Justin Tiwald

In Chinese tradition Confucianism has been always both a philosophy of moral self-cultivation for the human individual and an ideological guide for political institutional policy and governmental action. After the May 4th Movement of 1919 (WusiYundong ), Confucianism lost much of its moral appeal and political authority and entered a kind of limbo, bearing blame for the backwardness and weakening of China. Now that China has asserted its political rights among world nations, it seems natural to ask whether Confucianism as a philosophy has a modern or even postmodern role to play for building modern China and for enlightening the world. This question is even more meaningful in light of the fact that there is a genuine need felt in China for a return to its Confucian heritage and vision for purposes of sustaining societal harmonization and reconstructing cultural identity in the modern world.

This essay is a response to Yong Huang's Why Be Moral? I raise three concerns about Huang's answer to the very question "Why Be Moral?" which is the subject of the first chapter of the book. First, I suggest that the justificatory interpretation of the question is as important as the motivational one, in general and for the Cheng brothers, and that it shouldn't be dismissed as quickly as Huang dismisses it. Second, I argue that joy cannot be the direct motive for being moral, but propose that it could be (and probably is) an indirect motive, and speculate about the particular kind of indirect motive it might be. Finally, I ask whether Huang's appeal to "being human" as a motive is better understood in the Millian way or the Aristotelian way, and suggest that Mill's approach is a better fit for the Cheng brothers.

Is there evidence of constitutionalism in classical Confucian political thought? In Sungmoon Kim's book on Confucian virtue politics, he argues that that Mencius (Mengzi, fourth century BCE) and Xunzi (third century BCE) are constitutionalists in the following sense: they expressed a commitment to creating durable institutions, one of whose primary aims is to constrain the exercise of legitimate political authority and facilitate good and proper uses of political authority. But for many political thinkers, the sort of constitutionalism that really matters is the sort that entails a commitment to "constitutional remedies." Roughly, a constitutional remedy is some sanctioned means of enforcing the constraints or correcting political authorities who fail to abide by them. Moreover, it is often thought that the remedies should be entrenched – that is, widely recognized and regarded as beyond the legitimate power of the political authorities to change easily. Most decent political thinkers are constitutionalists in the the weak sense that they think there should be durable institutions that constrain abuses of power and facilitate good uses of power. Fewer go so far as to say that there should be entrenched checks and balances on that power, so that people's well-founded objections have something more than just rhetorical force against abuses of power. In this paper, I examine whether Mencius and Xunzi would qualify as constitutionalists in the robust sense that presupposes entrenched remedies. I find that Mencius has some political commitments that might make him friendlier to aristocratic remedies than to democratic ones, but that his reluctance to divide political authority among non-ideal agents makes it difficult to know whether he would accept constitutional remedies of any sort. And my findings with respect to Xunzi are similar, but a modicum more hopeful: at best, Xunzi could be stretched to underwrite some aristocratic constitutional remedies, and he seems somewhat more open to dividing power among non-ideal agents. Neither Mencius nor Xunzi were robust constitutionalists, but it is historically and philosophically informative to ask how near they came to robust constitutionalism, and in which respects they fell short of it. In the course of developing and justifying my interpretation, I call attention to two considerations in assessing an historical thinker's commitment to robust constitutionalism: first, whether the thinker invokes the threat of rebellion as a way of countenancing it or merely as a descriptive claim about likely consequences of bad governance; second, whether non-ideal political agents are empowered to check abuses of power. Only when the thinker actually countenances rebellion and allows that non-ideal political agents can check abuses can the thinker be plausibly described as a robust constitutionalist.