A look at the traditions emerging in India and China and
considering these against the traditions of the Greeks and the Hebrews that
ultimately developed into Natural Law.
My purpose is not to demonstrate the superiority of any one vs. the
other; more so, to consider these as foundations for a culture conducive to
liberty as we have come to understand this concept in the West.
There is value in this, I believe, on many levels: is
liberty – as westerners consider the term – universal? Is it possible to build liberty – as
westerners understand the term – on other cultural foundations? These are worth considering, if for no other
reason than to develop an appreciation for the value of culture and tradition –
a specific culture and tradition – in developing and sustaining liberty.
Note: I do not say that those who do not come from a
Christian tradition cannot or will not find or value liberty as Westerners
understand the term. But if we believe
at all that the foundation matters to the long-term health of a structure, well…then
the foundation matters.
You are free to believe that the foundation of a structure
is irrelevant to the long-term health of that structure. But, then, you won’t be free for long – and I
strongly prefer that you don’t take the rest of us down with you. That others from outside of this foundation
also value the structure is a different issue entirely.
On to Armstrong: in the sixth century BC, a new philosophy
was emerging in India: Samkhya – meaning discrimination, reflection, or
discussion. This philosophy would become
extremely influential in India – almost every other school would adopt some of
its ideas. While a sixth-century sage,
Kapila, would be credited with its invention, it is not even certain that such
a person existed.
While the Greeks were oriented to the external world,
Samkhya looked within:
The supreme reality of the Samkhya
system was purusha (the “person” or “self”). …Every single human being
had his or her own individual and eternal purusha…. purusha was
impossible to define because it had no qualities that we could recognize.
It was the essence of human beings, but it was not a soul;
it had nothing to do with our mental or physical states; it had no intelligence
and no desires; our ordinary waking selves were oblivious to its existence.
The root of our unhappiness was our sense of ego, trapping
us in a false sense that had nothing to do with our eternal purusha. When we say “I,” we think we are
representing our entire being, but this being was subject to time – not
eternal; it yearned for liberation. It
was ignorance of this eternal purusha that held us back.
…sacrifice was useless. The gods were also imprisoned by nature, so
it was pointless to ask for their help.
Two important contributions to Indian spirituality were
offered: first, all life was suffering (unsatisfactory, awry). People died, became ill, lost their beauty
and vitality. The second contribution
was yoga – offered as one of India’s greatest achievements. Designed to release the purusha from
the entanglement of nature, it was a systematic assault on the ego.
To show one’s spiritual ambition, one first had to move
through a long preparation. Yogic
exercise was not permitted until an extensive moral training was mastered:
harmlessness to all of creation; stealing and lying were forbidden as were sex
and intoxicating substances.
From here, one would master the ability to sit:
straight-backed, legs crossed, completely motionless for hours at a time. Breathing must be controlled – pausing as
long as possible, such that one appeared to stop breathing altogether. Once the physical was conquered, the mental
came next: the concentration on one point, until the “I” slowly disappeared
from his thinking.
Yogins did not believe that they
were touched by a god; there was nothing supernatural about these experiences.
…these men of the Axial Age were achieving an ecstatic “stepping out” of the
norm by becoming more fully aware of their own nature.
Their nature was fully realized when the “I” and the “mine”
completely disappeared. Yet, a spiritual
vacuum would open up. Karma would
depress society: one felt doomed to one transient life after another – with
this eternal purusha moving from being to being upon the death of its
host. Even good karma couldn’t save them
– as all around they saw only pain and suffering.
Further, yoga was not available to all – demanding hours of
effort every day, and this after the countless hours necessary to achieve
mastery. Householders need not apply –
there was no time.
Meanwhile, in the mid-sixth century BC in China, Kong Qiu
came on the scene, better known to us as Confucius. China’s Axial Age was about to begin.
Confucius was incensed at the illicit performance of royal
rites:
“The Way makes no progress,” he
lamented. …As a commoner, he could not establish the dao; only a king
could do that. But he could educate a
band of holy informed men who would instruct the rulers of China in the Way and
recall them to their duty.
No solitary ascetic, Confucius was a wandering scholar who
enjoyed fine wine and a good dinner. He
did not develop his thoughts through introspection, but through conversation
with others. He is described as both
kind and brilliant.
After marveling at the somewhat
daunting attainments of the yogins, it is a relief to turn to Confucius, whose
Way, properly understood, was accessible to anybody.
For Confucius, everyone had the potential to become a fully
developed human being – this can be seen as the proper end or purpose for
humans in the Aristotelian sense. A
proper study of the Way could lead anyone to become a gentleman – a mature or
profound person. This was no longer
limited to the princes or nobility.
Confucius felt that the Way was once perfectly practiced,
but no longer. Most princes never gave
the dao a second thought – instead chasing after luxury and pursuing
their selfish ambitions.
But Confucius did not concern himself with a chase of
heaven, instead seeing the Way in terms of action in this world. Metaphysics and theological chatter were not
for him. “Till you know about the
living, how are you to know about the dead?”
Like the Indian sages, Confucius saw the ego as the source
of human pettiness and cruelty. Unlike
the Indian sages, Confucius saw that the way to overcome this was via practice
– actual practice of proper behavior toward others, and not by sitting still in
one position for hours at a time.
Confucius was looking at man’s actions toward his fellow man.
Treat others with absolute sacred respect. Start with close family, then friends, then
grow the circle and grow more circles.
He was the first, perhaps, to articulate something approaching the
Golden Rule: “Never do to others what you would not like them to do to you.” More like the Silver Rule, but still a
foundational moral precept.
Conclusion
From this limited introduction, it seems clear that the work
of these Indian sages offers an example of an inward focus – the end result
might be a peaceful community if enough people choose this life, but the entire
focus was internal: man was the means through which he would achieve his own
perfection. Yet if man is the standard or
measuring stick, he has already influenced the answer merely by being in the
game.
In answer to the Indian sages, Christianity offers Jesus
Christ as the measuring stick – the standard at which we are to aim –
the
Form of the Good made manifest.
Man as
the standard leaves room for manipulation and control.
Confucius, on the other hand, offered the Way – something
similar to what we know as Natural Law, committed to other-considering behavior.
C.
S. Lewis makes this point clearly.
Yet Confucius was missing something: an answer to the question
“Why?
On whose authority?”
In answer to Confucius, Christianity offers two concepts: man
is made in God’s image; this answers the why.
Jesus came as the Form of the Good made manifest; this answers on whose authority. This combination of concepts are found in no
other tradition or religion. Without these
as unquestioned foundations, any concept of liberty as a westerner might
understand it is built on sand.
Posts
