This chapter presents a critical overview of various kinds of intercultural philosophy, and we thus situate ourselves in this field. We have considered making it the first chapter as it is the most general introduction to the subject matter, were it not for the fact that in our critical remarks we need to draw on key concepts and themes from chapters 1 to 6 (ideal language assumption, universalism versus relativism, family resemblance concepts, etc.). The first three sections are mainly informative. We start with a section on Heidegger’s connections with the East, then we review a German variant of intercultural philosophy and ethnophilosophy. After that we discuss various methodologies in comparative philosophy. Then we proceed to examine world or global philosophy. In the final section we argue that the geyi 格义 method can be used as the general label for the endeavor of explaining a concept from another tradition (yi) in terms of the concepts of the interpreter’s tradition (the standard yi). As indicated in the Introduction, we use the phrase “intercultural philosophy” for every kind of philosophical practice that involves interpreting the CS’s of one or more traditions in terms of the CS’s of another tradition.
Compared with intercultural philosophy and similar epithets, comparative philosophy originated about a century ago in India (with Sri Aurobindo and Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan) and somewhat later in Japan (with Nishida Kitaro). The first East-West Philosophers’ Conferences took place in 1939 on Hawai’i, and the journal Philosophy East & West was founded in 1951. Comparative philosophy has been commonly understood as a genre of writing in which connections between European-Western philosophy and Eastern philosophy (in particular Indian and Chinese philosophy) are sought and highlighted. It is institutionally embedded in a few journals and has recently been invigorated by a series of regular international conferences in North America, Europe, Asia, and other continents. However, it is still rare to find a comparative philosopher in a Western philosophy department. This indicates that comparative philosophy has not yet been taken very seriously in Western philosophy departments.
New labels such as “intercultural philosophy” and “world philosophy” (or “global philosophy”) have emerged at the spur of increasing academic interests in issues such as globalization, multiculturalism, and postcolonialism. However, these labels have hardly achieved institutionalized status. One can discern two branches in what has been called intercultural philosophy. On the one hand, some authors who publish in English consider intercultural philosophy as a successor of comparative philosophy. Their writings suggest that the possible difference between the adjectives comparative and intercultural may well disappear in the future. Furthermore, the intercultural trend in comparative philosophy may have stimulated the turn to world philosophy. On the other hand, some authors who publish primarily in German stand in a broadly hermeneutical tradition. They assume a critical stance toward comparative philosophy because of its positivistic tendencies and the exclusion of Africa.
Different authors formulate the goals of comparative, intercultural, or world philosophy differently, but in general we can discern two trends: the allegedly value-free and detached scientific approaches on the one hand, and the hermeneutic approaches focusing on dialogue on the other hand. These can be briefly characterized as “interpreting data” and “understanding text” respectively. A goal often mentioned is to emphasize learning from the enterprise. Learning includes becoming aware of one’s (pre-)philosophical presuppositions and certainties, seeing one’s own view from the perspective of those who do not share it, benefiting by enlarging self-understanding, and perhaps contributing to the development of philosophy (understood as a universal enterprise).1
The goal of world philosophy in particular is to make possible crossing over to different ways of thinking and accommodating or integrating different ways of thinking into one discourse. This would make productive encounters possible. One of Shen’s leading questions is (357): How can each philosophical tradition best contribute to other traditions? A first step might be to “search for a single hermeneutical community serving as the context of viable philosophic dialogue” (Hall and Ames 1987: 5).
Our goal is to investigate the necessary preconditions of all varieties of intercultural philosophy. This is important no matter which of the above goals of intercultural, comparative, or world philosophy one is committed to. In the next section, we use the topos of Heidegger‘s Asian connection to highlight the great variety of ways in which different philosophical traditions may enter into interaction. These ways include various cases of one-directional influence or borrowing, various types of comparative philosophy, face-to-face encounters and imaginary dialogues, and a number of metaphilosophical issues concerning language and dialogue.
During the whole course of his life, Heidegger received guests from Japan, India, China, Korea, and other Asian countries.2 Nishitani Keiji, the second greatest Japanese philosopher of the twentieth century visited Heidegger twice. A number of Japanese studied with Heidegger.3 Heidegger’s philosophy has been disseminated, confronted, and canonized by important Japanese philosophers and incorporated in their work in various ways. The Japanese philosopher Yuasa Yasuo (1987: 174) claims, “There is probably general agreement that among philosophers in the contemporary world Heidegger has left the greatest as well as the most continuous influence on philosophy in Japan.”
In 1924 Tanabe Hajime contributed the first substantive study of Heidegger’s philosophy in any language. The year 1933 saw the publication of the first monograph on Heidegger’s thinking by Kuki Shūzō (1888–1941), one of Heidegger’s prominent Japanese students. Japanese scholars are also forerunners in translating Heidegger’s works. The first Japanese version of Sein und Zeit came out in 1939, twenty-three years earlier than the first English translation published in 1962.
Heidegger himself was familiar with the welcoming reception of his work in Japan and recalls on several occasions that the reaction to his inaugural lecture (“What is metaphysics?” [1929]) in Europe was: “nihilism and enmity to ‘logic.’ In the far East, with the ‘nothing’ properly understood, one found in it the word for being.”4 The contact with Japan continued throughout Heidegger’s life. At the Feierstunde organized in 1969 in Heidegger’s hometown Messkirch on the occasion of his eightieth birthday the keynote speech (Festvortrag) was delivered by Tsujimura Kōichi. At Heidegger’s death, Nishitani composed a haiku and wrote an obituary in the evening edition of the Japanese newspaper Yomiuri on May 25, 1976.
Xiong Wei (1911–1994), who studied with Heidegger in the 1930s, played a role in introducing Heidegger to China. Xiong wrote, “[Heidegger] has never attempted to convey knowledge, but rather to induce one to think, to think and to say poetically. This makes his lectures very enjoyable. I was really led into a fresh world” (1997, 383).5 Heidegger’s other contacts with Chinese scholars include his abortive collaboration with Hsiao Shih-yi to translate the Daodejing.6
Between 1943 and 1965, Heidegger cited from chapters 9, 11, 15, 28, and 47 of the Daodejing on a variety of occasions. In the essay “The Nature of Language,” there are two paragraphs in which he “compares” Laozi’s notion of dao 道 with his own notion of Weg (1957/58: 92).7 It is rather bewildering that in his written work, Heidegger’s references to Daoism far exceed his mention of Japanese sources.
Heidegger’s discussion of the word dao and his quotations from the Daodejing may be taken to be the most convincing evidence for the claim that he conducts his thinking interculturally. However, if one subjects Heidegger’s citations from the Daodejing to scrupulous contextual analyses, it can be seen that he has carefully selected existing translations, and in some cases made idiosyncratic modifications, so as to suit them to his own philosophizing.8
A possible way to combat das Ge-stell is Heidegger’s “the other thinking.”9 The other thinking appears to be useless or not needed, but there are inexhaustible resources concealed in it that ground everything that is useful. In elucidating uselessness as the most fundamental feature of the other thinking, Heidegger turns to Zhuangzi from time to time. His familiarity with the Zhuangzi is witnessed during the period 1930 to 1972.10 Toward the very end of the last “Conversation” of the trilogy of Feldweg-Gespräche composed in 1944 to 1945, he cites from chapter 26 of the Zhuangzi, where Zhuangzi points out the way in which what is considered as useless actually makes possible what is considered as directly useful. Without the much broader milieu of uselessness, the useful will turn out to be useless. In “Überlieferte Sprache und Technische Sprache” of 1962, a lecture given for science teachers at a vocational school, Heidegger cites the passage about the useless tree in chapter 1 of the Zhuangzi.11
The theme of “intercultural philosophical dialogue” has not received much focused attention. It can be taken either in a narrower or in a broader sense. Current usage of this phrase implies that the exchange between Heidegger and Carnap, or between Derrida and Gadamer, is not an intercultural philosophical dialogue.12 Everyday examples of intercultural philosophical dialogue include: discussion between Heidegger and the Japanese Buddhist philosopher Hisamatsu Hōseke Shinichi; cooperation between the Chinese scholar Li Zhizao and the Jesuit Francisco Furtado in the seventeenth century; or the contemporary discussion between the American philosopher Rorty and the Indian philosopher Balslev (1991).
On a number of occasions, Heidegger had face-to-face dialogues with Asian scholars, some of which were recorded. In 1927 or 1928 he had discussions with Kuki about the meaning of the Japanese aesthetic notion iki.13 In a search for a nonmetaphysical art, Heidegger has paid sustained attention to ancient East-Asian art in the 1950s and 1960s, insofar as it presumably remains uncontaminated by the Ge-stell. The first recorded occasion of his contact with East-Asian art is his meeting with Tezuka Tomio at the end of March 1954.14 Heidegger’s conversation with Tezuka finds its echo in “Aus einem Gespräch von der Sprache” (1953–1954).15
In the colloquium “Kunst und Denken,” which Heidegger held together with the Japanese scholar Hisamatsu in Freiburg in 1958, Heidegger more directly accords priority to East-Asian art.16 In the evening of the same day, Heidegger had a private conversation with Hisamatsu:
HISAMATSU: … What I wish is, that one day the East would encompass the West—and the other way round—the West the East, so that we could see the unfolding of East-West exchange of thought in this way.
HEIDEGGER: I thank you for those words. I feel, that such a coming-together of East and West is more important than economic or political contacts. (1958: 191–192)
In 1963 Heidegger received the visit by Bhikku Maha Mani (a Buddhist monk and professor from Thailand). Their conversation was broadcast on radio.
Mani said, that nothingness is not nothing.
HEIDEGGER: That is what I have always been saying, all my life.
MANI: Come to us, to our land, we shall understand you.
HEIDEGGER (to the interpreter): Please tell him that all the fame in the world means nothing to me when I am not understood and find no understanding. Therefore, I do not only thank you but I have experienced in this dialogue a confirmation, which has rarely come my way before. (1963: 592)
Heidegger also had recorded discussions with European scholars about Eastern thinking, for example, with Hellmuth Hecker, German professor and Buddhist, on August 30, 1952:
HECKER: Surely, one can find important matters in oriental philosophy.
HEIDEGGER: Certainly, but we have to develop the questions from (out of) our Western thinking. First our philosophy up to now has to become question-able. For the process of the encounter between West and East I estimate 300 years [will be needed]. (cited in Hartig 1997: 269)
In her “Imaginary dialogue between Heidegger and a Buddhist with apologies for possible implausibilities of personalities,” Stambaugh (1991: 172) wrote:
HEIDEGGER: But by the Nothing I have never meant boundless emptiness.
BUDDHIST: What do you have against the term “emptiness.” It is an absolutely central word for Buddhists.
Heidegger himself has commented on the alleged similarities between his thinking and Zen Buddhism, sometimes in a positive, sometimes in a negative direction. In the der Spiegel interview, Heidegger claims that the transformation of the Western tradition cannot happen because of “any takeover [Übernahme] of Zen Buddhism or any other Eastern experiences of the world,” because “thinking itself can be transformed only by a thinking which has the same origin and calling” (1966: 113/679).
In the 1950s and 1960s Heidegger had many discussions with the Swiss psychiatrist Medard Boss on the similarities and differences of Heidegger’s Dasein and Indian philosophy.
BOSS: Then in what way is Heidegger’s conception of the matter of being more adequate than Indian thought, …
HEIDEGGER: My conception is more adequate, insofar as I am proceeding from Da-sein and from [its] understanding of being, and insofar as I limit myself to what can be experienced immediately. … Above all, the above quoted Indian insight cannot be assimilated into my thinking. (2001: 180; emphasis added)
This is a rare case where Heidegger expresses a view on Indian philosophy.
There is a substantial body of literature discussing similarities and dissimilarities between Zen Buddhism, or Daoism, or Indian philosophy on the one hand and Heidegger’s thinking on the other.17 We only give a couple of examples to illustrate the variety of approaches.18 In a number of his works, Chang Chung-yuan attempts to interpret the Daodejing in light of Heidegger’s philosophy. According to him, “Heidegger is the only Western philosopher who not only intellectually understands dao, but has intuitively experienced the essence of it as well” (1975: ix).
Using the method of textual juxtaposition, May (1996) purports to show that Heidegger’s text “corresponds almost verbatim” (29) to German translations available to him. For example, May argues that Heidegger draws on chapter 11 of the Daodejing in his discussion of the emptiness (Leere) of the thingly nature of a jug, as elaborated in his essay “The Thing” (1950). A few other authors have noted and commented on the similarity between passages in these two texts.19 What is special about May’s work is that he attributes this similarity to deliberate (albeit unacknowledged) borrowing on behalf of Heidegger. Although May’s accusations are not “permissible” according to traditional Heidegger scholars (and Heidegger’s family), there is little doubt that Heidegger sometimes appropriates Asian sources without giving the proper reference.20 To May, the fact that Heidegger appropriates Asian sources testifies that he is thinking transculturally. However, May fails to consider the question whether Heidegger’s use of these sources has a Euro-centric, or Heideggo-centric tendency.
To contrast with May’s suggestions to the effect that Heidegger’s later philosophy was derived from Daoist ideas to a considerable extent, one may also raise the query: To what extent have some contemporary interpretations of Daoist scriptures, in particular the Daodejing, been influenced by “the” Philosopher Heidegger?
In Heidegger’s writings one can find both passages in which he stipulates that there is only one philosophy,21 namely, European philosophy, which originated in Greece, as well as statements to the effect that a dialogue with “the East” is “necessary” or “inevitable.” As already mentioned in chapter 1, Heidegger has a narrow “Greek origin” view of philosophy:22
The style of all Western-European philosophy—and there is no other, neither a Chinese nor an Indian philosophy—is determined by this duality “beings—in being.” (1951/52: 224/228)
The expression “Western philosophy” is avoided; because this notion is rigorously thinking an overladen term. There is no other philosophy than the Western one. (1943: 3)
Nevertheless, in the 1950s and 1960s, he speaks of “the realm of possible dialogue between … the language of Europe and that of East Asia,” “the essential questions of the East-West dialogue,” “a fruitful dialogue with East-Asian ‘thinking’,” or “inevitable dialogue with the East-Asian world.” He uses such words as “it has seemed urgent to me that a dialogue take place with the thinkers of what is to us the Eastern world,” or: “The encounter with the Asiatic … is the verdict of what the fate of Europe will be.”23 But he does not elaborate on these enigmatic sayings,24 with perhaps one exception, his essay “A Dialogue [Gespräch] on Language” (1953/54). In the beginning of “A Dialogue,” Heidegger raises the question whether a dialogue between East-Asian and European languages is possible. Subjects of discussion are the Japanese notions iki, shiki, and kū, and the Nō play. Also the Buddhist notion of emptiness is briefly touched on. Toward the end of the essay, Heidegger elaborately turns the Japanese word kotoba (language) to fit into the preconceived structure of “A Dialogue,” interpreting it deliberately in correspondence with his intonations on the nature of language, the nature of language as the house of Being, as monologue, as Saying (die Sage), and as Ereignis.25
In “A Dialogue,” Heidegger may have considered whether his notion of “genuine” dialogue, which in its true sense is Being’s own Saying could be applied to East-West dialogue, and whether East and West could enter into a mode of belonging-together in the fashion of the belonging-together of Being and thinking.26
For all of his life, Heidegger vacillates on or shies away from the question of East-West dialogue (Ma Lin 2008a: passim).
In German-language publications from the 1990s, a group of scholars ascribed to Heidegger’s thinking a unique significance for the foundation, initiation, and orientation of intercultural philosophy. According to them, Heidegger is the only great philosopher from the European traditions who took seriously the issue of East-West dialogue and hence something called intercultural philosophy. For example, Wolz-Gottwald argues that Heidegger has presented the “beginning of a ‘creative’ intercultural philosophy as a third way” (1997: 99). The most fully worked out view is presented in Vetsch (1992), who ascribes to Heidegger an account of planetary unification by means of different traditions going back to their roots and contributing in various capacities to thwarting the danger of modern technology.27 Apart from the sources already mentioned, these authors draw on Heidegger’s Hölderlin-inspired reflections on the tripartite delineation of homeland, the journey abroad, and homecoming, and describe them as a “model” for intercultural encounter.28
Heidegger’s encounter with East-Asian scholars and sources on different occasions and the ways in which he is engaged in a dialogue with the East illustrate the great variety of interactions between philosophical traditions. It is noteworthy that relevant scholars have hardly paid attention to the issue of translating/interpreting from one language/tradition to another. Without exception Heidegger speaks and writes in German and it is taken for granted that the other tradition he touches on is also expressed in German. In the secondary literature comparisons of Heidegger’s German and classical Chinese texts are often carried out in English. It seems that scholars have failed to give serious thought to the question whether anything significant is lost in such ideal conversations conducted in the same language. In fact, it is Heidegger himself who expressed worries with such “globalizing” situations where European languages take precedence over East-Asian languages (see chapter 8 on planetarization).29
Through its website and online journal, a group of scholars in the German speaking world has made attempts to establish interkulturelle Philosophie. According to these scholars, intercultural philosophy unavoidably embraces a moral dimension. Hence, it cannot assume a neutral stance. Further, these philosophers attach more importance to the dynamic interaction between different traditions rather than what they see as static observation of on-display intellectual histories.
Mall (2000: 45) defines intercultural philosophy as an open, normative, comprehensive philosophical hermeneutics. It is grounded in the ethical insight that all understanding is relative to a situatedness. This is a normative postulate originating in the intuitive perception of the other as “unconstituted and unconstitutable” (56). In this light, intercultural philosophy is authentic pluralism, that is, pluralistic unity and unitary pluralism. It does not impose a universal scheme. Intercultural philosophy “is first and foremost the name of a philosophical attitude, a philosophical conviction that no one philosophy is the philosophy for the whole of humankind” (xii). The reduction to universal world philosophy makes no sense; there is no philosophia perennis. However, one may still discern rather strong universalistic assumptions in Mall’s writings:30
That we are all human beings makes one thing abundantly clear: in spite of cultural difference, there are fundamental similarities between different philosophical traditions. (1998: 15)
Moreover, Mall’s intercultural philosophy may suffer from Eurocentrism to an even greater extent than the intercultural successors of comparative philosophy. Van Binsbergen (2003: 375–394) argues that Mall essentializes such terms as “culture,” “West,” and “East,” and uses Western conceptual schemes unreflectively. Although Mall is of Indian heritage, he employs the word Indian as if “Indian” refers to one monolithic tradition.31 The general problem, according to van Binsbergen, is that (intercultural) philosophy is a linguistic activity conducted by specialists. Therefore, speaking of equivalence of understanding is no more than a rhetorical gesture. Whatever Mall writes, he is under control of his peers, that is, his academic colleagues. Perhaps Mall is not aware that he is also part of the “political constellation of a democratic postmodern society” (389).
Van Binsbergen has leveled criticism along similar lines at African philosophers, in particular those who write on ubuntu.32 In response to this criticism, Ramose describes van Binsbergen as “the self-appointed diviner and sole diviner of the meaning of experience, knowledge and truth for the African” (Bewaji and Ramose 2003: 402). Ramose writes:33
Africans will forever need non-Africans to define on their behalf their identity and to determine their destiny. This putative right of the non-Africans is based upon their philosophic myth that Africans must be excluded from membership of “rational animals” because of a defect in their ontology. … Africa could not, cannot and would not be capable at all to derive any insight from her own experience. Van Binsbergen’s aversion to dialogue places him outside the proper terrain of philosophy. (Bewaji and Ramose 2003: 402)
According to van Binsbergen, all language-based communication is defective. It is far away from nonlanguage-based actions; “the latter [are] structured around clothing, gestures, images” (392). Van Binsbergen is right that philosophy (and intellectual language generally) is the practice of an elite, but he himself also assumes the “universal” Western norm of having to give arguments for one’s point of view. And he has his own hidden agenda, that is, to undermine the presuppositions of modern globalized multicultural societies.
Kimmerle (1995, 2012) is another representative of interkulturelle Philosophie. He prefers the label “dialogical philosophy” and the Socratic method as a model for communicative interaction. In support he cites Hölderlin:34
Since we have been a dialogue [Gespräch]
And able to hear from one another.
Each culture has its own type of philosophy. Like Mall, Kimmerle dismisses a hermeneutic of universal understanding and denies the need for a fusion of horizons. One should assume an open attitude toward the result of dialogue. Both parties (in his case African and Western) are needed and will undergo change; similarities and differences between them have to be recognized at the same time (by both sides).35
Kimmerle’s main commitment is to initiate a dialogue between European and African philosophy. In such a dialogue, one learns something from the other that one cannot learn from oneself. Nauta (1992), a scholar whose background is in critical theory, considers Kimmerle’s (1991) work on African philosophy to be a monologue. Kimmerle presents African philosophy from his own perspective and then engages in dialogue with himself. It is Kimmerle who chooses the key notions of the chapters of his book (truth, sense of community, time, and such like) and focuses on one aspect of African philosophy only, namely fruitfulness of oral traditions, says Nauta. Moreover, as far as the circle of Western philosophers is concerned, Kimmerle seems to restrict the community of inquirers to hermeneuticians and Heideggerians.
We agree with Mall and Kimmerle that intercultural philosophical dialogue should be open-ended. We cannot assume a universal truth that is to be reached via the fusion of horizons or the ideal science commitment of traditional comparative philosophy. On the other hand, we also agree with their critics that their writings still contain many unacknowledged Western biases.
Since Hountondji launched a devastating critique in the 1970s, whether ethnophilosophy is philosophy has been a hotly debated issue in the discourse of African philosophy. In The African Philosophy Reader, published in 1998, ethnophilosophy is defined as “an African philosophical trend focusing on the documentation of the mythical concepts, ritual practices, proverbs, and institutions of the different African ethnic groups.”36 Here is an example of ethnophilosophy. Gyekye, writing about the Akan people of Ghana, recounts:37
In 1946 the Akwamuhene of Ankaasi, a village near Kumasi [in Ghana], died. Forty days before he had given evidence at court, in a case in which another man had been accused of murdering the Akwamuhene’s own father. The accused person was acquitted chiefly on the evidence of the Akwamuhene, who a few days later fell ill. On the twenty-eighth day of his illness he confessed to a friend that he believed his father’s ghost was punishing him, because he had given false evidence at the trial. He did not recover from his illness, and died. No other explanation was required [to account for his illness and subsequent death], for it was the general belief [in Ankaasi] that his father had punished him for his conduct.
Gyekye’s philosophical interpretation of this and other Akan stories is as follows. The metaphysics of the Akan distinguishes between two types of “being or coming about”: ordinary events and exceptional events. Ordinary occurrences in nature are part of the arrangement by Onyame (the omnipotent creator or Supreme Being). They are of little interest to the Akan. What is interesting are the exceptions, the contingencies, which need special explanation, with reference to the ultimate movements of Onyame or any of a range of less important spirits. Spirits or ghosts are the source of action and change in the world. For the Akan, explanations of unexpected natural events in terms of chance or fate are repugnant if not downright unthinkable. They hold that nothing merely happens; everything has its cause (either an ordinary or exceptional cause). In contrast, today’s scientized lifeworld is dominated by a form of physicalism: nothing happens without having a physical cause (whether one can identify the cause or not).
An early representative of African ethnophilosophy was Placide Tempels. In his book Bantu Philosophy (1959), he argued that the metaphysical categories of the Bantu people are reflected in their forms of life and conceptual schemes embedded in their languages. Hountondji severely criticized the suggestion that ethnophilosophy was the same as African philosophy.38 Concerning Tempels’ Bantu Philosophy he wrote in the 1970s:39
Africans are, as usual, excluded from the discussion, and Bantu philosophy is a mere pretext for learned disquisitions among Europeans. The black man continues to be the very opposite of an interlocutor; he remains a topic, a voiceless face under private investigation, an object to be defined and not the subject of a possible discourse. (1996: 34)
Here is a myth at work, the myth of primitive unanimity, with its suggestion that in “primitive” societies—that is to say, non-Western societies—everybody always agrees with everyone else. It follows that in such societies there can never be individual beliefs or philosophies but only collective systems of belief. (2002: 107)
Hountondji further argued that the discourse of ethnophilosophy has obstructed the development of African philosophy. Ethnophilosophy is an invention of the West that defines what is “primitive” as distinguished from what is “civilized.” Although Hountondji’s view was charged of elitism, philosophism, and scientism, his critical view of ethnophilosophy was subsequently shared by a number of other influential African philosophers such as Wiredu and Appiah.
Often ethnophilosophy was disqualified because it is not like science. Therefore, it is interesting to note that some defenders of ethnophilosophy do not deny the requirement that philosophy should resemble science. Ikuenobe (2004) writes:
[Ethnophilosophy] involves and raises legitimate epistemic and metaphilosophical issues about (a) the appropriateness, rigor, and universality of the methodology of its discourse, (b) the meaningfulness, logical verifiability, and rationality of statements and beliefs in African cultures, and (c) the relevance of the relative social and cultural contexts of evidence for the reasonableness of a belief. (483)
Ethnophilosophical views, beliefs, and processes [can serve] as a basis for engaging in a critical cross-cultural dialogue that may lead to a synthesized global view of reasonableness or justification. (491)
This may suggest that ethnophilosophy should be integrated in world philosophy (491).
According to Hallen and Du Bois (2010), after vigorous debate in the 1990s, some sort of consensus was achieved among African philosophers. There is a proper role for oral traditions in African philosophy. This is confirmed by the nuancing of early critics (Appiah, Hountondji, Wiredu). Deep understanding of traditional conceptual worlds is necessary, but this can only be a first step in doing African philosophy: “Going beyond the descriptive project of ethnophilosophy is the real challenge of philosophers engaged with the problems of contemporary Africa” (Appiah 1998: 129).
As time moved on, ethnophilosophy acquired new meanings. Originally restricted to Africa, the phrase ethnophilosophy has been extended to refer to the traditions of native Australian, Amerindian, Polynesian, and Japanese thinking.40 As Hallen and Du Bois put it: “its meaning over the past decades has varied from originally being a term of abuse, virtually an invective, to now a normative term that could in principle be applied to what is labeled ‘philosophy’ in any culture” (74).41
An early representative of the new ethnophilosophy is Okafor (1997). The features of ethnophilosophy that have been subjected to devastating criticism by “universalist” philosophers, Okafor elevates as positive features shared by African and Japanese philosophy (but not by Western philosophy). He lists three characteristics of ethnophilosophy (366): it assumes the existence of a communal mind; there is no abstract logic or universal categories; it is a philosophy of a commonwealth, which the individual philosopher unveils.
In elevating the weak points of ethnophilosophy into its strong features, Okafor has been followed by others, for example, Botz-Bornstein (2006), who argues for a renaissance of ethnophilosophy.42 In light of such developments Hallen and Du Bois conclude that the problems (or priorities) of (whatever) philosophy are culturally generated and therefore local. The whole of philosophy becomes tribalized: “every manifestation of even academic philosophy, wherever it occurs, might be said to represent a form of ethnophilosophy” (83).43
It should not be a surprise that the contrast between Erklären and Verstehen or between analytic and continental philosophy also comes to play in intercultural philosophy. In a recent exchange, Møllgaard (2005) characterizes the philosophical turn in American sinology as a turn to analytic philosophy (as represented by Hansen) and neo-pragmatism plus process philosophy (as represented by Hall and Ames). He sees these developments as part of the “general technification of thinking” (323).44 This kind of sinology subscribes to “a naïve historical objectivism and has no speculative-hermeneutic dimension” (334). Such notions of philosophy are too narrow to do justice to the wide range of styles and concerns of Chinese thinkers (321). Møllgaard accuses both Hansen and Hall and Ames of “subsum[ing] Chinese thought under an overarching logic” and “present us with a structural analysis … [constructing] an ideal-type standard against which specific thought has to be validated” (330).45 In focusing on analysis instead of on reading, they reduce unique thought to arguments and subsume the specific under abstract categories and ignore religious, spiritual, and existential dimensions.
As an alternative, Møllgaard advocates what he calls an “anti-philosophical way of reading” (321). One should follow Gadamer: to tarry (verweilen) with the text (335). If one jumps at once to the level of theory, one would miss the temporal structure of the text, which is revealed infinitely. What is required is “reading in the emphatic sense” (335). Only in this way can one think through the “figures of thought that actually appear in the text,” instead of forcing the text into the standard vocabulary of modern philosophy.
Møllgaard accuses Hansen of scientism (theory building, experimenting, testing), abstraction from textual study, and only citing the passages that support his theory to the omission of those that cannot.46 Similarly, Møllgaard raises such criticisms of Ames’ discussion of a dialogue between Hui Shi and Zhuangzi: no reference to the text is made. Ames seems to assume that Zhuangzi has one unified concept of knowing, but this does not seem to be very plausible given that, as Graham has pointed out, Zhuangzi takes “delight in using ‘know’ in different senses in a single sentence.”47
In response, Hansen (2005) accuses Møllgaard of employing prior assumptions, for example, a prior conception of analytic philosophy and Daoism (343), and Hansen says that Møllgaard seems to believe that one can avoid Gadamerian prejudices and start from a tabula rasa (341).48 Hansen explains his own method of philosophical reading as:
a philosophically justified argument form yielding an interpretive conclusion. The method should reflect the best account we can give of meaning, semantics, and interpretation; i.e., philosophy of language. (2005: 344)
Hansen allows other kinds of interpretations (literary, etc.), but they should be judged within the confines of another discipline that is not philosophy. It seems to us that Hansen displays a rather strong belief in scientific progress in philosophy: philosophy is linguistic philosophy; Quine and Davidson have provided the best philosophy of language.
Hansen stresses the importance of “rational coherence,” “reasoning errors,” and such like. Møllgaard may be right that this leads to a narrow ideal language paradigm. However, in a colloquial sense, “coherence” and “error” no doubt are quasi-universals. Hansen says: “I prefer the risk and responsibility of direct answerability to the whole community using the norms of warrant implicit in our way of life—our practices” (346). But who is to judge who belongs to the community of inquirers? Assume that Hansen and Møllgaard are both coherent and claim to be engaged in comparative philosophy. How can we evaluate their positions? Even in “our” form(s) of life, there will be different opinions about “the norms of warrant.”
Hansen objects to the principle that coherence should be sought at the level of the specific text or philosopher. One should read Zhuangzi in the light of his contemporaries’ semantic norms and norms of inferential links. The interpreter’s task is to give a coherent account of the beliefs of that particular community. To this Møllgaard responds: “If the meaning and value of thought has to be rectified according to what is valid at the community level, no philosophy would ever arise, for philosophical concepts arise only when thought no longer coincides with its context” (327). This is a relevant consideration. Should the requirement of validity (whatever this is) be applied to a specific philosopher, to a specific text or to the beliefs of the philosopher’s community? Our answer is that there is holism across the board (see chapter 9). Disagreements among interpreters are about the relative importance of different holisms (i.e., different hermeneutic circles).49
Møllgaard is right that there are no (strict) rules and that Hansen can be accused of being too strict with his rules, but it does not follow that one can do without (nonstrict and vague) rules. The disagreement concerns what maxims and presuppositions to follow. In particular, different interpreters choose and weigh epistemic virtues differently.
Zhuangzi’s thought may be unique, but it does not follow that he can be identified as a unique being in the cosmos independent of any context. Moreover, if Møllgaard is going to tell us about this unique thinking, he would have to use conceptual schemes that make sense to his readers. One cannot take for granted that “figures of thought” (335) would out of itself dawn on the reader as long as one reads the text “in the emphatic sense.”
We agree with Hansen that an interpretation is similar to a scientific theory, but not a theory in the logical positivist’s sense. An interpretation, like a theory, is underdetermined by the evidence. We agree with Hall and Ames (1987, 1995) when they go along with Dewey and other American pragmatists, who undermine the dichotomies that dominate Western philosophy, in particular the petrified fact/value dichotomy.50 We advocate taking a wide scope of what are “permissible interpretations.” Ames, Hansen, and Møllgaard all have given interpretations of the Zhuangzi. All three are permissible interpretations. Our main disagreement with the three parties concerns the issue of universality. In their different ways all three claim too much universality by sticking to one tradition in particular, namely, American pragmatism and process philosophy, analytic philosophy, and the so-called anti-philosophy.51
Our claim that interpretation should be understood in the sense of a scientific theory may be easily misunderstood because common opinions about science tend to be based on the philosophy of science of the first half of the twentieth century. Therefore, we briefly indicate our view of science. Scientific and other knowledge should perhaps be seen as the result of a critical dialogue between (situated) groups who all share the vague but quasi-universal epistemic criteria of empirical adequacy and explanatory coherence, but who realize that this is not enough to claim that, in principle, there is one correct description or explanation of whatever the subject of inquiry is (what the method to follow is, which background conditions are considered salient, how research priorities are set and constrained, and so on). If knowledge is the result of inquiry seen as a social endeavor and there is no one method of inquiry or one set of epistemic virtues that can be applied mechanically, then the results of any inquiry are enmeshed with metaphysical, moral, and political views, dependent on the historical and social situatedness of the (groups of) knowers, and it will remain, at least in principle, a matter of negotiation and contestation.52
For Allinson world philosophy has a universal methodology and there exist “universal values that are common to all cultures” (2001: 284); for example, Mencius’ “thought experiment to prove the universal existence of a moral feeling” (273).53 The way ahead is the integrative approach (273): “Proper intercultural dialogue is the key to understanding the universal family of humanity” (283).
One example of “universal world philosophy” Allinson presents is the story of Zhuangzi (Zhuang Zhou) who dreamt that he was a butterfly; waking up, he wondered whether he dreamt he was a butterfly or whether he was a butterfly dreaming that he was Zhuangzi (Zhuangzi, end of chapter 2). Allinson draws on Plato, Descartes, and Zhuangzi together as if they are working within one and the same research paradigm. He says: “The inclusion of Zhuangzi’s ‘arguments’ in considerations of Western—nay—global epistemology would represent an advance in epistemology proper” (276). However, Allinson did not consider alternative ways of translating the relevant passages. This invites the criticism that “even though the new version of the story may make sense given Allinson’s translation, his translation does not fit the Chinese text well” (Yang Xiaomei 2005: 256). Allinson speaks of adding the data of philosophers of other cultures to the database of one’s own culture, without ever mentioning the issue of language, taking it for granted that his own translations are self-evident. Allinson too easily assumes that Zhuangzi, Plato, and Descartes engage themselves with the same philosophical problems, as defined in Western terms.
Allinson’s methodology of integration, aims to integrate paradigms from “both sides,” the I Ching《易经》and Hegel’s philosophy, which paradigms, he says, are complementary, being the yin and yang of integrative philosophy respectively. The label “integrative” emphasizes that yin (Chinese philosophy) and yang (Western philosophy) make up a more complete union (1998: 510). This is called “complementary philosophy” (ibid.) or “the methodological principle of complementary integration” (2001: 291).
In support of this suggestion, Allinson invokes Bohr’s principle of complementarity. As this is a typical example of (world) philosophers building on superficial similarities (missing “differences in the large”), we briefly digress and discuss Allinson invoking the physicist Bohr in some detail. Allinson “reasons” as follows: It is well documented that the famous physicist Niels Bohr had an interest in Chinese philosophy; already at an early age he read the Daodejing. Therefore, Bohr’s “knowledge of Chinese philosophy … preceded his discovery of the complementary principle in physics” (1998: 505). Although this “does not conclusively prove that he learned his idea of complementarity from Chinese philosophy” (ibid.), nevertheless, Allinson says a few years later: “Niels Bohr … learned of the concept of complementarity from his study of Chinese philosophy” (2001: 289); more specifically, Bohr’s “metaphor of complementarity is the expression of the basic principle of Yin-Yang philosophy” (1998: 507). Allinson is freewheeling when he says Chinese philosophy “was either instrumental or decisive for his complementarity principle in physics” (1998: 505), which “provided Bohr with the greatest possible explanatory power in the world of atomic physics” (507).54
Bohr’s ideas of complementarity went through various stages. There is no “received” formulation of it. If there were, it would involve all foundational issues raised by quantum mechanics (uncertainty relation, measurement problem, impossibility of giving a causal representation of quantum phenomena, etc.). The problem the principle allegedly solves is the dilemma of ascribing either wave or particle structure to matter; and similarly for energy. In some experiments, matter displays particle structure; in other experiments matter displays wave structure. In some experiments, energy displays wave structure; in yet other experiments, energy displays particle structure. Hence, the problem is the “dilemma between the corpuscular and undulatory character of light and matter avoidable only by means of the viewpoint of complementarity” (Bohr 1937: 294). Whether Bohr’s principle of complementarity is relevant to the interpretation of quantum mechanics is still a debated issue. Bohr often gave lectures in which he explained complementarity, but his “definitions” seem to be no more than proposing a label for the problem, for example: “different experimental arrangements can clearly not be brought into connection with each other in the usual way, but may … be regarded as ‘complementary’ to each other” (Bohr: 281).
In the case of quantum mechanics, there are data, theories, instruments, which produce counterintuitive results. What seems to be one thing sometimes behaves as particle and sometimes as wave. This is “mysterious.” In addition, one of the logical truth (either p or not p) does not seem to be valid in some experiments.55 Bohr attempted to make the counterintuitive mystery acceptable by proposing his notion of complementarity (of particle and wave).
Allinson’s claim concerning the yin and yang of integrative philosophy may be suggestive, but the mysteries of quantum mechanics are irrelevant for the matter at hand.
According to Vincent Shen philosophy today exists in plural forms. It is too early to boast of world philosophy, but now it is time that traditional comparative philosophy should move on toward intercultural philosophy (2003: 370), which is crucial for the future (369). The progress he envisages is to move from comparative to intercultural, and then to world philosophy, which is to be governed by an “unceasing search for thingly elements” (358) that are translatable in all languages. One of his leading questions is: “How can self-understanding be increased by an impartial attitude toward other traditions?” (357, emphasis added).56
This multiculturalized, globalized philosophy is based on contrast (as already found in the I Ching) as well as mutual understanding. Contrast (rather than sheer comparison) means difference and complementarity, continuity and discontinuity. Shen advocates two interacting epistemological strategies:
•Appropriation of the other’s language. This would give access to the life-forms of the other (359).
•Strangification (Verfremdung): going from one’s own cultural context to another, which is a prerequisite for any successful communication (360, 368).57
Shen advocates in addition that we have to search for “pragmatic universals” to see whether a value after having been transferred from one tradition to another still “works.” He writes:58
In doing intercultural philosophy, we have to translate philosophical discourses or propositions in one’s own philosophical tradition into the language of or understandable to other traditions, so as to make it universalizable. If it could not be thus translated, this means it is in some way or other limited within itself. (360)
We agree with Shen’s suggestion that one should look for pragmatic universals, but these quasi-universals will only work in particular encounters or situations, and may not work in encounters with other traditions. Moreover, Shen’s criterion of translation, using translatibility in all languages as a measure for universability displays a strong commitment to the ideal language assumption. Strictly speaking nothing is translatable in all languages.
Like Allinson and Shen, Yu Jiyuan thinks one can “reach genuine insights that are not culturally bound” (2007: 4). Each tradition has its own language and conceptual schemes, but they all address the same common issues of humanity. That presently Confucian and Aristotelian ethics are both being revived “is a strong indication that their insights rise above the limits of their local cultural values and grasp something that is universally significant about human life” (10). Aristotle and Confucius are both concerned about how to become a good person (but yet not independent of their respective social Umwelt); hence, their texts can be seen as comparable phenomena from different philosophical traditions. The comparative philosopher should bring these phenomena together and observe congruence and contrast, and then save the truth present in these phenomena.
Like the other world philosophers, Yu assumes that the investigator has access to a universal metalanguage, in which all languages can be translated without loss, in order to work through the subsequent stages of Aristotle’s method of saving the phenomena. The latter involves “saving the truth contained in all reputable opinions” (5), developing an interpretation of each side, taking them as mirrors for each other, in order “to examine their otherwise unexamined presuppositions, and to generate alternative perspectives to determine why each side proceeds in the way it does” (4). The mirroring would show the strengths and weaknesses of each system.
Yu appeals to Aristotle in claiming that all humans have “the same experiences because reality, which affects human souls through our common perceptual and cognitive faculties, is the same for all men” (Yu 2007: 9).59 This is a paraphrase of Aristotle’s De interpretatione (16a3–9), which we already cited at the beginning of chapter 2. Yu also claims that Nussbaum’s “human grounding experience … forms the common ground for comparative studies of different cultures” (9–10).
However, Nussbaum’s proposals that there exists a common humanity as well as associated functions (the realizations of which would constitute the common marks of the human good) cannot be said to be universal.60 Nussbaum’s list of capabilities (2000) is full of taken for granted (American) value judgments.61 Even those who are sympathetic to Nussbaum’s views notice that theorists cannot come up with a list of criteria that define “our ability to recognize a common humanity” (Wolf 1995: 109). This does not mean that the word universal becomes meaningless, but merely that “universal” is not a universal. How the notion of universality (or that of rationality or morality) is understood can always be contested. Paraphrasing Butler (1996): if there is a ground to use the term universal with justice, then this should leave open the possibility that this local concept of universality is contested by those who did not participate in the formation of that local concept. One may claim, from a certain stance, that the concepts of universal in a given small number of traditions display a family resemblance. That is, one can claim in this context that the notions of universal in the respective traditions are quasi-universals (i.e., having a family resemblance as seen from some meta-CS). However, if the relevant idea of universal in one of these traditions changes, or another tradition enters the discourse, the quasi-universal would need revision and may even disintegrate. Hence “universal” is not a universal. This is similar to saying that colour and yanse 颜色 are quasi-universals for the pair English and modern Chinese, but COLOR (assumed to be a type having tokens in every human language) is not a universal when Shang oracle bone inscriptions are included in the discourse.62
What is common to the variants of world philosophy is the assumption that there are universals with respect to philosophical issues and methods, which are shared across philosophical traditions and are substantial enough to be used in a language of comparison and integration.63 In such a language, all “relevant” conceptual schemes of all traditions should find a place.64
To a large extent, advocates of world philosophy and congeners assume that the language they use (i.e., English) qualifies as a universal language. Slingerland says: “The meaning of the vast majority of even quite culturally alien texts such as the Mencius is entirely and immediately transparent to people provided with a decent translation” (2011: 26). But what is the criterion for a “decent translation”? Might it be the translation that provides us with an entirely transparent discourse? If so, then the transparancy is imposed by the translator.
Most world philosophers share a commitment to universals but neglect differences. Instead we emphasize differences, with the following qualifications.
1.For a priori reasons, differences can only exist against a background of similarities.
2.Cross-cultural and other communication and interpretation always work to some extent; complete failure does not make sense.
3.Many FR-concepts (but not all) in the other tradition are accessible by FR-extension of the interpreter’s FR-concepts.
4.The forms of life in which the interpreter participates always contain resources to spot mutually recognizable practices in the others’ life-forms.
Whatever the kind of intercultural philosophy, it seems to be rather generally assumed that one world language suffices to do intercultural philosophy. Furthermore, all approaches and overviews tend to forget addressing the question as to what the preconditions are that make intercultural philosophical dialogue and interpretation across philosophical traditions (and languages) possible, which is the main theme of this book. Instead of speaking in terms of world philosophy and a universal language, we advocate reporting results of intercultural philosophy in at least two unrelated languages. These two accounts are not expected to be identical.
It has often been said that the method of geyi 格義 (格义) refers to a way of explaining the Buddhist scriptures (yi) in the Weijin 魏晋 period of China using Chinese concepts (ge). In the twentieth century, the word geyi has also been used to refer to a method of interpreting Chinese sources (yi) using Western concepts (ge). The latter has also been called fanxiang geyi 反向格义 (reverse analogical interpretation), which we consider in the next subsection. A common translation of geyi is “matching meanings” or “matching concepts.” Other translations include: concept comparing, equation of ideas, method of comparing and matching, connection by categories, analogical interpretation, transdisciplinary interpolation, matching with more locally recognizable notions.
Mair has argued that: “rendering ge as ‘matching’ falls wide off the mark” (2012: 31). According to Mair, ge signifies classification or categorization. However, contrary to Mair’s suggestion, it is not true that all sources translate geyi as matching. Feng Youlan writes:
Often the Buddhist writings were interpreted with ideas taken from philosophical Taoism. This method was called that of ko yi [geyi], that is, interpretation by analogy. (242)
However, admittedly, FR(analogy) may be more similar to FR(matching) than to FR(categorization). Disagreements focus on translation of the following passage:65
Since at that time the disciples who followed (Fa)ya were all well-versed in the secular canons, but had not yet become conversant with the principles of Buddhism, (Fa)ya together with Kang Falang 康法朗 and others then took the numerical categories [shishu] 事数 of the sūtras and matched these with (terms from) secular literature, as a method to make them understand; this was called “matching meanings.” (geyi 格義)
Although in this translation by Zürcher, “matching meanings” is used as translation of geyi, Zürcher already concluded that geyi refers to a particular method of exegesis concerned with an explanation of shishu, numerical categories;66 that is to say, geyi was an issue of explanation, not of translation.
The issue is not only how to translate geyi, either as matching concepts, or as Mair suggests “categorizing concepts,” but also whether ge on its own can be translated as “match” or, as Mair suggests, as “correlate.”67 We agree with Mair that “matching meanings” is not the best translation of geyi. Given the textual evidence and the history of the character ge as testified in Chinese dictionaries, we suggest that Kantor (2010) is wrong in insisting on the translation of “matching.” Mair is right to stress that the “correlation of lists of enumerated Buddhist concepts with presumably comparable lists of notions extracted from non-Buddhist works” was restricted to a small group “who experimented with it unsuccessfully for a limited, specific purpose” (38). He points out that this particular method of geyi was soon abandoned and repudiated by the next generation of Chinese Buddhist teachers under the leadership of Dao’an 道安.
Another current use of geyi is “to circumscribe the recurrent attempt of ancient Buddhist masters in China to understand Buddhist doctrines via Daoist and other indigenous terminology,” which included “a variety of hermeneutical methods” (Kantor: 285). In the rest of this section, we use the word geyi in the latter sense. Kantor may be right in observing that, among specialists, the difference between the two uses of geyi (the brief use in the Weijin period and the current use) is well-known, and there is no pretence in the current use that the Buddhist monks themselves referred to their methods as geyi.68 The current use of geyi does not occur in the extant texts, but is used by contemporary scholars to refer to the hermeneutic method of for example Seng Zhao 僧肇 who “integrates the content [of the Buddhist scriptures] into the intellectual context of his [Chinese] environment” (Kantor: 284).69 This is rather similar to the method of geyi proposed by Tu Weiming to be discussed later.
We propose to use the phrase geyi as naming every form of interpretation involving embedding particular texts or sayings and their context into the conceptual schemes of another tradition.70 In this sense, every method of interpretation can be considered as a geyi method, whether one uses a familiar standard (ge) to interpret unfamiliar meanings (yi), or uses unfamiliar standards to (re-)interpret more familiar meanings. One should not think of the standard ge as something fixed; for example it may change as a result of clarifying yi.
Our proposal conforms to current practice, even if the word geyi is not often used. For example, in June 2008, the International Society for Comparative Studies of Chinese and Western Philosophy convened its third Constructive Engagement conference on the theme of “Comparative Philosophy Methodology.” Among the conclusions of the conference one finds an almost literal commitment to geyi without the letter of the word. Aim one is formulated as: “Use terms, ideas, or concepts from one philosophical tradition to help understand or interpret another philosophical tradition” (Angle 2010: 106).
No matter which two traditions are involved, interpretation will use the geyi method (on both sides) in the general sense of interpreting X’s yi in terms of Y’s conceptual schemes (ge) or of interpreting Y’s yi in terms of X’s conceptual schemes (ge). It is sometimes advocated that one interprets a tradition “on its own terms.” This might be rephrased as saying: “One should use the ge of tradition X to interpret its yi.” However, one should not forget that if Y is advised to interpret X’s yi using X’s ge, the first thing Y has to do is to interpret X’s ge (which is a yi for Y) in terms of Y’s ge. Hence, a tradition is never interpreted on its own terms.71
The expression “reverse analogical interpretation” (fanxiang geyi) has been used to refer to Chinese scholars who wrote the history of Chinese philosophy in terms of Western classification systems.72 Hu Shi and Feng Youlan were the originators of this method, but it continues to be used until the present day. Insofar as ge refers to Western concepts as a standard and yi to Chinese meanings to be conceptualized and classified in terms of ge, and thereby (allegedly) explained, it might be said that this method has been extensively used by both Chinese and Western scholars.
There have been some publications in the Chinese literature criticizing the “modern” method of reverse geyi. For example, the strategy of “reverse analogical interpretation … has led to unfortunate misunderstandings regarding the role of religion within Chinese culture” (Fan Lizhu 2011: 87). Although often considered unavoidable, inconsistencies may arise and “the culturally specific role of religion within Chinese society may be too easily overlooked or undervalued” (88). For this and similar reasons, the simple identification “Chinese A is Western B” has been cynically referred to as geyi, but now paraphrased as “unsuitably matching terms from different languages on the basis of partial similarity.”73 Liu Xiaogan (2009) has pointed out that the modern method of reverse geyi differs in important ways from the traditional method of geyi:
First of all, the traditional geyi method “consists of using one’s own classical canon and concepts, which one knows well, to understand and explain unfamiliar concepts” (11). In contrast the modern (reverse) geyi method is often practiced by Chinese scholars who have relatively inadequate knowledge of the Western philosophical system of concepts, which they use to explain “China’s canon of classical works, which they know much better” (ibid.).
Second, the traditional geyi method was “popularly oriented, instructive at the rudimentary level, practical, and expedient.” The modern (reverse) geyi method is “research oriented and specialized, … containing nothing that is practical or expedient” (12).
Third, the ancient Buddhist monks (who practiced varieties of geyi without calling it by that name) were well aware of the possibilities of faulty understanding as a result of using geyi. Modern scholars who practice reverse geyi seem to be much less concerned about such risks, seeing their method “rather as a major foundational plan, one that never ceases to receive attention and approval” (11).
For these reasons, in particular the last, Liu has criticized reverse geyi and instead promotes his method of dual orientation interpretation.74 Although some of his critical remarks directed at contemporary Chinese scholars may be exaggerated, Liu is right to say that one should avoid rashly using ready Western terms to define a Chinese expression.
Liu (2009) seems to acknowledge that one can perhaps avoid the most gregarious pitfalls of reverse geyi if one uses ordinary language as much as possible. However, he still insists that even when one writes in ordinary English and avoids philosophically laden concepts as much as possible,75 the interpretation of Chinese terms would still suffer from being interpreted in a foreign language. More importantly, when he remarks that “the term ‘Way’ [dao 道] has the attributes of a philosophical concept” and when trying to explain it in ordinary language, he uses phrases such as “realm of existence” (cunyoujie 存有界) and “realm of values” (jiazhijie 价值界), which are borrowed from Western philosophy. Liu himself is using a variant of reverse geyi in his metalanguage, used to write about the pitfalls of reverse geyi.
Whereas Liu’s criticism is directed at contemporary Chinese scholars, Wu Kuang-ming has criticized (Western) sinologists for “doing Western philosophy with Chinese data.” He writes:
We have to go through the fire of the West’s logical clarity [which will help to] sensitively discerning China-features different from the West’s. … Then we will see that every Chinese word has senses A, B, etc. configuring a sense-milieu surprising to the West, instead of selecting one sense and taking it to be equivalent to a Western sense. (2010: 200)
Prima facie this would seem to be a correct observation. But the problematic practice of singling out one sense, which Wu raises, can also be raised with respect to the “senses A, B, etc.” Wu seems to assume that “A, B, etc.” are universal senses (meanings). Anyway, the ideal language assumption of logical clarity raises problems for the meaning (sense) of any concept in whatever language. No natural language can meet the requirement of logical clarity.
Peng Yongjie (2006: 68) remarks: “What is embarrassing for Chinese philosophical circles is that it is impossible to comprehend the meanings of Chinese philosophy by using Chinese ways of thinking, and that the assistance of Western philosophy is needed to understand Chinese philosophy.” Although Liu and Peng may solely be commenting on contemporary Chinese philosophy and its language, there is the suggestion that “the West’s logical clarity” is also needed to study classical Chinese philosophy. However, it seems odd to restrict understanding to particular Western tools. At least, it would be strange to say that Wang Bi 王弼 had no understanding of the Daodejing, because he did not “go through the fire of the West’s logical clarity.”
A more sophisticated version of the geyi method can be found in the work of Tu Weiming 杜维明.76 Tu sets himself the aim to rejuvenate understanding of the Confucian tradition, and distinguish between three stages to achieve this. The first stage he calls assimilation (bifu 比附). This is a more or less superficial way of explaining one culture with reference to another. It is characterized by an urge to find counterpart elements from another culture to one’s home culture, and vice versa. Much of early comparative philosophy (as well as the early “constructions” of the history of Chinese philosophy) was of this kind. According to Tu, the disadvantage of this method lies in its triviality and haphazardness.
The second stage consists in a creative interpretation of the Confucian sources using the method of geyi. It aims to take the Confucian intellectual sources into the Western theoretical framework so as to disclose their quintessential value by interpretation and comparison. According to Tu, this is not a Westernization of the original Chinese thought, but a necessary step in order to conduct the classical tradition into the contemporary intellectual discourse. In this way, Confucian thought comes to participate in the global discourse in English. Moreover, when Tu’s writings in English are translated back into Chinese, they can make an impact on the studies of Confucian thought in Chinese as well. In the context of Tu’s employment of this method, with ge standing for the systems and frameworks of Western discourses, geyi implies letting the integral Confucian thought transform itself and bringing its significance to light by conveying it into Western theoretical systems and frameworks (CS’s). In the third stage, which we do not discuss, Tu proposes a grand Confucian theoretical system, employing his methodology of geyi.
Tu also calls his geyi method direct engagement (zhijie jinqu 直接进去), which is characterized as completely situating Confucian thought in the context of the English language. As a result, what is explicated and interpreted retains an inherent kinship with the original Confucian spirit. In addition, the Confucian thought as expressed in English poses a challenge to the propositions and arguments of the Western discourse and thus obliges the West to renew its understanding of its own tradition.
What might constitute a problem for Tu’s approach, is an implicit identification of Western with modern or contemporary, as well as a related assumption that writing in a Western (primarily English) language is the only way, or the best way, for the transformation of the Confucian tradition. The Chinese language seems to occupy a secondary position. This assumption is not justified. It is perhaps true that in the present age the English language assumes status as an international language, but this does not naturally entail that the revitalization of the Confucian heritage is the same as presenting it in the English language. The global context should not be equalized with the Western context, though at present admittedly they overlap each other.77
Tu is right in saying that his Confucian predecessors rarely wrote in the English language, whereas most Western scholars have failed to take into account the Confucian tradition. However, the situation is now changing. Nowadays there are a significant number of scholars who are dealing with topics involving Confucian thought in both English and Chinese languages. Attention to original contributions in the Chinese language has been steadily increasing. The reason why writings in Chinese in the past tended to be considered as not global is unrelated to the fact that they are written in Chinese. It is rather because their readers were confined to those who had limited global impact, and thus the sphere of their influence has been restricted. With the gradual change of the situation, contributions in the Chinese language will certainly obtain a global status. It is a pitfall to one-sidedly identifying the global context with the English context, and to restrict the ge of the geyi method to Western conceptual schemes.78
Tu’s method explicitly recognizes the transformation of conceptual schemes when moving from one tradition to another. When Tu presents the Confucian discourse in English, he uses creative interpretation and comparison such that the Confucian scheme becomes (“somehow”) embedded in the English discourse and the available conceptual schemes in English. When his work is translated back into Chinese it changes again, although perhaps not as drastically as in the first transformation (because modern Chinese has already absorbed numerous Western conceptual schemes). It is these kinds of considerations concerning the significance of transformations taking place during translation that leads to one of our claims: ideally, work in intercultural philosophy should be presented in at least two languages. In the next chapter we address the further problem of the spread of Western ge in the current epoch of globalization and das Ge-stell. It is becoming increasingly difficult for scholarly work, whether in English or in Chinese, to be carried out independently of the Western ge.