A Short History of Chinese Philosophy (3 page)

Aphorisms, allusions, and illustrations are thus not articulate enough. Their insufficiency in articulateness is compensated for, however, by their suggestiveness. Articulateness and suggestiveness are, of course, incompatible. The more an expression is articulate, the less it is suggestive—just as ihe more an expression is prosaic, the less it is poetic. The sayings and writings of the Chinese philosophers are so inarticulate that their suggestiveness is almost boundless.

Suggestiveness, not articulateness, is the ideal of all Chinese art, whether it be poetry, painting, or anything else. In poetry, what the poet intends to communicate is often not what is directly said in the poetry, but what is not said in it. According to Chinese literary tradition, in good poetry the number of words is limited, but the ideas it suggests are limitless. So an intelligent reader of poetry reads what is outside the poem; and a good reader of books reads what is between the lines. Such is the ideal of Chinese art, and this ideal is reflected in the way in which Chinese philosophers have expressed themselves.

The ideal of Chinese art is not without its philosophical background. In the twenty-sixth chapter of the
Chuang-tzu
it is said: "A basket-trap is for catching fish, but when one has got the fish, one need think no more about the basket. A foot—trap is for catching hares; but when one has got the hare, one need think no more about the trap. Words are for holding ideas, but when one has got the idea, one need no longer think about the words. If only I could find someone who had stopped thinking about words and could have him with me to talk to! " To talk with someone who has stopped thinking about words is not to talk with words. In the
Chuang-tzu
the statement is made that two sages met without speaking a single word, because "when their eyes met, the
Too
was there. According to Taoism, the
Too
(the Way) cannot be told, but only suggested. So when words are used, it is the sugges— tiveness of the words, and not their fixed denotations or connotations, that reveals the
Too.
Words are something that should be forgotten when they have achieved their purpose. Why should we trouble ourselves with them any more than is necessary? This is true of the words and rhymes in poetry, and the lines and colors in painting.

During the third and fourth centuries A.D., the most influential philosophy 0 2 0 THE SPIRIT OF CHINESE PHILOSOPHY

was the Neo —Taoist School, which was known in Chinese history as the
hsiian hstteh
(the dark or mystic learning). At that time there was a book entitled
Shih-shuo Hsin-yil,
which is a record of the clever sayings and romantic activities of the famous men of the age. Most of the sayings are very brief, some consisting of only a few words. It is stated in that book (ch. 4) that a very high official once asked a philosopher (the high official was himself a philosopher), what was the difference and similarity between Lao-Chuang (i.e., Lao Tzu and Chuang Tzu) and Confucius. The philosopher answered: "Are they not the same?" The high official was very much pleased with this answer, and instantly appointed the philosopher as his secretary. Since the answer consists of only three words in the Chinese language, this philosopher has been known as the three-word secretary. He could not say that Lao-Chuang and Confucius had nothing in common, nor could he say that they had everything in common. So he put his answer in the form of a question, which was really a good answer.

The brief sayings in the
Confucian Analects
and in the philosophy of the
Lao-tzu
are not simply conclusions from certain premises which have been lost. They are aphorisms full of suggestiveness. It is the suggestiveness that is attractive. One may gather together all the ideas one finds in the
Lao-tzu
and write them out in a new book consisting of fifty thousand or even five hundred thousand words. No matter how well this is done, however, it is just a new book. It may be read side by side with the original
Lao-tzu,
and may help people a great deal to understand the original, but it can never be a substitute for the original.

Kuo Hsiang, to whom I have already referred, was one of the great commentators on Chuang Tzu.

His commentary was itself a classic of Taoist literature. He turned the allusions and metaphors of Chuang Tzu into a form of reasoning and argument, and translated his poems into prose of his own. His writing is much more articulate than that of Chuang Tzu. But between the suggestiveness of Chuang Tzu's original and the articulateness of Kuo Hsiang s commentary, people may still ask: Which is better? A monk of the Buddhist Ch an or Zen school of a later period once said: Everyone says that it was Kuo Hsiang who wrote a commentary on Chuang Tzu; I would say it was Chuang Tzu who wrote a commentary on Kuo Hsiang.

The Language Barrier

It is true of all philosophical writings that it is difficult for one to have a complete understanding and full appreciation of them if one cannot read them in the original. This is due to the language barrier.

Because of the suggestive character of Chinese philosophical writings, the language barrier becomes even more formidable. The suggestiveness of the sayings and writings of the Chinese philosophers is something that can hardly be translated. When one reads them in translation, one misses the suggestiveness; and this

O22. THE SPIRIT OF CHINESE PHILOSOPHY

means that one misses a great deal.

A translation, after all, is only an interpretation. When one translates a sentence from, say, the
Lao-tzu,
one gives one's own interpretation of its meaning. But the translation may convey only one idea, while as a matter of fact, the original may contain many other ideas besides the one given by the translator. The original is suggestive, but the translation is not, and cannot be. So it loses much of the richness inherent in the original.

There have been many translations of the
Lao -tzu
and the
Confucian Analects.
Each translator has considered the translations of others unsatisfactory. But no matter how well a translation is done, it is bound to be poorer than the original. It needs a combination of all the translations already-made and many others not yet made, to reveal the richness of the
Lao-tzu
and the
Confucian Analects
in their original form.

Kumarajiva, of the fifth century A.D., one of the greatest translators of the Buddhist texts into Chinese, said that the work of translation is just like chewing food that is to be fed to others. If one cannot chew the food oneself, one has to be given food that has already been chewed. After such an operation, however, the food is bound to be poorer in taste and flavor than the original.

02.4

THE SPIRIT OF CHINESE PHILOSOPHY

L

CHAPTER 2

KGROUND OF CHINESE PHILOSOPHY

IN the last chapter I said that philosophy is systematic reflective thinking on life. In thinking, the thinker is usually conditioned by the surroundings in which he lives. Being in certain surroundings, he feels life in a certain way, and there are therefore in his philosophy certain emphases or omissions, which constitute the characteristics of that philosophy.

This is true of an individual, as it is also true of a people. In this chapter I shall try to say something about the geographic and economic background of the Chinese people in order to show how and why Chinese civilization in general, and Chinese philosophy in particular, are what they are.

Geographic Background of the Chinese People

In the
Confucian Analects
Confucius said: The wise man delights in water; the good man delights in mountains. The wise move; the good stay still. The wise are happy; the good endure."

(VI, 2.1.) In reading this saying, I feel there is in it something which suggests a difference between the people of ancient China and those of ancient Greece.

China is a continental country. To the ancient Chinese their land was the world. There are two expressions in the Chinese language which can both he translat ed as the worl d. One is all b eneat h the sk y and the other is all within the four seas. To the people of a ma ritime countiy such a s the Greeks, it would be inconceivable that expressions such as these could be synonymous. Bui that is what happens in the Chinese language, and it is not without reason.

From the time of Confucius until the end of the last century, no Chinese thinkers had the experience of venturing out upon the high seas. Confucius and Mencius lived not far from the sea, if we think in modern terms of distance, yet in the
Analects,
Confucius mentions the sea only once. He is recorded as saying: If my way is not to prevail, 1 shall get upon a raft and 026 THE BACKGROUND OF HINESE PHILOSOPHY

float out to the sea. He who will go with me will be [Chung] Yu." (V, 6.) Chung Yu was a disciple of Confucius known for his courage and bravery. It is said in the same work that when Chung Yu heard this statement, he was much pleased. Confucius, however, was not so pleased by Chung Yu s overenthusiasm, and remarked: Yu is more brave than myself. I do not know what to do with him."

(Ibid.)

Mencius s reference to the sea is likewise brief. He who has seen the sea," he says, "finds it difficult to think anything about other waters; and he who has wandered to the gate of the sage, finds it difficult to think anything about the words of others. (Vila, 24-) Mencius is no better than Confucius, who thought only of "floating out to sea. How different were Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, who lived in a maritime country and wandered from island to island!

Economic Background of the Chinese People

The ancient Chinese and Greek philosophers not only lived under different geographic conditions, but different economic ones as well. Since China is a continental country, the Chinese people have to make their living by agriculture. Even today the portion of the Chinese population engaged in farming is estimated at 75 to 80 percent. Tn an agrarian country, land is the primary basis of wealth. Hence, throughout Chinese history, social and economic thinking and policy have centered around the utilization and distribution of land.

Agriculture in such an economy is equally important not only in peacetime but in wartime as well.

During the period of the Warring States (48O-2.2.O B. C), a period in many ways similar to our own, in which China was divided into many feudal kingdoms, every state devoted its greater attention to what were then called the arts of agriculture and war. Finally the state of Ch in, one of the seven leading states of the time, gained supremacy both in agriculture and war, and as a result succeeded in conquering the other states and thus bringing a unification to China for the first time in her history.

In the social and economic thinking of Chinese philosophers, there is a distinction between what they call "the root and "the branch. "The root" refers to agriculture and the branch to commerce. The reason for this is that agriculture is concerned with production, while commerce is merely concerned with exchange. One must have production before one can have exchange. In an agrarian country, agriculture is the maior form of production, and therefore throughout Chinese history, social and economic theories and policies have all attempted to emphasize the root and slight the branch.

The people who deal with the branch, that is, the merchants, were therefore looked down upon. They were the last and lowest of the four traditional classes of society, the other three being scholars, farmers, and

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THE BACKGROUND OF HINESE PHILOSOPHY

artisans. The scholars were usually landlords, and the farmers were the peasants who actually cultivated the land. These were the two honorable professions in China. A family having "a tradition of studying and farming was something of which to be proud.

Although the scholars did not actually cultivate the land themselves, yet since they were usually landlords, their fortunes were tied up with agriculture. A good or bad harvest meant their good or bad fortune, and therefore their reaction to the universe and their outlook on life were essentially those of the farmer. In addition their education gave them the power to express what an actual farmer felt but was incapable of expressing himself. This expression took the form of Chinese philosophy, literature, and art.

Value of Agriculture

In the
Lil -shih Ch
'
un -ch' iu,
a compendium of various schools of philosophy written in the third century B.C., there is a chapter titled "The Value of Agriculture." Tn this chapter a contrast is made between the mode of life of people who are engaged in the root occupation—the fanners, and that of those who are engaged in the "branch" occupation—the merchants. The farmers are primitive and simple and therefore always ready to accepi commands. They are childlike and innocent and therefore unselfish. Their material properties are complex and difficult to move, and therefove they do not abandon their country when it is in danger. Merchants, on the other hand, are corrupt and therefore not obedient. They are treacherous and therefore selfish. They have simple properties which are easy to transport, and therefore they usually abandon their country when it is in danger. Hence this chapter asserts that not only is agriculture economically more important than commerce, but the mode of life of the fanners is also superior to that of the merchants. Herein lies the value of agriculture. (XXVI, 3-) The author of this chapter found that the mode of life of people is conditioned by their economic background, and his evaluation of agriculture again shows that he was himself conditioned by the economic background of his time.

In this observation of the
Lil-shih Ch' un-ch'iu,
we find the root and source of the two main trends of Chinese thought, Taoism and Confucianism. They are poles apart from one another, yet they are also the two poles of one and the same axis. They both express, in one way or another, the aspirations and inspirations of the farmer.