When I heard that China had sent six hundred ventilators to New York, I wanted to say thank you . . . by sharing some words of wisdom from Chinese philosophy . . . plus a chapter on the golden rule in Confucianism.
Watch the 9:50 video or listen to the audio file, which show how it’s possible to find resonances in the teachings of Jesus in this first spiritual gem from Lao Tzu.
Lao Tzu
A noble man steeps himself in the Way because he wants to find it in himself.
When he finds it in himself, he is at ease in it.
When he is at ease in it, he can draw deeply upon it.
When he can draw deeply upon it, he finds its source wherever he turns.
Mencius
The long-range perspective of spiritual wisdom relaxes the anxious and driven pursuit of idealistic goals. Most of the time, growth is gradual. Discoveries and decisions are frequent, but sudden leaps forward in personal growth are rare. In leading persons through six-week projects, I repeatedly insist that the goal is not growth, which has its own rhythm and occurs in its own time. The goal is to cultivate the soil for growth. Mencius called for a mean between extremes, and he satirized misguided self-cultivation in this story of a farmer.
You must work at [rightness] and never let it out of your mind. At the same time, while you must never let it out of your mind, you must not forcibly help it grow either. You must not be like the man from Sung. There was a man from Sung who pulled at his rice plants because he was worried about their failure to grow. Having done so, he went on his way home, not realizing what he had done. “I am worn out today,” said he to his family. “I have been helping the rice plants to grow.” His son rushed out to take a look and there the plants were, all shrivelled up. There are few in the world who can resist the urge to help their rice plants grow. There are some who leave the plants unattended, thinking that nothing they can do will be of any use. They are the people who do not even bother to weed. There are others who help the plants grow. They are the people who pull at them. Not only do they fail to help them but they do the plants positive harm.
We all need to keep growing. It is impossible to cease efforts to grow and simply coast, holding on to a certain level of attainment. We either go forward or backward; and the next segment of our path may require a steep climb and a good working relationship with our spirit guide in order to gain the true success that awaits us. But trying too hard to grow is counterproductive. In this story, to weed means to gently and patiently uproot our bad habits, continuing to make course corrections as we go. To pull on the plants means compulsively examining our failures and weaknesses; it implies trying to build character through a regime of behavioral self-control in which we are so focused on self that we miss the faith, trust, patience, and love that nourish genuine growth.
Chuang-tzu
Sometimes we think of truth as including the truths of fact and meaning as well as value; and the term “cosmic truth” can symbolize that comprehensive concept. I have previously characterized truth as having a spiritual core, a scientific periphery, and a philosophical bridge between them. But now I want to modulate the concept of truth into a higher key. Truth has a simplicity that we know most radiantly in spiritual living. We meet truth in spiritual experience and recognize it as divine. Although truth implicitly contains all truths, it is not merely a collection or even a synthesis. It has its own living nature.[1] Seers in different times and places have experienced this. Consider this story from Taoist philosopher Chuang Tzu (Zhuangzi).
Cook Ting was cutting up an ox for Lord Wen-hui. At every touch of his hand, every heave of his shoulder, every move of his feet, every thrust of his knee, zip! zoop! He slithered the knife along with a zing, and all was in perfect rhythm, as though he were performing the dance of the Mulberry Grove or keeping time to the Ching-shou music.
“Ah, this is marvelous! said Lord Wen-hui. “Imagine skill reaching such heights!’
Cook Ting laid down his knife and replied, “What I care about is the Way, which goes beyond skill. When I first began cutting up oxen, all I could see was the ox itself. After three years I no longer saw the whole ox. And now—now I go at it by spirit and don’t look with my eyes. Perception and understanding have come to a stop and spirit moves where it wants. I go along with the natural makeup, strike in the big hollows, guide the knife through the big openings, and follow things as they are. So I never touch the smallest ligament or tendon, much less a main joint.
“A good cook changes his knife once a year, because he cuts. A mediocre cook changes his knife once a month—because he hacks. I’ve had this knife of mine for nineteen years and I’ve cut up thousands of oxen with it, and yet the blade is as good as though it had just come from the grindstone. There are spaces between the joints, and the blade of the knife has really no thickness. If you insert what has no thickness into such spaces, then there’s plenty of room, more than enough for the blade to play about in. That’s why after nineteen years the blade of my knife is still as good as when it first came from the grindstone.
“However, whenever I come to a complicated place, I size up the difficulties, tell myself to watch out and be careful, keep my eyes on what I’m doing, work very slowly, and move the knife with the greatest subtlety, until, flop! the whole thing comes apart like a clod of earth crumbling to the ground. I would stand there holding the knife and look all around me, completely satisfied and reluctant to move on, and then I wipe off the knife and put it away.”
“Excellent! Said Lord Wen-hui. “I have heard the words of Cook Ting and learned how to care for life!”[2]
This story has surreal touches (the knife with no thickness that never gets dull), indicating that it is not to be taken literally; rather the story is about how to care for life. Life is something like cutting up an ox: a large task, involving work for others, requiring tools and skill, and offering the possibility for three levels of growth.
If we transplant this story into the garden of our inquiry, we can interpret as follows.[3] We begin caring for life on the level of perceptual fact, advance to intellectual understanding, philosophical reflection, and then ascend not merely to ideas about spiritual realities but also to spiritual realization and relating. The way the ox (life) looks when we are living mainly on the material level is different from the way it looks when reflective thinking has matured; and the intellectual level is quite different from the spiritual level of relating. A person who lives mainly on the spiritual level continues to engage in problem solving that requires renewed focusing on material and intellectual concerns; but the spiritual way of doing so differs from an immature way of doing the same things in its freedom from egocentric pressuring. The story of Cook Ting tells of rising step by step to the integrated experience of living the truth.
Confucianism
From Jeffrey Wattles, The Golden Rule (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996)
2
A Confucian path from conscientiousness to spontaneity
Confucian tradition has honored the beauty in genuine goodness, where the shadow of self-conscious hesitation is gone, and nobility of character expresses itself spontaneously. The ideal is appealing, but how shall this beautiful spontaneity dawn in human character? How can one live spontaneously without betraying duty? Is it possible to cultivate such a manner of living?
Confucius’ autobiographical sketch indicates something of his steps along the way.
At fifteen I set my heart upon learning. At thirty, I had planted my feet firmly upon the ground. At forty, I no longer suffered from perplexities. At fifty, I knew what were the biddings of Heaven. At sixty, I heard them with docile ear. At seventy, I could follow the dictates of my own heart; for I no longer overstepped the boundaries of right.[i]
A spontaneity that “follows the dictates of one’s heart” while remaining “within the boundaries of right,” can hardly be confused with impulsiveness.
In the program to achieve noble and spontaneously expressive character, the golden rule plays an important and many-faceted role. First, the practice of the rule strengthens the virtues conducive to humane relationships in an orderly society. Second, the rule symbolizes the goal itself, the way of ideal relating. Third, the rule functions as a thread of continuity between levels of interpretation that range from an emphasis on social-ethical norms to an emphasis on philosophical and spiritual realization.
The literary tradition of the Chinese golden rule appears to originate in the writings of Confucius (551-479 BCE). During a period of political corruption, warfare, disintegrating society, and declining personal standards, Confucius synthesized and added to traditional Chinese teachings in an effort to reestablish social and political order on a firm foundation. The cornerstone of his edifice was excellence of character, expressed especially in the basic relationships of society: father and son, husband and wife, older brother and younger brother, emperor and minister, and friend and friend. The primary emphasis was on the family; and every relationship but the last was asymmetrical, involving a superior and a subordinate. To be sure, insofar as the norms of relationships involved unjustified notions of superiority and subordination, it would be harder for students of the golden rule to achieve gracious spontaneity in their practice.
The major philosophers who developed the Confucian golden rule further were Mencius (371-289) and Chu Hsi (1130-1200 CE). While Confucius had occupied himself with character and society and had very little of the religious or the metaphysical in his discourses, and while Mencius took a only step or two into the realms of the invisible, things changed in that phase of the tradition called Neo-Confucianism that developed under the stimulus of Buddhist intellectual speculation and meditation, in addition to the continuing challenge of Taoism. The first Neo-Confucian thinker comparable to the major medieval thinkers of other traditions was Chu Hsi. Like Confucius, he served as an editor of tradition as well as a pioneer. He taught “the investigation of things” leading to the discovery of cosmic principles; and he proposed a maxim of spiritual practice: “A half-day of study and a half-day of quiet sitting.” He developed a concept of the Supreme Ultimate, whose tranquillity is at the root of the mind’s initiatives of thought and whose activity conditions the processes of the universe. It is to be expected that these changes would substantially affect the interpretation of the golden rule.[ii]
Anchoring the golden rule in relational virtues
The most ancient source for the golden rule is the Analects of Confucius, a collection of sayings attributed to Confucius and other disciples, along with brief dialogues between Confucius and his students. Character achievement is the dominant concern in the Analects, and we find Confucius openly remarking on his deficiencies, his progress, and the qualities that he possesses securely. The clearest initial sense of the golden rule comes from the following dialogue.
Tzu-kung asked, “Is there one word which can serve as the guiding principle for conduct throughout one’s life? Confucius said, “It is the word altruism (shu). Do not do to others what you do not want them to do to you.”[iii]
Confucius answers in terms of a relational virtue and then immediately defines that virtue in terms of a principle. His answer implies that there are maxims that one may outgrow. Particular maxims, such as “Obey the emperor,” will have exceptions and will only be relevant at those times when someone is faced with an emperor’s command, whereas the golden rule is continually pertinent.
Though western philosophers have wrestled with counterexamples to the rule, the need to do so did not arise in early Chinese thought, which never isolated the rule from its character context as an abstract, independent criterion of right action. The ethical implications of the Chinese golden rule were so stoutly built in from the outset that such concerns did not arise.[iv] The rule itself, expressing the virtue of consideration, was linked to with a companion virtue, loyalty (chung)[v] in the most influential Confucian golden-rule text, Analects 4.15.
Confucius said, “Ts’an, there is one thread that runs through my doctrines.” Tseng Tzu said, “Yes.” After Confucius had left, the disciples asked him, “What did he mean?” Tseng Tzu replied, “The Way of our Master is none other than conscientiousness (chung) and altruism (shu).”[vi]
The metaphor of the one (thread)–actually a two-fold weave of virtues–symbolizes the unity pervading the diversity of Confucian teachings.
Though it may seem implausible that Confucius would permit the one thread running through his teaching to be stated, in his absence, by a student, this interpretation by Tseng-Tzu became standard Confucian doctrine.[vii] In any case, the text acquired the status of scripture, and, by setting forth loyalty and consideration as the unifying theme of the Confucian way, it assured the perennial status of the golden rule. The one thread would inspire continuous commentary, carrying implications for the embedded golden rule in its wake. For ensuing tradition, the topic of the golden rule became the topic of loyalty and consideration.
There is an etymological reason for pairing loyalty and consideration. Each term comprises two characters, and both terms have the same lower character. In loyalty, chung, the upper character means “center”; the lower character means “mind/heart.” Thus chung suggests that the mind/heart is centered. In consideration, shu, the upper character means “like” or “as”; the lower one, “mind/heart.” Etymologically, shu implies sympathy with the feelings and thoughts of another person, being of like mind-and-heart.[viii]
There are additional reasons for pairing loyalty with consideration. Loyalty connotes doing one’s utmost in the fulfillment of duty, especially–as David S. Nivison has pointed out–in obligations to a superior. Consideration involves a generous attitude to subordinates, not being excessively rigorous in one’s demands.[ix] Both attitudes are appropriate in relating to equals. Nivison also notes that the word “do” used in the phrase “do to others” has a connotation of bestowing (or inflicting) something upon a subordinate: “Do not inflict on others what you do not want others to inflict upon you.”[x] Loyalty sometimes connotes political loyalty, focused on the Emperor, so there might sometimes be a political motive for advocating it.
Confucius does not portray the golden rule as a moderate, merely conventional, or easily attained standard. Tzu-kung said, “What I do not want others to do to me, I do not want to do to them.” Confucius said, ‘Ah Tz’u! That is beyond you!’[xi] Part of the challenge, presumably, is that the rule pertains not only to actions but also to desires. The high ethical implications of the golden rule are explicit in an influential third century text, The Doctrine of the Mean, section 13:
Loyalty and consideration are not far from the Way (tao). If you would not be willing to have something done to yourself, then don’t do it to others. The ways of the morally noble man are four, and I (Confucius) have not yet mastered even one of them: What you would require of your son, use in serving your father; . . . what you would require of your subordinate, use in serving your prince; . . . what you would require of your younger brother, use in serving you elder brother; . . . what you would require of your friend, first apply in your treatment of him . . . .”[xii]
If loyalty and consideration are virtues of the second rank–not far from the Way–what is higher?
Though there is no single, hierarchal map of the virtues that fits all the Confucian classics, one quality is usually taken as the culminating and integrating virtue in the Analects (though sometimes it is ranked just below sagehood). The supreme virtue is jen, co-humanity (also translated humanity, benevolence, or love).[xiii] One can fulfill major political responsibilities excellently and still fall short of co-humanity. A ruler needs the virtue of co-humanity in order to attend properly to the needs of the people, and members of society need the virtue of co-humanity to participate genuinely in rites, or traditional rituals, such as prayer, sacrifices, and funerals. At the core, co-humanity involves being truly humane in one-to-one relationships. Co-humanity, according to Antonio S. Cua, cannot be totally defined in terms of rules or criteria for moral conduct or a list of virtues such as filial piety, loyalty, and so on. It can only be done situationally, spontaneously, with moral creativity.[xiv]
How is the virtue of co-humanity expressed, and what is the best path to it? The golden rule is a prominent answer to both questions. Expressing such a high standard, it could be intimately connected with co-humanity, as two passages in the Analects show. In the first, consideration is one of the virtues included in co-humanity:
Chung-kung asked about co-humanity. Confucius said, “When you go abroad, behave to everyone as if you were receiving a great guest. Employ the common people as if you were assisting at a great sacrifice. Do not do to others what you do not want them to do to you. Then there will be no complaint against you in the state or in the family (the ruling clan).” Chung-kung said, “Although I am not intelligent, may I put your saying into practice.”[xv]
Here golden-rule conduct is associated with hospitality, and hospitality is extended beyond the confines of one’s own community. Such an extension of generosity is a mark of co-humanity. The second passage describes co-humanity in terms of the golden rule.
A man of co-humanity, wishing to establish his own character, also establishes the character of others, and wishing to be prominent himself, also helps others to be prominent. To be able to judge others by what is near to ourselves may be called the method of (attaining) co-humanity. (Analects 6.28)[xvi]
Here the high level of co-humanity is described as satisfying the golden rule. In addition, the practice of comparing self and others (estimating by our own case, “what is near to ourselves”) is the way to attain co-humanity; as Mencius said, “Be considerate, and you will find that this is the shortest way to co-humanity.”[xvii]
Comparing self and other
The practice of the golden rule sometimes involves an explicit imaginative role reversal, putting oneself in the other person’s situation. Analects 6.28 directs the agent to compare himself with the recipient; but what is involved in comparing? Traditional Chinese sources give no psychological description or philosophical analysis of it, though it is possible to assemble pieces for a surprisingly rich mosaic, blending classical and Neo-Confucian authors (plus one, Mo Tzu, not counted in the Confucian line).
1. In comparing self and other, the agent imagines him-or herself in the situation of the recipient. One assumes that others also get hungry and thirsty, desire to succeed, establish a noble character, etc. In general terms, the agent discerns desires of the recipient, analogous to (legitimate) desires of the agent. The assumption which writers of every period seem to share is expressed by Chu Hsi: “By ‘comparison’ I mean to compare the mind of another with my own, and so put myself in their place.”[xviii]
2. Though our empathic understanding of one another is not perfect, we do have an intuitive grasp of others. The modern western philosophic question of how we can justifiably claim to know other persons (at all) contrasts sharply with Confucian trust in our intuitive grasp of human relationships. The intuitive quality of empathy–especially in action–is evident in the following passage from one of the classics, The Great Learning: “The ‘Announcement of K’ang’ says, ‘Act as if you were watching over an infant.’ If a mother sincerely and earnestly looks for what the infant wants, she may not hit the mark but she will not be far from it. A young woman has never had to learn about nursing a baby before she marries.”[xix] Since our intuitive grasp of others is both the root of our knowledge of others and also fallible, the goal of the process of comparing is to sharpen this intuition. Confucianism, however, failed to incorporate its scientific interest in “the investigation of things” into its expanding concept of comparing.[xx]
3. The agent sees the recipient in terms of a relational pattern, such as father and son. In a simple case the agent may take himself as an example in the sense that he recognizes himself as a person in a relational pattern, e.g., of father and son. A Taoist story amplifies the Confucian point about seeing oneself in a relational pattern. The power of discovering oneself in such a pattern is illustrated in one of the stories of Chuang Tzu (between 395 and 295 BCE). He was hunting a surrealistic bird, which had forgotten itself in pursuit of a praying mantis, which in turn had forgotten itself in pursuit of a cicada, which had simply forgotten itself. Pondering the cycle of predation, he abandoned the hunt, only to find that he, too, was a target–he was being pursued by the park keeper who took him for a poacher. He fled and pondered the matter for months.[xxi] It is through the norms implicit in relationships that comparing is guided by ethical concerns.
4. Comparing is a matter of heart as well as mind. The separation of heart and mind is un-Chinese, inasmuch as the term hsin comprehends both. The involvement of the heart in discovering the similarity of self and others is emphasized in the Neo-Confucian treatment of loyalty and consideration of Ch’en Ch’un (1159‑1223), representing the school of Chu Hsi. He bases his explanation on etymology and comments, “When one extends one’s own mind to others to the point that their desires are like one’s own, that is empathy [shu].”[xxii]
5. Comparing is a creative, artistic activity. Understanding another person is as much an art as a science. Herbert Fingarette found that comparing (p’i) in the Analects, is consistently used with bold, creative comparisons. “Thus when Confucius is interested in the enterprise of teaching, he remarks that it is p’i raising a hill out of buckets of earth.”[xxiii]
6. In order to elicit the appropriate feeling for a challenging situation, the agent may need to construct an analogy between the immediate situation and one which spontaneously elicits the appropriate feeling. Mencius writes of extending feelings. Once the appropriate attitude-and-action has been realized in one case, it can be extended to other cases. Encouraging a king who has shown compassion towards an ox but who lacks it for his people, Mencius advises, “. . . take this very heart here and apply it to what is over there.”[xxiv] Mencius shows that comparing may be more complex than a self-other comparison. In order adequately to identify with a stranger’s situation, the agent may need to take a preliminary step, to bring to mind his or her sympathy for some person (or animal) closer to the agent. Mencius ties extending feelings with “extending actions”: “To respect the elders in your family and then to extend this respect to others’ elders, to love the young in your family and then extend this love to others’ youths . . . extending your kindness, you can protect all people within the four seas . . . . The reason that the ancient sages were greater than ordinary people is that they were good at extending their actions.”[xxv] The notion of extending implies a home base in one’s own family.
7. The agent identifies with concrete aspects of the recipient’s situation. The complexity of the process of identifying with another person is suggested by Mo Tzu (470-391), a figure outside the Confucian line.[xxvi] Mo Tzu does not explicate the notion of loving others as oneself except in terms of its practical consequences: that one will strive to do the same good to others that one would want for oneself–feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, etc. Intuitively obvious human needs are Mo’s examples.[xxvii] The kind of identification that one can have, e.g., with another’s country is not the same as identification with another person; but the first may be required for the second. The agent may need to be able to empathize with the patriotism of a recipient from another country in order to identify appropriately with the recipient. Mo Tzu taught that universal love of all humankind will follow when people regard other persons as themselves, and other families, states, etc. as their own. He argues that it is foolish not to act from this perspective–once one understands its consequences and loses the fear of its allegedly self-sacrificial implications.[xxviii]
8. There is a scientific dimension to understanding others. The scientific component of understanding, so prominent in Chinese tradition, is missing in the traditional texts on the golden rule. It is interesting to consider why the notion of “the investigation of things,” featured in discussions of self-cultivation, was never used to develop the concept of interpersonal comparing. If comparing is all about gaining an understanding of the other, and the investigation of things is the gateway to understanding (as proclaimed in The Great Learning and by Chu Hsi), then why is this scientific approach neglected in the practice of the golden rule? The explanation seems to lie in the intuitive character of comparing previously noted. Nonetheless a replete contemporary practice of the golden rule must welcome the contributions of the sciences.
9. We can see the recipient in terms of the Way without explicit comparing. Mencius reports that one can find the Way in oneself and in the recipient:
A noble man steeps himself in the Way (tao) because he wishes to find it in himself. When he finds it in himself, he will be at ease in it; when he is at ease in it, he can draw deeply upon it; when he can draw deeply upon it, he finds its source wherever he turns.[xxix]
Having found the (source of the) Way wherever one turns, the agent presumably finds that the Way as experienced within aligns with the Way as realized through identifying with the other person. There is no felt need for explicit attention to the characteristics of the other or explicit comparing of self and other. Spiritual experience outshines any hierarchal aspect of the relationship.[xxx]22 On this level there is no explicit following of the golden rule.
10. Comparing occurs within the context of the universal family. Comparing is a matter of recognizing similarities between self and other, and, finally, of recognizing human kinship. This theme, however, was not associated with explicit comparing in the sense of imagining oneself in the other’s situation. Rather, this approach may be called identifying with the universal family of Heaven and Earth.
For Confucius’ sage, “All within the four seas are his brothers.”[xxxi] The Doctrine of the Mean advocates “treating the common people as one’s own children.”[xxxii] If this sounds condescending, it is partly because the philosophers were fond of offering advice to rulers and would identify with the ruler’s perspective; moreover, Neo-Confucianism nurtured the ambition that the sage, through self-perfection, would bring blessings to all the people. Finally, the model of parental love was extrapolated to become a norm for the ruler and sage as well, who would act so as to bring blessings to everyone.
In Neo-Confucianism the theme of the universal family becomes more prominent. For Chang Tsai (1020‑1077), “Heaven is my father and Earth is my mother . . . . All people are my brothers and sisters . . . .”[xxxiii] This quotation begins the famous Western Inscription which Chang Tsai placed on the western wall of his academy; the line was included among Chu Hsi’s selections of prominent Confucian and Neo-Confucian words of wisdom and thence gained prominence in subsequent Neo-Confucian thought. For Wang Yang-ming (1472-1529), “The sage . . . regards all the people of the world as his brothers and children . . . .”[xxxiv]
A popular Neo-Confucian image of identifying with others was “forming one body with” others. Chu Hsi links this metaphysical unity with the practice of the golden rule:
The man of humanity regards Heaven and Earth and all things as one body. To him there is nothing that is not himself. Since he has recognized all things as himself, how can there be any limit to his humanity? . . . It is most difficult to describe humanity. Hence Confucius merely said that the man of humanity “wishing to establish his own character, also establishes the character of others . . . .” The hope was that by looking at it this way we might get at the substance of humanity.[xxxv]
Here the self appears to relate to others as a nucleus to its satellite members. Nevertheless, Chu’s egalitarian commitments are strong. He emphasizes impartiality, in which there is no favoritism toward self or other, and uses the metaphor of “mutually reflecting” persons.[xxxvi] He also writes, “Among living things men and women form the same species and are on the highest level. Therefore they are called brothers and sisters.”[xxxvii]
Spontaneity and the golden rule
Spontaneity is a mark of the sage: “He who is sincere is one who hits upon what is right without effort and apprehends without thinking. He is naturally and easily in harmony with the Way.”[xxxviii] Anxiety about what to do and about one’s ability simply do not arise.
The ideal manner of living, however, is remote because of the complexity and difficulty of ethical living. Even one who knows the right thing to do may have to contend with unregulated desires and hatreds[xxxix] and laziness[xl]. More subtle obstacles include compulsive concern with duty[xli], admixture of selfish motivation deriving from overkeen awareness of the benefits of virtue[xlii], and intellectualism which concentrates upon general principles at the expense of noticing what is at hand.[xliii]
Because of these difficulties, according to the Confucian program, mature spontaneity would arise only gradually, thanks to a self-discipline that will gradually teach the heart to rechannel the energies of unacceptable impulses and to entertain only right motives. Habitual commitments are to be reinforced that should make spontaneity safe when it occurs. Efforts at one stage sustain the course of experience which culminates in transformation to the next stage.
If moral spontaneity is the goal, must not the naturalness of the sage be somehow reflected in the approach to the goal as well? Mencius explained how. He recognized that there is no way to create co-humanity in a vacuum, simply by forceful intention. One must rely on the basic goodness within each person. In his classic exposition, Mencius sets forth a good-heartedness intrinsic to human nature: four pure human motives, the heart of compassion, the heart of shame, the heart of courtesy and modesty, the heart of right and wrong.[xliv] Though immanent within human nature, these four initiatives or sprouts or germs are not at the beck and call of the will. Character may be “cultivated” by facilitating the expression and growth of these initiatives. Mencius called for a mean between extremes and satirized misguided self-effort for personal growth with a story of a farmer who wanted to help rice grow by pulling on the sprouts:
You must work at [rightness] and never let it out of your mind. At the same time, while you must never let it out of your mind, you must not forcibly help it grow either. You must not be like the man from Sung. There was a man from Sung who pulled at his rice plants because he was worried about their failure to grow. Having done so, he went on his way home, not realizing what he had done. “I am worn out today,” said he to his family. “I have been helping the rice plants to grow.” His son rushed out to take a look and there the plants were, all shrivelled up. There are few in the world who can resist the urge to help their rice plants grow. There are some who leave the plants unattended, thinking that nothing they can do will be of any use. They are the people who do not even bother to weed. There are others who help the plants grow. They are the people who pull at them. Not only do they fail to help them but they do the plants positive harm.[xlv]
Thus Mencius presents proper moral development as a mean between the deficiency of neglect and the extreme of trying to hasten growth.
In the Neo-Confucian period, spontaneity was interpreted metaphysically. A note of mysticism is present as Chu Hsi introduces a new symbol to interpret the traditional image of the one thread. In this comment on the one thread of Analects 4.15 (the classic link between golden-rule consideration and loyalty) he begins with an unidentified quotation and adds a simile.
“Empty and tranquil, and without any sign, and yet all things are luxuriantly present.” It is like a tree 100 feet tall. From the root to the branches and leaves, there is one thread running throughout.[xlvi]
The Mencian agricultural metaphor of self-cultivation gives way to the simply botanical metaphor of root and branches. In the Analects the one thread was said to run through all the teachings of Confucius. Here it unifies life. In this context, the roots symbolize attunement with the transcendent; the branch is loving service. The metaphor is based on Chu Hsi’s metaphysics, giving new meanings to traditional terms. For Chu Hsi, loyalty (chung) is no longer simply a matter of being loyal to one’s superiors or true to oneself; now it denotes being rooted or centered in the Supreme Ultimate. Consideration (shu) here denotes overflowing beneficence.[xlvii]
Despite the theory of progressive conscientiousness, golden-rule consideration was taken, in several texts, neither as a description of the goal, nor as a way to approach the goal, but precisely as that which lacks the desired quality. Chu Hsi once put it bluntly: “Jen [co-humanity] is spontaneous; altruism (shu) is cultivated.”[xlviii] Wang Yang-ming was even more explicit.
What men do to me, that I do not wish, I do not do to them. What I do wish, proceeds from the desire of my heart, naturally and spontaneously, without being forced. Not doing to others is possible after some effort. This indicates the difference between co-humanity and consideration.[xlix]
How, then, is conscientious self-restraint, emphasized by the negative formulation of the rule, compatible with growth in spontaneity?
According to Robert Allinson, restraining inappropriate acts is intended to make room for the original goodness within human nature to manifest spontaneously.[l] Epistemological modesty and humility make one reluctant to claim to know what is good for somebody else; sometimes we can certainly know what not to do without being able to formulate a clear idea of what is to be done. The negative version of the rule is more consonant with these attitudes. The presumptuous abuse of the positive golden rule has allegedly caused much harm. If we believe in the inherent goodness of human nature, then there is no need for positive moral rules. “One would need only to ensure that one’s nature be given an opportunity to express itself in its original character.”[li] The negative rule, on this reading, prevents moral harm and facilitates moral growth. Allinson’s reading is sensitive to major themes in Chinese tradition, and he finds in the golden rule a principle whereby the naturalness of the sage is best available to the student.
There must be more to the story, though. If the golden rule required only self-restraint of inappropriate impulses, it would make no sense for the Confucius of the Analects both to say that at age 70 he could follow the leadings of his heart (2.4) and also to recommend the golden rule as a rule for the whole of life (15.24). The elderly sage would have no more use for a rule of restraint. The examples used to illustrate the golden rule in Analects 6.28 and The Doctrine of the Mean make it clear that positive action is required to fulfill the rule. Ch’en Ch’un solves the problem with a harmonizing synthesis.
When the Grand Master said, “Do not do to others what you do not want them to do to you,” he was speaking about one side of the question. Actually one should not only refrain from doing to others what one does not want others to do to him; whatever one wants others to do to him he should do to others.[lii]
Ch’en Ch’un goes on to distinguish three levels in the golden-rule practice of loyalty and consideration: its approximation in the effort of the student, its heavenly essence and function, and its true practice by the sage:
Generally, loyalty and consideration are basically matters of the student’s effort only. Master Ch’eng (Cheng I) said, “‘The Mandate of Heaven, how beautiful and unceasing.’ This is loyalty. ‘The Way of (Heaven) is to change and transform so that everything will obtain its correct nature and destiny.’ This is consideration.” . . . In the case of the Sage, it is simply a completely merged great foundation in his mind operating and responding everywhere so that everything will come to rest where it should rest. . . . The consideration of the sage is co-humanity, which does not require an extension . . . . Extending oneself means exerting some effort.”[liii]
The balanced practice of the golden rule, then, evolves from conscientious striving, monitored by self-examination, to a level where the metaphysical-spiritual foundation so infuses the mind as to eclipse distracting selfish and material urges.
Conclusion
Anticipating discussions to come, a few points of difference and similarity between the golden rule in Confucianism and in modern western thought are remarkable. First, the Chinese sources for the concept of comparing self and other provide a strikingly comprehensive the concept of the imaginative role reversal often associated with the practice of the golden rule. Imagining oneself in the other’s position can involve an ethically informed intuition of heart-and-mind, seeing patterns of relationships, using scientific knowledge (“the investigation of things”) and creative imagination, extending feelings into the present situation that have been previously realized in a similar relationship, attending to the Way that is immanent to the recipient and interior to the agent, and identifying with the other as a member in the universal family. Although mentioning these many antecedents of moral conduct may seem to erect a burdensome ideal, an adequate understanding is often intuitively available to someone who approaches a situation with a loving, action-ready attitude.
Second, the Confucian golden rule could never become a principle abstracted from ideas about character growth, since it was initially set forth as an explication of a cardinal social virtue, consideration.
Third (as with many western scholars), the rule came to be understood as a principle that would have different meanings at different stages of practice. Initially, it represents the careful comparing of self and other that marks the early stage of conscientious Confucian self-cultivation; ultimately, though, it symbolizes the spontaneous overflow of loving service in the person abiding in attunement with supreme reality.
Fourth, in contrast with Christian thought, Confucian it must be noted that at no point in Confucian philosophy did the affirmation arise that Heaven is our father and that all men and women are brothers and sisters–and that this realization is the foundation for the replete practice of the golden rule. The Confucian concept of humankind as one family was derived initially, not from faith in a heavenly Parent, but from golden-rule comparing, extending to others the consideration that the agent had for his or her own family.
In sum, an ethics of the proper conduct of social relations and a metaphysics of the tranquility and activity of the Supreme Ultimate have served as ways of approach to living the golden rule in spiritual beauty.
[i]. Analects 2.4, Confucius 1979.
[ii]. For present purposes, I forbear to probe the golden-rule reflections of the other major Neo-Confucian thinker, Wang Yang-ming (1472-1529), whose inspiring life and whose teachings about moral-spiritual insight and bold action make him an enduringly compelling figure.
[iii]. Analects 15.23 (the numbering of the Analects varies slightly from one translation to another), tr. Wing-tsit Chan included in Chan 1960, 44. Shu is pronounced in a clipped way with a descending intonation. The most common current translation for shu is “empathy,” but this rendering lacks the active, ethical connotations of shu, so “consideration” is preferable. The lack of uniformity among translations makes extra difficulty for the student.
[iv]. One variation on the golden rule directs the agent to satisfy the recipient’s opinions and desires: “Do not do to others whatever they do not want you to do.” Mencius coins a similar formula to promote conformity with public opinion and common valuations: “Do not do what others do not choose to do; do not desire what others do not desire” (7A17). Advising rulers, Mencius expresses democratic sentiments. The ruler desiring to win the people’s hearts should “amass what they want and not impose what they dislike” (4A10). “The people will delight in the joy of him who delights in their joy, and will worry over the troubles of him who worries over their troubles” (1B4). “Heaven sees with the eyes of the people” (5A5).
[v]. Chung, usually translated “loyalty,” is pronounced “joong” in a clipped way in a high tone, neither rising nor falling.
[vi]. Chan 1963, 27. I am indebted to Jie Yang of the University of Calgary for the observation that the term “thread” is supplied in the tradition of English translation, the image being that there is a one that goes through something else, as through a coin with a hole in the center.
[vii]. I owe this observation to John C. Meagher.
[viii]. Loyalty and consideration have the same lower character. A. C. Graham collects this text from “the fullest collection of early Confucian definitions, by Chia Yi in the 2nd century B. C.: “Concern for and benefiting issuing right from the centre of you is called chung.” (“Lore of the Way”) in the Chia Yi hsin shu (B, 32A) Tao shu (Graham 1989, 20-22).
[ix]. Scholars disagree on whether these connotations inhere in the terms, loyalty and consideration, but not on the importance of these obligations in Confucian society. On this point I follow Nivison’s interpretation, whose 1984 paper, “Golden-Rule Arguments in Chinese Moral Philosophy,” first set me upon the lines of inquiry developed here. That paper is the text of his Inaugural Lecture for the Walter Y. Evans-Wentz Professorship in Oriental Philosophies, Religions and Ethics at Stanford University. It is expected to appear in an collection of Nivison’s papers edited by Brian Van Norden. References to Nivison in this paper (except as otherwise noted) are to this paper and quotations are by permission. The present essay takes a direction different from Nivison’s, but I owe to him the discovery of the social symmetry of loyalty and consideration and Chu Hsi’s metaphysical transformation of these concepts.
[x]. D. C. Lau uses this entire sentence to translate expansively the single word shu in Analects 4.15, “Do not inflict on others what you do not want others to inflict on you.”
[xi]. Analects 5.12; Chan 1963, 28.
[xii]. Doctrine of the Mean, section 13. The translation is adapted from Nivison 1984.
[xiii]. I would usually translate jen by “humanity,” except for the likelihood of confusion, since I use “humankind” so often. It is tricky to translate jen, pronounced “ren,” with a rising intonation). In ordinary language, when a man is praised for his humanity, or as being “truly humane,” or as a person “of great humanity,” the sense of jen is present, and many translators have used this term. The term co-humanity has several advantages, and is increasingly used by translators despite the fact that it is a neologism. “Co-humanity” renders a significant feature of the etymology in Chinese: jen is written with two characters–the character for person followed by the character for two. The virtues that illustrate co-humanity involve relationships between two persons. Co-humanity is the person-to-person virtue par excellence. The term benevolence is a good translation, so long as it is not associated with diffuse and passive wishing. Using the term love as a translation has been suspect during the past century on account of its Christian overtones which do not fit Confucius. Obviously, one can go overboard both in using and in forbidding the use of English terms that suggest similarities between classical Chinese and Christian experience.
[xiv]. See, e.g., Cua 1984.
[xv]. Analects 12.2, Chan 1963, 39.
[xvi]. Analects 6.28, Chan 1963, 31. The last sentence is variously rendered. Nivison translates, “The ability to make a comparison (sc. with the other person) from what is near at hand (sc. from your own case) can be called the method of (attaining) benevolence.” Herbert Fingarette gives, “To be able from what is close to take analogy, that way is where jen is” (Fingarette 1980, 380). Leonidas Johannes Philippidis cites Wilhelm’s translation–“being able to take the near (=oneself) as example”–and puts his own summary in a single phrase, “consciousness of likeness” (Bewusstsein der Gleichheit) (Philippidis 1933, 43 and 50).
[xvii]. Mencius 1970, 7A4.
[xviii]. Chu 1973, 435, from The Philosophy of Human Nature, trans. J. Percy Bruce.
[xix]. Chan 1963, 91.
[xx]. Relying on the intuitive character of interpersonal understanding, the scientific component of understanding, so prominent in Chinese tradition, is missing in the traditional texts on the golden rule. It is puzzling why the notion of “the investigation of things,” regularly highlighted in discussions of self-cultivation, was never used to develop the concept of interpersonal comparing. If comparing is all about gaining an understanding of the other, and the investigation of things is the gateway to understanding (as proclaimed in The Great Learning and by Chu Hsi), then this scientific approach should improve the practice of the golden rule.
[xxi]. Chuang Tzu 1968, 218‑19.
[xxii]. Ch’en 1986, 89.
[xxiii]. Fingarette 1980, 381.
[xxiv]. Mencius 1970, 1A7.
[xxv]. Mencius, as translated in Wu 1986, 77.
[xxvi]. I believe that a contemporary Confucianism should acknowledge Mo Tzu as one of its intellectual ancestors. Mo’s doctrine of universal love, so controversial in its day for its alleged disregard of filial piety, was largely accepted by the Neo-Confucians. Chu Hsi’s criticism was that Mo’s doctrine needs to invoke a second principle (in addition to universal love) to undergird filial piety, whereas if one starts from filial piety, one can generate universal love by extending that one foundation (see Chu 1967, II.89.80).
[xxvii]. Mo Tzu 1963, section 16.
[xxviii]. Ultimately, for Mo Tzu, it is a matter of identifying with the will of Heaven.
[xxix]. Mencius 4B4.
[xxx]. Is the description of such a level of experience an invitation to disregard social proprieties? No, because the Way is understood to include situation-specific actional implications, and the agent’s grasp of the Way is based tacitly on the agent’s perception of the other-in-context.
[xxxi]. Analects 12.5.
[xxxii]. Chan 1963, 107, section 20.
[xxxiii]. Chan 1963, 497.
[xxxiv]. Yang-ming draws on classical teachings here (Wang 1963, I.142.118; the numbering means Part I, section 142, page 118).
[xxxv]. Chu 1967, Reflections I.20.19.
[xxxvi]. Wing-tsit Chan explains Chu Hsi’s concept of the mutual reflection as suggesting “perfectly clear mirrors without any dust (selfishness) on them reflecting each other” (Chu 1963, I,20,19).
[xxxvii]. Chu 1963, II, 89, 77.
[xxxviii]. The Doctrine of the Mean, chapter 20; Chan 1963, 107.
[xxxix]. Hsun Tzu 1963, 157.
[xl]. Mencius 1970, 1A7.
[xli]. Suzuki 1952, 607.
[xlii]. Fung 1953, II, 393.
[xliii]. Nivison 1956, 68.
[xliv]. Mencius 1970, 2A6.
[xlv]. Mencius 1970, 2B2.
[xlvi]. Chu 1963, I.32.26.
[xlvii]. I owe this idea to Nivison. Chu Hsi wrote, “Chung means ‘facing the Lord in Heaven’ all day long” (Chu 1963, I.19.17). Commenting on Analects 4.15, he wrote, “Fully realizing the self is called chung; extending the self is called shu“; then he quotes Cheng I for the point:
Chung is the Way of Heaven; shu is the Way of Man. Chung means absence of error; shu is how we put chung into practice. Chung is t’i (essence or ‘substance’); shu is (yung) (‘function’). The one is the ‘great root’; the other is the realized Way.” (Chu Hsi, trans. Nivison, 1984; cf. Reflections II.52.62.)
[xlviii]. Chan 1963, 633.
[xlix]. Ching 1972, 17, Letter #9 (1511).
[l]. Allinson 1985.
[li]. Allinson 1985, 308.
[lii]. Ch’en 1986, 89.
[liii]. Chen 1986, 91, replacing “empathy” with “consideration.”
[1] The religion of the spirit stands above science, philosophy, and art; and it is available to persons regardless of these cultural achievements. Philosophy should not try to domesticate or control the spirit by presenting advanced culture as a prerequisite to transformation.
[2] Chuang Tzu,“Caring for Life,” 46–47.
[3] I do not claim that Chuang Tzu’s concepts of mind and spirit are the same as mine; but the fact of cultural difference does not erase the possibility—even the likelihood—that the experiences that come to expression in our writings have a common human core and that to some degree our concepts overlap. I think that if I were to learn Chinese and devote myself to the study of Chuang’s thought, I would have a heightened sense of the differences between his garden of concepts and mine, and I would enjoy seeing my own thinking progress through the dialogue of scholarly interpretation.
