Confucian Hermeneutics

Until the late modern era in the West and even more recently in the East, the primary mode of philosophical and theological expression was the commentary. In the medieval commentarial tradition, ideas were expressed as both explications and extensions of accepted traditions. In contrast to scholars in the contemporary academy, where novelty is esteemed and tradition denigrated, medieval commentators characteristically allied themselves with a set of “canonical” texts. More important than developing a system was the understanding of texts; hermeneutics was the primary tool, with system-building secondary. The hermeneutical approach was seen not simply as a means to understanding a text but also to grasping reality.

In China and lands influenced by Chinese culture, the Confucian commentarial tradition is the most extensive. It has been conventional in the West to regard Confucius’ Analects as the primary, perhaps only source of Confucianism (Confucius lived 551–479 bc). But Confucius himself claimed to be a transmitter of an ancient moral and social tradition of the ru (scholar-gentleman-leader) that was manifested in the golden ages of previous dynasties: the Xia (roughly 2100–1700 bc), the Shang (1700–1027 bc) and, especially, the Zhou (the Western Zhou, which Confucius prized, 1027–771 bc; all of these dates are rough as the dynasties likely had overlapping polities, not discrete ones as traditionally conceived). Prominent dynastic leaders were emulated, including the perhaps legendary Yao, Shun, and Yu of the Xia dynasty and historical figures such as King Wen and the Duke of Zhou. Confucianism (read ruism), therefore, predates Confucius. In these dynasties and their dynastic rulers, the tradition affirms, the ideal was real. We learn of these moral exemplars in the so-called Five Classics: the Classic of Change (Yjing or I Ching), the Spring and Autumn Annals, the Classic of History (Shujing), the Classic of Poetry (Shijing), and the Record of Rites (Liji). There is little current scholarly support for the traditional belief that Confucius was the author, editor, and/or compiler of the Five Classics (the Master transforming them from a mishmash of ancient records, poems and documents into authoritative classics).

It was not until the Song dynasty (more than a millennium after the setting of the canon in the Han dynasty) that the Four Books—the Analects, the Mencius, the Doctrine of the Mean, and the Great Learning—were admitted to the Confucian canon, which previously included only the Five Classics. Thereafter, the Four Books would be elevated above the Five Classics. The Four Books would eventually become something like New Testament to the Classics Old Testament, with a similar result: the New would eclipse the Old. I dare say that precious few Chinese or Asian philosophy courses taught in America or even in China itself assign any of the Classics.

Viewing Confucius as the transmitter of tradition makes Confucius the first great Confucian commentator and the Analects the first great commentary on the Classics. Indeed, an 18th-century Chinese scholar would remark that the Analects sums up the meaning of the Classics. If this is right, we are many removes from the original tradition (kings Yao, Shun, Yu, and Wen, and the Duke of Zhou): there were the original documents (many of which were based on more primitive oral traditions), editor(s)’s redactions, and, in the Analects, Confucius’ commentary.

We might add a further level of remove: Confucius did not write the Analects; rather, the work was composed by his disciples and followers over a period of—and here estimates vary widely—20 to 400 years. In turn, these writers evidently added their own views and style to Confucius’ original views (compare the lengthy and detailed ritual instruction in Book 10 with the more characteristically terse sayings of Books 1–4). Finally, questions of authorship aside, the Analects is difficult to understand, so we need commentators to explain Confucius’ commentary on Confucianism.

During the Han Dynasty (roughly 206 bc–220 ad) under Emperor Wu (in roughly 136 bc), Confucianism became the official state ideology, and all future rulers of China would require schooling and examination in Confucianism (a sort of Platonic moral education) until the demise of dynastic China in 1912; this was Confucianism as interpreted by the scholar Dong Zhongshu (179–104 bc), so we are at a further remove from the Classics. Although the examination system ebbed and flowed throughout China’s history, in principle it sought to humanize society by inculcating in rulers the virtue of humaneness (ren, sometimes translated “benevolence”) and feelings of sympathy which are manifested in reciprocity (the converse Golden Rule: Do not do unto others what you would not want done unto you). It also sought a harmonious, hierarchical society which was rooted in filial piety, the respect and love of parents for their children and vice versa. Filial piety and fraternal love, both learned in the home, would spread from the home into proper respect and love for others in the state and finally to the four corners of the world. And the sage-king ruled only under the Mandate of Heaven, which mandate could be revoked and the dynasty overthrown should the king fail to pay heed to the needs of his people.

This is the Confucian core, but there are a great many more layers to the tradition, some that seem to be there originally, some that are merely suggested but are fully developed and emphasized by commentators, some that seem to be there originally but are removed or ignored by commentators, and some that don’t seem to be there at all but are added by commentators. And each commentator seems to have a curious penchant to make Confucius hold exactly the same beliefs as he or she holds. By the end of the 20th century—chastened by positivism, wary of theism (especially that of Christian missionaries), and scornful of essentialism—the apparently traditionalist, hierarchical, theistic, and essentialist Confucian tradition would be enthusiastically endorsed by major Sinologists as pragmatist and existentialist! One matter is clear, however, in every interpretation. Confucius remains a stubbornly fascinating character with whom the various commentators, and the whole of Asia (as well as those who wish to understand Asia), must make their reckoning.

These topics are dealt with in the three masterly books under review, which represent the recent explosion of excellent work in Sinological studies led especially by historians but followed by philosophers and religionists. John Makeham and Daniel Gardner are historians. Makeham’s monumental work, Transmitters and Creators: Chinese Commentators and Commentaries on the Analects, is the most impressive of the three, insightfully digging through millennia of ancient commentaries. Gardner’s invaluable contribution with Zhu Xi’s Reading of the Analects lies in helping us understand the relationship of Zhu Xi, perhaps China’s greatest and most systematic philosopher, to his master, Confucius. And Bryan Van Norden’s edited volume, Confucius and the Analects, is a fine collection of essays by prominent contemporary philosophers (that is, commentators) attempting to understand Confucius; their essays divide, not very neatly, into two groups: the more traditional and the more revisionist understandings of Confucius.

An early commentarial assumption was that the Confucian canon is internally consistent and jointly sufficient for all of life. Commentators assumed that beneath the apparent diversity of the texts was a single pattern (“the one thread”). The Han etymology of the term jing (translated “Classic”) is the thread that held together the bamboo strips on which texts were written, symbolically suggesting a unifying thread of meaning. But the sheer variety of genres in the canon resists a simple hermeneutic. In the Five Classics alone we find history, prehistory, post-historical reconstruction, official documents, laws, theology, poetry, divination, moralizing, legends, metaphysical speculation, social criticism, statecraft, religion, rites, and superstition. Although apparently disparate, fragmentary, and developed over a long period of time, the entire corpus was considered a comprehensive, unified and harmonious whole with one book being used to explain another book. The Classics were considered rooted in the mind of Confucius and/or the nature of the world, and when taken together contained the most important moral, social, cosmological, and historical principles.

But internal consistency creates problems. For example, consider the relationship between the central Confucian virtue ren and the prominently featured li (commonly translated “ritual,” but its meaning is clearly more broad and less religious than our understanding of ritual; li included both common etiquette and religious ritual and so might be better translated “propriety”). In the Analects we find two, apparently contradictory, understandings of this relationship: (i) Li produces ren  and (ii) Li constitutes ren. This issue is important because the former suggests that ren is concerned with one’s inner moral attitudes and feelings, while the latter holds that ren is nothing more than outer ritual activity. There are conflicting passages that seem to clearly support one view or the other, and the issue is typically resolved by the sense a commentator has for the overall thrust of the Analects; the overall thrust then gives priority to those texts which support one’s favored view, while the contrary texts are explained (away) in their light. Some harmonizers seek to synthesize these apparently disparate views in highly ingenious, often technical understandings; it is difficult to imagine the rather straightforward, unspeculative Confucius himself entertaining such interpretations.

The earliest commentators of the Han era seem more concerned with annotations and glosses on texts, while the later Song and Ming commentators are more interested in what they see as the deep moral and metaphysical principles contained in the Classics. Early commentators often simply clarified the meaning of terms and phrases in order to grasp the meaning of a passage. The compilers of the 3rd-century Collected Explanations of the Analects so feared personal bias that they were reluctant to “arbitrarily determine meaning.” They believed themselves to be, like Confucius, mere transmitters of the tradition, viewing themselves more as collectors of paraphrases than interpreters.

 Their philological work was important and perhaps necessary for a variety of reasons. First, the original pictographs of the Classics could vary wildly. The Chinese language was not unified until the reign of Emperor Qin (pronounced “Chin,” from which “China” is derived; Qin unified China and reigned 221–210 bc), long after the writing of the Classics. Second, texts were lost or fragmented. And the culture that originally informed the meanings of the terms no longer existed (nor was there any easy access to that culture). But although the editors of Collected Explanations were not given to embellishment, we should still be suspicious: they were highly selective in the commentaries they drew from, they modified texts they were unhappy with, and they had a reverential tendency to understand the sage Confucius, in spite of textual evidence to the contrary, as an infallible saint.

Later commentaries would engage in considerably more system-building, revealing the intellectual superstructure latent in the comprehensive and authoritative texts. The early middle ages in China saw the spreading influence of Buddhism. It is not surprising, then, that in order to counteract the appeal of Buddhism, some commentators would understand Confucianism along Buddhist lines or would make Confucianism metaphysically richer. In response to the decline of Confucianism and the rise of Buddhism, the Song Neoconfucians, following the Confucianism of Mencius, would be downright speculative and metaphysical. Contemporary commentators seem to fall into two groups: conservatives who attempt to be faithful to the original teachings of Confucius/Mencius even if they seem antiquated; and liberals who pick up a few themes to their liking (humaneness, for example, or sympathy) and build a “Confucianism” around those themes.

The authors of the Classics were considered sages while the authors of commentaries were accorded a lesser status. Indeed, some questioned the need for commentaries at all. During the period of Song reform, some believed the Classics to be sufficiently perspicuous for the wise reader to determine their meaning without assistance.

But if the Classics aren’t sufficiently perspicuous, interpretation is inevitable. With each successive layer of interpretation we are deeper and deeper into messy hermeneutics, relying on interpretive principles that cannot be justified directly from the texts themselves. Each commentator must make philosophical assumptions, which will inevitably shape their interpretation of the texts.

One common if debatable hermeneutical principle is to discover the author’s intentions. But with respect to the Classic and Books, we seldom know who the author was. Each text is the product of multiple authors, typically unidentified, spanning a vast array of time and circumstance. Traditionally commentators sought to skirt this issue by attributing the texts to Confucius (as speaker, author, editor, compiler, or even father or grandfather of the author); but this is no longer tenable. Even if authorship could be established, authorial intention is a difficult to discern. Because we don’t have text-independent, first-person psychological access to the author’s intentions, we can only interpret what the author said, not what the author intended (and we often say or imply things we don’t intend). Once a text is spoken or written, it takes on a life of its own independent of what the author intended.

A second common interpretive principle is to interpret a passage against its socio-political background. But, given the tremendous difficulty of dating, say, portions of the Analects, attempts to interpret a passage against its socio-political background are typically highly subjective. The meaning of the text would vary widely if it were a product of Confucius himself in the Spring and Autumn period, a disciple in the subsequent Warring States period, or a follower from the early Han period 400 years later.

By this point, Christian readers might feel the hermeneutical shoe fitting rather too snugly. The parallels between the Confucian and Christian traditions are strikingly obvious. The Classic of History resembles the historical books of the Pentateuch, the Poetry resembles the Psalms and the Song of Solomon, and the Rites are like Leviticus (there is no obvious biblical analogue to the divinatory and metaphysical Changes); the Analects bears some similarity in genre and authority to the Gospels, and the Mencius, the Great Learning, and the Mean are like Pauline epistles (Mencius’ systematic rendering of Confucianism would have as much or more influence on the Confucian tradition as did the Analects, just as some have alleged that Paul’s epistles informed Christianity more than the Gospels). And like the Confucian canon, the Bible is a book of many genres, tremendously variegated, spanning vast periods of time with portions lost to pre-history; it is multi-authored, compiled and/or edited; yet its interpreters come armed with pretensions to harmony and sufficiency. Debate over the Christian canon both assumed and precipitated difference in doctrine. Some have sought to rise above the need for interpretation with appeals to the perspicacity of Scripture (which clear view of the truth is denied to those who disagree with them).

Herein lies the problem with commentarial traditions: the canonical texts are often varied, obscure, and unspeculative. They are written in ancient languages within ancient cultures that defy easy understanding and translation. Speculators and systematizers, that is philosophers and theologians, must work with texts that underdetermine their speculations and systems; that is, the texts are compatible with a wide variety of interpretations, none of which is rationally compelled by the evidence (textual or otherwise). Like Confucians, Christians share a commitment to some core beliefs. Beyond that common core, the texts require so much human judgment that disagreement on theological matters (infant vs. adult baptism, Calvinism vs. Arminianism, classical vs. open theism, etc., etc.) seems inevitable. Yet commentators, Confucian and Christian alike, persist in the belief that they have found (or will find) that elusive one thread, the central meaning of their Holy Writ, which once discerned clarifies (or will clarify) definitively the rest of a multi-colored, richly textured textual cloth.

Kelly James Clark is professor of philosophy at Calvin College. He recently coauthored 101 Key Terms in Philosophy and Their Importance for Theology (WJK Press).

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