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Philosophy East and West, Volume 64, Number 2, April 2014, pp. 340-359(Article)

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340 Philosophy East & West Volume 64, Number 2 April 2014 340–359 © 2014 by University of Hawai‘i Press

RECTIFY THE HEART-MIND FOR THE ART OF LIVING: A GONGFU PERSPECTIVE ON THE CONFUCIAN APPROACH TO DESIRE

Peimin NiGrand Valley State Universitynip@gvsu.edu

Why the Gongfu Perspective?

Confucianism has been accused of suppressing human desires in the name of up-holding moral rules.1 During the May Fourth Movement in 1919, Confucianism was even criticized by Lu Xun as the backbone of the feudal social system, in which, as he puts it, “eating human” was considered normal, whereas the ones who refused to be eaten were considered “mad.”2 In comparison, the following assessment by Wei Zhengtong is only a mild echo of the criticisms typical of the early part of the last century:

Traditional Confucianism places special emphasis on moral rationality, and yet looks down on human natural desires. Some human activities originate from rationality, and some from natural desires. The force of the latter is hundreds and thousands of times stronger than the former. Life’s mysteries cannot be revealed without taking natural de-sires seriously. The main reason that Confucianism fails to understand human life is its disregard for natural desires. From the disregard of natural desires it goes further to the elimination of desires, trying to suppress all the desires originating in one’s nature. Tradi-tional Confucianism mistakenly believes that the more natural desires are suppressed the greater will human rationality be. How can this kind of view be any different from the otherworldly ideologies that mutilate human nature and suffocate human life? (Wei 1990, p. 77)

Even though such criticisms are not unfair with regard to the actual historical influence of dogmatic Confucianism, the fact remains that, like all the other major world intellectual and spiritual traditions, Confucianism has suffered from misinter-pretation and oversimplification. Attitudes toward desire vary among Confucians, and the reasons behind their differences are deeper than the critics have commonly acknowledged. In the wake of the reevaluation and reappropriation of Confucianism in recent decades, much care has been taken in separating the more dogmatic Con-fucian doctrines and the original ideas contained in the major Confucian classics, and the scholarly treatment of the Confucian views about desire has become far more open-minded and sophisticated. Many have pointed out with convincing tex-tual support and analysis that most Confucians did not try to eliminate all desires but rather tried to reduce, regulate, and cultivate or reform them.3

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One thing still in need of clarification is what it means to regulate, cultivate, or reform desires: does this mean to bring them within the parameters set by moral prin-ciples as one’s obligations, or to cultivate the art of living, which may or may not overlap with one’s moral obligations? Even though scholars nowadays generally agree that Confucianism is more about cultivation of the person than setting up moral norms (and hence many consider it a version of virtue ethics), there is still a fine and yet important line to be drawn here: should one cultivate virtues because they repre-sent what one is morally obligated to be or because it is better for one, in either a moral or amoral sense? Even when talking about “better” in an amoral sense, there can still be a distinction between better as meeting the standards of what is normal and better as more than just being normal. For instance, T. C. Kline uses Martha Nuss-baum’s The Therapy of Desire as a general framework in his examination of Xunzi’s views on desire. While this framework is obviously more fitting for a discussion of Confucianism than treating it as nothing but moral preachments, the word “therapy” may still be too confining, for it usually means to bring a patient back into the normal condition.

In Confucianism, however, the highest aim is to become a sage rather than just to be a normal person, and it is therefore more fitting to use the Chinese word gong-fu (kung fu or ), as the Song-Ming Neo-Confucians did. In a much broader sense than the modern-day understanding of the term as used in the martial arts, gongfu was widely used by these Neo-Confucians as a general term for their Confu-cian learning, encompassing its effort, method, aim, and achievements.4 Their use of the term, although often ambiguous within a cluster of associated meanings, shows that their cultivation is not merely a matter of conforming to a set of moral norms, but more broadly a matter of mastering the art of living. Even though both gongfu instruc-tions and moral norms are prescriptive, and because of this they may be expressed in exactly the same form, their differences are highly significant: gongfu instructions are recommended for anyone who aspires toward gongfu, whereas moral norms are required for everyone to follow. Gongfu methods aim at achieving excellence in ability, whereas moral norms are standards for regulating people’s behavior at an ac-ceptable level. Gongfu is similar to medical therapy in that it is also prescribed as a recommendation for people to follow rather than a mandatory order to obey. One who fails to follow good medical advice or gongfu instruction would be pitied, but not condemned, much less punished. However, compared to therapy, gongfu allows greater room for excellence, as it is clearly understood as an art. It enables a person to attain a virtuous state far beyond the mere restoration of a normal condition free from discomforting symptoms.

As illustrated by the well-known duck-rabbit optical illusion (where an image can clearly be seen as a duck by some and as a rabbit by others), what one sees is not merely the result of viewing the picture in part or as a whole, but also the result of the way that one actually sees it. In my view, taking Confucian teachings about desire as nothing but preachments on moral obligations is a ground from which mis-interpretation and misapplication of these teachings arise, and it is also the basis for

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sweeping critical attacks on Confucian teachings in general. A clarification of the Confucian aim will help us appreciate the value of relevant Confucian teachings. This essay does not try to survey and examine the entire body of Confucian literature and give a detailed and comprehensive account of the Confucian views on desire, which is certainly beyond the scope of a single essay.5 Instead, it will trace the main line of development of the Confucian views on desire, and thereby show that critics like Wei Zhengtong failed to appreciate the actual principles of the system they were criticizing. In particular, this essay intends to point out that Confucian views on de-sire should be understood as part of an overall effort at achieving a better life, or cultivating the art of living, which includes, but is not limited to, reaching moral ex-cellence (when morality is understood as obligations). While some basic moral ex-pectations are at the foundation of this way of life, the excellence it aims at is exemplified by the sages, who are masters of the art of living.

Readers should be aware that my main argument is twofold. On the one hand, there is textual evidence to show that Confucian teachings about desire are not merely meant to be read or, principally, to be understood as moral obligations. On the other hand, it is acknowledged that there is clearly no distinction between ob-serving moral obligations and cultivating the art of living in the writings of classical Confucianism, and hence it is often difficult for us to be certain about how the teach-ings were meant to be read. However, even if they were not meant by the writers to be read in a particular way, the “duck” can still be a “rabbit” when looked at differ-ently, and arguably it may be better for us to look at these teachings in this way.

In the following section, I will first briefly outline the basic position of traditional Confucianism with regard to desire, as represented in the Analects and the Mencius,6 and show that it is actually far more humane than the critics take it to be. That is, it aims at affirming rather than denying humanity, at transforming rather than eliminat-ing human desires, and at advocating perfection rather than setting up standards for an expected level of moral decency. This lays the groundwork for the third section, in which I try to show that even though a seemingly opposite tendency developed among some major Neo-Confucian scholars during the Song-Ming era, this ten dency, when looked at from what I would call the “gongfu perspective,” has a profound le-gitimacy. The fourth section will illustrate that late Ming and early Qing Confucians, drawing from the resources in traditional Confucianism, offered correctives to the Song-Ming Neo-Confucian teachings on desire, and, culminating in the writings of Wang Fuzhi, this post–Song-Ming stage reached a new level of insight, but when viewed superficially it could potentially lead the reader astray.

The Classic Confucian Attitude toward Desire

There is no question that for Confucius, as it is for all the great thinkers of his time, people need to regulate their desires. When asked whether someone was an un-swerving person, Confucius said that he “is full of desires (yu ); how can he be unswerving?” (Lunyu 5.11).7 In characterizing the central notion of his teach-ing, ren , or human-heartedness, as “self-discipline and return to the observance

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of ritual propriety” (Lunyu 12.1), Confucius obviously had in mind that the need to control the power of human desires is essential for a person to become human-hearted. Yet Confucius’ “self-discipline” is based on his recognition of basic human desires. The point is “to desire but not to be greedy” (20.2). Confucius himself is one who likes fine food, not just whatever can fill the stomach (see 10.8). With regard to “the desire between man and woman,” he only cautions young people not to over-indulge (16.7). The poems (songs) that he repeatedly advises his disciples to study are full of love themes. He also cares about acquiring fame: he says “Exemplary persons (junzi ) despise the thought of ending their days without having established a name” (15.20). He is very frank in saying that “Wealth and honor are what people desire,” and he would not want to have them only “if they are the consequence of deviating from the Way” (4.5). “If wealth were an acceptable goal, even though I would have to serve as a groom holding a whip in the marketplace, I would gladly do it” (7.12).

The aim of Confucian cultivation, as Confucius says in his famous statement about his life, is to reach a state in which one can follow one’s heart’s will (yu) with-out overstepping the boundaries (Lunyu 2.4). This is certainly a state of freedom where there is no longer any conflict between morality and one’s desires, and not a state in which there is no desire. In this state, one’s person is cultivated so well that one does not even feel the existence of boundaries. A less obvious, although proba-bly more important point here is that the ideal state goes well beyond not over-stepping the lines of morality; for the “boundaries” can be any lines between proper and improper conduct, moral or non-moral. Thus, for example, a person who keeps telling boring jokes may not necessarily be considered immoral, but rather as one who lacks refinement and the ability to maintain harmonious relations with others. A well-cultivated Confucian would not cross this line by continuing to engage in such behavior. Confucius’ praise of the song “The Chirping of the Osprey” exemplifies the ideal of not crossing such lines. The song is “expressive of joy without being licen-tious, and of grief without being hurtfully excessive” (Lunyu 3.20). This balanced expression of emotion represents the ideal, but the Master would certainly not pre-scribe it as an obligation for everyone. For those who read Confucius as a preacher of moral principles, Lunyu 11.26 would hardly fit their image of him. This passage vividly records a conversation where the Master asks what his disciples wish to ac-complish. After hearing all their ambitions, the Master heaves a deep sigh, and says that he would be with Zeng Xi, the one who said that his wish was to go out in the company of friends at the end of spring, to bathe in the river, to revel in the cool breezes, and then return home singing. This is a state of being in harmony with the self and the social and natural environment, although nothing in this state appears to be particularly “moral.”

Compared to Confucius, Mencius is more proactive in transforming our basic desires to what he considers to be the human level. His ideal is also more passionate, aiming at the full development of “flood-like qi,” or vital energy, which can fill the space between heaven and earth. True, Mencius states that “in cultivating one’s heart-mind, nothing is more effective than having few desires” (Mencius 7B : 35), but

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nowhere does he suggest that people suppress their natural desires. Our desires for comfort and for material satisfaction are as natural to us as our inborn tendencies to feel compassion toward others, to have a sense of shame, of courtesy and modesty, and of right and wrong. It is for the sake of encouraging people to make an effort to develop these inborn tendencies that Mencius insists on saying that human nature is good.8 This point is made clear in Mencius 7B : 24:

It is due to our nature that our mouths desire sweet taste, that our eyes desire beautiful colors, that our ears desire pleasant sounds, . . . But there is also fate (ming ) [whether these desires are satisfied or not]. The exemplary person does not say they are man’s nature [and insist on satisfying them]. The virtue of humanity in the relationship be-tween father and son, the virtue of righteousness in the relationship between ruler and minister, . . . — these are [endowed in people in various degrees] according to fate. But there is also man’s nature. The exemplary person does not [refrain from practicing them and] say they are matters of fate.

Mencius’ main argument against his opponent Gaozi, who maintains that hu-man nature is neutral, is also focused on its negative practical consequence, namely that it would mislead people to search for goodness outside themselves, and hence would fail to find the only root from which our humanity could grow — the heart-mind (Mencius 2A : 2). In his conversations with the rulers of his time, Mencius is clear on the point that to focus on developing and extending one’s moral tendencies rather than on personal gain is exactly the way to gain. Those who desire personal gain yet do not practice human-heartedness (ren ) are compared to those who fool-ishly look for fish by climbing a tree (Mencius 1A : 7). In his mind, ancient sages are no more than human beings, and nothing is further from a fulfilling, sagely life than a life without compassion or desire. Indeed, he even defines goodness (shan ) as “desirable” (Mencius 7B : 25).

In the Mencius we see a repeated emphasis on the distinction between humans and animals. Mencius’ view of human nature is based on the notion of what is distinctive about being human, namely the well-known “four hearts” or incipient tendencies of compassion, shame, courtesy and modesty, and right versus wrong. However, for Mencius the difference between humans and beasts is very slight. “The common people lose this distinguishing feature, while the exemplary person retains it. Shun [an ancient sage king] understood the way of things and had a keen insight into human relationships. He followed ren (human-heartedness) and yi (appropriate-ness) in his practice. He did not practice ren and yi” (Mencius 4B : 19). This passage contains two important points: one is an obvious acknowledgment of a large overlap between humans and beasts. He did not say that humans and beasts are entirely dif-ferent or mostly different. Instead, the difference is slight. The statement clearly aims at retaining the slight difference rather than eliminating the vast similarities. Another point, which often escapes careful attention from readers because of the obscurity of the sentence, is the distinction between “following ren and yi in practice” ( ) and “practicing ren and yi” ( ). Here Mencius seems to be pointing to the subtle difference between the case (“following ren and yi in one’s practice”) in which

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ren and yi are part of the person, originating from within, and the case (“practicing ren and yi”) in which ren and yi are considered something obligatory that one puts into practice, or does purposefully to honor them (see Nivison 1980, pp. 422–423, 427). In Kant’s terminology, the former, advocated by Mencius, is acting in accord with morality, whereas the latter is done for the sake of morality.

Like Confucius, Mencius believes that actions in accord with morality that result from one’s cultivated inclinations or desires are more preferable than actions done for the sake of moral duty, because the latter originate merely from moral rationaliz-ing and not from the entire person. It is interesting that Mencius makes this point right after he says that the distinction between humans and beasts is slight, as if he is say-ing that if one were not able to fully embody ren and yi, and still has to act ren and yi for the sake of moral duty, one is still not fully human!

This cultivation is by no means a total suppressing of natural desires and replac-ing them with the will to be good. Immediately after his famous statement that “A man who cares only about food and drink is despised by others because he takes care of the parts of smaller importance to the detriment of the parts of greater impor-tance,” Mencius says: “If a man who cares about food and drink can do so without neglecting any other part of his person, then his mouth and belly are much more than just a foot or an inch of his skin” (Mencius 6A : 14). In other words, it is not only a matter of caring about food and drink, but also that, in caring about the way food and drink are taken, one’s mouth and belly also become organs that contribute to the accomplishment of moral and aesthetic ideals,9 and are no longer merely physical organs.10

The Doctrine of the Principle of Heaven and Human Desires in the Song-Ming Period

Much of the criticism of the Confucian suppression of human desires is based on a few isolated but well-known sayings of Song-Ming Neo-Confucians. Advocated by leading Confucian scholars of the time, the doctrine of Tianli , usually translated as the Principle of Heaven, is put in contrast with renyu , human desires. It was Zhou Dunyi (1017–1073) who started the trend of advocating the elimination of human desires.11 The Cheng brothers, Chen Yi (1033–1107) and Cheng Hao

(1032–1085), and Zhu Xi (1130–1200) followed Zhou with their famous slogan: “make bright the Principle of Heaven, and eliminate human desires,” which, in Zhu’s view, summarizes the tens of thousands of words of the ancient sages (Zhu Xi, Zhuzi yulei, vol. 12, p. 13). It was mainly the more orthodox of their doctrines, in the simplified form of slogans, which led to the devastating consequences character-ized by Lu Xun as a form of cannibalism.

Even though the influential views of Zhou and Cheng-Zhu on desire were wide-ly disseminated through these slogans, when their writings are interpreted holisti-cally one finds them actually far more sophisticated and reasonable than commonly perceived. In the case of Cheng-Zhu, it was indicated numerous times that “eliminat-ing human desires” did not mean that one should have absolutely no desires. Cheng

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Yi says, “All human desires grow out of nourishing and sustaining life. But when these fundamental needs are carried too far, they are harmful. When ancient kings regulated our fundamental needs, they did so according to the Principle of Nature, but when people of later generations succumb to things that are secondary, it is be-cause of their selfish desire” (Chu [Zhu Xi] and Lü 1985, pp. 158–159). Commenting on Buddhism, Cheng Yi says, “The fact that humans have happiness, anger, sadness, and enjoyment is also natural due to their nature. Those who forcefully insist on eliminating all of them for the sake of obtaining the original nature are actually de-stroying their original nature” (Cheng and Cheng 1981, p. 24). One can also find Zhu Xi saying, “Human desires are also generated from the Principle of Heaven. Al-though the desires are human, within them there is the Principle of Heaven” (Zhu Xi, Zhuzi yulei, 13 : 3). What he calls “human desires” are the desires for more than what is necessary. “As for the desire to eat when hungry, the desire to drink when thirsty, how can we live without those desires!” (ibid., 94 : 77). As Wang Yuji points out with abundant textual evidence, when Cheng-Zhu say that one should eliminate desires, they mean selfish desires or the “bad desires,” in contrast to the good desires, such as the desire for pursuing learning or for making the Way great (see the chapters on the Cheng brothers and Zhu in Wang Yuji 1992).

More importantly, though, is that critics of these Song Neo-Confucian views about eliminating human desires almost invariably failed to realize that these views were primarily proposed not as ethical norms, but as gongfu instructions about cul-tivating sagehood. For instance, in the case of Zhou Dunyi, we do not find him giving qualifications as Cheng-Zhu did. Instead, he always speaks unequivocally about eliminating desires until there are none. However, putting aside the question of whether this is possible or even advisable, his purpose is not to impose this instruc-tion as a rule of morality that is required of everyone. It is proposed as a way to cul-tivate oneself, with the aim of reaching the highest perfection. Zhou says, “When one has no desires, sincerity (cheng ) will be established and brightness will shine through. Having sincerity established one can become exemplary. With brightness shining through, one becomes sagely. Exemplary qualities and sageliness are not born with our nature; they are attained through cultivation of the heart-mind” (Zhou, Yangxinting shuo, p. 1). When Zhu Xi comments on Zhou’s doctrine, he speaks also from this gongfu perspective: “If the heart-mind were not silently tranquil by having no desires, how can one respond to the changes of things and events and unify all the motions in the world?” (Zhu Xi, Taiji tushuo shujie, p. 14). As Zhu’s comment shows, having no desires is conceived as an effective way of achieving a state of be-ing in which one can unify all actions — a way of cultivating oneself so that through “sageliness within” one can become “kingly without,” and this has to be an aim be-yond anyone’s standard of moral responsibility or moral obligation.

Zhou’s view on having no desires is obviously more radical than Mencius’ view on reducing desires. One can certainly question the advisability of the instruction, but this is quite different from questioning it as a moral norm. As an instruction, it may be not good or even impossible for people actually to practice it, but the prob-lem is more like prescribing an overdosage of drugs than setting a cruel rule to harm

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people. Furthermore, as people who practice martial arts well know, in order to over-come a tendency, one often needs to work toward the opposite extreme with extra strength in order to reach the proper degree. Zhou’s teaching on having no desire is closely related to the notion of wuji (non-ultimate). In his famous Taiji tushuo

(Explanation of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate), he states that the “Tai-ji (Great Ultimate) comes from wuji ” (p. 1). Translated into the language of cultivation, this would mean to concentrate deeply inward and find the very source from which arise all ideas, emotions, and desires, et cetera. This source has to be a state prior to all ideas, emotions, and desires, and is therefore a state of wu , non-being. According to this thesis, only from such an origin can the force of taiji become manifest. Zhu Xi explains: “Without establishing wuji, taiji would simply be an ordi-nary thing, inadequate to be the ground of the transformation of everything; without speaking about taiji, wuji would end up being total void and silence, incapable of being the ground of the transformation of everything” (Zhu Xi, Yuzhuan Zhuzi quanshu, vol. 52, p. 47).

This naturally reminds us of a statement in the Zhongyong: “The state in which happiness, anger, sadness, and joy are not yet happening is called centering; when they arise and all hit the proper point it is called harmony. Centering is the great ori-gin of the world; harmony is the broad way of the world” (Zhongyong, chap. 1). This also reminds us of Mencius’ statement about ye qi , the energy that can be felt most clearly at midnight when all the other daily anxiety, thoughts, and desires calm down (Mencius 6A : 8). The calmness is the “center,” like the non-ultimate, but not a total void. While for Mencius cultivating this source of energy would allow a person to see clearly the incipient good tendencies inside, for the author of the Zhongyong it would allow a person eventually to have all her sentiments hit the proper target, or rise and fall in harmony.

Song-Ming Neo-Confucians developed this idea into more specific forms of cul-tivation, sometimes with techniques that they learned from the Buddhists and Dao-ists. For instance Zhu Xi gives this advice to a friend: “In sickness, it is not good to have many thoughts and worries. Just put aside everything, and focus on retaining the original heart-mind and nurture your own vital energy. Sit quietly in lotus pos-ture, look at the tip of your nose, and focus your attention on the lower abdomen. In a while you will feel warm, and the effect will manifest itself” (Zhu Xi, “Da Huang Zigeng,” p. 16). Many Confucians have reported beneficial results of such practice. For example, Yan Shannong [Yan Jun ] (1504–1596) reports that, inspired by Confucius’ teaching of self-discipline, he practiced sitting meditation. During the meditation, he controlled his desires, closed his eyes, tried not to listen to any-thing, and focused his attention inside and let his spirit be harmonized into one-ness. In less than three days, he felt “suddenly like water breaking a dam, the subtle parts of his heart-mind all opened up, excited and brightened, like the sun rising from the east, like the dragon spring running down.” The feeling was like “being released from a prison, walking freely with every step aided by a gentle wind.” When he completed seven days of meditation as planned, he felt so thoroughly transformed that he “could understand the classics as clearly as looking at his own

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palms, and write articles as if the flow of river [water] is breaking all the dykes” (Yan 1996, p. 54). There are many reports like this that can testify to the benefits of gongfu.12

People normally do not associate martial arts with Confucianism, yet as a teach-ing on the cultivation of the whole person, Confucianism can certainly be applied to the martial arts, as the martial arts, properly understood, are also not merely tech-niques of fighting but actually forms of cultivation of the person by martial means. In this light, it is quite understandable that many Confucian teachings have been incor-porated into the martial arts, including Zhou’s teaching on having no desire and the non-ultimate. Famous martial arts, such as Xingyiquan , Baguaquan , and the Chen Family style of Taijiquan all take Zhou’s teaching of the non-ultimate as one of the highest principles for cultivating their particular skills. This principle constitutes a method for reaching a state of mind that is reputed to be so tranquil that, before one makes any move, one’s opponent will have no way of predicting what one will do, since there is no “desire” in one’s own mind!13

There are certainly disputes about whether this method was appropriate for cul-tivating the Confucian virtues, and there can be proper and improper ways of appli-cation of the method. Overall, Zhou’s and Cheng-Zhu’s teachings about eliminating human desire do tend to invite rigid dichotomization of the Principle of Heaven and human desires. Take as an example the way of practice of Ming dynasty Neo-Confucian Huang Wan . Huang says that he kept a journal for himself with two columns in it, one with the heading “Principle of Heaven,” and the other “Human Desires.” Whenever he had an idea that was in accord with the Principle of Heaven, he would put a red dot underneath, and whenever he had an idea that fell under human desires, he put a black dot under it. He would count the dots every ten days to examine himself (Huang 1959, vol. 2). He does not tell us how he distinguished between human desires and the Principle of Heaven, but the either/or framework in which he practiced his cultivation could easily lead to an effort to eliminate all natu-ral desires. According to Yuan Mei , “Some Song Confucians felt that it was ex-tremely difficult to eliminate [sexual] desire. Some went even so far as to hang the portraits of their parents inside their bedchamber as a self warning.” To this Yuan adds, “Reading this kind of thing makes one want to throw up.”14

It should be noted that the overall tendency in the writings of Song-Ming Neo-Confucians seems to be that, for them, the affirmation of natural desires is more a matter of having no alternative. As Wang Yuji points out, their acceptance of human desires “is only to the degree that would allow a person to barely survive” (Wang Yuji 1992, p. 143). But even in the heyday of Song-Ming Neo-Confucianism, there was already a continuing trend against a polarization between affirmation and denial. Even before Cheng-Zhu, Zhang Zai (1020–1077) had already strongly objected to Zhou’s thesis of having no desires. Zhang Zai says “Drinking and eating and male-female affection are all natural tendencies (xing ). How can they be eliminated? Being (you [taiji]) and nonbeing (wu [wuji]) are also natural tendencies; how can you have one without the other?” (Zhang Zai 1978, p. 63). “Even though ears and eyes [here they represent all bodily organs] are burdened by natural tendencies (xing

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), they fit within the excellence (de ) of the inner and the outer, and hence we know that they are essential in our cultivation” (p. 25).15 Lu Jiuyuan (1139–1192) criticizes Zhu Xi’s endorsement of the non-ultimate, saying that to add it on top of the supreme ultimate “is like adding a bed on top of a bed, or a roof on top of a roof” (Lu Jiuyuan 1980, p. 553). Lu argues that calmness alone is not the way to a proper understanding of human nature, since movement is also essential. To separate human desires from the Principle of Heaven is the wrong way to cultivate human nature. What is needed is to eliminate selfishness in material desires, not desires in general.16

If the dualistic tendency is merely misleading or counterproductive as a method of cultivating Confucian gongfu, more serious problems would occur when the gong-fu instructions are taken as moral norms or obligations required of everyone. Since gongfu instructions and ethical norms are both presented prescriptively, the line between the two can be quite thin. One might well suspect that Song-Ming Neo-Confucians themselves were not clear about the distinction. The Cheng brothers and Zhu Xi sometimes went so far in promoting their teachings that the latter sound more like norms placed on ordinary people than gongfu recommended for those who as-pire to become sages. For instance, with regard to whether a poor widow can re-marry another man in order to survive, the Cheng brothers are notorious for their remark, “to starve to death is a small matter, whereas losing one’s chastity is a matter of extreme importance” (Cheng and Cheng 1981, p. 301). No matter how one looks at this, it is hard to say that this is nothing but advice for a widow on how to reach sageliness. But when we reject their teachings on human desire as nothing but in-humane ethical constraints, we make the same mistake that they made: these teach-ings should be offered and evaluated clearly as gongfu instructions and not as moral norms.

The Late Ming and Early Qing Revolt

During the late Ming and early Qing dynasties, a large number of Confucian scholars made a concerted effort to oppose the Cheng-Zhu school, and they did this by draw-ing heavily on classic Confucian texts, mainly the teachings of Confucius and Men-cius. These scholars include: Luo Qinshun (1465–1547), Wang Tingxiang

(1474–1544), Wang Ji (Wang Longxi ) (1498–1583), Wang Gen (Xin Zhai ) (1483–1541), He Xinyin (1517–1579), Li Zhi

(1527–1602), Liu Zongzhou (1578–1645), Chen Que (1604–1677), Wang Fuzhi (1619–1692), and Dai Zhen (1723–1777). Even Li Zhi, the most radical among the Ming critics of the Neo-Confucian doctrine of the Principle of Heaven, still drew his arguments from the teachings of Mencius.17

These later Neo-Confucians reaffirmed the legitimacy of human desires within the Confucian tradition by emphasizing the inseparability of the body and the heart-mind. “Without the body there would be no heart-mind,” says Wang Longxi.18 Wang Gen adds: “The body and the Dao are one and the same thing. . . . To respect the Dao but not the body is not true respect for the Dao.” “To establish the root is to make the

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body secure. Securing the family through securing the body, the family will be regu-lated; securing the state through securing the body, the state will be well governed; securing the world through securing the body, the world will be peaceful.”19 Draw-ing from the Zhongyong, Liu Zongzhou argued that “Desire is a biological mecha-nism given by nature. To indulge in desire is an excess, and when it goes to the extreme it becomes evil. Yet when it is neither in excess nor in deficiency, it is the Principle of Heaven.”20 Chen Que also says: “When human desires are in exactly the proper degree, they are the Principle of Heaven” (see Yang 1985, vol. 2, p. 24). “‘To overcome the self’ does not mean to have no desires. . . . ‘Overcome’ means to gain control over (sheng ) desires, not to annihilate them” (Chen Que 1979, p. 469). “How can having no desires lead one to become a sage? It may lead one to be a Buddhist, though. . . . This is exactly how the two doctrines [Buddhism and Dao-ism] are so off the track in comparison to the teaching of the [Confucian] Sages” (ibid., p. 445).21

The contribution of the later Confucians was not merely a reaffirmation of the classic Confucian ideas. They developed implicit themes in classic Confucianism in some important ways. The most significant of these contributions was made by Wang Fuzhi.22 His elaboration of Mencius’ remarks about the difference between humans and animals is worth quoting at length:

In talking about the difference [between humans and animals], the ways they enjoy food and sex are also different; [on the other hand] in terms of their difference being slight, even the distinctiveness [between humans and animals] in ren and yi is also very small. . . . Knowing the difference [between humans and animals], [one can see that] the clearly distinct ways in which humans appreciate good food and enjoy sex are where the utmost human-heartedness and great appropriateness reside. We should not say that humans are similar to animals simply because humans like good food and enjoy sex. . . . If one were to make the hasty and broad generalization that love and respect belong to humans, that fondness for food and sex belong to animals, and insist on this self-imposed demarca-tion, no straightforward exemplary persons would be found ever to have existed. If there were such people, they would have to be those who do not marry or take office, and have only one meal in the middle of the day and sleep under the trees. (Wang Fuzhi 1975, p. 634)

This is an excellent articulation of Mencius’ point, quoted previously: “If a man who cares about food and drink can do so without neglecting any other part of his person, then his mouth and belly are much more than just a foot or an inch of his skin” (Men-cius 6A : 14). Mencius’ point concerning the human/animal distinction is commonly taken to mean simply that humans and animals share the same desires for food and sex, but differ in that humans have ren and yi while animals do not. But this interpre-tation fails to see that even in enjoying food and sex, humans differ from animals. Or, we might say, following Wang Fuzhi, that the difference is not outside somewhere: it is precisely in our most ordinary life activities, such as in eating and having sex.

Wang Fuzhi even pushed this point to the degree that it is not just sages or exem-plary persons who manifest this difference. Every human being is different from ani-mals in the following ways:

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Would a man who is disrespectful necessarily go so far as to stand up high and take off all his clothes? Would a man who is disobedient necessarily go so far as to call his father by his name and yell at his emperor? Would a person with poor vision necessarily say that foxes are black and crows red? Would a person with poor hearing hate songs and enjoy cries? Would a man who is not smart necessarily say that Bandit Zhi is right and Huan Tui [who tried to kill Confucius] benevolent? Even Song Wan and Shang Chen [who com-mitted regicide] felt it necessary to make use of words as excuses in order to deceive themselves so that they could deceive the world. (Wang Fuzhi 1962, vol. 4, p. 102)

Even though desire is not referred to directly here, Wang is to all intents and pur-poses pointing out that in fulfilling their desires even the least virtuous people retain some sense of right and wrong, and therefore the way they satisfy their desires can still be said to show some degree of humanity.

Wang Fuzhi thus shows us very clearly that the point made in Mencius 6A : 14 is not that human desires (such as eating and sex) are permissible, but rather that they are something to be celebrated as concrete demonstrations of the affirmation of hu-manity.23 Of course, if one does not work out the human-animal difference, it is easy to slip back into what is merely animal. Just as desires can become distinctively hu-man, what is distinctively human can also be degraded to the animal level. Wang articulates Mencius’ distinction between the “great body” and the “small body” in an illuminating way:

Ears and eyes are small when they are merely organs of the body, but not [small in] the function they can perform for the person. If they can be one with thinking, ears can in-form when they are acute, eyes can provide insight when they are sharp, and Mencius would not consider them small. Thinking and gaining something from it, the small can become great; not thinking and becoming deluded, the great can become small. (Wang Fuzhi 1962, 4 : 102)

In other words, even the heart-mind, if not used properly, can become merely a part of the small body, or an animal organ! Wang Fuzhi reminds us:

Heaven makes humans enjoy food and sex; this is heaven’s ren [benevolence or human-heartedness]. Heaven’s ren is not a human being’s ren. Heaven has its way of making human beings ren. Humans also have their way of actualizing the ren of heaven and the ten-thousand things. Holding on to heaven’s ren and yet going against its ren, that is not far from beasts.24

Within these statements one sees implicitly Confucius’ idea that “It is humans who can make the Way great, not the Way that will make humans great” (Lunyu 15.29).

The movement to reconnect the body and its natural desires with the higher ideals of Confucian learning launched by the late Ming and early Qing Confucians offered a necessary corrective in the healthy development of Confucianism. It can be compared to a renaissance that restores the possibility and vitality of earthly life and provides a theoretical basis for the development of a civil society. Regrettably, however, few were able to reconnect the body and its natural desires in Wang Fu-zhi’s sophisticated way. Along with the rejection of the extremist tendencies of the

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Song-Ming era, came a decline in the dimension of spiritual transformation, the affirmation of humanity on a higher plane, which was the primary aim of Song-Ming Neo-Confucians. Often we find that the more radical a criticism of the “Principle of Heaven” was, the less there is appreciation of the gongfu dimension of the teaching. In rejecting the “Principle of Heaven,” many critics shifted to the other extreme of simply affirming natural desires. Li Zhi, for instance, identifies moral rationality en-tirely with the natural desire for food and clothing, and judges what is appropriate on nothing but material results.25 Dai Zhen, on the other hand, seems to be adopting a perspective that is more suited to the natural sciences than to the cultivation of the person, and hence also falls short of appreciating the way of the Song-Ming Neo-Confucians, which can help people transform from what he calls the “self-so” state to the “must-be-so” state.26

Concluding Remarks

In summary, although there may be historical reasons for blaming Confucianism for suppressing human desires and suffocating humanity, critics should be careful not to throw out the baby with the bathwater. Like all the great philosophers of ancient times, Confucius and Mencius realize the need to regulate human desires, but their aim is to affirm humanity, to better oneself and society, and not to enforce absolute moral principles at the cost of a fulfilling life. While the present essay is focused on the Confucian views on desire, if one looks at the Lunyu and the Mencius holisti-cally, one finds that what they advocate is ultimately a systematic teaching of how to live artistically, and not a rigid normative ethical system imposed externally to con-strain human life, making it unsatisfying.

The Confucian teachings on reducing and constraining desires was greatly em-phasized by the leading Neo-Confucians of the Song-Ming era. While their primary purpose was to teach a method of cultivation, or, in their terms, to give gongfu in-structions for becoming a sage, the method was not only implemented in ways that can be described as mechanical and extreme, but also carried too far into the realm of moral norms that everyone was required to follow. In rectifying the extremist ten-dencies, late Ming and early Qing Neo-Confucians, particularly as represented by Wang Fuzhi, developed the classic Mencian thesis of transforming (rather than elim-inating) human desires into what is distinctively human, but at the same time in-creased the danger of falling back into the simple satiation of animal-like desires. The key to avoiding this double-sided danger, in my view, is to maintain a clear grasp of the gongfu perspective, which allows us to see that the Confucian teaching on regu-lating and transforming human desires is meant to be taken not merely as moral norms but also as instructions for the art of living. While some basic regulation of desires is considered necessary for functional and harmonious social relationships and hence morally obligatory for everyone to follow, any further transformation of desires should be considered gongfu, and recommended as an art of living, but not required for everyone as a moral obligation. If one views the whole of Confucian

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learning and cultivation from the moralistic perspective, that is, as a system of moral obligations, one would fail to capture the real meaning behind it. Without a clear distinction between the gongfu and moralistic perspectives, not only did the critics of Confucianism mentioned at the beginning of this essay fail to do justice to Confu-cianism, but even learned Confucian scholars (e.g., the Cheng brothers) could lead it in a wrong direction.

Notes

1 – For the purposes of this essay, I treat “desire” as a rough equivalent to the Chinese word yu without going into fine distinctions. However, readers are cautioned that yu also means dispositions and intentions, and is therefore sometimes also translated as “will” or “want”; hence, care must be taken to dif-ferentiate these.

2 – See Lu Xun’s “A Madman’s Diary” in Lu Xun 1981.

3 – See, for instance, Wang Yuji 1992, Zhao and Liang 2010, Zhao Xin 2010, Kline 2006, and Hagen 2011.

4 – When the term initially appeared during the late Han and early Jin periods, it meant human labor, for example how much gongfu (manpower) is needed for a project such as building a road. By the time of the Song and Ming, the term had acquired a cluster of mutually related meanings. The most common mean-ing, which is still popular among ordinary Chinese today, is the time spent on something, as in the expressions “the gongfu of a cup of tea” or “the gongfu of a meal.” A natural extension from this is the effort spent on something, as in expressions like “the gongfu [effort] of learning” ( ) and “the gongfu of rectifying the heart-mind and cultivating the person” ( ). A third meaning is the proper and effective way of making an effort or spending time, or instructions on how to make such an effort. Some examples of this way of using the term are “the gongfu [way] of The Great Learning ( )” and “the gongfu of the Zhongyong .” The word was also used to mean the ability to make efforts in a proper way, as in the case of “gongfu [embodiment of abilities] and original formation [or body] are one and the same” (

) (Wang Yangming 1996, p. 129). This way of using the word is close to how the word is understood widely today, but with an extension that goes far beyond the martial arts. The gongfu in this sense is also measurable (has more or less gongfu) and can be differentiated in terms of levels (a basic or a higher kind of gongfu). The last meaning associated with the word gongfu is the func-tion, effect, or manifestation of abilities. For example, Wang Yangming was asked, “I recently found myself having less inappropriate ideas, . . . [I]s this gongfu [effect or manifestation of abilities]?” ( . . .

? (Wang Yangming 1996, p. 128).

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5 – Readers are referred to Wang Yuji 1992. Here Wang assembled rich resources on the topic in the history of Confucianism and offered some careful and in-sightful analysis.

6 – The reason that other important Confucian texts such as the Xunzi are not dis-cussed here is not because they do not contain significant views about desire. In fact the Xunzi contains more references to desire than both the Lunyu and the Mencius. It is mainly because the Lunyu and the Mencius have been tradi-tionally considered the more authoritative representations of classical Confu-cianism, and the critics tend to focus more on them as targets. Readers who are interested in seeing discussions on Xunzi’s view on desire can refer to Kline 2006 and Hagen 2011.

7 – Quotes from the Lunyu (Analects) in this article are primarily based on the Ames and Rosemont translation (Ames and Rosemont 1998), with occasional modifications by the article author.

8 – The point is articulated in greater detail in Ni 2007.

9 – In the expression “moral and aesthetic ideals,” I try to convey that these ideals are not limited to morality in the narrow sense, that is, as obligations. Indeed, Mencius’ view about the distinction between humans and animals can easily lead to the impression that there is a predetermined telos in being human that we are obligated to achieve. While this is an issue that deserves a separate treat-ment, I want to guard carefully against such a reading. To me, it is more appro-priate to take both Confucius’ and Mencius’ highest ideals as the art of living, which requires creativity and allows different forms of excellence.

10 – It is interesting to compare Mencius’ point about elevating the human body above the level of the animal realm to Karl Marx’s theory of humanity as ex-pressed in Marx’s 1844 Manuscripts, where Marx states: “Hunger is hunger, but easing hunger with forks and knives on cooked meat is different from easing hunger with hands, fingernails, and teeth biting on raw flesh” (Introduction to the Manuscript on Economics).

11 – One of his most direct statements on having no desires is in this recorded con-versation:

Someone asked, “Can one become a sage through learning?” I said, “Yes.” “Is there any key in learning it?” I said, “There is.” “Please tell me what the key is.” I said, “The key is to be one. To be one is to have no desire. Having no desire, one is tranquil and empty minded, and one’s actions will be straightforward. Being tranquil and empty minded, one is bright; and with brightness, things go through [having no blockage]. Being straightforward in action, one is impartial, and being impartial, one is well informed. Being bright, having no blockage, being impartial, and well informed, one is almost a sage.” (Tongshu [Penetrating the Book of Changes], vol. 3; see Chan 1963, p. 473, translation modified)

12 – See Zhang Rongming 1987, pp. 242–243, where he quotes numerous such cases:

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A Song Confucian reported that “One day when I was sitting quietly, I saw that every-thing was equal and that they were all in my harmonious qi” (Song-Yuan xuean, Shang Cai xuean). Ming Confucian Hu Zhi reported that, after sitting quietly for six months, “one day I suddenly felt that my heart-mind was enlightened. With no disturbing thoughts, a vision occurred, in which heaven and earth and the myriad things were all but my heart-mind and body. I sighed deeply, ‘now I know that heaven, earth, and the myriad things are not external’ ” (Ming Ru xuean, Jiangyou Wangmen xuean). Ming Confucian Jiang Xin reported that, when he was practicing quiet sitting at Dao Ling Temple, one day he “suddenly felt clearly that the whole universe belongs to one body, and was thus convinced that the bright path is vastly public, without inner and outer, and the self and the myriad things are equal in this sense” (Ming Ru xuean, Chuzhong Wangmen xuean). Ming Confucian Lü Kun says, “the realm within calmness is as big as the Six Realms. Inside the realm it is empty, not even one thing. But as soon as you re-quest from it, there is everything, all sorts of things” (Ming Ru xuean, Zhu Ru xuean xia).

13 – Chen Xin says: “Wuji or Nothingness is . . . the moment of initial arrival. . . . It is important to seek stillness from within through conscious effort rather than postural rigidity. . . . Empty the mind of thought — the mind should be full of nothing, not a single thought. A still center represents the Great Chaos or Wuji, its name describing the initial cosmic state of non-differentiation prior to the appearance of forms. Therefore the form is also called Ultimate Nothingness” (Chen Xin 2007, vol. 1, p. 231).

14 – Yuan Mei, Suiyuan sanshi zhong, “Duwai yuyan” , “ ” 1, quoted from Wang Yuji 1992, p. 105.

15 – Yet on the other hand, Zhang’s own distinction between the “natural tendencies of heaven and earth” (tiandi zhi xing ) and the “natural tendencies of material energies and matter” (qizhi zhi xing ) seems to have contrib-uted to Cheng-Zhu’s dichotomization of the Principle of Heaven and human desires. See Wang Yuji 1992, pp. 71–91, for a more detailed articulation of Zhang’s ambiguous position in this controversy.

16 – Lu says, “the most harmful thing . . . is essentially the inflation of material desires” (Lu Jiuyuan 1980, p. 67). “What the sages meant by cleansing the heart-mind — isn’t it to wash out the selfishness that comes and goes con-stantly, and thereby retain the completeness of the original integrity?” (ibid., p. 342).

17 – See Wang Yuji 1992 for a detailed description of the dynamics of the trend.

18 – Wang Longxi, Longxi Wang Xiansheng quanji (Collected works of Wang Longxi), vol. 5, Ying shi shuyuan hui ji , quoted from Wang Yuji 1992, p. 196.

19 – Collected Works of Wang Xinzhai , vol. 3, Wenda buyi (Additional questions and answers), quoted from Wang Yuji 1992, pp. 205,

207.

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20 – Collected Works of Master Liu , vol. 7, Yuan zhi • yuan xin • (Original principle • original heart-mind), quoted from Wang Yuji 1992,

p. 238.

21 – Whether this is fair to Buddhism and Daoism is a matter that can be discussed separately. It is, however, a common conception among the Neo-Confucians of that time that this is one important distinction between Confucianism and the “two doctrines.”

22 – By saying this I do not mean that Wang’s view is entirely without intellectual roots. He was obviously influenced by Mencius and by Zhang Zai, among others.

23 – A comparison of Wang Fuzhi’s view with a somewhat similar point made by Kant can be interesting and revealing. Kant says, “Sexual love makes of the loved person an Object of appetite; as soon as that appetite has been stilled, the person is cast aside as one casts away a lemon which has been sucked dry. Sexual love can, of course, be combined with human love and so carry with it the characteristics of the latter, but taken by itself and for itself, it is nothing more than appetite. . . . Sexuality, therefore, exposes mankind to the danger of equality with the beasts” (Kant 1995, pp. 140, 141). Despite the similarity, Kant clearly shows only how desires like sexuality can be permissible, whereas Wang Fuzhi and Mencius suggest that they are ways through which humanity is manifested.

24 – Wang Fuzhi, Siwen lu (Collected reflections on questions), Inner Chap-ter, quoted from Wang Yuji 1992, p. 336.

25 – See Luo 1989.

26 – See Ceng Yi 1997 for detailed analysis.

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