Exploratory Paper
David Barnhill (Religious Studies) submitted this paper as an exemplary instance of exploratory academic wriitng.
Note how the first paragraph engages the reader while stating the topic and identifying the unifying issues and specific questions that the paper will explore. See also how the author uses the first sentences of body paragraphs to steer us through the paper's unfolding logic.
The goal of such writing is to immerse in a topic's complexity. This author has satisfactorily accomplished that by wrestling with multiple possible interpretations, each of which leads to more issues and questions to explore.
Confucius and the Paradox of T'ien
Despite Tzu-Kung's assertion that "about…the ways of Heaven [Confucius] will tell us nothing" (Waley V.12), the allusions to the nature of T'ien (heaven) found between the lines of Confucius' words are actually rich with both intriguing and problematic detail. Judging from his statements in Book IV chapter 8 (Waley Trans), the Master himself most certainly held both assumptions and questions regarding the ways of T'ien, and following him through his confrontation of Jan Keng's death as it is related in this passage reveals much about his views. Perhaps most importantly, this passage touches on a central contradiction in Confucian thought: Heaven seems to frustrate its own goals and the Way can be caused to prevail by those who do not follow it. These points are as deeply disturbing and as frustrating today as they were 2,500 years ago. Like Confucius, the modern reader desperately wants to know why Heaven would decree that such a clearly good man as Jan Keng would be forced to endure and ultimately to die of a terrible disease. Unfortunately, the Analects have no simple answer to this question. Nevertheless, through a careful engagement of the text, it is possible to achieve a richer understanding of the complex questions and issues implied by this paradox, and this understanding in turn creates a deeper appreciation of the religion as a whole.
Since the paradox only becomes apparent when viewed alongside the greater body of Confucius' thought, it is first necessary to frame the discussion by considering what else is known about the Master's beliefs regarding Heaven. This is not an easy task by any means. Master Kung was rarely explicit in his statements concerning T'ien, the transcendent-yet-immanent dimension of life, but it is possible to make some key observations. Most importantly, Confucius viewed T'ien as ultimately good, in the sense that is was the source of the harmonious sacred culture (Wen) which gave to life its meaning, and the virtues of Jen (humaneness), Te (Moral Force) and Li (Ritual) which sustained When. In Book II for instance, he credits T'ien as being the source of his moral teachings saying that, through listening to "the biddings of Heaven…with a docile ear…" he learned to desire nothing which "overstepped the boundaries or right" (Waley II.4). Elsewhere, the Master says that "Heaven begat the power (Te) that is in me" (Waley VII.22), and Tzu-kung claims "Heaven certainly intended [Confucius] to become a sage" (Waley IX.6). In each of these quotes the meaning is apparent. Heaven supports and inspires Confucius in his quest to preserve Wen and to teach virtue.
This begs the question, however, of why does the Tao (Way) of Heaven not prevail? In his footnotes regarding Book IX chapter 6, Waley suggests that Heaven can be frustrated in its goal by the wickedness of humanity (Waley, 139). This fits with the traditional Christian answer to the "problem of evil," that mankind has free will and creates evil through its exercise, and it also fits certain passages of the Analects in which Confucius suggests that failure to realize the Way is due to a lack of effort or a lack of desire (Waley IV.6, VII.29).
But this explanation is clearly insufficient when it comes to the deaths of Jan Keng and Yu Hui, suggesting that Confucius' view of T'ien is not this simplistic. Consider this: At one point, The Master suggests that Heaven would not allow Wen to perish altogether, and as the prophet of Wen, he has nothing to fear (Waley IX.5). Yet, if as Tzu-hsia later says, "Death and life are the decree of Heaven; wealth and rank depend on the will of Heaven" (Waley XII.5), the question for both Confucius and the modern reader becomes, why would T'ien frustrate its own goals? Why would Heaven strike down two of the men who Confucius refers to as "Those who work by moral power…" (Waley XI.2b), in their primes? Surely, had they lived longer they too would have been able to spread Confucius" moral teachings and promote the values of culture and humanity. Yet in the Waley translation, the Master clearly attributes their deaths to the will of Heaven (Waley VI.8, XI.8). Other translations of VI.8 use the word "fate" and "destiny" in place of Heaven, and while this adds an interesting ambiguity to the passage, it does not lessen the sense of perplexity on Confucius' part. Moreover, in all four versions of XI.8, the Master specifically refers to T'ien, stating that "Heaven has bereft me" (Dawson XI.9, Lau XI.9, Waley XI.8), or "Heaven destroys me" (Pound XI.8), and so the question remains. Why did Jan Keng and Yu Hui have to die?
Assuming, as Confucius does, that T'ien is fundamentally good, one of the most plausible explanations as to why the two disciples were struck down is that, somehow, the Way of Heaven was better fulfilled by their deaths. This sounds strange, but is it really? Few can deny that pain can be productive, or that that loss can be a learning experience. In the Western mystical system of Tarot, for instance, one must survive the torment and upheaval that is The Tower in order to be freed from the illusions of the past and to find the creative force of The Star which is needed in the future. In fact, most people can name experiences that, while traumatic at the time, have helped them to grow. Perhaps the deaths of Jan Keng and Yu Hui filled this function for Confucius and his other disciples, better preparing them to realize the Tao, and thus making it more likely that the Tao will prevail in society at large.
Unfortunately, while this solution is plausible, It creates more perplexities than it solves. For instance, what if the situation was altered slightly, and a human being was the cause of Jan Keng's demise rather than a microbe? Would the results be any different? If suffering is productive, why does Heaven dictate that one be Jen (humane) and attempt to minimize that suffering in the first place? Confucius himself said that one can learn from the flaws of others how to perfect oneself (Waley IV.7,IV.17), and this seems to be a crucial paradox in Confucius' thought: virtue is fulfilled by its absence. But is this is true, then is Adolph Hitler as much of a divine sage as Confucius? After all, a greater worldwide concern for human rights and the formation of the United Nations resulted from his actions. If Jen is going to be fulfilled anyway, why do the biddings of T'ien demand that individuals strive to realize it in their own lives? Could it be as "Heavenly" not to follow the Tao as it is to follow it?
That idea is extremely difficult for anyone to accept, Confucius in particular, and this may have been a large component of why he rarely spoke of the ways of T'ien. Almost certainly, the Master was aware of this paradox and perhaps he feared that, to paraphrase Nietzsche, if his disciples peered too long into the abyss, the abyss would peer back into them as well. I can attest to the fact that dwelling too long on disturbing thoughts such as these could very easily cause someone to neglect the task of perfecting themselves. Yet once a question is asked, it cannot easily be forgotten. The dichotomy still exists, and it grows more poignant each time Confucius cries "That such a man should have such an illness! That such a man should have such an illness!" (Waley VI.8). On one hand, Confucius believes that Heaven is good and that it is the will of Heaven that the Way should prevail on Earth. On the other, it is clear that Heaven sometimes frustrates the Way, and it seems that the Way can be fulfilled even by those who do not follow it. There does not appear to be much room for compromise, and so how should one regard this difficult and frustrating paradox? Since Confucius never spoke of the matter directly and it is not at all clear what his own answer was, we can only speculate. However, it seems to me that there are three broadly possible ways of dealing with the contradiction.
First, one could look at the two beliefs and say that they are mutually exclusive. At least one must be wrong. The task then simply becomes to determine which one(s) is/are false. Unfortunately, this is not as easy as it sounds. Throwing out the first is grossly counterintuitive, while discounting the second is irrational in the face of Jan Keng's death. If we pursue this course, the frustration can only increase.
Alternatively, it might be possible to construct a cosmology in which both can co-exist. One could say, for instance, that creating hard lessons is the province of T'ien exclusively and not that of mankind. Another possibility is that conscious adherence to the Way is a more direct route to its fulfillment, and thus preferable to the more arduous path laid out for us when we fail to act according to Jen. Unfortunately, while there may be considerable truth in such constructions, no cosmology, created by man could every be perfect, and there is no guarantee they are even valid. In any model, there will always be gaps, wholes, and things not taken into account. As a friend of mine is fond of saying, "Any conclusion is simply the place where you decide to stop thinking," and at some point, there will always be some incident or inconvenient fact that pops up, threatening to undermine the entire construct, thus leaving the seeker back at Square one. By adding a qualification to the view of T'ien as ultimately good, Jan Keng's death is a perfect example of this phenomenon.
There is, however, another option. Although not quite as rational as the others two responses, it may ultimately be more productive simply to embrace the paradox and to accept this as a strength rather than a weakness in Confucius' thought. Acknowledging that both sides may be correct even though they appear contradictory is difficult, but in the end, could be more fulfilling than either of the earlier options. This is not to say that one should simply stop thinking, but rather, as Thomas Moore puts it in his book Care of the Soul, that "the idea is to create enough space [in the soul] and summon enough holding power to let these two divinities work out some arrangement for coexistence" (100), allowing the mystery to work its tranformative, spiritual alchemy on the heart and mind all the while. Absolute certainty may be very comfortable, but it also acts as the supreme deterrent to further intellectual and spiritual growth. Accepting the paradox, far from stultifying thought actually fires the imagination and opens the mind to all the intriguing possibilities which may exist in the universe. Attaining this broader perspective is a noble goal even if it means sacrificing complete assurance and in some strange way, is even more comforting.
-- David Headman