http://www.akuindeed.com

At some point, I’ll set the “auto-redirect” feature on here at this address, but I’ll wait a bit to do that. See you there.

I’m packing up and moving. I’m actually already there, but setting up the new blog has proven to be a bit of a pain. Things will be quiet here for a bit while I’m setting up the new spot. As soon as it is done, I’ll post the new URL here, and I’ll likely set up a redirection system to take people automatically there.

After making his case for why choice plays a role in Mencius’ thought, Schwartz speculates on the question of why Confucius and Mencius might have have different views on this. He writes:

We find here one clue to why “freedom” — the freedom to choose between good and evil, which is certainly an implicit attribute of the conscious mind in Mencius — never seems to be put forth, in most Chinese thought, as a supreme value. The sages live in a world of harmony with the universe on every level of their being. Their conscious hearts are always at one with their spontaneous hearts. Their sense are under the complete control of their hearts and the fully nourished vital energies of ch’i are fully in balance within the body and in harmony with the cosmic ch’i. Such sages are beyond the need for the indeterminacies of freedom. The ultimate value, after all, is the good itself, not the freedom to seek the good. And yet, Mencius, whose concern is with the majority of struggling mankind and not with the ideal sages, obviously places enormous stress on the conscious yu-wei level of the heart mind, which is the center of the moral drama. (274) 

Continuing in this vein, Schwartz later points out that for Mencius “one cannot merely talk of an inertial tendency to the good but of unceasing existential moral decisions.” (277). 

I find Schwartz’s speculation as to why the distinction between Mencius and other Chinese thinkers (Confucius included) differ on this notion interesting. Mencius, he seems to argue, appears to identify (and understand) the goal and content of self-cultivation through the lens of the continual need to overcome forces (internal and external) that are destructive to everyday moral being. So self-cultivation is conceived in terms of the difficulties inherent in everyday (appropriate) living. As a result, Mencius centers more on the need for yu-wei moral decision making and choice. For Confucius (and others), self-cultivation is understood in the context of sage-hood, a way of living that successfully transcends the kinds of difficulties Mencius is worried about. 

This raises a lot of interesting questions, and lots of intriguing questions. One simple way of thinking about it (surely not the only or best one): the difference in their positions on choice stem from the fact that Confucius is an optimist, Mencius is not.

The Kierkegaardian Prelude

From the Kierkegaardian perspective, authentic life is all about making choices with commitment and firm resolve. In his classic work Either/Or Kierkegaard presents us with three ways in which life could generally play out, the “aesthetic,” the “ethical,” and the “religious.” Although I think the “religious” path as Kierkegaard understands it is interesting, let’s restrict ourselves to the first two.

Essentially, Kierkegaard’s attack on the “aesthetic” life is that it avoids choice. Aesthetics fail to commit. They just

“float along” through life, carried in one direction or another due to some strong attractant in some way related to pleasure. One might be carried away in the direction of beautiful women (Don Juan), or motivated and driven by money, or fame, or fortune, or perhaps driven by a kind of internal imaginative masturbation that yields pleasure through the imaginative manipulation of possibilities (Johannes the Seducer, and most philosophers). Although the “types” of aesthetics differ, they are held together by a failure to make fully embodied choices about how to live one’s life. Aesthetics are, in a sense, “slaves” to this or that, and fail to take charge or take the drivers’ seat in life.

Enter Judge William, who demands of the aesthete that he “choose!” The Judge shows the aesthete that there is actually a plan, or a structure to how society works; everyone has a role to play, and in that role one finds ones full actualization. However, one must choose to take one’s place within that society and fully commit to the embodied realization of that role. One must be one’s roles, and continually re-commit to these roles as one moves from situation to situation, leaving behind the flaccid slave-like existence of the aesthete.

Enter the Protagonist: Confucius

There are clearly some similarities between Confucius and Judge William. Mostly, there’s the notion of completing oneself through the fully embodied social life. For the Confucian, there’s the Henry Rosemont-inspired claim that “one is nothing but the sum of one’s roles that one stands in to particular others.” In the Analects, one gets the clear impression that one’s very identity is structured by the rituals that form the “map” of those social roles. To actually be a person, by these lights, requires that one perform ritual (li) in such a way that one embodies “the roles that one stands in towards particular others.” Similar to the way Judge William talks, it is if your identity “awaits you” (given that your roles are already set). There’s a big table set up for dinner, and everyone is eating, but there’s one empty chair. That’s your chair; if you sit in it, you “become who you really are” (to steal a phrase from Nietzsche). If you don’t, and the chair remains empty, you fail to become yourself, much as the aesthete fails.

Moreover, the contrast with the aesthetic form of life maintains some analogy with the Confucian picture as well. Confucius’ own contrast between junzi (exemplary persons) and xiao ren (the small and petty) is laid out in, at least prima facie, the same terms. The xiao ren are pictured as being led around like slaves, driven to this or that as a consequence of being too attached to pleasures. Xiao ren are, in Confucius’ terms, “driven by personal gain” and are too often attracted by “beautiful women” as opposed to pulled by the beauty of virtue. In addition, it is easy to get the impression that junzi are self-determining in some way, or at the very least “in control” whereas xiao ren are neither, and seem to be, like Kierkegaard’s aesthetes, slaves to the world. To use a distinction drawn by MacIntyre, perhaps we could say that the junzi is driven by “internal goods” (of virtue) whereas the xiao ren is driven by “external goods” – and where the language of “inner and outer” seems to imply something about the self such that being driven by what is external” to the self entails heteronomy. Once we start walking down this road, it is not surprising that Judge William places such a premium on the question of freedom, and how it is related to the integral notion of choice.

Fingarette’s Shoe

But perhaps it is here that the analogy ends. Once we move to issues of choice, perhaps it is here that Kierkegaard and Confucius part ways. After all, it is an integral component of Kierkegaard’s story that Judge William argues that the aesthete must choose to “enter into the ethical”. The aesthete must summon every ounce of determination and commitment and make that leap from one type of selfhood to another, fully responsible for the choice and what it entails.

Herbert Fingarette, in his Confucius, the Secular as Sacred (specifically in the chapter “A Way without Crossroads”) argues otherwise. Fingarette’s argument is very interesting, and can get somewhat complicated, but I think the main components of it can be laid out simply. It looks something like this (some of what follows is my interpretation of implied premises that Fingarette is using):

1. A crossroads requires two real paths (tao).

2. For a path to be real, the agent must be capable of maintaining (or perhaps more fittingly “exemplifying”) his selfhood in the process of its embodied actualization (through practice).

3. Maintaining or exemplifying one’s selfhood requires embodied performance of li (ritual).

4. Only one kind of performance in a situation can succeed in embodying li.

5. Thus, only one type of situational performance will maintain or exemplify the self.

6. Thus, there can never be more than one path (tao).

7. Thus, there are no “choices” in Confucianism.

Fingarette’s argument here is interesting, and leads to what Rosemont has called (at least in personal correspondence) “the way or the ditch”. Essentially, there are no two paths that are equally “real” in the sense that the traveler can justifiably suggest are both consistent with “the way” (or Tao). To engage in the right (yi) performance of ritual (li) is to exemplify the self; to do otherwise is to lose the self, to fall into a state of being an animal of sorts (xiao ren).

The difference here with Kierkegaard is sharp and powerful. For Kierkegaard’s Judge, it is clear that “the self” exists before the leap into the ethical; as a result, making the move from the aesthetic to the ethical involves a fundamental moment of real choice (between those alternative ways of living). It may be the case that one is more authentic than the other, but that doesn’t have an ontological implications – the self exists in both situations. Thus, for the Kierkegaardian Judge, although performance of li (ritual and roles) helps to authenticate the self, li does not constitute the ontological precondition of the self.

For Confucius, Fingarette would argue, things are quite different. There can be no “leaps” from one type of life to another, because there’s only one kind of life to start – the tao. You’re either on the path or you are not (in which case you are in Rosemont’s “ditch”). Moreover, if you’re off the path of the tao, no leap can get you back onto it – instead, you must be “shaped” by corrective forces (presumably here the suggestion is that the magic powers of ritual held by exemplars above you will move you back towards the path). The individual must add “effort” but this is different from the leap of Kierkegaard.

Lingering Questions

There are many questions that can be raised about all of this, and a pile of objections. Moreover, one question that interests me regards the extension of li; if it is the case that ritual performances can be altered or changed by the person to adapt to a specific circumstance (a la Roger Ames, perhaps), how will this be explained in the Fingarette fashion? Can it? Would such a way of talking about creativity require an Existential dimension of “choice”? My intuition here about the last question is that it does not necessarily involve choice. Even if Li can be adapted to meet the situation at hand, it still appears that there is a one path that best fits the local context – even if it turned out to be non-repeatable in other situations (and so unique to that context).In such a case, you still get what Fingarette argues for – the seeking out of the right path, not a “choice” between rival alternatives equally playing the role as potential extensions of “the Way”.

Here I’ll stop, because I have nothing remaining to say other than to pose more questions!

Now, I have a firm grasp of what passages link up with what themes within the Confucian authors, but I’m less skilled at this for Taoism. So I need the help of the Taoists lurkers. See below:

For the Tao Te Ching, I’m thinking of these themes (a day each):

Tao (the way)

Yin-Yang (opposition pairs)

Wu-Wei (no-action)

Pu (simplicity/uncarved wood)

Government and Society

Does any of you have any clear thoughts about chapter numbers that must be mentioned under these headings? For example, it’s obvious that chapter 60 (the small fish and all) goes under the “government and society” section, and chapter 1 goes under “Tao”. I have a lot of chapter numbers already pencilled into these categories, but I’m curious what chapters strike you as obvious or central, so I make sure I don’t leave one out inadvertently. 

Of course, if you think there’s a theme I don’t have above that it would a crime to leave out, let me know!

If any of you have the time or the inclination, I’d appreciate any thoughts you might have.

Word to your mother.

Divided by blog location, and then listed in terms of the most recent threads:

At Tang Dynasty Times (Peony’s Place):

Going Visiting with Daniel Bell (part 2)

Three Generations of Human Rights

East Meet West in Constantinople

At Useless Tree (Sam Crane’s Place):

The Particular and the Universal in Human Rights

At Frog in a Well (Alan Baumler’s Place):

I Like Sex Better than Bear Paws

At Shunya’s Notes (Shunya’s Place)

Pluralism, Relativism, Liberalism

At A Ku Indeed (My Place):

Bell VII: Mozi on Justification

Bell VI:Embrace Your Inner Elitist

Bell V: Mill vs Ayer

Bell IV: The Dead Have Rights Too

Bell III: Fear and Trembling at Tsinghua

Bell II: Sorry is the Hardest Word

Bell I: The Particular Whoops the Universal

First, I should introduce the problem as Mozi sees it. Right at the start of chapter 16, Mozi puts his finger on the problem society is full of too many of what he calls “great harms.” He says:

“It is things such as great states attacking small states, great families wreaking havoc on lesser families,  the strong robbing the weak the many doing violence to the few, the clever deceiving the ignorant, and the noble acting arrogantly towards the humble.” 

With all of these “great harms” being couched in terms of the language of abuse of power (each seems to be an abuse of some form of hierarchy from top to bottom), Mozi is pretty clearly a social-justice oriented kind of guy.  As befits his social-justice orientation, Mozi wants to get rid of all of this abuse. How? Well, we need to find the cause of the harms. As Mozi puts it, the cause can’t be caring — for who plunders another person/state that he/she cares about? So the cause, he thinks, must come derive from hating and stealing (lack of concern or care). 

So what causes hatred and stealing? These come from partiality, Mozi argues. So the answer is simple: to get rid of the “greatest harms” in society we must, he says, get rid of partiality and replace it with impartiality. As Mozi puts it (using the example of states, which is meant to generalize to other cases):

“If people regarded other people’s states as in the same way that they regard their own, who then would incite their own state to attack that of another? For one would do for others as one would do for oneself.” 

This makes sense. If X’s level of concern for Y is equal to X’s concern for Z, it would make little sense for X to plunder or abuse Z to benefit Y.

But this way of understanding “partiality” – seeing the other as not as yourself — hides a lot of different versions, I’d think. Here are some options. To consider a few, let’s assign “care numbers” to a number of different individuals. Let’s say that you care for yourself 10 CU (care units), you care for your family 8 CU and for some unknown stranger 1 CU. From here, there are a number of different ways to understand “partiality”. If you are a partialist:  

A.      You do not care or have concern for anyone with CU less than 10. Since no one else has this many CU, you only have concern for the self.

B.      When your own basic needs are met, your care turns to those with the most CU less than 10. So, after your own basic needs are met, you meet the needs of your family. When theirs are met, you meet those of strangers.

There are doubtlessly more ways to construe partialism, but this will do for now. With this in mind, let’s turn to the next quote from Mozi. He constructs a thought experiment:

“Suppose there were two people: one who maintains partiality and one who maintains impartiality. And the person who maintains partiality would say: “How can I possibly regard the well being of my friends as I do my own well being?” How can I possibly regard the parents of my friends as I do my own parents?” And so when his friends are hungry, the partial person does not feed them. When his friends are ill, he does not nurture them. When his friends are cold, he does not clothe them.” 

This quote seems to argue for interpretation (A), which is wildly implausible as an interpretation of what most people would call partialism. Here, Mozi seems to be saying that you can’t expect the partialist to do anything for anyone, because no one will ever measure up as being of equal concern to that person as he is to himself.

With this in mind, the rest of the thought experiment makes sense, where Mozi wonders whether the partialist – if called to war – would entrust the care of his family to another partialist or to an impartialist. Mozi thinks only a fool would trust his family to the partialist, and so the n0n-foolish partialist turns out to be inconsistent (endorsing partialism in word, but impartialism in action).

But if Mozi’s doctrine is meant as a counter to Confucius’ doctrine, it is implausible. Confucius’ doctrine does not suggest that a person does not care for anyone with less “care units” than he assigns to himself. It is rather that one’s care or benevolence is “graded” – an interpretation more in line with (B). And if we were to think in terms of (B), it wouldn’t be so “foolish” to leave one’s family in the charge of a partialist. One would simply assume that, as long as the basic needs of his family were met, he would care also for the friend’s family. And this seems reasonable.

I’m guessing that I must be missing something here. How is Mozi understanding partialism here in this chapter?

–

A final note: as far as I can tell, it’s not even clear that the impartialist is as obvious a choice for the care of your parents. After all, the impartialist loves everyone equally; as a result, the behavior of care will not be apportioned by degree of the emotion of care (which stems from one’s special relationships). Instead, it will be apportioned by need, or by whatever happens to maximize utility overall. As a result, if there are others in the general community who happen to need care more than your parents, your parents might find themselves without any help at all!  

Mozi suggests that if we want to know if a current belief X is justified, we need to apply a number of tests: 

1) Is X traceable back to the sage kings?

2) Can X be confirmed by eyewitness testimony?

3) Does X have any pragmatic value? 

Use the case of ghosts (as it is argued in that chapter). Mozi argues that they exist, against the anti-ghost position he takes the Confucians to hold. He argues that (1) is true, and he argues that the sage kings did in fact believe in ghosts be appealing to the content of various poems from ancient texts to argue for this. He argues that (2) is true because there are stories of people seeing ghosts,  or at least stories of lots of people seeing a ghost at the same time, and he argues that (3) is true because belief in ghosts keeps people on their “virtuous toes” — at least if one believes that ghosts have as at least part of their function kicking the asses of vicious people in various ways. 

Mozi’s epistemic standard here is interesting, but I’m interested here in the case of Bell. When Bell asks “is the application of normative standard X authentic in this context?” I think he can be seen to be using criteria (1) and (3). This doesn’t force him to depart from Mozi, by the way — Mozi himself only appears to use (2) for “existence” claims (like ghosts). For practices he seems willing to just use (1) and (3). 

So what about Bell?

Well, when discussing human rights and the question of what normative practice seems justified to use in a certain context, it seems that he certainly argues for (1). Let’s call this the “graft” criterion. A normative claim must be graft-able onto a historical/culture narrative of the people in question. If it fails (1), it is not justifiable. 

But Bell also uses (3). The normative practice must meet the “situation on the ground” and actually work to solve real problems. So the use of that practice must have some kind of pragmatic utility (Bell is clearly, in many places, a consequentialist). So if the practice can’t be shown to have such use, it fails (3) and is not justifiable. 

Now for me, the really interesting question comes in when we are attempting to weigh (1) and (3) against one another. Let’s say that practice X has limited “graft” potential, but a lot of practical application. Would this make it better or worse than a competing practice Y that has a lot of graft potential but limited practical application? 

Moreover, is the “graft” criterion merely a “checkbox” yes or no question or is it a matter of degree (which is assumed in the question above)? Some narratives are more “encompassing” than others historically. Does that mean that practices that graft onto those narratives are better than practices that graft onto more limited narratives? Or is the issue simply one of “being able to graft” at all? From the practical or strategic point of view, you would expect that the capacity to graft onto more narrative is better (because it will have a greater pull on people’s pre-theoretical intuitions). But I’m thinking theoretically, because Bell, I think, has a deeper thesis here (even if he doesn’t directly address it). Does the authenticity of a belief or practice flow from the degree of its graft?

My impression of Mozi, by the way, is that he thinks that “graft” is a yes or no question. So, given that two values succeed in this way, the final determiner will really be the practical utility of those beliefs. So, my take is that Mozi thinks the argumentative ground will not be on determining greater or lesser degrees of historical graft, but on real-world application. In this sense Mozi would be arguing more as an empiricist, arguing in terms of actual data, and not in terms of historical/literary knowledge.

It becomes very clear fast in the fifth chapter that Bell is not enamored of pure democracy. He thinks it is important that people have a vote (he thinks that in the modern world not having a vote would not lead to a politically stable situation), but at the same time he is very worried about who is doing the voting, and how politicians behave when Joe-six-pack (or Joe the Plumber, perhaps) is the typical voter (he even toys with, but rejects, the idea of plural voter schemas).

Bell’s worry is not surprising. He is concerned that if the uneducated voter starts to make up the bulk of the voting population, two things (at least) will happen: (A) politicians will begin to focus on promising and giving the people “what they want” in the short-run, even when this is not for the long-term good of the country, and he’s worried that (B) politicians themselves will be selected by voters who know little to nothing about the actual issues that national-level politicians will be expected to think about and make legislation concerning. In the end, we get uneducated populist leaders. Basically, he’s worried about the uneducated masses and their parochial interests being in control of things, and politicians becoming more and more populist in their desire to get elected and to remain in office.

Bell thinks that such a formula – especially in a country like China where the vast majority of the population is composed of uneducated farmers – would be a disaster for China. For instance, politicians would be strongly tempted to repeal the one-child policy (not supported by the rural farmer population), might push for more aggressive (but in the long run harmful) levels of economic development people would desire for short term gains, and so on. What we really need, Bell thinks, are people who can see the “big picture” (the “helicopter view” as he calls it), and we need the people who have this view to be smart, knowledgeable, and above all virtuous as opposed to self-interested.

We need some intellectual/moral elites to grab on to (at least a significant portion of) the reins of the state’s power. Bell’s answer is to institutionalize this need through a “House of Scholars” that would serve (depending on the way in which the proposal is finally given a determinate shape) as a legislative body or simply as a check on the power of the Congress (which would be elected by a pure democratic process). The members of the House of Scholars would be chosen by a type of re-introduction of the old Confucian civil examinations. I say “a type” because it would not focus specifically on the same subject matter (not merely a test of knowledge of the classics), but would instead aim at revealing who, of the test takers, is overall, and in the most broad and general way, (a) smartest, (b) most knowledgeable, (c) most capable of thinking outside the box and finally, (d) the most virtuous. (I’ll leave aside the seeming intractable problem of determining how (c) and (d) would be determined and by whom).

Members of the House of Scholars would, Bell thinks, see further and have a better “helicopter view.” In addition, they would not be driven to rule or legislate in terms of their own parochial interests, but would instead make decisions based on the common good. Their decisions would also be informed, leading to enlightened governing overall.

Such a proposal, if it took shape alongside the development of a Congress that was democratically elected (where the House of Scholars is a check or equal power) would rein in the dangers of democracy in China, reinstitute a respect for the intellectual elite, and give the legislation and policies of the government a truly enlightened direction, free from the corrupting influences of pure democracies and their influences.

Best of all, it’s a system that could be easily “grafted” onto the early Confucian tradition, making the proposal a viable “outgrowth” of local knowledge (as it was argued for early in the book). It answers the “on the ground” problems in China, Bell thinks, and also is fully consistent with an ancient historical/cultural narrative, and so could be embraced by the population in a way that would be strategically viable and normatively authentic.

—

There are a lot of details that Bell leaves vague regarding the House of Scholars and its specific role in his imagined Chinese Democracy. But that’s okay – the idea itself is controversial enough. At least two questions come to mind:

1. Is it acceptable to have a significant chunk of governmental power located in the hands of the intellectual elite? Clearly members of the House of Scholars would not be elected, but would rather “test in” (in a way).

2. Would this build in a level of paternalism into government that most people would find entirely unacceptable? Clearly here Bell suspects that the elites just “know better” than the everyday Joe (the Plumber). As a result, the society as a whole needs to be protected from the danger that comes into existence where there are too many Joes operating in a kind of (political) unison.

—

Bell’s proposal also forces me to think of the obvious contrast with the way Americans think. Clearly, this idea would drive (most) Americans completely nuts. Especially where I live (the Midwest), where people with advanced degrees are typically seen as folks who made one too many bad decisions in life. When I think of the Midwest (and Southern, I suppose) anti-intellectual attitude, I think of the saying “ain’t no fool like an educated fool”. That about sums it up – not only are the intellectual elite incapable of governing others, in all likelihood they probably lack the “common sense” (as it is put) to govern themselves. Essentially, according to the American brand of anti-intellectualism, Joe the Plumber needs to save the intellectual elite, not the other way around (perhaps Midwesterners are good Taoists).

Of course, as there almost always is, there’s an Existential dimension to all of this (didn’t I say that Bell was an Existentialist?). It’s hard to imagine that a Kierkegaardian or Nietzschean politic would be democratic, with all of their discussions of the dangers of “the Public” and “the Herd”. Bell, on the other hand, wants to reintroduce a kind of national respect for “one’s betters” in an intellectual sense. He wants to move away from an embrace of the priority of the “min” (unwashed masses) and instead replace it with the superiority of the “shi” (gentleman) and “junzi” (gentleman). It’s time to roll back in the hierarchy, he thinks, and time to move away from the leveling characteristic of pure (or unchecked) democracy.

But this requires an embrace of a really robust paternalism. And most people I know can’t even rein in their anger at being forced to wear seat belts. Don’t tell me what to do, dammit! I can’t imagine any Americans embracing a House of Scholars that can (in some variations) overrule the legislation of the democratically elected Congress.

—

But does Bell have a(n uncomfortable) point? I hate to be waving the Daniel Bell flag here, but distasteful as it sounds on a level, something just seems right about what he says. I’m not sure about you, but I get tired of politicians voting on issues that I know they can’t possibly know anything about, and so are clearly voting in ways that have little to do with enlightened direction. I’m tired of people claiming that it is a necessary condition that a Presidential candidate be a guy/gal you could “have a beer with.” I don’t want to have a beer with the President. I want him to run the country. I don’t want a hockey mom in office who thinks that seeing Russia with your eyes makes you a foreign affairs expert. And at the same time, I’m fearful that a lot of political power is placed into the hands of people who seem to think that these very kinds of qualities are essential in elected leaders. Worse yet, I’m tired of people running for office hiding their education and knowledge. Isn’t there something wrong with a political process (in America) that has candidates hiding the fact that they have advanced degrees, for fear of annoying the voters? How many times did you hear Obama tout the fact that he attended Harvard? How many times did he talk about his career as a university law professor? I can’t remember any. Bad politics. Get back into that diner and make sure people see you eating that big flapjack instead.

So: why not a House of Scholars? I realize that Bell thinks this is an untenable idea for the West, but what the hell? Why not?

Maybe it’s time for more Americans to embrace their inner Elitist?

And what about China? I have no doubt that this idea of Bell’s will not win him any friends, especially not from the usual suspects around here!

To all of the lurkers and posters who frequent this virtual spot: Happy New Year! It’s been a long year. I’m tired, and I want to go to bed.

Here’s hoping that your 2009 is a great one! See you in the threads.

– Chris