MEDITATIONS: FOURTH OF THE FOUR BOOKS

The Works of Mencius

Hence we have a saying: ‘To raise a thing high, we must begin from the top of a mound or a hill; to dig a great depth, we must commence in the low ground of a stream or a marsh.’ Can he be pronounced wise, who, in the exercise of government, does not proceed according to the ways of the former kings? (Book IV part I, Chap I, para 6)

Standing rectified on the giant shoulders of Confucius is his distantly descended disciple, Mencius. A sage in his own right, and following in the footsteps of the path trodden by him ancestral scholars, Mencius himself is responsible for a body of work as long as the rest of the Confucian corpus combined and twice as eloquent. In The Works of Mencius, the means of individual virtue are explored more deeply than before, as are its impacts on the family and thereby the state. Human nature is debated, and as a result, Mencius reaches unique, seemingly contradictory conclusions which reveal their coherence over the course of variant reiterations.

Yet despite Mencius’s peculiar arguments, a throughline persists, not just within Confucianism but beyond, in Taoism, Stoicism, Platonism, Existentialism, and every religious and / or mythological conception of the world. And that throughline is the dialectic, the difference between the high and the low:

Those who follow that part of themselves which is great are great men; those who follow that part which is little are little men. (Mencius, Book VI part I, Chap XV, para 1)

This hierarchical arrangement of the fate of men is as persistent as it is omnipresent. Furthermore, its presence is something with which philosophers across thousands of miles and multiple millennia have had to contend. Men are unequal, and even when governed equally under the law, their various talents and proclivities distribute power and fortune inequitably. From this state of affairs, one which many decry as intrinsically unfair, a great number of intellectuals have put forward their best efforts to construct a social system which would remedy the natural order of the universe. However, no such systems ever seem to work.

Any sincere philosopher must in the final analysis admit that, as far as human beings are concerned, the arbitrary constraints imposed by nature: hierarchy, duty, morality, and immutable characteristics—are the very context from which propriety emerges. The world appears a place of discernable things, discernment necessitating discrimination which itself necessitates difference across numerous dimensions of measurement. Thus the dialectic is a foundational product of consciousness’s contact with reality itself. From this emerges the concepts of master and servant:

There is an appointment for everything. A man should receive submissively what may be correctly ascribed there to. (Book VII part I, Chap II, para 1)

Great men have their proper business, and little men have their proper business. . . . Hence, there is the saying, ‘Some labor with their minds, and some labor with their strength. Those who labor with their minds govern others; those who labor with their strength are governed by others. Those who are governed by others support them; those who govern others are supported by them.’ This is a principle universally recognized. (Book III part I, Chap IV, para 6)

It is the nature of things to be of unequal quality. Some are twice, some five times, some ten times, some a hundred times, some a thousand times, some ten thousand times as valuable as others. If you reduce them all to the same standard, that must throw the empire into confusion. If large and small shoes were of the same price, who would make them? For people to follow the doctrines of Heu, would be for them to lead one another on to practice deceit. How can they avail for the government of a state? (Book III part I, Chap IV, para 18)

But all of that is merely to say that the order of the universe is inevitable. Nothing here said directly demonstrates that this law of nature is just. Perhaps it may be “proper,” in the sense that the distribution of talent, power, and fortune accord with the inequity of being itself, but such a definition of propriety is hardly emotionally satisfying, let alone in accordance with the heart’s sense of justice. The question naturally arises, “Why should some deserve more than others when the starting ground itself is as variable between individuals as is the difference in height between soaring peaks and flooded valleys?

Mencius acknowledges this unfairness by calling attention to the advantages of situationally generated opportunity:

A man may have wisdom and discernment, but that is not like embracing the favorable opportunity. A man may have instruments of husbandry, but that is not like waiting for the farming seasons. (Book II part I, Chap I, para 9)

However, Mencius also compares situational opportunities to those dispositions and habits held by men:

Opportunities of time vouchsafed by Heaven are not equal to advantages of situation afforded by the Earth, and advantages of situation afforded by the Earth are not equal to the union arising from the accord of Men. (Book II part II, Chap I, para 1)

It may be true that opportunity is necessary for a man to rise in the ranks and achieve his ends, yet it is at least as true that for a man to seize upon an opportunity, he must possess the necessary discernment first to see it, then the courage to grasp it, and then the endurance to hold fast to it if indeed he is to become or retain his status as a superior man.

The superior man makes his advances in what he is learning with deep earnestness and by the proper course, wishing to get hold of it in himself. Having got hold of it in himself, he abides in it calmly and firmly. Abiding in it calmly and firmly, he responses a deep reliance on it. Reposing a deep reliance on it, he seizes it on the left and right, meeting everywhere with it as a fountain from which things flow. It is on this account that the superior man wishes to get hold of what he is learning as in himself. (Book IV part II, Chap XIV)

Situation, therefore, is not sufficient. One must be in a state of sincere self-reflection when the opportunity arises. It can even be said that opportunities arise—become apparent to the conscious mind—as a direct result of one becoming more honest with himself. That, Mencius argues, is the true and significant difference between the higher man and the lower.

For himself and other superior men:

When we do not, by what we do, realize what we desire, we must turn inward, and examine ourselves in every point. When a man’s person is correct, the whole empire will turn to him with recognition and submission. (Book IV part I, Chap IV, para 2)

Submission and loyalty by subjects is something that must be earned in the Confucian view. Social roles are not hollow categories to Confucius or Mencius; they are sets of duties which define proper and responsible conduct between particular individuals whom share a particular relationship. A father is not due respect because he is a father, but because of the responsibilities a father ought to bear in fulfilling his role. The same applies up and down the social chain. In the same way that each person is born to a certain time and place which constrains his range of possibilities and exercise of his will, so too is each person born to a set of constraining social relationships—those relationships being just another part of his environment.

Thus are all men “equal” in the sense that they are all subject to the same lottery which determines the conditions of their births. Likewise, Mencius believed, are men similarly furnished with natures capable of cultivating virtue—including Mencius himself:

The officer Ch‘oo said to Mencius, “Master, the king sent persons to spy out whether you were really different from other men.” Mencius said, “How should I be different from other men! Yaou and Shun were just the same as other men.” (Book IV part II, Chap XXXII)

Benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and knowledge are not infused into us form without. We are certainly furnished with them. And a different view is simply from want of reflection. Hence it is said: ‘Seek and you will find them. Neglect and you will lose them.’ Men differ from one another in regard to them—some as much, and some to an incalculable amount:—it is because they cannot carry out fully their natural powers. (Book VI part I, Chap VI, para 7)

. . . if it receive its proper nourishment, there is nothing which will not grow. If it lose its proper nourishment, there is nothing which will not decay away. (Book VI part I, Chap VIII, para 3)

Herein lies the Confucian concept of human nature. As opposed to the later western debate whether human nature is good or bad, Mencius takes a similar approach to that of Aristotle. Goodness and badness are conceptualized as relativistic abilities as opposed to static states or forms. In this view, human beings have an innate capacity for morality which is either nourished properly or else neglected—or even abused. Morality, then, to the Confucians develops much like a muscle. Through habituation and training does it become strong: through sincere self-reflection and tending to one’s obligations is virtue cultivated in the individual. And like a muscle, there is no neutral. If one ceases to train, the tissue shortly begins to atrophy. It is the consistency of the individual, then—his self-discipline—which determines his achievement of his potential virtue:

The disciple Kung-too said, “the philosopher Kaou says, ‘Man’s nature is neither good nor bad.’
“Some say, ‘Man’s nature may be made to practice good, and it may be made to practice evil . . .’
“Some say, ‘The nature of some is good, and the nature of others is bad. . . ’
“And now you say, ‘The nature is good.’ Then are all those wrong?”

Mencius said, “From the feelings proper to it, it is constituted for the practice of what is good. This is what I meant in saying the nature is good.
“If men do not what is good, the blame cannot be imputed to their natural powers.” (Book VI part I, Chap VI, para 1-6)

The way in which a man loses his proper goodness of mind is like the way in which the trees are denuded by axes and bills. Hewn down day after day, can it—the mind—retain its beauty? (Book VI part I, Chap VIII, para 2)

What Mencius has defined here is an ancient Chinese conception of free-will, though not quite so free. “Constrained” or perhaps “embodied-will”—to borrow my own phrase—is a more accurate descriptor. Not all men can be born Divine Sons whose destiny is the Mandate of Heaven, just as most men shall not be ministers or officers. Yet no man need be a drunkard, a liar, a thief, nor a murderer. To a boy born to famers, the only real barrier to him becoming an honest man, a dutiful son, a loyal brother, and a responsible father himself is his attitude toward the time, place, and social position into which he finds himself. If he takes pride in his character, he can become someone others rely on, in some sense a pillar and leader of his community. If, however, he despises the life Fate has doled to him, he shall always find himself and his existence wanting:

From the want of benevolence and the want of wisdom will ensue the entire absence of propriety and righteousness;—he who is on such a case must be the servant of other men. To be the servant of men and yet ashamed of such servitude is like a bow maker’s being ashamed to make bows, or an arrow maker’s being ashamed to make arrows. (Book II part I, Chap VII, para 3)

Unfortunately, it is precisely the habit of the many at the bottom of any hierarchy to become resentful at their lack of position. They cultivate an aim targeting fame and wealth instead of one toward proper and responsible conduct:

To act without understanding, and to do so habitually without examination, pursuing the proper path all the life without knowing its nature:—this is the way of multitudes. (Book VII part I, Chap V)

That whereby man differs from the lower animals is but small. The mass of people cast it away, while superior men preserve it. (Book IV part II, Chap XIX, para 1)

To make matters worse for the already lowly, many turn their resentment toward the very figures whom model the proper path. This is what is meant by, “advantages of situation afforded by the Earth are not equal to the union arising from the accord of Men.” If men learn to mold their judgements of desire and aversion in accord with the constraints of their nature, including their potential range of positions in the social hierarchy, then they will find no lacking of opportunities to make small, steady improvements in their lives.

The way of truth is like a great road. It is not difficult to know it. The evil is only that men will not seek it. Go home and search for it, and you will have an abundance of teachers. (Book VI part II, Chap I, para 7)

The feeling of modesty and complaisance is the principle of propriety. The feeling of approving and disapproving is the principle of knowledge.
Men have these four principles just as they have their four limbs. When men, having these four principles, yet say of themselves that they cannot develop them, they play the thief with themselves. (Book II part I, Chap VI, para 5-6)

The disease of men is this: that they neglect their own fields, and go to weed the fields of others, and that what they require from others is great, while what they lay upon themselves is light. (Book VII part II, Chap XXXII, para 3)

Better it would be for them to transmute their feelings of envy into those of admiration, for the truth is not one of strict predatory nature. Yes, the rulers, the wealthy, the successful, and the powerful hold influence—even the sword of law—over the people, yet that sword is wielded for them as much as it is against. This, Mencius argues, is the case when sincerity and propriety and cultivated throughout an empire. The rulers, like patrons of their homes, take on the responsibility of role-model for ethical behavior. In this way, good governance is like a good family. Each member serves dutifully his or her role, and each can thereby rely on one another. The average man, like the filial son, is set to learn and develop independence such that, as an adult, he can carry not only his own, but his parents’, wife’s, and children’s burdens. This is the best sovereign-citizen relationship that can be hoped for, for all else becomes antagonistically divisive:

Those who keep the mean, train up those who do not, and those who have abilities, train up those who have not, and hence men rejoice in having fathers and elder brothers who are possessed of virtue and talent. If they who keep the mean spurn those who do not, and they who have abilities spurn those who have not, then the space between them—those so gifted and the ungifted—will not admit an inch. (Book IV part II, Chap VII)

This places a burden on the superior man—a greater burden proportionate to his greater advantages—though his burden isn’t what modern, post-enlightenment readers might assume. In the here-and-now (2023, at the time of writing), they only way the rich and powerful can be conceived to pay for their privileges is by literally paying, namely via taxation. The Confucians did not see it this way. To serve righteously in one’s social role was considered payment aplenty. So, what was the role of the men of superior station?

To take example from others to practice virtue is to help them in the same practice. Therefore, there is no attribute of the superior man greater than his helping men to practice virtue. (Book II part I, Chap VIII, para 5)

The superior man’s role is teacher, and his method of teaching must be by example. Therefore, it is the ethical responsibility of the rulers to NOT be hypocrites. In the Confucian mind, words are worth little when they are not also put into action. Thus is the difference between the mere “teacher” and the real superior man:

Men’s being ready with their tongues arises simply from their not having been reproved.
The evil of men is that they like to be teachers of others. (Book IV part I, Chap XXII-XXIII)

Only once the superior men fulfill their most fundamental function, should they pursue the secondary matters of business and state:

Men must be decided on what they will NOT do, and then they are able to act with vigor in what they ought to do. (Book IV part II, Chap VIII)

I have not heard of one who bent himself, and at the same time made others straight;—how much less could one disgrace himself, and thereby rectify the whole empire? (Book V part I, Chap VI, para 7)

This means that the leaders must “Get their houses in perfect order,” first. Their major function occurs not at the level of governance, but at the level of culture. In fact, Mencius is explicit about this. If the superior men are in fact shams, and if they try to implement social programs to feed and house the masses—without simultaneously modeling for them virtue—the end result will be naught but degeneration of the people’s moral character:

Now men possess a moral nature; but if they are well fed, warmly clad, and comfortably lodged, without being taught at the same time, they become almost like the beasts. This was a subject of anxious solicitude to the sage Shun, and he appointed See to be the minister of instruction, to teach the relations of humanity:—how, between father and son, there should be affection; between sovereign and minister, righteousness; between husband and wife, attention to their separate functions; between old and young, a proper order; and between friends, fidelity. (Book III part I, Chap IV, para 8)

. . . when throughout their kingdoms there is leisure and rest from external troubles, to abandon themselves to pleasure and indolent indifference;—they in fact seek for calamities for themselves. . . .
by the passage of the Ta e Kea,—‘When Heaven sends down calamities, it is still possible to escape from them; when we occasion the calamities ourselves, it is not possible any longer to live.’ (Book II part I, Chap IV, para 4, 6)

With those who do violence to themselves, it is impossible to speak. With those who throw themselves away, it is impossible to do anything. To disown in his conversation propriety and righteousness, is what we mean by doing violence to one’s self. To say—'I am not able to dwell in benevolence or pursue the path of righteousness,’ is what we mean by throwing one’s self away. (Book IV part I, Chap X, para 1)

If all this is indeed the case, if righteous and benevolent leadership really could foster virtue in the multitudes, and such virtue really could bring out the best in individuals, thus bolstering the family, community, and thereby the state via the dissemination of proper cultural values, a question is raised, “Why has the perfect Confucian state never come to pass?” Indeed, the ideals of Confucius and Mencius sound akin to the Utopian visions of eighteenth and nineteenth century men of letters.

One must concede that mankind will never host mythologically ideal rulers like the legendary emperor Shun. Likewise, the people will also harbor some resentment in their hearts. Even the treats in life are bitter to swallow, for pain, suffering, unfulfilled desires, and arbitrary limitations are intrinsic to the human experience.

That being conceded, perhaps it is still possible to learn from the ideals even if they may never come into perfect fruition. And the best places to examine an ideal as to learn how to apply it usefully in the world is where it falls down. Of this, Mencius says much and more:

The philosopher Kaou said, “Man’s nature is like the ke willow and righteousness is like a cup or bowl. The fashioning of benevolence and righteousness out of man’s nature is like making cups and bowls from the ke willow.”
Mencius replied, “Can you, leaving untouched the nature of the ke willow, make with it cups and bowls? You must do violence and injury to the willow, before you can make cups and bowls with it. If you must do violence and injury to the willow in order to make cups and bowls with it, on your principles you must in the same way do violence and injury to humanity in order to fashion from it benevolence and righteousness! Your words, alas! would certainly lead all men on to reckon benevolence and righteousness to be calamities.” (Book VI part I, Chap I, para 1-2)

Genuine cultural changes ought not be forced, or the risk of backlash is far too high. If the cultural ideals are well represented, then the good part of man’s nature will be nourished and thereby flourish throughout society.

But often rulers fall far from the ideal they ought to represent. And worse, when this happens, they lie and double down:

The respectful do not despise others. The economical do not plunder others. The prince who treats men with despite and plunders them, is only afraid that they may not prove obedient to him:—how can he be regarded as respectful or economical? How can respectfulness and economy be made out of tones of the voice and a smiling manner? (Book IV part I, Chap XVI)

. . . when the superior men of old had errors, they reformed them. The superior men of the present time, when they have errors, persist in them. The errors of the superior men of old were like eclipses of the sun and moon. All the people witnessed them, and when they had reformed them, all the people looked up to them with their former admiration, But do the superior men of the present day only persist in their errors? They go on to raise apologizing discussions about them likewise. (Book II part II, Chap IX, para 4)

Anciently, men of virtue and talents by means of their own enlightenment made others enlightened. Nowadays, it is tried, while they are themselves in darkness, and by means of that darkness, to make others enlightened. (Book VII part II, Chap XX)

Aside from those whose egos are too fragile to afford correction, there are those whose sympathies stretch too far. This is a case of excess benevolence and deficient sense of propriety and justice. In the modern era, this error is perhaps even more rife than the pandemic of two-faced, oil-salesmen politicians and academics. It is the continual lowering of standards in order to produce “fairer,” more equitable outcomes. Mencius does not parse his words when criticizing this mistake. Instead, he recognizes:

A great artificer does not, for the sake of a stupid workman, alter or do away with the marking line. (Book VII part I, Chap XLI, para 2)

A carpenter or a carriage maker may give a man a circle and square, but cannot make him skillful in the use of them. (Book VII part II, Chap V)

The disastrous results of an excess of benevolence is in fact a deficiency the very virtue applied to the people it was meant to help:

Benevolence subdues its opposite just as water subdues fire. Those, however, who nowadays practice benevolence do it as if with one cup of water they could save a whole wagonload of fuel which was on fire, and when the flames were not extinguished, were to say, that water cannot subdue fire. This conduct, moreover, greatly encourages those who are not benevolent.
The final issue will simply be this—the loss of that small amount of benevolence. (Book VI part I, Chap XVIII, para 1-2)

And more is lost than solely benevolence. When one is ill prepared for the world but is fooled by easy admission into positions of independence—let alone a position in which others are dependent on him!—his inevitable failures are likely to leave him despondent and ill-disposed to muster the courage to make the next, necessary nine attempts before he can even see a chance of success on the horizon. Thus is a man’s motivation crushed, for:

A man with definite aims to be accomplished may be compared to one digging a well. To dig the well to a depth of seventy-two cubits, and stop without reaching the spring, is after all throwing away the well. (Book VII part I, Chap XXIX)

He who stops short where stopping is not allowable will stop short in everything. (Book VII part I, Chap XLIV, para 1)

The parallels to modernity are disheartening, however, that fact suggests good as well as bad. As mentioned, the Confucian ideal will not and has never been manifested in ancient China where its cultural peculiars apply, nor will it in the west. But that also means that the problems of the past and the present are not so different, even half a world away. Just as it is true that whole families will never be in perfect harmony, it is true that many social ills are born from familial disharmony at present. That means that the Confucian solutions are real, even if they won’t work for most people. They may very well work for you, and your loved ones, and maybe even your local community if you, reader, can cultivate enough character to bear the responsibility of speaking and acting with sincerity and benevolence. If you can fulfill your duties to those people who count on you, then maybe the virtue will spread as Confucius and Mencius suggest. Maybe you’ll have risen to the occasion by the time the occasion arrives to meet you. Maybe then you can be a pillar to your community, to your friends, to your family. Maybe then you could be a superior man.

Confucius and Mencius. The Four Books; The Great Learning, The Doctrine of the Mean, Confucian Analects, and The Works of Mencius, translated by James Legge, Andesite Press, an imprint of Creative Media Partners.