Introduction

 
Towards the end of the Warring States period naïve or ‘folk’ notions of the nature of the world and of Man had begun to be regularised, resulting in the coalescence of these ideas into two relatively independent explanatory systems: the yin-yang and wu xing models. These systems remained primitive, however, insofar as their modes of explanation were restricted to making or appealing to correlations between the elements of various categorizations of natural phenomena. They were what we call ‘correlative cosmologies:’ a type which is familiar from examples throughout the pre-modern world. Causal explanations were not, of course, unknown at this time, but there were not the resources to extend that form of explanation to a comprehensive cosmology: it could only be applied in specific realms such as the crafts or farming where the connections between actions and consequences were more obvious and where there was a real need and advantage to understanding that connection. These limitations would continue into the future and so explanations framed in terms of a correlative cosmology would also continue to dominate the philosophical field. 

In the period that followed the Warring States, which was notable for the increasing popularity of all kinds of superstition and irrationalism, these cosmologies, which had previously been treated with something close to contempt by other philosophers, were now merged with Confucianism to form a synthesis in which virtues and vices in the ruler – defined as such according to standard Confucian criteria – were made responsible for good and bad consequences in the natural world according to correlations of the kind that constituted the Yinyangist cosmologies. Similarly good and bad events in the natural world were interpreted as indicators of virtues or vices in the ruler. We must note immediately that the attitude behind such an extension is a far cry from Confucius’s own attitude, for he was adamantly opposed to such metaphysical speculations. Nevertheless, this hybridized philosophy, though it strikes us now as involving a serious decline from the philosophical standards of the previous age, did seem to meet the needs of the time.
 

Historical Context

The ‘Warring States’ period came to an end in 221 BC with the conquest of the Middle Lands by the Qin. The success of the king of Qin in unifying the Middle Lands was the culmination of decades of effort on the part of the previous rulers of the kingdom directed to that very end. To that end also the Qin state had adopted as its guiding philosophy the teachings of the Legalist school. You may recall that according to that school the rituals, or li, that might have sufficed in the past as guides for the behaviour of the nobles was now outmoded and required to be replaced by the bonds of law, or fa. These laws were encompassing, intrusive, and enforced with great harshness in the conquered lands, which naturally led to dissatisfaction and to invidious comparisons being made with the practices of the previous regimes, and even more with the idealised view of the original Zhou state. The people – and especially the disenfranchised nobles – complained that they had replaced King Log of the Warring States with King Stork of Shih Huangdi. In response, Li Si, the emperor’s prime minister, proposed, and the emperor so disposed, that all books save those that dealt with medicine, divination, agriculture, and arboriculture were to be suppressed, and that any criticism of the new as not measuring up to the old was to be forbidden on pain of death. Thus many of the ancient texts were destroyed in book burnings and 460 literati were buried alive as a punishment for their resistance. This attack on the culture was unprecedented and unparalleled before the Communist Revolution. (The emperor did keep copies of the banned texts in the library of his capital, but the library was burned when that capital fell to rebels.)

The harshness of the regime meant that it could not last. The revolts that broke out almost immediately after the death of the first emperor could not recreate the thoroughly destroyed feudal system, but led to the re-establishment of the empire in 202 BC under the direction of a more flexible ruler whose successors then ruled as the Han dynasty. The prohibitions on the Hundred Schools were removed and philosophers were again free to debate and compete for influence. The restrictions on the literature of the feudal period were also lifted (de facto immediately, but de jure in 191 BC) and scholars began the long task of recovering their culture. This was, in fact, largely the work of Confucian scholars because they had always been more interested in the ancient texts – they are the ‘Literati’ after all – and as a result they were able to gain the upper hand against their rivals. The Legalists were out of favour for their role in the previous regime; the Mohists did not revive for whatever reason; and the Sophists were never really appreciated. Only the Taoists remained as a serious rival to the Literati and in several periods they actually dominated – possibly because they claimed to possess knowledge of magical techniques that the emperors thought might be useful in getting them immortality or wealth. The Confucians offered no such assistance, but they were able to provide recommendations for practices by which the continued rule of the dynasty could be assured.
 

The Dominant View
 

1. Dong Zhongshu

 The teachings that characterize the Confucianist school of this period are associated with or attributed to the scholar/official Dong Zhongshu (董仲舒) (179-104 BC.) For all his importance, however, we don’t, in fact, know that much about him other than what we can learn from a brief biographical notice in Ban Gu’s History of the Former Han Dynasty and from just a few other places, We learn thus that he came from a village in what is today southern Hubei province, rose to become a high official in the time of the emperor Wu (regnabat 141-87,) fell out with that sovereign – was imprisoned and faced death – and was eventually sent into internal ‘exile’ in Weifang – from where, however, his intellectual influence continued to be felt in the empire.

He must have been a peculiar fellow: it is said that it was his custom to deliver lectures to those who came to learn from him from behind a screen. His teachings would then be carried abroad by those listeners and their students, none of whom may have ever seen him. There is also a story that he once went three years so deep in study that he never even looked out upon his garden. His studies concentrated on the interpretation of the Spring and Autumn Annals. He apparently believed that by correctly interpreting that ancient text in particular the true intentions of Confucius could be determined. In this regard, he was an early champion of the worth of the Gongyang Commentary – one of the three commentaries that are now accepted as being amongst the authoritative texts of Confucianism.

Dong Zhongshu’s influence on the philosophy of his time is well-documented but his actual teachings cannot be certainly known at this point. Our view of the doctrines which supposedly dominated at this period is primarily derived from a book called Chūnqiū fánlù (春秋繁露, The Luxuriant Dew of the Spring and Autumn Annals.) This book pretends to be the work of that Dong Zhongshu, but it has long been known (from as far back as the Song dynasty, ca XI^th C, that he could not himself have been the author or even the main contributor to this text: it is clearly a collection from various authors and periods – some parts of it having perhaps been added as late as 400AD. You might recall that we have had similar problems with other texts – like the Zhuangzi, for example. Just as with those other texts, however, it is generally believed that despite this problem the text can be used, together with other contemporary texts[1], to tell us something about the actually prevailing doctrines.

2. Human Nature

It had already been established that there was a connection between the human and natural worlds. We saw that the ‘Monthly Commands’ (月令, Yuèlìng) chapter in the classic Book of Rites (礼记, Liji) gave instructions on how the ruler ought to behave in order to be in harmony with nature, and described how disharmony would be manifested in natural disasters, omens, and portents. This idea now became central to Confucian thought, justified by the claim that Heaven and Man were correlates – and that what was true of one would therefore be reflected in what was true of the other. In support of this correlation Dong Zhongshu noted that whereas yang was the principle of growth and yin that of decrease, and whereas the principle of yang dominated three of the seasons of the year – spring, summer, and autumn – while the principle of yin dominated only one – winter – clearly therefore Heaven preferred yang to yin. Since Heaven was able to have preferences it was clearly of the same kind as Man, who could have preferences, beliefs, desires, etc. Clearly, the word ‘clearly’ is doing a lot of work here, but this argument and others of this kind were deemed sufficient to establish the correlation.

Now, whereas the two driving principles of Heaven are yang and yin, as just described, the two functionally equivalent driving principles of Man are, according to Dong, xing (性, nature) and qing (情, feelings) respectively. (Sometimes, however, he uses xing to mean Man’s total character including his feelings. In such cases, we could refer to the ‘greater xing.’) The distinction between the principles isn’t entirely clear, but it does not seem to reflect the reason vs. passion dichotomy that we usually see in Western philosophy (and psychology.) Rather it seems that xing is whatever faculty it is in us that allows us to benefit from culture and education, ritual and etiquette. Perhaps we might think of it as being the sum of our innate social predispositions. In any case, it is said that it is through xing that we may manifest ren (human-heartedness) – which you will recall is the fundamental Confucian virtue – while the natural expression of qing is tān (贪) or covetousness.

This has consequences for old debate about whether human nature is good or evil. Since Man’s nature possesses the potential both for good and for evil, neither of these can be taken as more fundamental than the other. Moreover, since we have here merely the potentialities for good or evil Dong denies that it really makes sense to say of Man that he is actually good or bad by nature.

Goodness is like a kernel of grain; the nature is like the growing stalk of that grain. Though the stalk produces the kernel, it cannot itself be called a kernel, and though the nature produces goodness, it cannot itself be called good.[2]

3. Cultivating the Virtues

In order for goodness to arise from xing, it is only necessary that the potentiality be realised, but this is not something that just happens naturally.

That which Heaven creates stops at the silk cocoon, the hemp plant, or the stalk of grain. From the hemp plant cloth is produced, from the cocoon silk, and from the grain stalk kernels of grain. (Just so,) from the nature is produced goodness. These advances are all achieved by the sages by continuing (what is started by) Heaven. They could not be reached by qing and xing in their raw state.[3]

To realise the potentiality in xing, we need to follow the instructions (jiao, 教) of the sages in this matter, just as we would follow their instructions in matters relating to cloth-making, silk-spinning, or grain-growing. Dung is explicit that this instruction is such that the action of qing is restricted, just as Heaven restrains yin and yang in order for natural phenomena to alternate between yang and yin.

Heaven has its restraints over the yin and the yang, and the individual has his confiner of the feelings and desires; in this way he is at one with the course of Heaven[4].

The instructions in question are the directions for behaviour provided by Confucius as a medium for those sages, which include the rites and rituals and music and manners of traditional society. In order for Man to be perfected and to produce what he is capable of producing, i.e. goodness, he must be guided by the restraints on behaviour that the sages have given us. In this respect, the system is strongly reminiscent of Xunzi’s theory of human nature – though without the adverse judgement which that philosopher made on human nature itself. Recall that Xunzi said:

It is necessary to await the transforming influence of teachers and models and the guidance of ritual and yi [righteousness,] and only then will they come to yielding and deference, turn to proper form and order, and end up becoming controlled.[5]

Dong admitted, however, that it was hard for Man to follow these instructions by his own efforts; for this reason he says that it is therefore the role of government to provide what assistance and guidance it can in order to make it possible for its subjects to become virtuous.

Heaven has produced men with natures that contain the ‘basic stuff’ of goodness but are not able to be good in themselves. Therefore Heaven has established for them kingship to make them good. This is the purpose of Heaven.[6]

4. The Evolutes of xing and qing

The potential for Goodness is not, however, restricted to the single virtue ren. From the two aspects xing and qing of Man’s nature arise the variety of dispositions and feelings. From qing, the correspondent of yin in our natures, may arise the six feelings of joy, anger, grief, pleasure, love, and hate; whereas from xing, the correspondent of yang in our natures, may arise the five virtues of humanity, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and sincerity. The reason for this is given in the Bái Hŭ Tòng[7]

Why are there five Instincts and six Emotions? Man by nature lives by containing the fluids of the Six Pitch-pipes and the Five Elements. Therefore he has in [his body] the Five Reservoirs  and the Six Storehouses , through which the Instincts and Emotions go in and out. The Yüeh tung shêng i says: "A government's office has six storehouses, man has five reservoirs"

We have again to note that the reasons given do not seem to us to be very convincing; do not in fact seem to be explanatory at all.

Such a view of human nature and of the origins of the virtues thus integrates the Confucian virtues into the yin-yang cosmology. In a refinement popular at the time but that was not particularly associated with Dong, those five virtues could also be fitted into the system of correlations with the five elements, thus:

5. Fabricating Confucius

One might have expected Dong to have adopted Zou Yan’s theory of history, in which dynasties rose and fell according to the ascendance or subsidence of members of the 5 elements. In fact his theory was similar in structure but referred to an alternative series which he called the ‘three sequences.’ Each of these ‘sequences’ had its own style of government and was associated with the colours black, white, and red in that order. A change of dynasty was a result of the transfer of the ‘Mandate of Heaven,’ when one dynasty had through its failure to maintain harmony with Heaven forfeited that mandate – as was obvious by the omens and portents that Heaven sent to signal its displeasure – and another dynasty had been granted the mandate to restore that harmony. The newly mandated dynasty had to publicise the change by various acts such as a change of capital and of official colours.

It has been suggested that the Mandate of Heaven – though it was not a new concept – was particularly significant for the rulers and subjects of this new dynasty. For the Han rulers it provided a way of claiming legitimacy for their rule even though the first member of this ruling house began as a peasant with no good blood in him and rose to power in rebellion against his emperor. For the subjects, haunted by the memory of the monstrous Qin emperor, it gave them a way of exerting some control, albeit indirect, over the behaviour of the emperor. He was required to behave appropriately or risk losing the Mandate. The scholars were quick to take the opportunity afforded by any events that could be interpreted as omens – be they earthquakes, floods, or tortoises of unusual size – to remonstrate against whatever the ruler was currently doing wrong.

According to Dong’s schema then, the Xia – ‘China’s’ first and possibly mythological dynasty – were a ‘black’ reign; their successors of the Shang were a ‘white’ reign; and the Zhou were a ‘red’ reign. It would be natural to assume that either Qin or Han were then the successor ‘black’ reign, but according to Dong the Mandate in fact passed to Confucius! The evidence for this surprising claim is just that at the end of the Spring and Autumn Annals there is a story of the capture of a ‘unicorn’ (lin) which is supposedly an omen of the receipt by Confucius – remembering that according to Dong he was the author of the text – of the Mandate of Heaven. It was he, therefore, who was the rightful emperor of China, its legislator and final arbiter. The Chun qiu, according to Dong, was written by Confucius only partly as a record of events, but principally as a divinely inspired guide to virtuous existence. To those who do not know how to read it it says nothing, but to those who have the ability to read it there is nothing it does not contain. In creating this text Confucius was doing the duty of the ruler with the Mandate of Heaven.

These ideas were part of a tendency to elevate Confucius to a type of godhood which accelerated over the course of the Han dynasty

Epilogue

In presenting these doctrines you will have noticed that I have been quite critical of the modes of reasoning by which they were justified. This is not just the superiority of hindsight or of speaking with the benefit of advances in logic and epistemology: the irrationality of these arguments and ways of thinking were fully apparent to a number of philosophers of the time. They were however voices crying in the wilderness of Han philosophy – their criticisms were not unheard, but they went unheeded in the general atmosphere of irrationalism and superstition that prevailed. Chief amongst these dissidents was the ‘rationalist’ Wáng Chōng (王充; 27 – c. 100 AD,) whose long text  Lunheng (論衡, Critical Essays) may be read as an encouraging critique of the dominant doctrines – and it is often amusing: for example, he argues that if there were ghosts they would have to be naked, since no one thinks that their clothes had souls that lived on after death. Other voices of sanity belonged to Yang Xiong (揚雄; 53 BCE–18 CE), who did what he could to discredit the Yinyangist doctrines; and Zheng Xuan (127–200) who wrote commentaries on the Classics and tried to smooth the friction between the partisan philosophers. These are all well worth study.