Stephen C. Angle

This issue of Contemporary Chinese Thought is devoted to recent mainland Chinese Confucian philosophizing, and especially to arguments about what “Mainland New Confucianism” signifies that were prompted by somewhat dismissive remarks about Mainland New Confucianism by the noted Taiwanese scholar Li Minghui in early 2015. This introduction begins by summarizing some of the challenges Confucianism has encountered in the twentieth century and also the rise of New Confucianism. It next turns to the emergence of Mainland New Confucianism as a distinct and controversial phenomenon, arguing that after an initial stage (characterized here as its “infancy”), Mainland New Confucianism has now entered a somewhat more diverse and mature stage (its “adolescence”) in which Jiang Qing plays less of an important role. After overviews of each of the essays included in this issue and summaries of some of key terms in which the debates are carried out, the introduction concludes by reflecting on the place of Confucianism within contemporary East Asia.

Confucius (551–479 BCE) is the Latinized name of Kong Qiu, best known in Chinese as Kongzi (Master Kong). Only partially successful in his public career, Confucius' private teaching inaugurated an era of reflectiveness and helped to define core elements of Chinese civilization. Subsequent generations of students built on his initial formulations to develop one of the world's great philosophical traditions, which in English we call “Confucianism”; various terms are used in Chinese, including Ru jia (the Scholars' School) and Dao xue (the Learning of the Way). While later Confucian thinkers would develop elaborate frameworks of metaphysics, mind, and epistemology, Confucius' own teachings concentrated on ethics, politics, social values, and personal improvement. These teachings and the key terms in which they are phrased remained touchstones for the tradition ever after, and the Confucian tradition became absolutely central to what it meant to be Chinese. Given the scope of China and its civilization, it is no exaggeration to say that Confucius is among the most influential of humanity's thinkers.

The past decade has seen a vigorous discussion of human rights both within China and between China and other nations. It is easy to think of China as a latecomer to human rights discourse, in part because during most of the post-1949 period, rights and human rights were taboo subjects in the People's Republic. In fact, however, there was a rich and contested debate on rights throughout the first half of this century. By translating the most important pre-1949 essays on rights and human rights, we aim to reintroduce themes from this forgotten discourse into contemporary debates. These essays show that the discussion of rights in China has long been motivated by indigenous concerns, rather than imposed from without, and it has been interpretive and critical, rather than passive and imitative.

Tian 天 is central to the metaphysics, cosmology, and ethics of the 800-year-long Chinese philosophical tradition we call “Neo-Confucianism,” but there is considerable confusion over what tian means—confusion which is exacerbated by its standard translation into English as “Heaven.” This essay analyzes the meaning of tian in the works of the most influential Neo-Confucian, Zhu Xi 朱熹, presents a coherent interpretation that unifies the disparate aspects of the term’s meaning, and argues that “cosmos” does an excellent job of capturing this meaning and therefore should be adopted as our translation of tian.

On February 14, 2017, Joseph Chan and Stephen Angle convened a Roundtable on the Future of Confucian Political Philosophy at the University of Hong Kong. Eight invited speakers each offered thoughts on the main topic, followed by discussion among the panelists and responses to questions from the audience. This transcript has been reviewed and edited by the main participants. Much of the discussion revolves around the relations and tensions between Confucian political philosophy as academic theory-construction and the lived realities of citizens in the modern world, especially in East Asia. How is Confucian theorizing connected to Confucian activism? Another central concern is democracy—as value or as institution, as necessary in pluralistic societies or as problematic monopolizer of political discourse. We also discuss translation, republicanism, meritocracy, the proposals of Jiang Qing and Daniel Bell, and the role of Confucianism in China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and South Korea.

Danielle Macbeth has two principal goals in "The Place of Philosophy": to diagnose the plight of contemporary Western—and especially analytic—philosophy, and to argue for an alternative conception of philosophy's role, according to which engagement with its history and with the philosophies of other cultures becomes crucial. I have a great deal of sympathy with both halves of her project, and feel I have learned a considerable amount from her essay. As Macbeth herself emphasizes, though, the a priori and dialectical nature of philosophy urges readers to see for themselves whether a given work of philosophy is fully convincing, and if not, then to engage in constructive criticism. In that spirit, I propose that we...

In my dissertation I defend the intelligibility of ethical incommensurability and ethical pluralism by analyzing the persistence of Confucian values in twentieth-century China. I begin with a case study of the ethical language used by Liang Qichao, a prominent early twentieth-century Chinese thinker. Liang sought to improve Chinese ethics by stressing the importance of individuals' responsibility towards their nationality, an idea that he believed to be responsible for the flourishing of Western civilization. In the course of the case study I demonstrate that the similarities between Liang's ethical discourse and that of Niccolo Machiavelli, which others have found quite compelling, are in fact superficial. Liang's ethical language remains decidedly within the Confucian tradition. ;My next step is to show that Liang's ethical language was incommensurate with Machiavelli's. I build on Donald Davidson's semantic theory to explain that two languages are incommensurate whenever, at a particular point in time, one language cannot express some concepts of the second language. Although incommensurateness can be overcome by linguistic revision, I argue that tensions between linguistic innovation and peoples' cultural identities will limit linguistic change, and illustrate this thesis with Liang's example. ;The continuing Confucian content we see in Liang's ethical system is not the result of Liang' s misunderstanding the West nor of cultural chauvinism, but of a combination of linguistic and cultural factors that lead to persistently incommensurate ethical languages and thus to ethical pluralism. In my final chapter, I suggest that reflection on Liang's situation can give us insight into the contingency of our own ethical concepts and commitments. While ethical pluralism need not undermine our ability to make ethical judgments, I argue that it does give us reason to attempt to preserve ethical diversity by treating others with tolerance.

Neo-Confucianism is a philosophically sophisticated tradition weaving classical Confucianism together with themes from Buddhism and Daoism. It began in China around the eleventh century CE, played a leading role in East Asian cultures over the last millennium, and has had a profound influence on modern Chinese society. Based on the latest scholarship but presented in accessible language, Neo-Confucianism: A Philosophical Introduction is organized around themes that are central in Neo-Confucian philosophy, including the structure of the cosmos, human nature, ways of knowing, personal cultivation, and approaches to governance. The authors thus accomplish two things at once: they present the Neo-Confucians in their own, distinctive terms; and they enable contemporary readers to grasp what is at stake in the great Neo-Confucian debates.

I approach this encounter with Joseph Chan’s important work on Confucian perfectionism from a fundamentally sympathetic standpoint. Most basically, I agree with two of his key premises. Confucianism is more than a rich historical tradition: it is a live strand of political theory, able to criticize and contribute to our lives today. But for modern Confucianism to be plausible and attractive, it must find a way to embrace the idea of limited government or constitutionalism in a deeper fashion than it did historically. There are many other issues that Joseph covers in his book, and on many of these I am also in agreement with him. But my interest here is in the grounding of limited...

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Ritual and Reverence in Ancient China and TodayStephen C. AngleReverence: Renewing a Forgotten Virtue. By Paul Woodruff. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2001. Pp. 248.It is a sad commonplace that works in moral philosophy rarely do much to make their readers more moral. Unusually gifted classroom teachers can sometimes make a difference in students' lives, though, and now and again there appears a piece of philosophical writing that makes a similar impact. Paul Woodruff has written an extraordinary book that has a chance of joining this select company. Reverence: Renewing a Forgotten Virtue wears its scholarship and philosophy lightly; in addition to lucid exposition and argument, it employs anecdotes, readings of a range of poems, and in one chapter a question-and-answer format in order to engage readers in the very real, very contemporary concerns that motivate the book. Woodruff believes that we have largely forgotten how to talk about reverence, even though its practice has not disappeared, so his sources for the theory of reverence are largely ancient-both Greek (his specialty) and Chinese. He weaves together classical text and contemporary issue in masterful fashion, producing a book that is both philosophically challenging and potentially transformative. I will comment mainly on its philosophical themes, but I urge one and all to experience the book's power.Reverence, says Woodruff, is a virtue: indeed, one of the most important of virtues. It is the "well-developed capacity to have the feelings of awe, respect, and shame when these are the right feelings to have" (p. 8). He characterizes the "belief in human imperfection" as the "central belief of reverence" (p. 199), and this makes sense, even though reverence is not primarily about beliefs. The idea that we are limited or imperfect informs each of the three feelings through which reverence is expressed. It is easy to see how this works with awe, but respect and shame are more complicated, requiring further discussion below. Woodruff offers the following initial formulation of the interrelationship among the three:Reverence begins in a deep understanding of human limitations; from this grows the capacity to be in awe of whatever we believe to be outside our control—God, truth, justice, nature, even death. The capacity for awe, as it grows, brings with it the capacity for respecting human beings, flaws and all. This in turn fosters the ability to be ashamed when we show moral flaws exceeding the normal human allotment,(p. 3)He continues by saying that this syndrome was recognized by the Greeks before Plato, and that "the immediate followers of Confucius thought much the same." [End Page 471]Woodruff's tying of reverence to specific thinkers immediately makes one wonder what word or words he is translating as reverence, if it was known in Greece and China. Comparative philosophers will also ponder the words "much the same": is there really a single virtue called "reverence" that, without our previously realizing it, can be found in both the Greek and Chinese traditions? Or are there two, more loosely related, ideas?Woodruff's answer is that there is a single virtue, but that it is realized and theorized somewhat differently in different contexts. Indeed, he does not insist that the concept of reverence that he finds in ancient Confucianism is the only Confucian concept of reverence. He relies only on the Analects and Mencius as sources, and readily acknowledges that his picture is partial and simplified (p. 230). He makes similar qualifications with respect to his Greek sources. His "reverence," then, is in the first instance a rational reconstruction built upon the ideas/terms of different traditions as well as his own philosophical reasoning. In the Greek case, he says that the concept he is exploring is "named both by hosiotēs and its near synonym eusebia, which is frequently translated as 'piety'" (pp. 225-226). Once we know this, it is easy to see that his topic was discussed in Greek texts and to ask how these texts fit the awe-respect-shame schema he has identified.Rather than pursue this topic—on which see particularly Woodruff's chapter 5—I am going to spend some time...

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Concepts, Communication, and the Relevance of Philosophy to Human Rights:A Response to Randall PeerenboomStephen C. AngleRandy Peerenboom has paid me the enormous compliment of thinking it worthwhile to engage in sustained, critical dialogue with my book. In this response to his review essay, I attempt to return the compliment. I focus on issues surrounding concepts and communication, since that is where Peerenboom puts his emphasis. Near the end, I look at what is at stake in our discussions of Raz, touch on the question of judgments and objectivity, and close with some thoughts about the relevance of history to my goals in the book. [End Page 320]At the heart of Peerenboom's critique of my account of concepts and communication are two concerns. First, he worries that I do not "provide a satisfactory answer to the questions of how to determine whether we are dealing with a single concept or discourse or multiple concepts or discourses." Second, he suggests that my entire discussion of concepts, "while interesting academically, at least for those with a taste for philosophy, diverts attention from the real issues." I will begin with the first. A valuable result of Peerenboom's essay is that it helps me to see where I have not made myself as clear as I would have liked to. At various points in the book, I raise the issue of the normative nature of questions like those Peerenboom has posed (see, e.g., pp. 27 and 32), but this is clearly something that needs more emphasis. Asking what a word means, or whether two people share a concept, or, for that matter, where the boundaries of a discourse lie are never simple, descriptive questions. These are normative questions, which always receive normative answers. By "normative," I mean that the questions and their answers are prescriptive for those in my shared community. When someone says "we mean such-and-such by that word," the "we" is crucial: it is saying that people like us, in some respect, ought to talk this way. Thinking about language in normative terms permeates Brandom's approach. He writes, for example: "When the prosecutor at Oscar Wilde's trial asked him to say under oath whether a particular passage in one of his works did or did not constitute blasphemy, Wilde replied 'Blasphemy is not one of my words.'"1 Wilde recognized, that is, that using the word "blasphemy" brought with it certain commitments that he—and other like-minded individuals—ought to reject, even if he were to deny that a particular passage was blasphemous.So far so good. But Peerenboom sees a tension between what looks like a community-based definition of concepts—perhaps all Chinese ought therefore to share the same commitments?—and my endorsement of a holistic approach to meaning, according to which our individual webs of commitments always vary from one to another. This latter idea leads him to be puzzled about when two people can ever be said to share the same concept. He searches for a criterion for a sufficiently similar concept, wonders whether my talk of "keeping score" can provide such a criterion, and in the end decides that the choice of where to draw these lines is, in many cases, arbitrary. There is indeed a tension, and some arbitrariness, too, although not exactly where Peerenboom sees it. But none of this is problematic, I think, and in any case it emerges from the very complexity of our linguistic practice. Communities do not impose norms on us: we authorize the norms through the ways we speak, act, and react to others. "Authorize" is apt because it combines the ideas of creation and legitimation. Our perpetual roles as authorizers of a community's linguistic (and other) norms give us a certain amount of autonomy with respect to the norms, as well as explaining some variance, as we (consciously or unconsciously) push boundaries in one direction or another. At the same time, no one is a member of only one community. We interact with different groups at different times and in different ways, which puts the notion that we could be bound by the norms of a single...

How important is Jiang Qing, whose extraordinary proposals for political change make up the core of the new book A Confucian Constitutional Order: How China’s Ancient Past Can Shape Its Political Future? In his Introduction to the volume, co-editor Daniel Bell maintains that Jiang’s views are “intensely controversial” and that conversations about political reform in China rarely fail to turn to Jiang’s proposals. At least in my experience, this is something of an exaggeration. Chinese political thinking today is highly pluralistic, and for many participants Jiang is simply a curiosity—if indeed they are aware of him. Still, for three reasons Jiang is very much worth our attention. First, there is a vibrant and..