The frog in the well
The frog in the well, observed Ruo, God of the Northern Sea, is confined within his limited space, and is thus not in a position to discuss the ocean (Zhuangzi chapter 17).
It is from a similarly bounded perspective that over this series of blogs I draw on, and draw attention to, selected themes and features of the Chinese philosophical tradition as they might apply to and find a place within youth work.
This is a selection from the perspective of a youth work and youth studies practitioner and researcher, outside the academic and professional discipline of philosophy, but who for the purposes of this project adopts a definition of philosophy from British philosopher Mary Midgley (2018):
‘Philosophising…involves finding the many particular ways of thinking that will be most helpful as we try to explore this constantly changing world’.
Or as Chinese philosopher Feng Youlan (1976) defines it, philosophy is the:
‘systematic reflective thinking on life’.
Philosophy, in this sense, is everybody’s business, and obligation.
Despite the limitations of the perspective from my particular well, my aim is to provide a brief sketch of the philosophical tradition from which I draw inspiration.
Let a hundred schools of thought contend
Essentially, all the philosophers of ancient China addressed themselves to the same problem: how is man to live in a world dominated by chaos, suffering, and absurdity? (Watson 2013)
In the previous blog I referred to the flourishing culture of ideas which arose during the golden age of Chinese philosophy in the 6th – 3rd centuries BCE. A prominent symbol of this robust culture was the Jixia Academy, established towards the end of the 4th century BCE by the new rulers of the state of Qi in the capital Linzi.
The Jixia academy has been likened to a ‘think tank’ for the ruler of Qi, gathering intellectuals and scholars of different philosophies who engaged in debate and exchange of ideas. Hundreds of scholars and learned thinkers visited this district and many established themselves there, bringing with them, or attracting, pupils and followers.
Successful scholars were generously supported by the rulers, and were in turn expected to provide advice and guidance to the state, and to contribute to good government (this included the obligation to criticise the government and rulers when necessary). The young scholars who came to learn were learning also to become future advisors and ministers.
This golden age didn’t last, and the rulers and dynasties that followed were rarely interested in fostering an environment where ‘a hundred schools contend’. However, the ideas that were developed in this period had a lasting effect on Chinese and SE Asian culture and thinking.
A long and rich interpretive tradition has explored, puzzled over, debated, been inspired by, and applied the fertile legacy of the classics of the Chinese tradition, and in the process created a trove of philosophical literature, which has yielded profound insights and questions focusing on matters of ethics, political and social conduct, ontological questions, the nature of reality: the ‘world’ (tian) and all it contains, and the relationships between all the ‘myriad things’.
These questions are a matter for careful study, with the major philosophers and scholars making stringent demands on those who would aspire to become, in the Confucian tradition, ren, a ‘consummate’ person, or junzi, exemplary person; or zhenren – the true, authentic, person – in the Zhuangzi.
By the Han dynasty (206 BCE – 220 CE) there were a number of dominant schools exploring different dimensions of human existence, social organisation and the nature of being. However, in the following blogs I will mainly refer to philosophical Daoism (Laozi, Zhuangzi), and to Confucianism, which was adopted as state philosophy in the Han period, with government officials required to be thoroughly educated in its teachings, and to put these into practice. However, this didn’t preclude the study, appreciation of, and practice of Daoism.
Space limits prevent a full history or survey of Chinese philosophy – even if I were equipped to do this. However, I’ll briefly introduce the sources of these traditions, and in the blogs that follow I will introduce particular features of Chinese thought as relevant.
The tradition: foundations and sources of Chinese philosophy
The foundations of Chinese thought are embedded not solely in the most recognisable philosophical texts, but also in poetry and other literature, historical annals, books of rites and traditions of divination stretching back over three thousand years. Most notable here is the ancient collection of oracles which was eventually brought together as The Yijing, or Book of Changes.
Although we talk of the ‘contention’ of 100 schools a distinctive feature of Chinese philosophy is its acceptance, valuing, and frequent integration of different perspectives, encompassing a continuous tradition of commentaries and guiding literature.
A prominent example of this openness is the embrace of Buddhism in China in the 4-5th centuries CE, leading to the development of Daoist – influenced Chan Buddhism, (later to be translated into Zen Buddhism in Japan). The valuing of learning from previous thinkers is exemplified by the teachings of Confucius, a key feature of which was his emphasis on the study of the classics which he deemed necessary for the education of those aiming to become ren –a cultivated, exemplary person.
Chinese philosophy: seeking the way.
The focus of Chinese philosophy lies not in the ‘truth-seeking’ characteristic of Western philosophy, the discovery of an ineluctable, fixed, universal ‘Truth’. But rather in ‘way-seeking’. Where, or what, or how is the way – ‘dao’ – for a person to live a flourishing life.
Most commonly associated with the philosophy which takes its name, ‘dao’ is a central, but elusive concept that lies at the heart of, or rather permeates and flows through Chinese thinking. The word’s core meaning is road, or path, and thus is extended to ‘way’.
But dao is temporal, processual, and so, inextricably embedded in its meaning is the idea of action, movement along: making a path (an early meaning was road building). Many philosophers applied their own interpretation of dao as way/way-making to their own philosophies.
This is exemplified by Confucius (551-479 BCE), one of the itinerant scholar/teachers, known as the literati, who travelled around, attracting pupils and seeking posts in the governments of the different states during the Warring States period. Often with the aim of gaining an official post and influencing governments to adopt ideas and practices directed towards good governance and care for the people.
With only partial success in this endeavour Confucius’ ideas and teachings nevertheless became the most influential among these thinkers. Following his death his former students and followers (who included his grandson) recorded his teachings and gathered them together in what became The Analects.
According with the tradition of Chinese philosophy, the Analects focus ethical questions on ‘way-seeking’. Not precepts or rules, but, as in Roger T. Ames and Henry Rosemont’s description,
‘how one sensitive man made his way in the world—and how this might possibly serve as a model for others’.
Daoism
The authors of the early texts which later became recognised as the foundational classics of Daoism – most notably the Dao De Jing, the Zhuangzi, the Liehzi – were also concerned with human way-seeking. But in Daoism, the meaning of dao was expanded to encompass mysteries and ontological questions beyond, or alongside, the pressing concerns of human life.
Laozi: Dao De Jing
The Dao De Jing (Tao Te Ching in the old spelling) has become a familiar book of ancient wisdom in Western culture, with countless translations and commentaries, both scholarly and popular. We have become accustomed to ‘The Dao of …’, well, everything it seems, from Pooh Bear, to physics, to hip hop legends Wu-Tang Clan.
Zhuangzi
Following most common practice I shall refer to The Zhuangzi. Although it is named for the putative author, it is agreed that the classic itself is a compilation. An accepted view of contemporary scholars is that there was someone called Zhuangzi, living in the 4th C BCE, who was the author of the first seven chapters (the ‘Inner Chapters’), with the remaining twenty-six authored by different followers. The final, received, version was completed around 3rd – 4th century CE.
The figure of Zhuangzi however, is an important element of the text itself. Noting that ‘funny philosophers have always been hard to come by; profound comedians perhaps even more so’, Brook Ziporyn (2020: xxi), in the preface to his effervescent translation, introduces Zhuangzi as
‘acerbic mystic, subtle rustic, bottom dweller and unassuming rebel, abstruse jester, frivolous sage’.
Karyn Lai (2008: 275) describes Zhuangzi as one who
‘is captivated by the diversity of the world and is concerned about how to deal with it’.
How he deals with it is in his distinctive, irreverent style, employing narratives, puzzles, paradoxes, encounters with strange and marginalised characters, and tales of animals. While rejecting accepted, ‘respectable’ interpretations of events, behaviours and attitudes, he nevertheless addresses the ‘chaos, suffering and absurdity’ of the world.
The ineffable Dao.
The dao of human way-seeking is the ‘dao that can be told’. The dao which reveals the radiance of the world, the splendour of the myriad things, can also be told.
But, says Laozi, this is not the true dao:
The Tao that can be Told…Is not the True Tao
The dao that is ineffable – the mystery, the inner marvel of the Dao De Jing and the Zhuangzi – cannot be spoken.
You may look, listen, feel for it, but without success, it is ‘too subtle, too faint, too elusive’.
The dao of the Dao De Jing, of the Zhuangzi, is the immanent source of all things. Laozi draws us into awareness, contemplation and appreciation of the generative power of the dao, the very vastness of life containing/continuously creating the ‘myriad things’ – the ‘magic of the ordinary and everyday’ (Ames and Hall 2003). Always emergent, unfolding.
The outer radiance
For the Daoist, way-making encompasses appreciation of, and full engagement in the outer radiance of ‘everything that is happening’, while cultivating the stillness, silence that allows a merging with the unnameable, ineffable, mystery of mysteries – the source of all things, the inner power of nature.
Also brimming with possibilities are the ways philosophy may be applied to work with young people. In the next blog I explore how the particular modes of ‘doing’ philosophy in the Chinese tradition, such as anecdote, humour, conundrums and situated ethics, make them particularly suited to work with young people.