Treat your elders as elders, and extend it to the elders of others. Treat your young ones as young ones, and extend it to the young ones of others; then you can turn the whole world in the palm of your hand.
—MENGZI 1A7
BEGINNING VERY EARLY in the Confucian tradition, Confucian philosophers argued for the primacy of parent–child relationships in human moral development and the nature and possibility of moral self-cultivation.1 They also argued that the key to a flourishing society lies most fundamentally in these two areas. As Philip J. Ivanhoe puts it, “Confucians believe that one cannot successfully pursue the ethical life outside of fulfilling certain familial and social obligations. One cannot develop a moral sense without knowing what it is to love and be loved within a human family, and one cannot love and care for one’s family without a deep and abiding concern for the society in which one lives” (2000a:22). This chapter describes Confucian moral cultivation, including the special role of filial piety and family relationships, and its role in creating and sustaining a good society, as put forth in the Analects, the Mengzi,2 and the Xunzi.3
In grouping these three thinkers together and examining their views as representative of “early Confucianism,” I am not claiming that their views represent a single, uniform, ethical theory. Indeed, one of my goals in this chapter is to show the very different ways in which these thinkers understand the ultimate ground for moral claims, seen most clearly in their views of human nature. These differences represent some of the reasons Kongzi, Mengzi, and Xunzi each have unique insights to offer regarding the relationship between the family, moral education, and political philosophy. As will become apparent, although I do not see these thinkers as representatives of the same view, I do see them as belonging to the same family of ethical views. As Bryan W. Van Norden argues, the good life for these thinkers involves participation in communal ritual activities, aesthetic appreciation, intellectual activities (but always with an ultimately practical aim), caring for and benefiting others (with greater concern for and obligations to those bound to one by special relations such as kinship and friendship), and the joy that comes from virtuous activity (even in the face of adversity) but also appropriate sadness at loss (2007:116–117).4
Confucian views are strongly focused on the good of groups such as families, communities, and societies, and less concerned with—though by no means neglectful of—the welfare of individuals. Confucian philosophers developed a shared account of the virtues that reflects this focus, and we turn our attention first to the way in which these virtues help to constitute the Confucian Way in the thought of Kongzi.
KONGZI
Filial piety and brotherly respect—are these not the roots of humaneness?
ANALECTS 1.2
Anyone with even a passing familiarity with the Confucian Analects knows that moral cultivation and filial piety are important themes in that text.5 But how, precisely, do early Confucian thinkers like Kongzi understand these concepts? What does moral cultivation involve, and what is its aim? Kongzi’s account of moral cultivation emerges as a response to the instability, suffering, and unrest in his society. As a potential remedy to what he viewed as primarily a moral malady, Kongzi argued that people should return to the way of life embodied in the earlier part of the Zhou dynasty, which was a time of peace, harmony, and stability. Maintaining that the key to political stability lies not in the governmental policies or laws of the Zhou but in Zhou culture—particularly in the virtues and moral and religious practices prized during the Zhou—Kongzi insists in the Analects that the solution he offers is not new. Rather, he claims to be a transmitter of Zhou culture and not an innovator of some new ideal or value system (7.1).6
In 3.14 Kongzi says, “The Zhou surveyed the two dynasties that went before, its ways are refined and elegant. I follow the Zhou.” Here, the image of the Zhou dynasty surveying or taking stock of the Xia and Shang dynasties helps to show that for Kongzi, Zhou culture incorporated the best aspects of the cultures that preceded it, which reaffirms the view that this way of life has been tested and proven in actual human experience. He sees the Zhou as a culmination of wisdom, and a clear expression of what the world looks like when people follow what he calls the Way. Kongzi sees himself as advocating a return to a way of life—including a program of moral cultivation—of which we can be certain; for him, we do not have to speculate about this solution to social and political problems because it has already been shown to engender a society that is not only stable but harmonious and flourishing. These latter qualities are important, for although Kongzi sought social order and stability, he sought them only as necessary but not sufficient parts of a good society. On such a view, it is better for a state to be good and fail than simply to endure. Additionally, while Kongzi maintains that humane laws and policies are important, he does not think the problems in his society can be resolved primarily through legal and policy reform. Rather, the solution requires leading people to reflect on and reshape their values and priorities—including their attitudes, beliefs, and practices.
For Kongzi, the Way (Dao 道) of the former kings and sages resembles a well-trodden path defined by a particular set of virtues, certain kinds of roles and relationships with others, and cultural practices such as rites or rituals (li 禮). In many ways, moral cultivation represents the heart of the Way, because following it is largely defined by the task of actively and continuously cultivating those virtues, relationships, and practices. But these are not separate tasks; the cultural practices that are a part of the Way are one of the primary means by which one cultivates the virtues and nurtures the relationships that are central features of a good life. The “rites” are a set of traditional moral and religious practices, including what we would call rituals, social customs, rules of etiquette, and sacrificial offerings, which together constitute a unified code of conduct. These rites specify much of the content of Zhou culture in terms of the patterns of behavior that govern interactions between members of families, communities, and society as a whole. While acting in accordance with the rites does not guarantee a harmonious outcome, the rites are a necessary feature of a harmonious society: “What ritual values most is harmony. The Way of the former kings was truly admirable in this respect. But if in matters great and small one proceeds in this manner, the results may not always be satisfactory. You may understand the ideal of harmony and work for it, but if you do not employ ritual to regulate the proceedings, things will not go well” (Analects 1.12).
To be sure, one important function of ritual is that it helps to guard against an overly narrow focus on achieving ends such as harmony. More generally, the rites enable the kind of moral cultivation that helps to define the Way, because following them helps individuals to behave in ways that promote values like harmony and that both reflect and cultivate the right sorts of attitudes and feelings toward others.7 The rites encourage and often require us to think more about others, which can shape our character in critical ways, even when the ritual being followed appears to be a “minor” matter of etiquette. For example, addressing and greeting an older family member or teacher in the proper manner is not only an expression of respect and appreciation for them (something that usually contributes to more harmonious interactions), it also reminds us of our relationship with that person, the things she or he has done for us, and the ways in which she or he is a role model for us; all of this can shape our character in subtle ways by contributing to the cultivation of virtues like reciprocity and humility.8
When a person follows the rites properly, she not only makes certain gestures and behaves in certain ways but reflects on the reasons for doing so. In Analects 10.25, we are told that Kongzi acted in accordance with the rites by bowing down from his carriage when he passed someone dressed for a funeral, even when the mourner was a lowly peddler. This behavior not only expresses concern for others regardless of their position in society but prompts us to reflect on the ways in which we are bound to others by common human experiences, thereby cultivating a deeper sense of concern for others.9 Accordingly, it is not surprising that the virtue of ritual propriety associated with mastery of the rites is an expression of excellence in character.
The path of moral self-cultivation is the key to realizing a harmonious, flourishing society for Kongzi, because it is the only way in which a person is able to claim the virtues, roles, and practices that define the Way. In 8.7 we are told that for those who devote their lives to the path of Confucian moral self-cultivation, “the burden is heavy and the Way is long. They take up humaneness as their burden—is it not heavy? Their way ends only with death—is it not long?”10 The ideals that an individual works toward on this path are visible in a number of important ideas and discussions, but in the Analects the goal of self-cultivation is made especially clear in Kongzi’s conception of humaneness (Ren 仁) and his description of the cultivated person (junzi 君子), which typically designate the highest ideals to which those following the Way aspire. In the Analects, “humaneness” refers to the most virtuous state of character, designating the accumulation and complete mastery of all of the Confucian virtues.11 Analects 6.22 stresses that humaneness is only achieved through a rigorous commitment to the forms of moral cultivation that help to define the Way: “Humaneness means tending to the difficulties first and leaving benefits for later—this can be called humaneness.” Junzi is Kongzi’s term for the most highly cultivated person. While this term was originally used to refer to “the son of a lord,” indicating individuals born into noble families, in the Analects it designates ethical achievement; being a junzi is the achievement of those who are most highly cultivated and who serve as moral exemplars. The cultivated person embodies the full range of Confucian virtues, including filial piety, trustworthiness, courage, and wisdom. According to Kongzi, though, despite having attained the heights of moral achievement, the cultivated person continues to exhibit an unwavering devotion to the path of self-cultivation.
Where does this path begin? According to the Analects, it initiates within the context of the family, where the right kinds of relationships with family members—especially parents—begin to nurture, develop, and shape the capacity to feel and act in ways that reflect the virtues and values of the Way. In the next chapter, we will examine precisely what the Analects and other early Confucian texts have to say about the early moral education of children and youth, but for now I want to focus on Kongzi’s general account of moral cultivation within the family—and particularly the special role of filial piety.12 Analects 1.2 formulates the view that our feelings, attitudes, and actions toward our parents and elder siblings play a foundational role in our moral development: “A person who is filial to his parents and respectful of his elder brother is rarely the kind of person who is inclined to go against his superiors, and there has never been a case of one who is disinclined to go against his superiors stirring up rebellion. The cultivated person applies himself to the root. ‘Once the root is established, the Way will flourish.’ Filial piety and brotherly respect—are these not the roots of humaneness?”13 The quotation from the Book of Odes in this passage indicates a connection between the cultivation of filial piety (as the “root” of a person’s moral character) and the ability to follow the Way throughout one’s life. Filial piety and brotherly respect make it possible and perhaps even likely for an individual to develop the other virtues and moral sensibilities that are a part of the Way. Accordingly, among the virtues that are a part of the Way, those that are unique to the family have a privileged place, because, the text maintains, other virtues and moral capacities stem from the feelings and capacities a person develops in response to parents and older siblings. As Ivanhoe points out, “The strongest feelings are originally and forever those within the family. The virtues of ‘filial piety’ and ‘respect for an elder brother’ are the source from which one draws in extending and developing such feelings for others and are the most profound examples of the type of concern that characterizes those who are [humane]” (2002a:3).
Although cultures throughout the world value filial behavior, Chinese culture stands out for the amount of attention paid to and the unique importance claimed for filial piety. From very early on, entire texts were devoted to this topic. The Classic of Filial Piety states that filial piety “is the root of virtue. Teaching and learning arise from it.” This text further contends that the affection for one’s parents that grounds this virtue develops during childhood.14 In order to understand fully why the early Confucians placed such emphasis on filial piety, we must understand something about their religious beliefs, specifically the widespread belief in ancestral spirits in ancient China. Michael Puett describes early China as “a haunted world. Ghosts were pervasive and dangerous, and the living regularly performed sacrifices in an attempt to control or mollify the dead” (2011:225).15 Zhou culture, like the Shang, devoted a great deal of time and energy to communicating with various kinds of spirits, which were viewed as more powerful and ethereal members of this world. Of these various spirits, those of dead humans had a special place. Early Chinese beliefs held that certain souls and energies left the body when a person died and that this could be dangerous for the living: “Some of the demonic forces—which would then simply be called ghosts (gui 鬼)—would tend to haunt the living. Harboring jealousies and resentments, they would be drawn to where they once lived and would send down disasters and misfortunes on their living family members” (Puett 2011:226).
Puett writes that the desire to prevent these dangers gave rise to rituals and sacrifices designed to remove the souls and energies to places where they could be “controlled, contained, and transformed into forces that would at least cause less harm to the living and potentially even be beneficial to them.” Some rituals, performed for the souls that would have floated away after the death of the body, included offerings placed with the body in the tomb to keep the souls in the tomb and prevent them from becoming ghosts who would harm living people. Other rituals were performed for the spirits, in order to transform them into ancestors who might work on behalf of their living descendants (Puett 2011:226). These rituals were also designed to domesticate other kinds of spirits, since ancestors were made more pliable by sacrifices and could thus be called upon for assistance with other spirits. Yet as Puett points out, the rituals did not always work: “Ghosts would still haunt the living, and spirits would still send down harm and misfortune upon the living as well. Thus, the rituals were a never-ending attempt to keep the ghosts and spirits at bay. And for brief periods of time, such rituals might even be successful—but usually not for very long” (Puett 2011:227).
To elicit a favorable response from the spirits, sacrificial offerings of food and drink needed to be appropriate in size and quantity and accompanied by prayers for assistance and thanksgiving, music, and often dance; they also had to be presented with the proper attitudes of piety, devotion, and gratitude.16 So, a favorable response from the spirits required sacrificers to cultivate themselves. Because making sacrifices to one’s ancestral spirits in a reverential and filial manner was viewed as critically important—not just for individual families but for entire communities affected by those spirits—having and raising children who would continue to make sacrifices to their ancestral spirits came to be viewed as a religious and moral obligation. Indeed, as we shall see in the following section, Mengzi claims that the failure to have children is the most unfilial of actions (Mengzi 4A26). Over time, Confucians came to have a variety of reasons for viewing filial piety as important, but the religious origins of their view help to explain why they placed such a strong emphasis on this virtue in particular.17
In the Analects, one of several reasons ancestral sacrifices are considered important is that they serve an ethical function: when performed properly, they help people to cultivate virtues such as filial piety, which are a central feature of a good life. This is not an insignificant point, for it shows that relationships with ancestral spirits were not viewed as radically disconnected from relationships with other humans. Kongzi is explicit about this in Analects 11.12, when Zilu asks how one should serve the ghosts and spirits: “The Master said, When you don’t yet know how to serve human beings, how can you serve the spirits?”18 Kongzi suggests we cannot serve the spirits properly or in a way that is meaningful until we have learned to properly serve humans.19 In 3.11 Kongzi suggests again that an understanding of ancestral sacrifices has important ties to a human’s understanding of the world, perhaps suggesting that it is an important part of governing: “Someone asked about the meaning of the ancestral sacrifice. The Master said, I don’t know. Someone who knew its meaning would understand all the affairs of the world as if they were displayed right here—and he pointed to his palm.”
Returning to the subject of filial piety in the Analects, it is helpful to have a sense of the reasons why filial piety is regarded as a virtue that one cultivates if one is dedicated to the Way. Filial piety is “a cultivated disposition to attend to the needs and desires of one’s parents and to work to satisfy and please them,” and it includes a deep sense of gratitude, reverence, and love for one’s parents.20 Early Confucians offered multiple justifications for filial piety as a virtue, including the view that children owe their parents gratitude for bringing them into being. One expression of this view in early Confucianism is the claim that children are a physical extension of their parents; this was thought to establish an overriding debt and grounded the obligation not to harm one’s physical body—a view seen clearly in the first chapter of the Classic of Filial Piety: “One’s body, hair, and skin are received from one’s father and mother. Not to injure or harm these is the beginning of filial piety.”21 Yet the analogy with borrowing seems inappropriate in the case of parent–child relationships, because children did not exist when the debt purportedly was incurred. Although one might argue that children “still owe their parents some kind of obligation as an expression of gratitude for being brought into existence,” Ivanhoe argues that upon further consideration, such appeals are not at all evident or straightforward. In order for any action to be a legitimate source of gratitude, it must not only be in the actual interest of the recipient but must also be done out of an attitude of caring for her or him. Given these criteria, it is at least problematic to claim that children in general owe their parents a debt of gratitude for being brought into existence (2007:300).
Not only is it not evident that mere existence itself is a good, but most children are not created for the child’s own good (whatever that might mean); some are born as a result of their parents’ own pursuit of sensual gratification, others because their parents believe their own lives will be enriched, and others because their parents believe they have a religious duty to procreate.22 Early Confucians, as we have already seen, did believe that having children was a religious duty.
While such reasons are not well founded and do not offer compelling reasons for us to cultivate and value the virtue of filial piety today, Confucian views of filial piety and parent–child relationships do offer some persuasive justifications for it—especially with the understanding that filial piety is an appropriate response to good parental care. The earliest source to advance such a view is the Book of Odes:
Oh father, you begot me!
Oh mother, you nourished me!
You supported and nurtured me,
You raised me, and provided for me,
You looked after me and sheltered me,
In your comings and goings,
You [always] bore me in your arms.
The kindness I would repay,
Is boundless as the Heavens!23
As Ivanhoe points out, “The main point of this passage is to express the broad range of goods and the overarching attention and care that good parents provide for their children. More importantly, it conveys the love that motivates such parents to care for their children and the natural gratitude, reverence, and love that such attention tends to generate in those who receive it” (2007:303).
The following poem by Meng Jiao (751–814) offers further evidence of this view in the Confucian tradition:
Thread, in the hands of a loving mother,
Becomes the coat to be worn by her wandering son.
As the time draws near for his departure, she stitches it tightly,
Fearing that he may be slow to return.
Who would claim that a tender blade of grass,
Could ever repay the warmth of three Spring Seasons?24
Ivanhoe argues, “The true basis for filial piety is the sense of gratitude, reverence, and love that children naturally feel when they are nurtured, supported, and cared for by people who do so out of loving concern for the child’s well-being” (2007:299). Later in this work, I will further discuss this argument and build upon it in relation to the fundamental importance of Confucian views concerning the role of parents in early childhood moral cultivation, but for now I want to highlight the fact that Ivanhoe’s argument directly concerns the relationship between filial piety and early cultivation:
Parents play a remarkably important role in influencing and shaping the early development of their children. If they regularly care for their children for the children’s own good, they contribute in profound and enduring ways to the future character, attitudes, sensibilities, and inclinations of these young people. It is absolutely essential for the view described here that these goods, which serve as the basis of filial piety, be given out of love for and for the good of the child. They are expressions of love, not an investment made with an eye on future returns. (2007:304)
One important feature of filial piety is the extent to which it includes a deeply felt sense of reverence, gratitude, and love for one’s parents. This aspect of filial piety is seen clearly in the Analects, where being a filial daughter or son has as much to do with one’s feelings and attitudes as it does with one’s actions. Analects 2.7 says, “Ziyou asked about filial devotion. The Master said, Nowadays it’s taken to mean just seeing that one’s parents get enough to eat. But we do that much for dogs and horses as well. If there is no reverence, how is it any different?” This passage distinguishes between performing one’s filial duties in the same way that one would perform any other duties or chores and having an emotional attitude of respectfulness or reverence that accompanies one’s conduct.25 In 2.8 Kongzi points out, “The difficult part is the facial expression. As for young people taking on the heavy work when there’s something to be done, or older people going first when there’s wine and food—can this be called filial devotion?” Here again, Kongzi indicates that there is a difference between simply fulfilling one’s duties as a younger person, including giving elders precedence, and having the virtue of filial piety. Watson notes that this passage may refer to watching the faces of one’s parents to see how they are reacting or keeping the proper expression on one’s own face (2007:21n2). Facial expression or demeanor is an outward manifestation of inner reflections and feelings.
Managing both one’s own feelings and one’s sensitivity to the feelings of others, including the sense of respectfulness mentioned in 2.7, is what Kongzi recognizes as the challenging aspect of being filial. Many people can go through the motions, but filial piety requires an individual to behave in such a way that a spirit of deep-seated respect or reverence for her parents and elders is a part of her demeanor. Although obedience and respect for one’s parents’ wishes are a part of filial piety, Kongzi makes clear that filial piety does not involve automatic compliance. In 4.18 he says that remonstrance with one’s parents is a part of being filial: “In serving your father and mother, you may gently admonish them. But if you see they have no intention of listening to you, then be respectful as before and do not disobey them. You might feel distressed but should never feel resentful.” The disposition cultivated in the context of one’s relationship with one’s parents serves as a basis for interacting with others. One learns about patience and good judgment and what real respect requires in a relationship.
It is important to note that Analects 1.2, which specifies that filial piety and brotherly respect are the “roots” of humaneness, also says that an individual who is filial does not stir up a rebellion. This passage is one of several that make an explicit connection between filial piety in the family and stability at the political level, suggesting filial piety constitutes the roots of political order. In 2.21, quoting from the Book of Documents, Kongzi says, “Filial, only be filial, a friend to elder and younger brothers—this contributes to government.” He goes on to remark, “To do this is in fact to take part in government. Why must I be ‘in government?’” In this passage Kongzi maintains that being filial is a form of political service and not simply a form of service within the family. Instead of a bifurcation between the political and the family, we find a continuum. The government cannot on its own create a stable and harmonious society; these things must be cultivated within the context of the family, where we learn to think and feel for others in certain ways. The family serves as a model for the ideal state. As we shall see throughout this work, the view that the family and parent–child relationships in particular have clear and direct relationships to political matters is a distinctive feature of Confucian ideas concerning the family.
The emphasis placed on feelings and attitudes as well as actions in the account of filial piety in the Analects is also a distinctive feature of the other virtues that help to constitute the Way. As we have seen, the rites are an integral part of the Way, and in 3.26 Kongzi remarks on the emotional attitudes and demeanor that are a part of the virtue of ritual propriety: “Standing above others but without magnanimity, carrying out rites but without reverence, conducting funeral proceedings but without grief—how can I bear to view such as these?” Further, when Kongzi is asked about the roots of ritual, he responds, “A big question indeed! In rites in general, rather than extravagance, better frugality. In funeral rites, rather than thoroughness, better real grief” (3.4). Here Kongzi indicates that the “roots,” or what is most basic, in ritual include the feelings that inform and motivate the rites and that partly constitute the virtue of ritual propriety. We should be reminded here of Kongzi’s remarks about filial piety being the “root” of humaneness. Both of these passages can be seen as evidence that Kongzi sees certain kinds of emotional sensibilities as lying at the root or foundation of the virtues. In other words, our moral development begins in some important sense with certain kinds of emotional experiences, and this is where virtues such as filial piety and ritual propriety initially begin to develop. As we shall see in the next chapter, parents do much to nurture the development of these feelings in children and to shape the dispositions to which they give rise.
Analects 15.10 compares moral cultivation to a craft and maintains that to become good at one’s craft, one must seek out others who are virtuous: “A craftsman who wants to do his job well must first sharpen his tools. Whatever country you are in, be of service to the high officials who are worthy and become friends with the men of station who are humane.” Kongzi repeatedly emphasizes the importance of “looking to those who possess the Way in order to be set straight by them” (1.14).26 In the Analects, humans are thought to have a natural tendency to gravitate toward and be influenced by those who are virtuous, a view that is related to traditional Chinese understandings of Virtue or moral power (de 德) that preceded Kongzi.27 In 13.4 Kongzi says that if there are leaders who love ritual propriety, rightness, and trustworthiness, “Then the people from the four lands adjacent, bearing their little children strapped to their backs, will gather around.”28 On this view, we are drawn to virtuous leaders and have a strong tendency to respond in kind to their virtue. The idea that the virtue of particular individuals can have a transformative effect on society is especially apparent in discussions of the cultivated person: “If the cultivated person treats those close to him with generosity, the common people will be moved to humaneness. If he does not forget his old associates, the common people will shun cold-heartedness” (8.2).
***
These passages help to show that although the Confucian tradition heavily emphasizes the priority of familial relationships in moral development and human flourishing, Kongzi maintains there is a close relationship between the flourishing of individual families and the quality of the state. Kongzi says in Analects 1.6, “A young person should be filial when at home and when going out, respectful of his elders. Conscientious and trustworthy, he should care widely for the multitudes but have affection for those who are humane.”29 Having the proper feelings toward others is an essential part of moral development, and the cultivation of moral feelings in the context of filial relationships naturally leads to their extension in wider settings. On this view, individuals who cultivate filial piety and respect in their relationships with their parents and elders are also likely to develop a strong sense of accountability to and responsibility for other members of society. In the Analects, moral cultivation helps to explain how we come to have certain attitudes toward others, attitudes that emerge through the development of a set of virtues. These virtues are all ultimately rooted in the family, for the virtue most closely tied to healthy parent–child relationships in the Confucian view—filial piety—provides the foundation for Confucian moral cultivation.
Having seen the close relationship between moral cultivation, filial piety, and political thought in the Analects, we turn in the next section to Mengzi’s account, which goes a step further by examining specifically how and why people develop different virtues and moral capacities, and the origins of these virtues and capacities in human nature.
Because his parents were not in accord with him, he felt like a poor man who has nowhere to turn.
MENGZI 5A1
The late fourth-century B.C.E. philosopher Mengzi shared Kongzi’s view that filial piety and self-cultivation are critical to the task of creating and maintaining a good society, and he sought to develop an account of human nature that would help support Kongzi’s view.30 Indeed, Mengzi was the first Confucian thinker to explicitly discuss the relationship between human nature and self-cultivation, maintaining that self-cultivation is a process of developing our original inclinations toward goodness.31 His writings on this subject sparked the first major debate about human nature in the Confucian tradition when Xunzi, whose view we will examine in the next section of this chapter, argued against Mengzi’s account. While both Mengzi and Xunzi saw themselves as interpreting and defending Kongzi’s view, their competing accounts of human nature each serve as a new foundation on which to ground Kongzi’s view.
In working to appreciate Mengzi’s general account of moral cultivation and the special role of the family in his account, it is helpful to understand from the outset how Mengzi understands his own task as a philosopher. When asked by one of his students why he enjoys engaging in disputation, Mengzi denies that he does so and describes the problems in his society and the ways in which it has degenerated since the time of the Zhou. He points to his rival philosophers, the Mohists and Yangists, and says that if their Ways are not discarded,
and the Way of Kongzi is not made evident, then evil doctrines will dupe the people, and obstruct benevolence and righteousness. If benevolence and righteousness are obstructed, that leads animals to devour people. I am afraid that people will begin to devour one another! Because I fear this, I preserve the Way of the former sages, fend off Yang and Mo, and get rid of specious words, so that evil doctrines will be unable to arise. If they arise in one’s heart, they are harmful in one’s activities. If they arise in one’s activities, they are harmful in governing. When sages arise again, they will certainly not differ with what I have said. … I, too, desire to rectify people’s hearts, to bring an end to evil doctrines, to fend off bad conduct, to get rid of specious words, so as to carry on the work of these three sages. How could I be fond of disputation? I simply cannot do otherwise. (Mengzi 3B9)
Mengzi’s account of human nature is designed to show how the problems of his society can be remedied, and in offering his views Mengzi explains how people may advance themselves along the Way. According to Mengzi, all human beings are born with four observable, active moral senses, or “sprouts” (duan 端), that are already in their initial stages of development. He uses the metaphor of sprouts to express and enhance this idea by describing how these four moral senses, if properly nourished and protected from harm, eventually grow into the virtues of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom (Mengzi 2A6, 4A27, 6A6). He says in 4B11, “The great person does not think beforehand of his words that they may be sincere, nor of his actions that they may be resolute;—he simply [speaks and does] what is right.”32 In this passage Mengzi makes clear that cultivated persons no longer struggle to conduct themselves virtuously, for they have developed such virtues as sincerity to the point that they possess a stable disposition to behave in certain ways.33
Mengzi refers to the initial moral senses we all possess as “hearts,” or feelings:
The feeling of compassion is the sprout of benevolence. The feeling of disdain is the sprout of righteousness. The feeling of deference is the sprout of propriety. The feeling of approval and disapproval is the sprout of wisdom. People having these four sprouts is like their having four limbs. To have these four sprouts, yet to claim that one is incapable (of virtue), is to steal from oneself. … In general, having these four sprouts within oneself, if one knows to fill them all out, it will be like a fire starting up, a spring breaking through! (Mengzi 2A6)34
Mengzi’s choice of a metaphor here is telling: “Like sprouts, our moral sense is a visible and active, not hidden or latent, part of the self.”35 In order for Mengzi’s program of self-cultivation to work, people must already possess an active and visible moral capacity that can be developed.
In support of the claim that all humans have moral sprouts, Mengzi offers examples of how our moral tendencies are observable and active in our responses in various kinds of situations: “Suppose someone suddenly saw a child about to fall into a well: everyone in such a situation would have a feeling of alarm and compassion—not because one sought to get in good with the child’s parents, not because one wanted fame among one’s neighbors and friends, and not because one would dislike the sound of the child’s cries” (Mengzi 2A6).
Mengzi argues that these natural moral capacities are rooted in the heart-mind (xin 心), which contains cognitive and affective faculties, including the four moral sprouts and volitional abilities. He variously refers to our natural moral tendencies together as the “child’s heart-mind” (赤子之心), the “innate heart-mind” (良心), and the “fundamental heart-mind” (本心).36 Because the moral sprouts reside in the heart-mind, humans use their moral sense when they think and reflect: “The function of the heart-mind is to reflect. When it reflects, it gets things right; if it does not reflect, it cannot get things right” (Mengzi 6A15).37 Mengzi maintains that reflecting on good conduct produces a special feeling of joy that reinforces our moral sense and gives us moral courage. If we delight in our moral sprouts, “then they grow. If they grow, then how can they be stopped? If they cannot be stopped, then one does not notice one’s feet dancing to them, one’s hands swaying to them” (Mengzi 4A27).
On this view, all human beings are the same in having an active, visible moral sense, and those who use it “follow their greater part.”38 Mengzi further expounds on this claim with the parable of the barley sprouts: “The soil is the same and the time of planting is also the same. They grow rapidly, and by the time of summer solstice they have all ripened. Although there are some differences, these are due to the richness of the soil, and to unevenness in the rain and in human effort” (Mengzi 6A7). Mengzi emphasizes that everyone starts out with moral sprouts, and while some aspects of the sprouts’ environment are the same, others are different. In the parable of Ox Mountain, we learn that although the trees on the mountain were once beautiful, they were not protected from a variety of harms. Similarly, moral sprouts need a safe and nourishing environment in order to flourish. In the case of Ox Mountain, “there were sprouts and shoots growing there. But oxen and sheep then came and grazed on them. Hence, it was as if it were barren” (Mengzi 6A8). For Mengzi, the animals on Ox Mountain are a metaphor for the variety of harmful influences people sometimes encounter. In 6A9, he says, “Even though it may be the easiest growing thing in the world, if it gets one day of warmth and ten days of frost, there has never been anything that is capable of growing. It is seldom that I have an audience with the king, and when I withdraw, those who ‘freeze’ him come. What can I do with the sprouts that are there?” Here Mengzi expresses dismay at the negative influence other people have on the king despite his own efforts to awaken the king’s natural moral tendencies. While Mengzi’s advice and examples are like sun and warmth nurturing buds or sprouts, the bad influences of others are like a stretch of cold weather that devastates the sprouts. In the parable of the man from Song, Mengzi also expands this metaphor, describing a man who tugged on his shoots of grain in an effort to make them grow more quickly and inadvertently uprooted them. Here Mengzi indicates that humans must neither neglect their moral sense nor try to force it to grow. These passages show clearly that Mengzi does not think humans are born with fully developed moral capacities; rather, they are born with an inclination toward goodness. Mengzi stresses that we can see these moral capacities in action simply by observing human behavior. But although one’s moral “sprouts” are visible and active right from the start, they are in need of considerable encouragement and growth for the individual to develop into a moral person.
For Mengzi, then, the task of moral cultivation requires the nurturing of natural moral tendencies. It is not a matter of instilling something new or reshaping a person fundamentally, and he makes this clear in his debate with Gaozi, who claims that instilling the virtues of benevolence and righteousness in people is like carving cups and bowls from a willow tree. Mengzi responds critically to Gaozi’s contention that human nature resembles a willow tree: “Can you make it into cups and bowls by following the nature of the willow tree? You can only make it into cups and bowls by violating and robbing the willow tree. If you must violate and rob the willow tree in order to make it into cups and bowls, must you also violate and rob people in order to make them benevolent and righteous?” (Mengzi 6A1). For Mengzi, humans already have good tendencies that can be extended in order to develop virtues like benevolence and righteousness, and so it makes little sense and can actually be harmful to people when moral cultivation proceeds as though this moral potential does not exist. This is why he repeatedly talks about those who have failed to cultivate the virtues as having “lost” their hearts—their natural moral capacities—while those who are virtuous are those who have not lost their hearts (6A11, 6A10). He also discusses “nourishing the greater part” of oneself (6A14, 6A15), and in 4B14 he says that the cultivated person makes advances in learning by “getting hold of it in himself. Having got hold of it in himself, he abides in it calmly and firmly. Abiding in it calmly and firmly, he deeply relies upon it.”39 Mengzi emphasizes that one’s natural moral tendencies are not enough in themselves but must be nurtured and cultivated: “The five domesticated grains are the finest of seeds. But if they are not mature, they are not as good as wild plants. Similarly, benevolence depends on reaching maturity” (Mengzi 6A19).
In addition to the idea that our moral cultivation depends upon the nurturance and encouragement that others provide when we are young—something that will be the central focus of the next chapter—moral cultivation, in Mengzi’s view, also requires us to look within and take hold of our own natural moral sensibilities, gradually increasing our recognition of and reliance upon them. Cultivated people differ from others because they preserve and develop their natural moral sensibilities, and when they display the virtues that grow from these sensibilities, others tend to respond in kind: “The benevolent person cares for others. The person of propriety shows respect to others. Those who care for others are generally cared for by them. Those who respect others are generally respected by them” (Mengzi 4B28).40 This passage helps to show how Mengzi believes society can be transformed, and his account is in line with Kongzi’s account of Virtue, or moral power (de 德).
Mengzi describes the virtue of benevolence as “the quiet home in which humans should dwell” (Mengzi 2A7).41 Such a claim, for Mengzi, indicates that the sprout of benevolence is part of our nature and thus we are “at home,” or fulfilling our most natural inclinations, when we are benevolent, but it also highlights the connection between being virtuous and the importance of the home in which we are raised and in which our moral sprouts are first nurtured. For Mengzi, as for Kongzi, family relationships play the most critical role in moral development, and he is even more explicit than the Analects in his assertion that these relationships must be properly cultivated in all settings in order for a society to flourish: “If one is careful about providing instruction in the village schools, emphasizing the righteousness of filial piety and fraternal respect, those whose hair has turned gray will not carry loads on the roadways” (Mengzi 1A3; cf. 1A7). This passage draws a direct connection between the cultivation of filial piety and fraternal respect and the elderly being properly cared for—something that is the responsibility of families.
For Mengzi, political problems often originate when people do not understand and cultivate proper relationships within the family. This issue also motivates Mengzi’s claim that honoring one’s parents is the most important thing a filial child can do: “In being a filial son, nothing is greater than honoring one’s parents. In honoring one’s parents, nothing is greater than caring for them with the world” (Mengzi 5A4).42 Here Mengzi ties filial responsibilities to political responsibilities, seeing them as mutually supportive. He discusses the connection between the cultivation of good family relationships and the good of the rest of society in a number of places: “Treat your elders as elders, and extend it to the elders of others; treat your young ones as young ones, and extend it to the young ones of others, and you can turn the whole world in the palm of your hand. … Hence, if one extends one’s kindness, it will be sufficient to care for all within the Four Seas” (Mengzi 1A7). For Mengzi, a flourishing society depends upon the capacity of its members to feel for one another and to act on those feelings, and this is why he spends so much time elaborating the relationship between an individual’s feelings for her family and her feelings for others. For Mengzi, those feelings already lie within us, in the form of our natural moral feelings: “The Way lies in what is near, but people seek it in what is distant; one’s task lies in what is easy, but people seek it in what is difficult. If everyone would treat their parents as parents and their elders as elders, the world would be at peace” (Mengzi 4A11). Mengzi reinforces this point in 7A15, where he specifies just how early our natural moral tendencies are visible within the context of family relationships: “Among babes in arms there are none that do not know to love their parents. When they grow older, there is none that do not know to revere their elder brothers. Treating one’s parents as parents is benevolence. Respecting one’s elders is righteousness. There is nothing else to do but extend these to the world.”
Throughout this account Mengzi refers to the imagery of sprouts growing and extending their shoots and branches, which helps to show how his theory of human nature is integrated with his view of the relationship between the family, moral cultivation, and the task of creating and maintaining a good society. Mengzi says, “Who does not serve someone? Serving one’s parents is the root of all service. Who does not preserve something? Preserving one’s self is the root of all preservation” (Mengzi 4A19). In 5A1, Mengzi makes clear that our feelings for our parents represent not just our initial natural moral feelings; if these feelings develop into the virtue of filial piety, they always remain strong:
When people are young, they have affection for their parents. When they come to understand taking pleasure in beauty, then they have affection for those who are young and beautiful. When they have a wife and children, then they have affection for their wife and children. When they take office, then they have affection for their rulers. … But people of great filiality, to the end of their lives, have affection for their parents.
For Mengzi, there is a natural connection between affection and care for one’s family and the capacity to care for others, evidenced in his claim that cultivated persons “treat their kin as kin, and then are benevolent toward the people” (Mengzi 7A45). The three things that cultivated people take joy in, Mengzi says, are first,
that their father and mother are both alive and their siblings have no difficulties. Their second joy is that looking up they are not disgraced before Heaven, and looking down they are not ashamed before humans. Their third joy is getting the assistance of and cultivating the brave and talented people of the world. (Mengzi 7A20)43
Interestingly, Mengzi concludes this passage by noting that cultivated people do not take joy in being rulers, an indication that they are interested not in power but in teaching and nourishing people. In this passage we see the triangulation of the cultivated person’s central concerns: first, filial piety and fraternal respect; second, being attentive to moral self-cultivation, including constant attentiveness to and examination of oneself; and third, contributing to the betterment of other members of society. Here we see the connections Mengzi draws between commitment to the family, to the task of self-cultivation, and to other members of society. These three areas are tightly bound together.
In 7A14 he also affirms the relationship between moral cultivation and political concerns: “Good regulations do not win over the people as well as good instruction. People are in awe of good regulations, but they love good instruction. Good regulations will get material resources from the people, but good instruction will win over the hearts of the people.” For Mengzi, winning over the people’s hearts means working to help their natural moral sensibilities develop and flourish. In 7A21, Mengzi goes on to say that although the cultivated person has political concerns, including the desire for a large territory and population, these are not the things in which he rejoices. Rather, he revels in “the benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom that are based in his heart as his nature. These are clearly manifest in his life and demeanor. They fill his torso and extend through his four limbs. Though he says nothing, his four limbs express them” (Mengzi 7A21).44
In terms of moral responsibilities, in Mengzi’s view, the ruler’s role resembles that of a parent. One aspect of this analogy is the powerful example the ruler provides for people in relation to moral cultivation, but it also concerns the political policies a ruler institutes and the way he governs. According to Mengzi, the sole purpose of rulers and states is to bring about the welfare of their people. He further maintains that until people’s basic needs have been met, the task of moral cultivation cannot become a reality.
For this reason, an enlightened ruler must regulate the people’s livelihood to ensure that it is sufficient, on the one hand, to serve their fathers and mothers, and on the other hand, to nurture their wives and children. In good years, they are always full. In years of famine, they escape death. Only then do they rush toward the good, and thus the people follow the ruler easily. (Mengzi 1A7)
Without the people’s basic needs provided for, Mengzi asks, “How could they have leisure for cultivating ritual and righteousness?” It is significant that Mengzi associates people’s basic needs with their responsibilities in the context of the family: serving one’s parents and nurturing one’s wife and children are the primary needs that must be met. Mengzi also draws upon the family as a model for the various ways in which good rulers provide for their people’s protection. In 1A4 Mengzi says, “Animals devour people, and people are appalled even when animals eat others of their kind. Now, one who governs is the people’s parent. But in what respect is one a parent to the people if one leads animals to devour them?” Mengzi is well aware of the extraordinary power a ruler has over the people, similar to the power parents have over their children, but in both cases it should be unthinkable to act against the best interests of those for whom one is responsible.
The metaphor of parenting is a powerful tool for communicating Mengzi’s view of political leadership, as well as his vision of a good society: “When one delights in the people’s delights, the people will also delight in one’s delights. When one worries about the people’s worries, the people will also worry about one’s worries” (Mengzi 1B4). These remarks underscore the integral role of moral psychology in Mengzi’s account of human nature and moral cultivation, as well as in his political philosophy. It also becomes clear in passages such as this one that Mengzi envisions a society whose members exhibit a sense of sympathetic understanding and reciprocity (shu 恕). In 4A9, he says that past rulers lost the world
because they lost the people. Losing the people is due to losing their hearts. There is a Way for getting the world: if you get the people, you will then get the world. There is a Way for getting the people: if you get their hearts, you will then get the people. There is a Way for getting their hearts: that which you desire, share with them in accumulating, and that which you dislike, do not inflict on them. People turn toward benevolence like water flowing downward or animals running toward the wilds.45
The references to acquiring people’s hearts is connected to Mengzi’s concern with developing incipient virtuous inclinations, and his reference to water flowing downward recalls his debate about human nature with Gaozi in 6A2. While Gaozi insists that human nature is neutral—like water that flows east or west depending upon how it is dammed—Mengzi points out that although water does not distinguish between east and west, it clearly distinguishes between up and down: “There is no human who does not tend toward goodness. There is no water that does not tend downward” (Mengzi 6A2). Mengzi’s remarks in 4A9 also draw upon the attractive power of a ruler’s Virtue.46
In 2A1 Mengzi says that if, in troubled times, a ruler puts into practice a benevolent government, nothing can prevent his becoming sovereign. He goes on to quote Kongzi, saying, “The flowing progress of virtue is more rapid than the transmission of [royal] orders by stages and couriers” (Mengzi 2A1).47 Mengzi’s reference to “the flowing progress of de” (德之流行) helps to illustrate his idea of how virtue comes to characterize an entire society. It is clear that Mengzi not only believes that the ideal of a benevolent government can be achieved through the cultivation of virtues like filial piety, but also that having a benevolent government ensures the survival and growth of these values in his society and in surrounding societies as well. In 2A5 Mengzi says that if a ruler has fair policies and carries them out through such things as giving honor to people with talent and virtue, employing these people, and not taxing goods in the marketplace when he levies rent on the shops, “then the people of neighboring states will welcome [him] like a father or mother. To lead sons and younger brothers to attack a father and mother is something that has never succeeded since the birth of humans.”48
In 1B5 King Xuan of Qi asks Mengzi what a true royal government is, and Mengzi replies with a description of King Wen’s government:
Guilt for crime did not extend to the criminals’ wives. The old without wives were called “widowers,” the old without husbands were called “widows,” the old without children were “bereft,” the young without fathers were “orphans.” These four were the poorest among the people and had none to bring their cares to. King Wen, in applying benevolent government, put these four first.
What is especially significant here is Mengzi’s assertion that members of society who have been marginalized by the death of a spouse, the death of parents, or the inability to have children—individuals who might not be accommodated within a family-based ethical and political vision for society—ought to be made the first objects of the king’s regard. The reason King Wen makes these groups the first objects of his regard is that he recognizes these individuals have suffered losses unlike any other. Mengzi stresses that King Wen not only provides for widowers, widows, the childless, and orphans, but makes them the first objects of his regard, which is consistent with the Confucian view that the family has a highly unique role in creating a good society. It is to be expected that Mengzi would highlight King Wen’s concern for the childless, because of the religious views that motivate the obligation to have children and subsequent descendants. But Mengzi takes a wider view of the goods associated with the family by noting that King Wen includes orphans, who suffer the misfortune of not having parents to nurture their early moral development, and widows and widowers, who suffer the misfortune of not having a spouse with whom to share the burdens, joys, and challenges of life. Those without families ought to be a leader’s top priority when it comes to providing for people, for, in Mengzi’s view, the greatest disadvantage one could suffer in a society is to be without a family.49
Of the specific examples of filial piety and governing that Mengzi considers, Sage-King Shun is among the most well known. In a number of places, including 7A35, Mengzi praises Shun’s filial piety, writing that if Shun’s father had murdered someone, Shun “would have secretly carried him on his back and fled, to live in the coastland, happy to the end of his days, joyfully forgetting the world.” Much like Analects 13.18, in which Kongzi expresses his disapproval of a son who immediately reports his father to the authorities after learning that his father stole a sheep, this passage does not necessarily undermine the importance of having a sense of justice or of one’s obligations as a member of society (or in Shun’s case, as the ruler).50 Rather, it shows that according to Kongzi and Mengzi, obligations to one’s parents take precedence over almost any other. At least in some circumstances, they viewed it as wrong to report one’s father to the authorities. Both Kongzi and Mengzi make it clear that the virtues and moral sensibilities that enable us to become good members of a society are the natural outgrowth of our relationships with our families. When Mengzi says, “Treating one’s parents as parents is benevolence. Revering one’s elders is righteousness. There is nothing else to do but extend these to the world” (Mengzi 7A15), he indicates that our natural affection and respect for our parents and elders constitute the primary core of mature moral sensibilities. It is not surprising, then, that filial obligations are consistently seen as central in the Mengzi.
It is also important to pay close attention to Shun’s actions in this passage and to contextualize them. First of all, in the scenario Mengzi describes, Shun abdicates the throne, which could be interpreted as an indication of his recognition that his actions, in taking his father into his care and fleeing the state, make him ineligible to serve as king. It certainly shows that he is unwilling to abuse his power: he does not simply pardon his father and continue to rule. Additionally, in taking his father to a remote area and remaining with him there, Shun protects the people from being harmed by his father. His actions, then, do not excuse his father’s wrongdoing, as they would, for example, if he simply turned his father loose. Instead, on Mengzi’s account, Shun essentially puts his father under permanent house arrest and serves as his jailor.51 In these respects, he balances his filial and state duties. Regardless of whether we approve of this balance, Shun’s actions do not show a disregard for his responsibilities to other members of society.
The Mengzi, though, offers a rather extensive background story concerning the events that transpired in Shun’s relationship with his father; this can help us understand the significance of this widely cited scenario. Shun is not an ordinary individual, nor is his relationship with his parents remotely normal. Mengzi indicates that Shun was hated by his parents and by his elder brother, who attempted to murder him multiple times (5A2), but Shun only responded with love and affection for them (5A3, 5A4), and his way was “simply that of filial piety and fraternal respect” (6B2). Shun did not blindly follow along with traditional filial obligations in all cases, though. In 5A2 we learn that Shun did not inform his parents when he was to be married, because they would have prevented his marriage: “If he had informed his parents, then he would have had to abandon the greatest of human roles, which would have led to enmity with his father and mother.”
In 4A26 Mengzi discusses why it was acceptable for Shun to deviate from the traditional practice of a child informing his parents about his plans to marry: “Among the three unfilial things, to have no posterity is the worst. Shun’s taking a wife without informing his parents was in order to avoid having no posterity. Cultivated persons regard it as if he had informed them.”52 In both of these passages, Mengzi indicates that fulfilling the traditional obligation of a son in Shun’s case—by notifying his parents of his marriage—would have resulted in a loss of filial piety in the long term, because it would have forced him to “abandon the greatest of human roles” and commit the most unfilial act: not having children. These remarks are especially significant, because they exhibit a concern not simply with performing the right action or bringing about good results in the immediate future; rather, filial piety sometimes means acting in ways that are only appreciated with the fullness of time. Shun seems to have had an especially keen sense of this with respect to his situation. Throughout the Mengzi, Shun is praised for having “fathomed the Way of serving one’s parents” (4A28), and we are told that in the end his father was moved by his son’s example and reformed his ways (5A4).
The fact that Shun is a moral exemplar despite having a terrible family situation might lead one to conclude that Mengzi thinks we have sufficient natural resources to become good even in the absence of a nurturing family environment. However, this would seem to be inconsistent with Mengzi’s view as it is seen in many of the passages examined in this chapter. One possible explanation is that Shun’s family life was closer to normal during his early years, but a traumatic event prompted a dramatic change in his relationship with his parents and elder brother. It must also be remembered that Shun is one of the sages, who were men of extraordinarily strong natural moral capacities. In Mengzi’s view, Shun may have simply been born with greater moral strength than the rest of us; we might say that he started out with stronger, more fully developed moral sprouts than most people and as a result was able to endure a terrible environment without it destroying his potential or stunting his moral growth. In 1A7 Mengzi says that such individuals are the exception rather than the rule: “Only a superior individual can have a constant heart while lacking a constant means of support. Most people will not be able to maintain a constant heart if they lack a constant means of support.”53 In 5A5 Mengzi offers what could be viewed as a religious explanation for Shun’s special capacities, writing that Heaven chose Shun and gave him the throne, “revealing its Mandate through actions and affairs.”54 Mengzi also says that Heaven prepares people for great service with great hardship (6B15), which seems to apply readily to Shun’s case.
However, despite Shun’s extraordinary moral capacity and his special religious mission, Mengzi still maintains that Shun was “the same as other people” (4B32). For Mengzi, we all have natural moral tendencies that set us on the path of virtue, and as a result of these tendencies and their remarkable potential, we all have the capacity to become sages. Although Shun was exceptional in many ways, he was still deeply hurt by his parents’ rejection of him, which is a profoundly human response. In 5A1 Mengzi considers the question of why Shun would sometimes go out into the fields, crying and weeping. He writes that Shun was greatly pained that his parents did not love him, and explains,
Of the scholars of the kingdom there were multitudes who flocked to him. The sovereign designed that [Shun] should superintend the kingdom along with him, and then transfer it to him entirely. But because his parents were not in accord with him, he felt like a poor man who has nowhere to turn to. To be delighted in by all the scholars of the kingdom, is what men desire, but it was not sufficient to remove his sorrow. (Mengzi 5A1)55
This passage highlights Shun’s story as a poignant example of the critical role of parent–child relationships throughout a person’s life, something central to Mengzi’s account of how a good society is created and sustained.
XUNZI
It is the environment that is critical!
XUNZI 12/118/1
Although Xunzi and Mengzi agree on many aspects of moral self-cultivation, Xunzi does not believe that humans are initially inclined toward goodness. For Xunzi, humans are morally blind at birth, influenced only by their physical desires, which lead them to destruction and harm. Accordingly, humans must be stamped with the shape of morality, and their desires channeled and redirected to accord with the Way. There are important differences between Mengzi’s “developmental model” of moral self-cultivation, evident in Mengzi’s claim that we can cultivate the moral “sprouts” we are born with, and Xunzi’s “re-formation model,” which is expressed in the metaphors he uses. Like warped boards that are re-formed with steam and pressure to fit the Confucian design, humans are capable of moral cultivation—although it is a long and difficult process.56 Xunzi writes, “Through steaming and bending, you can make wood straight as an ink-line into a wheel. And after its curve conforms to the compass, even when parched under the sun it will not become straight again, because the steaming and bending have made it a certain way” (Xunzi 1/1/3–4:1).57
Xunzi maintains that rituals and social obligations “are produced from the deliberate effort of the sage; they are not produced from people’s nature. Thus, when the potter mixes up clay and makes vessels, the vessels are produced from the deliberate efforts of the craftsman; they are not produced from people’s nature” (Xunzi 23/114/8–9:250). These aspects of Xunzi’s view help to explain why he places such great emphasis on the role of a person’s environment in the sort of person she becomes, and he uses a range of natural metaphors to express and develop his account.
The root of the lan huai plant is sweet-smelling angelica, but if you soak it in foul water then the cultivated person will not draw near it, and the common people will not wear it. This happens not because the original material is not fragrant, but rather because of what it is soaked in. Therefore, the cultivated person is sure to select carefully the village where he dwells, and he is sure to associate with well-bred men when he travels. This is how he avoids corruption and draws near to what is correct (Xunzi 1/1/20–1/2/1:2-3).58
As we have seen, Xunzi rejects the view that humans are guided by an innate moral sense. Instead, as he maintains in this passage, they tend to take on the character of their environments. This makes the role of teachers and role models critical: “If you do not concur with your teacher and the proper model but instead like to use your own judgment, then this is like relying on a blind person to distinguish colors, or like relying on a deaf person to distinguish sounds” (Xunzi 2/8/3–4:14). For Xunzi, we simply begin with no sense of morality, which is akin to being unable to see or hear, and the analogy he draws with seeing and hearing helps to show that he conceives of moral cultivation as the process of acquiring moral sensibilities. Through a long and arduous process of self-cultivation, we are capable of acquiring moral capacities and the ability to judge situations properly, but the extent to which we acquire these capacities is a matter of the quality of the moral education we receive from teachers and role models as well as the effort and persistence of our study.
Given Xunzi’s view of human nature, it is not surprising that he emphasizes how difficult it is to bring about behavioral change. He maintains that moral cultivation is a long-term process, and he returns to the metaphor of carving wood, metal, and stone to express and develop this view: “If you start carving and give up, you will not be able to break even rotten wood, but if you start carving and do not give up, then you can engrave even metal and stone” (Xunzi 1/2/11:4). He asks where learning begins and ends, arguing that “if you truly accumulate effort for a long time, then you will advance. Learning proceeds until death and only then does it stop. And so, the order of learning has a stopping point, but its purpose cannot be given up for even a moment. To pursue it is to be human, to give it up is to be a beast” (Xunzi 1/3/7–9:5). The last line of this passage is significant, because it shows that Xunzi sees us as developing capacities that define humanity when we develop moral capacities. Yet we can see how Mengzi and Xunzi mean very different things when they say that humans have the capacity for morality. For Xunzi, this capacity only becomes visible after a great deal of training and hard work, while for Mengzi, it is visible and active from the start, needing only the proper environment and cultivation to grow.
We have seen that for both Kongzi and Mengzi, natural feelings of affection and love within the family provide the foundation for the development of a person’s moral character. Xunzi maintains that humans innately care for their own kin; of living things that have awareness, “none fails to love its own kind.” Xunzi goes on to say that “none has greater awareness than humans, and so humans’ feelings for their parents know no limit until the day they die” (Xunzi 19/96/10–13:213).59 Because these feelings “know no limit,” Xunzi contends that such feelings can lead to vicious action, just like other aspects of our uncultivated state. As Van Norden puts it, on a Xunzian view, “My innate love of my own kin might lead me to thoughtlessly and selfishly harm others to benefit my own parents or children” (Van Norden 2007:47). So according to Xunzi, the innate concern we have for our kin needs to be re-formed in order to reflect the virtue of filial piety.60 Xunzi, then, is quite unlike Kongzi and Mengzi in his view, for he does not see the natural feelings humans have within families as something to be extended or developed. Rather, like our physical desires, filial love is unruly and dangerous and needs to be tamed and domesticated in order to serve moral ends.61 We might even infer from his remarks that Xunzi is concerned that filial love might undermine political and social institutions through nepotism.
Xunzi describes a thoroughgoing transformation of one’s person as the result of moral cultivation. He writes, “The learning of the cultivated person enters through his ears, fastens to his heart, spreads through his four limbs, and manifests itself in his actions. His slightest word, his most subtle movement, all can serve as a model for others” (Xunzi 1/3/14–15:5).62 In passages such as this one, we see that Xunzi is concerned with transforming not simply behavior, but character: “Thus the learning of the cultivated person is used to improve his own person” (Xunzi 1/3/17:5-6).63 Without the proper teachers and role models, Xunzi says, people will follow along with their nature and see things solely in terms of benefit to themselves.
It is noteworthy that for Xunzi, cultivated persons do not seek their own material interests, because this disposition is in direct contrast to our nature. As we have seen, Xunzi believes that human beings innately—before moral cultivation—seek the fulfillment of their own physical desires. On Xunzi’s view, then, humans are natural egoists, and the task of moral cultivation and education is to move them from egoism to a moral point of view. To be sure, the form Xunzi describes is not normative egoism, or the view that humans ought to seek what they perceive to be their own benefit or gain, but a kind of descriptive psychological egoism, or the view that humans do seek what they perceive to be their own benefit or gain. Obviously Xunzi is referring to a particular form of descriptive egoism: his type only concerns humans in their natural state, before moral cultivation, and this state is not, nor should it be, permanent. His descriptive egoism is also confined to seeking the fulfillment of physical desires, as opposed to other kinds of personal benefits or gains. In his description of the cultivated person, though, we can see clearly that Xunzi believes people can depart from this natural form of egoism through the acquisition of other-regarding desires and moral sensibilities.
In a number of places, Xunzi makes clear that his concern is not confined to moral self-cultivation, but includes the task of creating and sustaining a good society. He maintains that these two areas are very closely related: “Now how about the way of the former kings and the ordering influence of ren [benevolence] and yi [righteousness], and how these make for communal life, mutual support, mutual adornment, and mutual security?” (Xunzi 4/15/20:28). Xunzi writes that even brothers would fight with one another over property if they followed their nature. “However, let them be transformed by the proper form and order contained in ritual and yi [righteousness]. If so, then they would even give it over to their countrymen” (Xunzi 23/114/17–18:251). It is through moral cultivation that people are transformed in such a way that they might be generous to other members of society and make sacrifices not simply for their own gain but for others in need.
Xunzi maintains that when political leaders have cultivated the virtues, they have tremendous motivational power and influence over the people. Xunzi seems to share aspects of Kongzi’s and Mengzi’s view that virtuous leaders have the power to attract and influence others. However, an important difference is that for Xunzi, people already must be following the path of self-cultivation in order to be influenced by a ruler in this way. According to his account of human nature and self-cultivation, we only begin to recognize the value of moral exemplars and traditions after we have successfully begun the learning process. It is important to keep this aspect of Xunzi’s view in mind when considering his remarks on the virtuous ruler: “practicing loyalty, trustworthiness, and evenhandedness is more persuasive than offering them rewards and prizes; and making sure first to correct what lies within oneself and only then slowly reprimand what lies with others is more awe-inspiring than threatening them with penalties and punishments” (Xunzi 10/46/15–16:92). If Xunzi has the power of a ruler’s de in mind when he maintains that a virtuous ruler more effectively motivates people to work toward a harmonious society than incentives or punishments, then he must be describing the ruler’s influence on members of society who are already following the Way. So if Xunzi does share an understanding of moral power with Kongzi and Mengzi, it would seem to be a weaker (and perhaps more plausible) view, because on Xunzi’s account of human nature, the presence of someone with this kind of virtue would be insufficient to move people to take up the task of self-cultivation, although it might play an inspirational role for those who are already engaged in this endeavor. This, as we shall see in the next chapter, makes the early influence of parents and other family members even more critically important in setting a person on the path of moral cultivation, in Xunzi’s account.
That is not to say, however, that Xunzi does not value the role of laws and policies in good society. To the contrary, Xunzi articulates a much more robust appreciation for the role of laws and policies in a good society than either Kongzi or Mengzi. He maintains that an exemplary ruler not only cultivates benevolence and the standards of righteousness, but also works to rectify the legal code (Xunzi 9/41/5). “The punishments and laws he sets out for state and clan are all laws in accordance with yi [righteousness]. Those things which the ruler is extremely vigorous in leading his various ministers to turn their heads to are all yi intentions” (Xunzi 11/49/18:99). Xunzi maintains that there is an absolute obligation on the part of the government to provide for the people:
Universally keeping watch over the people, universally caring for them, universally ordering them, so that even when the year’s harvest is ruined by drought or flood they will not face the disasters of freezing or starving—these are the works of sagely lords and their worthy prime ministers. (Xunzi 10/44/17–18:88)
What is the relationship in the Xunzi between the family and these types of societal concerns? The Analects and the Mengzi both describe cases in which there was an apparent tension between filial piety and uprightness according to the law, between loyalty to one’s parents and loyalty to the laws of the state. Xunzi addresses this issue as well, noting first that “to be filial upon entering and to be a good younger brother upon going out is lesser conduct. To be compliant to one’s superiors and devoted to one’s inferiors is middle conduct. To follow the Way and not one’s lord, to follow yi [righteousness] and not one’s father is the greatest conduct” (Xunzi 29/141/19–20:325). Xunzi might appear at first to be saying just the opposite of what Kongzi and Mengzi seem to say, namely that filial piety and loyalty to parents should not take precedence over other obligations.
We must read further to understand Xunzi’s point. He goes on to discuss cases in which a filial son should not follow orders, including, first, when following orders would endanger his parents, but not following orders would make them safe, and, second, when following orders would disgrace his parents, but not following orders would bring them honor.64 “If one understands the proper purposes of following and not following orders, and if one can be reverent, respectful, loyal, trustworthy, scrupulous, and honest so as to carry these out vigilantly, then this can be called the greatest filial piety” (Xunzi 29/142/2–3:325).65 Xunzi clearly recognizes that there are exceptional cases in which we will be required to do something out of the ordinary and in violation of the orders or laws we would normally follow. In such cases, it would be wrong for us—and out of line with the Way—to adhere to the usual standard for conduct. It is important to recognize, though, that for Xunzi these are exceptional cases. Once we examine everything Xunzi has to say in this passage, we can appreciate his point when he says that fulfilling filial duties to parents and elder siblings is “lesser conduct,” while following the Way in actions outside the family is the greatest conduct, for it requires more of us in terms of our moral capacities. These capacities are not disconnected from the virtue of filial piety, however, and filial piety will continue to play an important role in our ability to act as we should, whether that means “following the Way and not one’s lord” or “following righteousness and not one’s father.” We see that Xunzi’s picture here seems to be in line with the Analects’ claim that filial piety38 is the root of other moral capacities and virtues and grows when we extend our moral sensibilities not just to our families but within our immediate communities and then to other members of society.
Throughout the Xunzi, the importance of attending to family relationships and roles is presented as centrally important, as is the deference and respect for elders cultivated within the context of filial piety. When the cultivated person meets a fellow villager, “he enacts the yi [standard of righteousness] of an elder or junior. When he encounters his seniors, then he enacts the yi of a son or younger brother. … When he encounters those who are lowly or who are young, then he enacts the yi of being guiding and tolerant. There are none for whom he does not feel concern. There are none for whom he does not show respect” (Xunzi 6/23/15–16:44). A part of the cultivated person’s Way stems from the capacity to extend to others his demeanor toward his own parents and elder siblings. The ability to understand and respond appropriately to the needs of older members of a community and of society in general is augmented by the understanding of the sort of care a son or daughter would want aging parents to receive. In addition to providing care to the disabled, Xunzi maintains that governmental policies should take into account the special needs of orphans, widows, widowers, and elderly members of society who do not have children—advice reminiscent of the Mengzi.66 These groups, as I noted in relation to Mengzi’s discussion, have in common the loss of spouses, children, or parents, and Xunzi, like Mengzi, clearly recognizes that these losses are especially harmful to a person’s well-being. Yet alongside his emphasis on the role of laws and policies, Xunzi maintains that the role of cultivated persons in a good society is irreplaceable: “With the cultivated person present, even if the rules are sketchy, they are enough to be comprehensive. Without the cultivated person, even if the rules are complete, one will fail to apply them in the right order” (Xunzi 12/57/5–6:117).67 In light of Xunzi’s account of human nature and his assertion that the right kind of political leader and the proper society can help transform a person’s character, it should not surprise us that he concludes book 23 with the resounding declaration, “It is the environment that is critical! It is the environment that is critical!” (Xunzi 12/118/1).68
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In this chapter, we have examined the strong emphasis the early Confucians placed on moral cultivation and their view that the family has a special role in this process and their assertion that moral cultivation helps to create a good society. These writers maintain that genuine, far-reaching change in a society is possible when we recognize that parent–child relationships generally and filial piety in particular provide the foundation for a person’s moral development. In the next chapter, we examine what the early Confucians have to say about the role of environment during the earliest years of a child’s development. As we shall see, a number of early Confucian sources provide considerable detail on the specific and observable ways in which the quality of the relationships between parents and children during infancy and childhood directly affects a society.