Series on the History of Chinese Philosophy, Pt. 8
Socio-cosmic Harmony in the Confucian Tradition
Ritual in the Da Xue and Zhong Yong
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Hello and welcome! This is Part 8 in an ongoing series, you can follow previous installments here:
This entry will focus on two ancient texts — the Great Learning and the Doctrine of the Mean — that were canonized into the Confucian orthodoxy during the Song dynasty (960–1279CE). If you’d like to hear more about the development of Confucian orthodoxy, you may want to check out Part 6 and Part 7.
Otherwise, let’s get into it!
The Great Learning and the Doctrine of the Mean — known as Dà Xué and Zhōng Yōng in Chinese — were originally chapters in a larger work known as the Lǐjì, or Record of Rites. We’ve already seen in Part 7 how important lǐ was to Confucius in the Analects — since it was the way one’s benevolence could be demonstrated to others — but THESE two texts expand that local, individual obligation toward a wider social and cosmological harmony.
Just as he did with other moral principles, Confucius broadened the meaning of lǐ, which previously referred to the etiquette of sacrificial ceremonies, to encompass manners, etiquette, customs, and the rules of propriety. But, for Confucius, lǐ was tied to inner character JUST AS MUCH as it was tied to such outward demonstrations of proper behavior.
Vital to a proper understanding of Confucian lĭ is the concept he called “reverence,” or jìng [敬]. For instance, as Confucius put it in one passage, “High station filled without indulgent generosity; ceremonies performed without reverence; mourning conducted without sorrow — wherewith should I contemplate such ways?” [Analects 3:26]
In other words, Confucius believed lĭ was not a practice of empty observances, but always carried with it a true representation of jìng. When combined with righteousness [yì] and reverence [jìng] in this way, lĭ could be considered an outgrowth of one’s benevolence [rén].
This presents a unified view of the human self in which reason, emotions, bodily drives, and desires are intertwined in a commitment to acting with purpose. But, it doesn’t stop there. The general Chinese view of lĭ — over which the Confucian tradition has held significant sway— extends this even further… toward the universe, at large!
Such a commingling of cosmology with human action and morality is demonstrated in NUMEROUS Chinese classics, like the Yijing, the Daoist tomes of Laozi and Zhuangzi, and the two Confucian tracts we’re exploring here… the Dà Xué and the Zhōng Yōng.
As one contemporary scholar has put it:
In Chinese cosmology, human agency participates in the ordering of the universe by lĭ. It is here that we come closest to being able to speak of common Chinese religion. One of the most common Chinese definitions of rite is that it makes the invisible visible. Performance of correct ritual focuses, links, orders, and moves the social, which is the human realm, in correspondence with the terrestrial and celestial realms to keep all three in harmony. [Feuchtwang, p. 107]
Tying this back to our discussion of gong fu mastery in Part 1, you can click on the video below to view a demonstration of lĭ in a gong fu tea ceremony.
Now that we’ve got a firmer grasp on how central lĭ is for Confucianism, we’re ready to look at the Dà Xué, or “Great Learning.”
Social Harmony in the Dà Xué
The Dà Xué was one of the later chapters in an ancient classic known as the Lĭjì — a book of 49 chapters, compiled by a Han dynasty Confucian known as Dai Sheng.
Although it appears later on in that older text, we’re starting with the Dà Xué because of its emphasis on social programs in the human realm. In a nutshell, it claims to be a field guide for personal enlightenment, a blueprint for social progress, and a practical application of the concept of harmony aimed at lasting peace — all rolled into one tiny document. The first line announces these lofty aims:
大 學 之 道 在 明 明 德，在 親 民，在 止 於 至 善。
“The dào (way) of Great Learning is in enlightened virtue, the renovation of the people, and arrives at the highest goodness.”
As we saw in Part 6, the Chinese word xué denotes education, in the sense of handing down information to subsequent generations, but it also connotes culture, in the sense of raising up the youth into fully functioning members of society. Adding the word dà, which depicts a person standing with their arms spread out, adds layers of nuance to the title of this work. In modern Mandarin, in fact, dàxué just means ‘university.’ So, the title of this text might variously be translated as “Great Learning,” or “Big Culture,” or perhaps even “Adult Education.” In any case, there’s a sense of maturity gained, and growth achieved, at its heart.
The Dà Xué is traditionally held to be written Confucius, handed down by his student Zengzi, and completed somewhere around 210 BCE. The first chapter is attributed directly to Confucius, while the ten chapters of commentaries that follow are said to be by Zengzi.
The text presents four main principles:
- The aims of government should be noble.
- Insistence on personal excellence for all in authority,
- Such excellence must be rooted in the xīn, or “heart-mind”
- The principle of shù [deference] is stated in terms of an ultimate principle of universal practicality.
As a sort of field manual, the text builds on itself. The two longest passages walk down a step-by-step guide from the desire of sage-rulers to promote enlightened virtue throughout the land down to the “root” of personal cultivation… and then walk right back up toward a harmonious kingdom.
You might have noticed some of the themes we found in the Analects popping up again here in the Dà Xué. For instance, we see several references to the “roots and branches” of things, which echoes Analects 1:2 where we find: “The gentleman devotes his efforts to the roots, for once the roots are established, the Way will grow therefrom. Being good as a son and obedient as a young man is, perhaps, the root of a man’s character.”
As we saw in Part 3, this kind of agricultural metaphor of roots and branches was common in early Chinese thought. As one ode about a terrible ruler in the Shijing concludes:
文王曰咨, | King Wen said, “Alas!
咨女殷商. | Alas! you [sovereign of] Yin-shang,
人亦有言, | People have a saying,
顛沛之揭, | 'When a tree falls utterly,
枝葉未有害, | While its branches and leaves are yet uninjured,
本實先撥. | It must first have been uprooted. '
殷鑒不遠, | The beacon of Yin is not far-distant; -
在夏后之世. | It is in the age of the [last] sovereign of Xia.”
And, in a Han dynasty collection known as the Shuo Yuan we find: “If the roots are not straight then the branches will necessarily be crooked, and if the beginning does not flourish then the end will necessarily wither.” [Ch. 3]
All of this sets up the descending and ascending staircase of priorities we see in the two longest passages of the Dà Xué. We’re told that leaders who seek enlightened peace throughout the kingdom should first order their own states, but, well-ordered states branch out from healthy family units, healthy families grow from personal cultivation, personal cultivation stems from good-heartedness, good-heartedness shoots from sincerity, sincerity sprouts from insightfulness, and insightfulness germinates from careful study.
Once leaders have nourished that root of careful study, the staircase of values can be ascended again… all the way to peace throughout the land. In order to facilitate that kind of healthy social growth, Confucius advocated “raising the straight above the crooked” and allowing them to lead by example.
In this way, virtue and ritual might work in tandem to indirectly influence the people to be good. As Confucius tells one ruler, who asked about capital punishments: “In administering your government, what need is there for you to kill? Just desire the good yourself and the common people will be good. The virtue of the gentleman is like wind; the virtue of the small man is like grass. Let the wind blow over the grass and it is sure to bend.” [Analects 12:19]
This echoes an early passage in Book 2 which states: “Guide them by edicts, keep them in line with punishments, and the common people will stay out of trouble but will have no sense of shame. Guide them by virtue, keep them in line with the rites, and they will, besides having a sense of shame, reform themselves.” [Analects 2:3]
This illustrates the way Confucius viewed a conceptual dyad important in Chinese socio-political culture. Known as wénwǔ [文武], or the “civil and martial,” this dyad hearkened back to the two Zhou dynasty sage-rulers that finally usurped the wicked Shang ruler Di Xin — the one known to history as King Horsesh*t. (See Part 3 for that story!) As the passage from another chapter of the Lĭjì illustrates: “King Wen ruled through civility and King Wu through military strength to each deliver the people.” [Jifa chapter]
Throughout most of China’s imperial history, court ministers would be divided along these lines; the former typically holding the greater prestige over their military counterparts.
Unusual for his time, Confucius argued that anyone with the proper education and talent, regardless of class or rank, should be elevated above all others. The ideal leader, therefore, would not only be a good student but would also have a talent for introspection and for influencing others without coercion or force. In his words, “If one learns from others but does not think, one will be bewildered. If, on the other hand, one thinks but does not learn from others, one will be in peril.” [Analects 2:15]
Cosmic Harmony in the Zhōng Yōng
If we think of the Dà Xué as an application of Confucian ideas towards social-political harmony, then the Zhōng Yōng [中庸], or Doctrine of the Mean would be its cosmological counterpart.
It, too, was formerly a chapter in the Lĭjì and traditionally held to be the words of Confucius (this time handed down by his grandson Zisi). It’s also believed to have been completed around the same time as the Dà Xué and joined it as part of the neo-Confucian canon some 1400 years later.
Just as we saw with the title of the Dà Xué, there is some ambiguity in the words Zhōng Yōng.
The first character, usually translated as ‘Mean,’ represents an arrow hitting the center of a target and is the same as the zhōng in the Chinese name for their land — Zhōngguó, or Middle Kingdom. The second character, usually translated as ‘Doctrine,’ is a pictograph of a city wall and probably originally meant something like ‘ordinary’ or ‘familiar’ — as in the way someone from your hometown might seem familiar or like an “ordinary Joe.” (Interestingly enough, in modern Mandarin yōng can mean ‘mediocre’ or ‘to use,’ which reminds me of how one of my professors described me as a student — “Not outstanding, but of some use.”)
Because of this, various translators have tried rendering the title into something a little more colorful in English. In the 1860’s, James Legge called it the “Constant Mean.” Almost a century later, Arthur Waley dubbed it the “Middle Use.” During the hippie era of the 1960s, Ezra Pound published a translation under the title “Unwobbling Pivot.” And, most recently, the American comparativists Roger Ames and David Hall used the title, “Focusing the Familiar.”
Recent scholarship suggests that the text was created in two parts, the first of which reflects a Confucian influence, while the latter reflects more of Mencius’ way of thinking.
The first chapter sets the table for what’s to come and the first line connects the principles of tiān mìng (mandate of heaven), daò (the way), xìng (inner nature), and jiāo (instruction/religion).
天 命 之 謂 性, 率 性 之 謂 道, 脩 道 之 謂 教.
The Mandate of Heaven confers nature; accordance with this nature is called the Way; the regulation of this path is called instruction.
The final line in that first chapter ties the harmony of heaven and earth to the flourishing of all things.
致 中 和, 天 地 位 焉, 萬 物 育 焉.
Create a harmonious mean, then heaven and earth will be situated, the ten thousand things will be nourished.
The themes of the Zhōng Yōng can likewise be found in the Analects. In Book 6 we see Confucius directly reference zhōng yōng when he says: “Supreme indeed is virtue according to the doctrine of the mean. It has been rare among the people for a long time.” [Analects 6:29] Since the Analects likely predates the Zhōng Yōng, some scholars believe Confucius was here appealing to a more common notion of moderation, and not the deeply self-reflective and disciplined practice advocated in the text of the Doctrine of the Mean.
Whether or not the practices are the same, what IS clear is the importance of ritual to a Confucian notion of harmony. As one disciple says in Book 1 of the Analects:
Of the things brought about by the rites, harmony is the most valuable. Of the ways of the Former Kings, this is the most beautiful, and is followed alike in matters great and small, yet this will not always work: to aim always at harmony without regulating it by the rites simply because one knows only about harmony will not, in fact, work. [Analects 1:12]
The difference between just doing everything in moderation and following the kind of strict regimen that the Zhōng Yōng advocates hinges on a concept known as shèndú [慎獨], which literally means “cautious when alone.” Broadly, this implies the practical advice to always do the right thing, even when no one is watching. But, on a deeper level, it also means internalizing those right things through moral understanding, so they become one’s default setting.
But, again, this appears to jibe with what Confucius expressed in the Analects, especially given the way he responded to a disciple who asked about effective action:
If your words are loyal and trustworthy and your conduct sincere and respectful, though you be in distant barbarian states, you will be effective. If your words are not loyal and trustworthy and your conduct not sincere and respectful, though you be in your own neighborhood or district, can you be effective? When you stand, let these thoughts appear before you; when you ride in your carriage, let them appear, leaning on the carriage bar beside you. [Analects 15:6]
The disciple wanted so badly to internalize this notion that it’s said he inscribed the master’s words on his sash.
The two aspects of shèndú we just considered can also offer us some background to the differences between the next two most important Confucian scholars of the Warring States period, Mencius and Xunzi, as well as the two main neo-Confucian schools of thought during the Song and Ming dynasties, the Lĭxué (Principle-learning) of Zhu Xi and the Xīnxué (Heart-learning) of Wang Yangming. As we’ll see in a future installment, Mencius thought human nature was basically good, so, for him, the internalization of moral understanding could lead to “taking on a proper appearance,” or jiànxíng [践形], just as the Zhōng Yōng advises. Xunzi, on the other hand, thought human nature was basically bad, so what it required was constant instruction in moral lessons that could be “put into practice,” which, as if things weren’t already confusing enough, is ALSO pronounced jiànxíng [践行].
If you’d like to explore these distinctions further, Ding Weixiang’s paper in Frontiers of Philosophy in China would be a good place to start.
Suffice it to say, the practical side of shèndú, which advises us to always do the right thing even when no one is watching, could be seen as the Confucian equivalent of what my great-grandmother used to say to me as a kid whenever she wanted me to do some work around the family farm: “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.” Whereas, that deeper, moral-understanding-side of shèndú only came about for me after I was grown, and I realized what a gift learning and working side-by-side with Great-Grandma had truly been.
Sadly, as it seems is often the case in our culture, that realization came too late to be put into practice, so I have to settle for the memories and lessons she left behind.
In Part 9 we’ll take a look at later developments of Confucian ritual harmony both in China and abroad.
See you there!
