Knowledge, Wisdom, and Realization:

Manifestations and Meanings of zhi in The Analects

by Matthew Varley

In their introduction to the Chinese lexicon in The Analects of Confucius, Ames and Rosemont note that the character zhi is often translated as “’knowledge,’ ‘wisdom,’ and ‘to know.’” Thought the authors declare their intention to “translate it, whenever, possible, as ‘to realize,’” the frequency which zhi appears in one of its alternate forms in the text—including, but not limited to, those previously listed—underscores the great nuance of the character (Ames/Rosemont 55). A comparison of passages in the Analects of Ames and Rosemont as well as translations by David Hinton, James Legge, and Arthur Waley provides for additional consideration of the importance and meaning of zhi in the teachings of Confucius.

Ames and Rosemont’s preferred translation of zhi as “to realize” occurs only a few times in their edition of the Analects. A notable example is in passage 8.9, which states “The common people can be induced to travel along the way, but they cannot be induced to realize it (Ames/Rosemont 122).” The translations of Hinton, Legge, and Waley all use the word “understand” for zhi in this passage, which suggests people can be led to follow the way but cannot be directed to develop a consciousness of their conduct (Hinton 83, Legge 129, Waley 126). If read literally, the Ames and Rosemont translation is a bit stronger and invokes the image of sleepwalkers who follow a path without “realizing” their actions (much less achieving understanding). In the context of the authors’ introductory remarks, however, the use of “realize” for zhi must be understood in light of “the Confucian precept generally described as ‘the continuity between knowledge and action (Ames/Rosemont 55).’” The people must walk the way, therefore, before they can ever truly “realize” their behavior.

The Ames and Rosemont translation of passage 7.20 illuminates the process of attaining zhi: “The Master said, ‘I am not the kind of person who has gained knowledge through some natural propensity for it. Rather, loving antiquity, I am earnest in seeking it out” (Ames/Rosemont 115). According to this reading, the zhi always must be sought and pursued by the individual; no one is simply born with it. In contrast, the Master of the Waley translation (here passage 7.19) says “I am not one of those who have “innate knowledge”, an important distinction in its implication that some may be born with certain realizations within themselves (Legge 119). Similar themes are seen in Legge, which reads “I am not one who was born in possession of knowledge” (Legge 121) and Hinton, which states “I am not one who was born with great wisdom” (Hinton 73). Though the need to actively seek zhi remains consistent in all four translations, therefore, Confucius’ implied perspective on the nature of zhi differs.

In a number of cases, Ames and Rosemont present zhi as a form of wisdom. When Confucius is asked to define wisdom in 6.22, he replies “To devote yourself to what is appropriate for the people, and to show respect for the ghosts and spirits while keeping them at a distance can be called wisdom” (Ames/Rosemont 108). Though both Legge’s translation of 6.22 and Hinton’s translation of 6.21 also employ the term “wisdom”, their definitions differ. The former reads “To give oneself earnestly to the duties due to men…” and the latter “devotion to perfecting your Duties toward the people...” (Legge 113, Hinton 60). The allusions to “duty” in both translations are problematic given the post-Kantian associations with the concept of duty (especially Hinton’s Duty) in the West. The idea of an eternal, unchanging, and absolute standard of behavior or ethical code as a definition of wisdom is incongruous with Confucianism, which emphasizes the relative and oft-changing nature of the human condition and the consequent need for more situational ethics. In either case, zhi is primarily defined by one’s actions to others rather than an internal, contemplative state.

The definition of wisdom presented in 2.17 is different. The Ames and Rosemont translation reads “To know what you know and know what you do not know—this then is wisdom”; in this passage, however, the italicized “know” is zhi (Ames/Rosemont 79). As such, zhi in this context is a means of achieving wisdom but, in contrast to 6.22, not wisdom in and of itself. In David Hinton’s translation, Confucius tells his disciple, “When you understand something, know that you understand it. When you don’t understand something, know that you don’t understand it. That’s understanding” (Hinton 15). Although Hinton’s translation is similar to Ames and Rosemont in structure, he considers “understanding” both a means to an end and an end in itself. This undermines the distinction between knowledge and wisdom implicit in the Ames and Rosemont translation, as does Legge’s rendition of the passage: “When you know a thing, to hold that you know it, and when you do not know a thing, to allow that you do not know it, --this is knowledge” and Waley’s translation, which is virtually identical (Legge 75, Waley 83).

If passage 2.17 suggests that wisdom can be achieved, then passage 9.8 clarifies that it can never be truly possessed. Here, the character zhi is once again defined as “wisdom” by Ames and Rosemont. The Master’s declaration in this passage is simple and humble: “Do I possess wisdom? No, I do not. But if a simple peasant puts a question to me, and I come up empty, I attack the question from both ends until I have gotten to the bottom of it” (Ames/Rosemont 128). This statement—and similar passages in Hinton and Waley—reinforces the Confucian understanding of wisdom as an ongoing, interactive journey that cannot be considered independent from circumstance. Given the traditional distinction between knowledge and wisdom in the West, Legge’s translation is less effective: “The Master said, ‘Am I indeed possessed of knowledge? I am not knowing. But if a mean person, who appears quite emptylike, ask anything of me, I set it forth from one end to the other, and exhaust it’” (Legge 137). Though the somewhat awkward structure of this passage suggests it may be a more literal translation of the Chinese, Legge’s definition of zhi as knowledge in this passage is likely to be misinterpreted by Western readers, who tend to view knowledge as more static and concrete than wisdom.

The difference between knowledge and wisdom—often a clear distinction in Western thought—is less obvious in the Analects of Confucius. As the various sayings of Confucius suggest, the meaning of the character zhi fluctuates according to context; moreover, the various translations of Confucius’ words demonstrate a wide variety of possible interpretations. Knowledge, wisdom, and the broader sense of realization are all shades of meaning of zhi in the Analects and their juxtaposition highlights the need to consider the meaning of a single passage only in the context of all others. Moreover, the variety of explicit and implicit meanings in different translations of the Analects serves as a reminder that no English translation of the Chinese lexicon can be considered absolute. Like the journey towards zhi in the teachings of Confucius, the search for meaning in the words of the Master is a nuanced process that must include reflection on various passages within the Analects as well as a comparison of various translations.

Works Cited

Ames, Roger T. and Henry Rosemont, Jr. The Analects of Confucius. New York:
Ballantine Books, 1998. Pages 55, 79, 108, 115, 122,
128.
Hinton, David. The Analects of Confucius. Washington, D.C.: Counterpoint, 1998.
Pages 15, 60, 73, 83.
Legge, James. The Chinese/English Four Books. Hunan Publishing House, 1991. Pages
75, 113, 119, 121, 129, 137.
Waley, Arthur. The Analects. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2000. Pages 83, 126.

The character 神 in the Analects and Early Daoism

Hey, gang. My assignment was slightly different in that I compared and contrasted the use of a character in the Analects with its use in early Daoist material:

The classical Chinese lexical item 神 (shen) is translated variously as spirit, god, numen, or daemon. None of these English terms fully evokes the meaning of 神 in classical Chinese, and its meaning is largely dependent upon the context in which it is used. It appears in both the Analects of Confucius and in various early Daoist texts, taking on different meanings in each. I will briefly sketch below some of the similarities and differences in the uses of 神 in the Analects and in early Daoist sources, most notably the Neiye.

The character 神 occurs only six times in the Analects (according to my informal search), so it will be helpful to examine each instance of its occurrence. In three instances (6.22, 8.21, 11.12) it occurs paired with 鬼 (gui), most often translated as "ghosts" to form the collective noun that refers to spiritual beings in general. These spiritual beings were the general objects to which 禮 (li), the rites, were oriented. This included both ancestral spirits and the spirits (or gods) of mountains, rivers, etc. In this context then, 神 refers generally to spiritual beings. In 3.12 the use of 神 seems to be further narrowed to mean specifically ancestral spirits, or those that are invoked in rites performed, "as though the spirits were present." The final two instances of 神 in the Analects are particularly telling of the Confucian perspective.

In 7.35 Zilu prays to, "the gods of the heavens above and the earth below," for Confucius' recovery from a grave illness. When he informs Confucius that this practice is based on a eulogy or ritual form Confucius replies that he has then been praying for himself for a long time. I take this to imply that Confucius was aware of the ritual form but not the significance of appealing to the gods of heaven and earth for relief from illness. In 7.21 we likewise learn that 神 was one of the things about which Confucius, "had nothing to say." Although Confucius emphasized proper performance of 禮, his concern seems to be entirely upon the significance of the rites to the regulation and maintenance of social order, and not upon their original "spiritual" significance.

For Confucius, 禮 extends to mean all forms of ritual propriety, not simply religious or spiritual practice. Some of the rites--indeed most likely all of the official rites performed by the ruler--had as their object 神, but 神 were very abstract and not directly related to the causative social effects of 禮. In this respect the nature of 神 and their relationship to man is not a primary concern for Confucius, but it is also clear that 神 are considered specifically separate from and exterior to man, and that they are part of some unseen spiritual reality. These attributes are common also to the early Daoist position, but developed in an entirely different direction.

Inward Training or the Neiye represents a cosmology and psychology based on the concepts of 道 (dao), 神 (shen), 氣 (qi), and 精 (jing). While it is not necessary to outline in detail here, this cosmology and psychology holds basically that 道, the Way, is the progenitor of phenomenal things and that its phsyio-psychical substrate is 精, vital essence, which when properly refined from 氣, vital energy/breath, and stored within the heart-mind of a cultivated individual allows access to 神, the numinous, which can nurture and guide the individual in extraordinary ways. Here, 神 shares with the Confucian use a definite sense of other-ness from man (hence the translations numinous or daemonic), and a sense of a subtle spiritual reality. In fact, because 神 is subtle it is associated with 天 (tian), heaven or the heavens, which is itself a collection of all that is subtle (in a manner of speaking). In the Analects 7.35 神 is the term associated with gods of the heavens (as opposed to 祇 (zhi), the gods of the earth). This propensity of 神 with the heavens is what allows the cultivated individual in the Neiye to, "not resort to divining by tortoise or milfoil / Yet know bad and good fortune" (XIX.4-5). In both traditions--indeed in early China in general--divination was considered a method of discerning the "patterns of heaven" which influenced events in the realm of man. The realized individual of the Neiye is able to spontaneously perform such divination because he or she directly apprehends an element of this numinous reality. Despite these similarities, the emphasis placed upon 神 in early Daoist texts is markedly different than that of the Analects.

Where Confucius' project was specifically social, the early Daoist project is specifically individual. Confucius is not very interested in 神 because he is only interested in harmonious relationships among people, not among people and any kind of subtle reality--even if he would theoretically admit that such a subtle reality existed. The early Daoist authors of the Neiye, however, were intensely interested in the nature of this subtle reality and how an individual could relate to it. This interest is in many ways different even from the "spiritual" aspect of the Confucian 禮, and may reflect the influence of Chu shamanism on early Daoist thought and practice. In their usage then, 神 takes on a much more complicated meaning that would extend throughout the early Daoist sources of the classical period.

The different uses of 神 in the Analects and Neiye underscore fundamental differences between the Confucian and early Daoist worldviews, but also belie some basic similarities in their understanding of the structure of the universe. Although the two outlooks would later evolve into distinct and competing schools they both share certain ideas fundamental to early Chinese intellectual life.

References to the Analects are the Ames and Rosemont translation used in class. References to the Neiye are from Harold D. Roth, Original Tao, New York: Columbia UP 1999.

He (和): The Origin and End of All Things

By Thomas Gimbel

The Chinese graph for he (和), commonly translated as “harmony,” itself is very revealing of the term’s roles within the historical, social and philosophical contexts of the Confucian and Taoist traditions. Through its diverse uses in certain classical texts of Chinese thought, the multi-faceted nature of this concept can be more fully appreciated and its relevance to daily living made evident. It will be seen that he exists in both the realms of the human community and the natural order and is to be sought out by and within the former. As he is also seen by some traditions as the foundational and sustaining element of the universe, the term he is able at any given time to fill the role of the origin and that of the end or goal of all things.

The graph for he (和) is composed of two radicals, he (禾) “grain” and kou (口) “mouth.”*1 This composition evokes perhaps a meaning akin to “food” or “the act of eating”, but it is this interpretation of the graph that points to the meaning of “harmony” commonly assigned to it. He (禾) “grain” can also be interpreted as “rice,” the successful production of which implies a well-functioning society. In order to properly construct the complex irrigation system necessary to sustain good rice production, members of the community have to be willing to work in “harmony” with one another. Without this harmony and the ability to work together, the well-being and future prosperity of the community is jeopardized.*2 When there is harmony in rice-production, the subsequent consumption of rice and prosperity become indicative of a harmonious community.

Another sense of this harmony shines through in the culinary etymology of the term, being the art of mixing two or more food items together in such a way that each serves to mutually benefit the whole while maintaining its own particular identity. The harmony created in this interaction of several parts is an order, which in turn enhances the contribution made by each ingredient. In the Analects, this sense of harmony, with its emphasis on particularity, is celebrated as the highest cultural achievement.*3 This particularity in combination with other ingredients can be seen in Kaou-Yaou’s definition of the nine virtues in The Counsels of Kaou-Yaou from The Books of Yu section of the Shoo King, where most of the “virtues” consist of a combination of two qualities, sometimes opposites such as in “mildness combined with firmness,” which serve as complements to each other in practice.

The family is used as a model for this kind of harmony as its members give themselves most completely to the family unit they are a part of in a total expression of personal integrity, thereby creating an environment where personal realization can take place. This occurs through interactions governed by the customs (“ritual propriety”) appropriate to the situation and the familial roles at play, such as that of a father in relation to his son or a granddaughter to her grandmother.*4 As is explained in the Analects 1.12, “Achieving harmony (he 和) is the most valuable function of observing ritual propriety. In the ways of the Former Kings, this achievement of harmony...was a guiding standard in all things great and small.”*5 The pursuit of harmony through ritual propriety extends far beyond the realm of family, however, permeating into all aspects of communal life. Along with the high value placed on familial piety, ancestor reverence, authoritative conduct, ritualized roles, relationships and practices are all methods for achieving and maintaining communal harmony (he 和).*6

He exists outside of human society as well, and can be found in the order of nature. In the Book of Changes and the commentary on Ch’ien, the Creative (Heaven), it says “The way of ch’ien is change and transformation. Each thing thereby achieves its true nature and destiny and assures that it is in accord with great harmony.” Harmony, therefore, as that upon which “true nature” and destiny rely, holds a place of great importance in the natural order. Furthermore, in the commentary on K’un, the Receptive (Earth), it is said of K’un, “The ten thousand things all receive life from it when it is in harmonious union with Heaven...[K’un] encompasses all things and...each individual thing achieves perfect success.” In the twenty-first chapter of the Zhuangzi text, within the domain of Taoist philosophy, the interaction of the yin and yang forces of Heaven and Earth is said to establish he in such a way that “it gives birth to things.”*7 The forty-second chapter of the Laozi states that “everything is embedded in yin and embraces yang; through chong qi [vital energy] it reaches he.” Therefore it is through yinyang’s function as qi and the interaction of yin and yang that everything comes into being. As Zhuangzi states in chapter thirty-one, “When the qi of yin and yang are not in harmony, and cold and heat come in untimely ways, all things will be harmed.” On the other hand, he claims in chapter twenty-one that “when the two have successful intercourse and achieve harmony, all things will be produced.” This same principle is used to explain the beginning of human life. When qi, defined as flowing, vivacious energy, set itself in motion at the dawn of time, that which was clear and light rose to become Heaven while that which was heavy fell to become Earth. When these two qi interacted and attained to he, human life began.

While the term he (和) is so often translated as the same word, “harmony,” the term has a great diversity of possible applications depending on the context in which it is used and what it describes. Whether seen as the founding principle of the natural world, that of human life or as its goal, nevertheless, the term is used by so many different voices and schools of thought to convey a common notion of a sort of balance that does exist in the natural order to some extent and both could and should be brought into existence in the communal and familial sphere.

Footnotes:
*1 “The 214 Radicals.” http://www.chinaknowledge.de/Literature/radicals.html
*2 “Dao und die Zehntausend Dinge: Dao De Jing Nr. 42.” http://www.teeweg.de/de/literatur/daodejing/dao%2042.html
*3 Ames, Roger T. and Henry Rosemont JR. “The Analects of Confucius: A Philosophical Translation.” New York: Ballantine Books, 1998. P. 56
*4 Ibid. P. 57
*5 Ibid. p. 74
*6 Ibid. p. 30
*7 Wang, Robin R. “Yinyang.” http://www.iep.utm.edu/y/yinyang.htm


Works Cited:

• “The 214 Radicals.” http://www.chinaknowledge.de/Literature/radicals.html
• “Dao und die Zehntausend Dinge: Dao De Jing Nr. 42.” http://www.teeweg.de/de/literatur/daodejing/dao%2042.html
• Ames, Roger T. and Henry Rosemont JR. “The Analects of Confucius: A Philosophical Translation.” New York: Ballantine Books, 1998.
• Wang, Robin R. “Yinyang.” http://www.iep.utm.edu/y/yinyang.htm
  

義. Michael Racine

義

Michael Racine

As we seek to understand the religious ethics of Confucius and his followers, we should do well to note the sacrificial imagery that is fundamental to some of the Master’s key terms. The exemplary person (君子) is one who has 義 as his basic disposition, develops it in 禮, expresses it with modesty, and consummates it with 信 (Analects 15.18, Ames & Rosemont p. 188). Taking the ancient pictographs at face value, the exemplary person would be one whose basic disposition is that of offering sacrifice. Of course, we will have to unpack this concept significantly if we wish to understand fully what Confucius meant when he used the term 義, but we shall attempt to work from the ground up.

The graph yì is composed of a hand holding a blade under a sheep. At the same time, the bottom half of the character (hand holding a blade) as a unit is representative of the first person “I”, “me”, and by extension, “we”, “us”. Thus 義 is profoundly tied to the concept of “me as I offer sacrifice”. In context, Confucius uses the term to refer to that which is commendable and appropriate. In so doing, he tells us a great deal about the relationship, in his worldview, between what westerners would call “religion” and right conduct. To keep more closely aligned with Confucius’s own vocabulary, we should try to purge ourselves of the baggage associated with our word “religion” (which has evolved so profoundly from its Latin root, religio) and open up the Chinese 禮.

I shall not seek to overstep the lucid definition of 禮 given by my professor and his colleague in their introduction to the Analects, but let me note what I find particularly important to my exploration of 義. First, it is of the utmost importance that the graph of lǐ depicts “the presentation of sacrifices to the spirits at an altar” (51). While Confucius is rightly called a philosopher, we must not defrock his thinking of its “religious” content, as the veneration of ancestral spirits in particular (and 天 more broadly) forms the basis for his worldview and his thoughts on how to live well. Second, and equally relevant, “the compass is broad: all formal conduct, from table manners to patterns of greeting and leave-taking, to graduations, weddings, funerals, from gestures of deference to ancestral sacrifices—all of these, and more, are li. They are a social grammar that provides each member with a defined place and status within the family, community, and polity” (ibid.). There is no Cartesian divide between the sacred and the secular; rather, one’s way in life (道) “is bound together with one continuous strand” (Analects 4.15, p. 92).

Given this understanding of 禮, the social fabric of Confucius’s China, we shall see how 禮 develops a person’s basic disposition of 義to form a 君子 as we look in the Analects (as in 15.18). Keeping in mind the intimate relationship between 義, 禮, and 信, let us draw a clearer picture of the nature of 義 by examining it in the context of the Analects.

We first encounter the graph 義 in 1.13, where 信 gets one close to 義 because “then what one says will bear repeating.” That is, if one is faithful to act on his words, he is commended in terms of 義. In English, we might praise him as faithful, dependable, or responsible—and we would not be incorrect. The next instance of the word in the Analects, where “failing to act on 義 is a want of courage” (2.24) strengthens the notion of duty or responsibility in the concept of 義.

The English word “duty” serves well to render 義 in that it connotes commendable behavior that is not always pleasant or to the apparent advantage of the person doing it. Analects 4.16, 5.16, 7.16, 14.12, 16.10, and 19.1 all very clearly contrast 義 with opportunities for personal gain or profit through inappropriate means, as exemplified in Confucius’s description of consummate persons in 14.12: “on seeing a chance to profit they think of 義, on seeing danger they are ready to give their lives, and when long in desperate straits, they still do not forget the words they live by.”

On the other hand, we tend to associate “duty” so closely with law that “doing one’s duty” and “doing what seems right or appropriate” are not always synonomous. Take Les Misérables for example: Javert has a zeal for doing his “duty” in pursuing Valjean, who has violated his parole and is thus technically in breach of the law, but by any human standard the reformed citizen Valjean should be left in peace. Such a connotation of “duty” has no place in Confucian ethics, where laws fall a distant second in importance behind good sense and good people in authority. In this regard, we do well to accommodate the Ames & Rosemont rendering of 義 as “appropriate conduct”.

The better we understand 禮, the more we can get away from the overly legalistic rendering of “duty” and consider “appropriate” or “right” conduct as something which is neither legalistic nor by any means casual or always natural. The primary concerns of the person who wishes to accumulate excellence (德) must be to do his utmost (忠), to stand by his word (信), and to do what is virtuous or appropriate given the situation in which he finds himself (義). Recalling that 禮 encompasses every aspect of social grammar from table manners to taking care of one’s aging parents, we might sometimes wish to render 義 as “appropriateness” and sometimes with a stronger word such as “virtue”, “duty”, or “right”, simply based on their connotations in common English. In Chinese, such gradation or distinction need not be made. 義 involves doing what a good person would do in a given situation.

Shan: The Relational Good

When asked what would be his first priority if given administration of a state, Confucius replied that it would be “to insure that names were used properly.” The emphasis placed on precise and true language in the Analects is unmistakable. It is the language used that gives structure and meaning to the ideas. Chinese and English are notoriously different languages between which it is difficult to translate. The difference in the moral terms in existence and in use in the two languages is indicative of the nature of the different moralities.

Shan is a term for “good” that can only be understood on a relational basis. Shan, a moral term, is a purely relational term. It is translated situationally as, “good at”, “good for” and “good in”. Ames and Rosemont translate it as many different terms, sometimes “truly adept”, sometimes “felicitous”. From the various terms with which shan has translated to English, its relative nature is revealed. From the essential noun “good” to the relational noun phrase “good at” to the adjective phrase “truly adept”, shan proves itself unpin-able. Though understood as a noun, on its own it cannot stand in the manner of English nouns. Rather, in the manner of an English verb it requires more to make it understandable. Like an English verb, shan cannot simply exist on its own as a meaningful statement.

The character for shan in a combination of the character for sheep (yang) and an abbreviation of the character for words (yan). Figuratively, and all Chinese should be understood in a figurative sense, one takes the meaning of speaking like a sheep. Sheep are gentle, so a sense is understood of speaking gently, perhaps carefully. Sheep are not thought of individually, being experienced for the most part in herds, so a sense is understood of goodness only being present in the presence of others, with consideration for others. Sheep are historically also ceremonially important as in sacrifice, so a sense is taken of ceremonial appropriateness and proper deference.

Used on a case-by-case basis, shan indicates no absolute morality with regards to behavior that is universally and unconditionally good in the Western sense. In The Analects, in Confuciansism, there exists nothing analogous to the Thomistic rules of rational behavior. For example Confucianism will talk about war, suggesting that a country should do its best to not got to war, but though there is a general feeling of aversion with regards to war, there is nothing in the way of a absolute prescription of how a country should act in the face of war, no list of qualifications for a just versus an unjust war. In Confucianism, Kant’s morality based on universalizable maxims would never arise. What is appropriate behavior with regards to one person is not necessarily appropriate with regards to another. The West takes the primary unit of existence to be the individual, and in sanctifying the individual seeks to nurture and protect him. A Western ethic, by identifying what is good and what is bad, seeks to describe what man ought to do. Classical Western ethics, based on Aristotelian ideas attempts to derive individual morality with respect to man’s highest end, his summum bonum. The Chinese ethic is, on a radically different bent, not individually based. The primary unit of existence is, instead, the society. The ultimate end is in no way individual; it lies in harmony. The good of man lies in fulfilling his piece of the whole. It is said that for the Chinese there is no person if there are not two people. Confucian moral prescriptions are suggestions for how to achieve harmony, more than they are hard-line oughts and ought-nots. Because society is composed of individual people with different roles and responsibilities and each individual person is a unique human, there can be no absolute terms of behavior. Instead, a person expresses himself uniquely within his role. His treatment of a particular role, even, is not absolute. It changes in relation to the other persons in the relationship. He is uniquely himself while fulfilling he role of parent to one child and his actions within that role will change with respect to another child. This emphasis on thoughtful and appropriate action places all importance on action as opposed to intention as is often done in Western ethics. One in the West is judged on what he intended to do as opposed to what he actually did. In the Confucian lexicon there seems to be no word for intention. There is what one says, and what one does. There is no possibility of the doctrine of double effect. To throw something out of harmony in an effort to bring other elements together, still means that as a whole society is out of order.

As time goes on, the nature of relationships change, the relationships themselves are created or fade away situationally. The relationship between friends becomes the relationship between lovers, or the relationship between a sixteen-year-old boy and his father eventually becomes the relationship between a forty-year-old man and his father. If a person is the sum of his relationships, and his relationships are always changing, the person himself is always changing and what can be termed “good”, shan, must be defined with respect to a given, unique situation. Harmony is in no way static. A person lives one cycle of life that transforms him from child to old man. As his life coincides with other lives, with other persons at different stages of their lifecycles, he draws on his experiences, draws on their experiences.

Confucius’s high regard for music and its association with ritual propriety can be understood in terms of this ultimate good. The parts of a musical piece shift constantly in relation to each other. The tenor line is the tenor line only in relation to the other musical parts. The pitch voiced at one time will not be the pitch voiced at another and though each line has its own singular sense and beauty, it can only be fully appreciated, and fully understood, when all parts are taken together.

Shan is a term that forms a net of meaning with other Confucuian moral terms. What is shan is relationally good, is situationally appropriate. In seeking the relational good we become people—we become human—and this striving for humanity brings us into relation with others. The authoritative conduct that comes as a result of taking responsibility for oneself, for being able to stand by one’s word, to back word with action, conduces to a society in harmony.

Jason Li: Self-sacrifice in 義 (yi)

義 is the sixth most frequently used philosophical term in the Analects, and like its sibling terms, has no clear English translation. This paper suggests that although Ames and Rosemont’s translation of 義 as “appropriate” is the best translation for the term as used in the Analects, it lacks any mention of self-sacrifice, which, seen with an English-speaking and Western bias, is necessary to explain the term. A self-sacrificial element is present in both modern derivatives of 義 as well as in passages in the Analects. Because Ames and Rosemont come closest to the term, when not specified otherwise, their translations of passages in the Analects have been used.

There are four criteria that surround 義’s definition:
1. 義 can be seen, but also be acted upon. “Failing to act on what is seen as appropriate (義 yi) is a want of courage” (2.24).
2. 義 is a relationship between two people. “…how could one think of abandoning what is appropriate between ruler and subject?” (18.7)
3. 義 must be pursued, and pursued amidst people. “…‘I dwell in seclusion to pursue my ends, and act on my sense of what is appropriate (義 yi) to extend my way (dao道).’ … I have yet to see such persons” (16.11).
4. 義 is a means of acting. “…wealth and position gained through inappropriate (buyi 不義) means…” (7.16).

So in sum: 義 can be seen, acted upon, be a means of acting, represents a relationship between multiple parties and must be pursued amidst people. Such a wide range of use indicates why translations of 義 often use multiple English equivalents and are ambiguous outside of the context of a sentence.

Even when multiple English words are used, translations of 義 are limited at best. The MDBG dictionary * translates it as “meaning/significance.” This works in (1.13): “That making good on one’s word (信 xin) gets one close to being [meaningful] (義 yi)...” Yet the translation into “meaning/significance” does not emphasize the moral implications of the word, and meaning/significance is usually translated into Chinese as 意義, where the extra 意 is used to emphasize its application as a (meaningful) thought/idea. Charles Muller translates 義 as “right” and “justice.” This works in 17.23, “An exemplary person who is bold yet is lacking a sense of [right / justice] (義 yi) will be unruly…” However, right/justice is usually translated into Chinese as 正義, where 正 has been used to emphasize an aspect of uprightness, fairness or balance otherwise absent from 義. Additionally, as stated in the four criteria earlier, 義 is a relationship between two parties and must be pursued amidst people, while right/justice is an abstract concept mostly associated with an individual. D.C. Lau’s translation of 義, “duty, moral or morality,” allows for the social aspect and is a more precise translation then Ames and Rosemont’s “appropriate.” However, the words duty and morality are plagued with Western bias: duty implies a forced obligation* and morality implies abstract and objective principles devoid of social context.

Thus, Ames and Rosemont’s relatively ambiguous translation of 義 as “appropriate” is the only one that encompasses both the right/just/moral aspect as well as the consideration of others without any inherent Western biases. Additionally, “appropriate” suggests a state of becoming, a prevalent theme in the Analects, while “duty/morality” suggests a state of attainment, which even Confucius admits he has not reached.

Ames and Rosemont clarify their use of “appropriate” for 義 by linking to its aesthetic, moral, social and religious usages and placing it in the context of “仁(authoritative conduct),” “禮(observing ritual propriety)” and “信(making good on one’s word).” These details allow “appropriate” to take on a more nuanced definition depending on the context. Unfortunately, even though Ames and Rosemont address Western biases in translating 義 in their introduction, they do not discuss 義’s association with self-sacrifice.

Situations involving 義 in the Analects often hint at acts of self-sacrifice. (2.24), “Failing to act on what is seen as appropriate (yi 義) is a want of courage,” suggests that one must be brave, for others, in order to endure or overcome a fear. (14.12) describes consummate persons (chengren 成人) who “on seeing a chance to profit they think of appropriate conduct (yi 義), on seeing danger they are ready to give their lives…” Here, 義 is grouped together with an example of self-sacrifice, suggesting an element of restraint for the benefit of others. The theme of restraint is also present in (12.20), where a person seeking 義 “are thoughtful in deferring to others.” 18.7 moves beyond restraint and towards self-sacrifice. The passage describes a recluse who Confucius believes has the capability to serve in office, and by refusing to, “fail[s] to do what is important and appropriate (yi 義).” By caving to his own desires and refusing to serve others, the recluse lacks 義. Notice that the optimal solution presented is a self-sacrificial one: the recluse serves in office despite not wishing to do so.

The self-sacrificial usage of 義(yi) persists in modern Chinese, in 義氣 / 义气. 義氣, translated literally is an “air of yi,” is used to describe a quality certain people possess,* sometimes translated as “personal loyalty.”* A cursory Internet search reveals that a definition of 義氣 (air of yi) that refers to elements of appropriateness, the social and self-sacrifice:
“什么是义气？在我无可奈何下开口求救时一口答允，并且谓老朋友了，说什么酬劳？” [What* is 義氣(an air of yi)? It’s instantly agreeing to help when I’m at a dead end, in addition to doing it for an old friend and not for any reward.]

The translation of 義 as appropriate, in addition to Ames and Rosemont’s applications in the aesthetic, moral, social and religious realms, should be placed under a context of restraint and self-sacrifice. As Confucius says, “it is rare indeed for someone to go wrong due to personal restraint” (4.24).


* 1 MDBG Chinese-English dictionary (http://www.xuezhongwen.net), “constructed by using 2 publicly available dictionaries (Unihan & CEDICT)”
*2 I argue for a more self-sacrificial translation of 義 later, and certainly “duty” fulfils this requirement. However, “duty” implies a lack of choice or freedom, whereas 義 is used more often in the context of sacrificing for others, or for a more nuanced gain.
*3 I’m shying away from zhongwen.com’s translation, “code of honor” which is linked to concepts of personal pride and implies there is a rigid set of rules for 義.
*4 Anonymous poster on internet forum: http://www.cantonese.sheik.co.uk/phorum/read.php?3,56171
*5 http://seokhwa.wordpress.com/2006/08/24/%E4%B9%89%E6%B0%94/