moreover, as I see things social justice as so comprehended is the necessary practical basis for genuine world peace. For genuine peace is not simply the cessation of hostilities between individuals, cultures, and nations.

Rachael: Also, I believe that Arnold has nicely brought out an important connection between humanistic Marxism and the mode of peace and spirituality disclosed in the story about the Taoist and Chan Buddhist characters we read earlier. Without maintaining that Marx himself was a Taoist or Chan Buddhist, it seems clear to me that a humanistic Marxist as portrayed by Arnold could consistently embrace Taoism and Chan Buddhism. For the mode of free conscious activity espoused by Marx has much in common with the ideal modes of being espoused by both Taoism and Chan Buddhism. However these perspectives acknowledge a deeper dimension of the psyche than Marx himself was explicitly concerned with—a dimension that presupposes a "going beyond" the subject/object dichotomy of ordinary consciousness, and an attendant suspension of the ego-self of ordinary consciousness. Thus I believe the Taoist and Chan Buddhist perspectives of the spiritual would readily supplement Marx's thought in a way that is fully consistent with it—even though it goes beyond Marx's own view, as I see things, to a different level of the psyche.[64]

Alisha: Well now!—what have we arrived at? Just imagine!—Without intending it, does it not seem like we have collectively put together a sort of preliminary critical synthesis of Taoism, Chan Buddhism, humanistic Marxism, and what we could think of as a reformed Confucianism? Just imagine what an actual coalition of Taoists, Chan Buddhists, humanistic Marxists, and Reformed Confucians, all working together in a committed and sustained way, could do to cultivate humaneness, genuine virtue, a profound non-dogmatic spirituality, social justice, and world peace. Do any of you think you could consistently become a sort of "Taoist-Buddhist-Marxist person of Ren"? Could you become one yourself, Rachael?

Rachael: I think I might be gravitating in that direction. A really worthy and inspiring platform for social justice and world peace!

Keith: Right now you guys remind me of something one of those 19th century guys said about another guy he didn't agree with. Something like: his philosophy is like the night when the cows are all black.[65] You've all really got my head spinning; but later on I'll think about it some more.

Arnold: Good!—but for my part, I'd say not the night at all!—but maybe more like the coming light of a dawn that allows for a panoramic view of far distant hills that complement and overlap one another, despite their many differences.

Bibliography

Brien, Kevin M. Marx, Reason, and the Art of Freedom, 2nd Ed. Amherst, New York: Humanity Books, 2006.

___________. "Buddhism and Marxism: Ironic Affinities" in Dialogue and Universalism 14, no.1-2, 2004.

___________. "Marx’s Dialectical-Empirical Method of Explanation", Utopía y Praxis Latinoamericana 12 (39): 1-27, 2007.

___________. "Marx and the Living Flower" in Skepsis: A Journal for Philosophy and Interdisciplinary Research, xix/i-ii, 2008.

___________. "Marx and the Spiritual Dimension" in Topoi: An International Review of Philosophy 15, no. 2 (1996), 211-223.

Chan Wing-Tsit. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Trans. & Compiled by Wing-Tsit Chan. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963.

Chuang Tzu, Chuang Tzu: Basic Writings. Trans. Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1996.

Chuang Tzu, The Inner Chapters. Trans. A. C. Graham. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Co, Inc., 2001.

Confucius. The Analects of Confucius. Trans., Introduction & Notes by Simon Leys. New York: W. W. Norton, 1997.

Confucius, The Analects of Confucius. Trans. Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 2007.

Confucius, The Essentials of Confucius. Trans. Edward Slingerland. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Co, Inc., 2006.

Confucius. Li Chi (The Book of Rights). Trans. by James Legge. New Hyde Park, NY: University Books, 1967.

Conze, Edward. Buddhism: Its Essence and Development. New York: Harper & Row Publishers, 1975.

Dogen, Eihei. Moon in a Dewdrop: Writings of Zen Master Dogen. Ed. Kazuaki Tanahashi. U.S.: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1995.

Fung Yu-Lan. A Short History of Chinese Philosophy. Ed. by Derk Bodde. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1997.

Hui-neng. The Platform Scripture. Trans. Chan Wing-Tsit in A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy.

Lao Tsu, Tao Te Ching. Trans. Gia-Fu Feng & Jane English. Introduction and Notes by Jacob Needleman. New York: Vintage Books, 1989.

Laotzu, Tao Te Ching: The Book of Meaning and Life. Trans. & Commentary by Richard Wilhelm. English Trans. by H. G. Ostwald. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul Inc., 1986.

Lao Tzu. Tao Te Ching. Trans, by Stephen Addiss & Stanley Lombardo. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Co., 1993.

Lao Zi. Dao De Jing: The Book of the Way. Trans. & Commentary, Moss Roberts. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001.

Marx, Karl. Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844. Ed. with Intro. by Dirk Struik; trans. Martin Milligan. New York: International Publishers, 1964.

Marx, Karl and Frederich Engels. The German Ideology. Trans. & ed. S. Ryazanskaya. Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1968.

Mencius. The Book of Mencius. Trans. Chan Wing-Tsit in A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy.

Plato, Phaedo in Five Dialogues. Trans. G. M. A. Grube. Indianapolis: Hackett, 2002.

Peimin Ni, On Confucius. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth/Thompson Learning, Inc., 2002.

Wang Keping. The Classic of the Dao: A New Investigation. Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1998.

Watson, Burton (Trans.). The Lotus Sutra. Trans. by Burton Watson, New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.

Watts, Alan. The Way of Zen. New York: Random House, Inc, 1989.

Xiufen Lu. "Li Dazhao and the Materialist Conception of History." Unpublished paper presented at American Philosophical Association meetings held in Philadelphia December, 2008. The paper is cited with the generous permission of the author.

-----------------------

[1] The character "Lao Zi" is a Taoist named after the historical Lao Zi, whose dates are still quite uncertain. But Chinese tradition up until the 20th century, at least, held that he was some 20 years senior to Confucius, who was born around 551 B.C. See Wang Keping, The Classic of the Dao: A New Investigation (Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1998), pp. 1-4.

[2] This character, a Chan Buddhist, is named after the historical Kumarajiva (344-413) who became a Buddhist monk at seven years of age; and who later as a scholar-monk was the first to translate many important Mahayana Buddhist texts into Chinese. See Chan Wing-Tsit, A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963), pp. 343-44. One of the most significant was his translation of The Lotus Sutra, a most important Mahayana text, from Sanskrit into Chinese. A marvelous English translation of this work was made from Kumarajiva's Chinese version by Burton Watson. See The Lotus Sutra, Trans. by Burton Watson (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993).

[3] Concerning meditation Chan Wing-Tsit explains: "When Buddhism first came to China, it was mixed up with the Yellow Emperor-Lao Tzu cult. As a result, meditation was not understood in the Indian sense of concentration but in the Taoist sense of conserving vital energy, breathing, reducing desire, preserving nature, and so forth." Chan Wing-Tsit, A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy, p. 425. Also see passages about meditation from Hui-neng's The Platform Scripture in Chan's A Source Book, pp. 435-38.

[4] In connection with the Buddhist outlook on the dynamic interconnection of all things with all things, Chan Wing-Tsit writes: "The Hua-yen philosophy represents the highest development of Chinese Buddhist thought. . . .[It] forms the metaphysical basis of Chinese Buddhism in the last millennium. . . .The basic principle underlying the perfect harmony [associated with this philosophy] is the simple idea of interpenetration and mutual identification. It is based on the theory of the ten Mysterious Gates, according to which all things are coexistent, interwoven, interrelated, interpenetrating, mutually inclusive, reflecting one another, and so on." A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy, p. 406-07

[5] In the first section of the Inner Chapters, Zhuang Zi talks about a gnarled tree that was considered by others as useless since it could not be used in the usual ways. It's presented as a metaphor for the Dao ("non-being"; or "being-without-form" after Wang Keping) which seems useless, until you understand its spiritual use. See Chuang Tzu, Chuang Tzu: The Inner Chapters. Trans. A. C. Graham (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Co., 2001), p. 47.

[6] The theme of "advancing and retreating" here and elsewhere in this work is intended as a muted echo of a famous passage in the Dao De Jing: "It [the Dao] operates with a circular motion/and remains inextinguishable…. It is functioning everywhere and thus becoming far reaching./It is becoming far reaching and thus returning to the original." See the Wang Keping translation of the Dao De Jing in The Classic of the Dao, Chap. 25.

[7] In this connection consider this famous passage from Zhuang Zi's Inner Chapters: "If you look at them [things] from the point of view of their differences, then there is liver and gall…. But if you look at them from the point of view of their sameness [i.e., as all being manifestations of the Dao] them the ten thousand things are all one." See Chuang Tzu, Chuang Tzu: Basic Writings. Trans. Burton Watson (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996), p. 65.

[8] Mahayana schools of Buddhism hold that "Buddha-nature" is already in all people from the beginning so that all people can become Buddhas. As Chan Wing-Tsit explains: "Both schools [i. e., Northern and Southern schools of Chan Buddhism] started from the same major premise that Nirvana is identical with the original substance of the Buddha-mind, which is the same as Buddha-nature, and that Buddha-nature is in all men so that all can become Buddhas." See Chan, Source Book in Chinese Philosophy, p. 427. This Buddha-nature has to be uncovered, however. Also see Edward Conze, Buddhism: Its Essence and Development (New York: Harper & Row Publishers, 1975), pp.119-143.

[9] "Kumarajiva" is here intended as a symbol for the "Buddha-nature" within all human beings. See footnote no. 8 as well.

[10] This suggests a deep philosophical interconnection between Taoism and Buddhism. For some wonderful exposition by a Westerner of the way in which Taoism shaped the development of Mahayana Buddhism in China (especially the development of Chan Buddhism), see Alan Watts, The Way of Zen (New York: Random House, Inc, 1989), pp. 3-112.

[11] The moon reflected in water is a famous symbol for enlightenment in Chan (Zen) Buddhism. For example: "Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on the water. The moon does not get wet, nor is the water broken. Although its light is wide and great, the moon is reflected even in a puddle an inch wide. The whole moon and the entire sky are reflected in dewdrops on the grass, or even in one drop of water. Enlightenment does not divide you, just as the moon does not break the water." Eihei Dogen, Moon in a Dewdrop: Writings of Zen Master Dogen, Ed. Kazuaki Tanahashi (U.S.: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1995).

[12] See B. Watson's "Introduction" to the Analects, p. 9.

[13] See Simon Leys' "Notes" to the Analects, pp. 204-5; also see the Analects section 17.25.

[14] For a good characterization of the contrast between the "Confucian Way" and the "Taoist Way," see Burton Watson's "Introduction" to Confucius, The Analects of Confucius, Trans. & Introduction by Burton Watson (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007), p. 1-13. Also see Moss Roberts' "Introduction" to Lao Zi, Dao De Jing , Trans. & Commentary by Moss Roberts (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004), pp. 8-19.

[15] See Wang Keping, The Classic of the Dao, pp. 1-4; and also the Richard Wilhelm Edition of Lao Tzu's Tao Te Ching, Trans & Commentary by Richard Wilhelm (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1986), p. 2.

[16] On this theme see B. Watson's "Introduction" to Analects, pp. 9 &13; also Chan's Source Book in Chinese Philosophy, p. 47. See also one of the two places in the Analects that mention women, 8.20 and 17.25, both of which seem to be put downs.

[17] See B. Watson's "Introduction" to the Analects, p. 9.

[18] Ibid.

[19] Ibid., p, 12.

[20] Karl Marx and Frederich Engels, The German Ideology. Trans. & ed. S. Ryazanskaya. (Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1968), p. 61.

[21] For relevant information about the early Zhou dynasty, see Burton Watson's "Introduction" to his translation of the Analects, pp. 3-5. Also see Confucius, The Analects of Confucius, Trans. with Introduction and Notes by Simon Leys (New York: W. W. Norton, 1997), pp. xx-xxiv.

[22] Perhaps it's good to note here that Soviet Marxism was a version of orthodox Marxism, which must be clearly distinguished from humanistic Marxism. On this theme see Kevin M. Brien, Marx, Reason, and the Art of Freedom, 2nd Ed. (Amherst, NY: Humanity Books, 2006), pp. 44-79.

[23] See The Book of Rites: “Kindness on the part of the father, and filial duty on that of the son; gentleness on the part of the elder brother, and obedience on that of the younger; righteousness on the part of the husband, and submission on that of the wife; kindness on the part of elders, and deference on that of juniors; with benevolence on the part of the ruler, and loyalty on that of the minister; these ten are the things which men consider to be right.” See the Li Chi (The Book of Rights), Trans. by James Legge (New Hyde Park, NY: University Books, 1967), pp. Also see Chan Wing-Tsit's Source Book in Chinese Philosophy, pp. 69-70 & 105.

[24] See "Notes" to Leys' translation of Analects, pp. 134-5.

[25] Analects, 14.1, Leys translation.

[26] Analects, 15.9, Watson translation.

[27] Analects, 15.24, Leys translation.

[28] Ibid., 6.30.

[29] See Plato, Phaedo in Five Dialogues. Trans. G. M. A Grube (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2002), pp. 69-70.

[30] Analects, 6.30, Leys translation.

[31] See "Notes" to Confucius, The Essential Analects, Trans. Edward Slingerland (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2006), p. 159.

[32] See, for example, Analects, 4.6, 7.26. 7.33, 7.34.

[33] Mencius, The Book of Mencius, in Chan Wing-Tsit, Source Book in Chinese Philosophy, p. 75.

[34] Dao De Jing, section 38, Wang Keping translation.

[35] Burton Watson, "Introduction" to The Analects of Confucius, pp. 8-9.

[36] As Wang Keping explains: "[T]he meaning of the Dao transcends the ethical and social domains. It is then found to have certain extended implications related to the origin of the universe, the root of all things, the law of natural change and social development, the principle of political and military affairs, and above all the truth of human existence." The Classic of the Dao, p.29.

[37] Moss Roberts, "Introduction" to Dao De Jing, p. 8.

[38] On these issues see Kevin M. Brien, Marx, Reason, and the Art of Freedom 2nd Ed., pp. 45-79.

[39] Chan Wing-Tsit, Source Book in Chinese Philosophy, p, 3.

[40] Ibid., p. 15.

[41] See Brien, Marx, Reason, and the Art of Freedom, 2nd Ed., pp. 160-180.

[42] Ibid.

[43] Ibid., p.131.

[44] The paper referred to is an unpublished paper that was presented at the American Philosophical Association meetings held at Philadelphia in December, 2008. Xiufen Lu is the author, and the paper is called "Li Dazhao and the Materialist Conception of History." The paper is cited with the generous permission of the author.

[45] For use of quotes from, and paraphrases of, Li Dazhao in this passage, I am indebted to Xiufen Lu's unpublished paper "Li Dazhao and the Materialist Conception of History"—with permission.

[46] For a preliminary elaboration of the spiritual dimension as seen from a humanistic Marxist perspective, see Kevin M. Brien, "Marx and the Living Flower" in Skepsis: A Journal for Philosophy and Interdisciplinary Research, xix/i-ii, 2008.

[47] For a full development of these themes in Marx, see the chapters on "The Dialectical Movement from the Abstract to the Concrete" and on "Freedom as Spontaneity" in K. Brien, Marx, Reason, and the Art of Freedom, 2nd ED. Also see Kevin M. Brien, "Marx’s Dialectical-Empirical Method of Explanation" in Utopía y Praxis Latinoamericana 39: 9-32, 2007.

[48] See the Wang Keping translation of the Dao De Jing in The Classic of the Dao, Chap. 42.

[49] Ibid., Chap. 25.

[50] Ibid., Chap. 40.

[51] The basic content of the formulations is this paragraph is tied to various passages in Wang Keping's The Classic of the Dao. See, especially, pp. 58-59, 298-299.

[52] Ibid., p. 49.

[53] Wang Keping explains: "'Reversion' refers to a kind of interrelation between opposites in one sense, and in another sense, a kind of return to the root known as the unity of opposites. The former conveys the meaning of being opposite while the latter, the meaning of transformation and change." Ibid., p. 56.

[54] See Part One, p. 5.

[55] For primary formulations on the theme of "conditioned genesis" or "dependent co-origination," see Edward Conze (Trans. & Ed.), Buddhist Texts Through the Ages (Boston: Shambhala, 1990), pp. 65-82.

[56] See footnote no. 44.

[57] For developed treatment of these themes, see Brien, Marx, Reason, and the Art of Freedom, 2nd Ed., pp. 45-79

[58] Ibid., pp. 49-60.

[59] Ibid., pp. 61-68.

[60] Karl Marx, Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844. Ed. with Intro. by Dirk Struik; trans. Martin Milligan (New York: International Publishers, 1964).

[61] Ibid., pp. 106-119.

[62] Ibid., p.113.

[63] See Brien, Marx, Reason, and the Art of Freedom, 2nd Ed., pp.

[64] For an examination of the complementary relation between Buddhism and Marxism, see Kevin M. Brien, "Buddhism and Marxism: Ironic Affinities" in Dialogue and Universalism 14, no.1-2 (2004). On these themes, also see Kevin M. Brien, "Marx and the Spiritual Dimension" in Topoi: An International Review of Philosophy 15, no. 2 (1996), 211-223.

[65] Hegel famously likened the Absolute in Schelling to a dark night in which all cows are black.

................
................

In order to avoid copyright disputes, this page is only a partial summary.

Google Online Preview   Download