## 1. Is there "Metaphysics" in Chinese Philosophy?



This entire entry could be taken up with the question begged by its
title: Is there metaphysics in Chinese Philosophy? Rather than argue
for the legitimacy of my topic in the abstract, I will explicate
specific issues and positions from various Chinese philosophers,
leaving it to readers to decide how well they fit the category of
metaphysics. Nonetheless, I cannot entirely ignore the problem of
applying the term "metaphysics" so far beyond its Greek
origins, and so a few preliminary comments are
 necessary.[1]



If we designate an area of philosophical inquiry concerned with the
ultimate nature of reality--its being, origins, components, ways
of changing, and so on--there is no question that Chinese
philosophers addressed issues within this domain. The question is, do
we apply the label of "metaphysics" to philosophical
arguments within this domain, or do we reserve the label for some
specifically European approach or theory? The latter faces an obvious
problem--any definition broad enough to include all European
approaches will include some Chinese theories, just as any definition
narrow enough to exclude all Chinese approaches will exclude some
European philosophers that everyone would agree addressed metaphysics.
The choice of definitions is as much about rhetoric and power as the
facts. If "metaphysics" labels the broader domain, then
studying metaphysics involves engaging other cultures. In contrast, if
"metaphysics" labels a specifically European view, then
courses, books, and encyclopedia entries on metaphysics legitimately
exclude other cultures. Aside from the political consequences of that
exclusion, it obscures the many areas in which the traditions can be
placed in fruitful dialogue. Those factors support using an expansive
definition of metaphysics, but applying "metaphysics" to
both European and Chinese thought risks obscuring the differences
between the two. More insidiously, it erodes these differences by
presenting Chinese philosophy in European terms. That is a legitimate
worry, but I think the greater danger is in ignoring what Chinese
Philosophy might contribute to discussions of metaphysics.



If we do take Chinese Philosophy as having metaphysics, we must strive
to avoid distorting it to fit into European terms. One problem is in
selecting topics. A simple approach would be to list the main topics
in European metaphysics and then see what Chinese philosophers have to
say about them. The results would be disappointing, and this approach
would miss what is most interesting about a cross-cultural
perspective, which is its ability to raise new questions. Within this
entry, I have tried as much as possible to follow and explicate the
main issues that arose when Chinese philosophers were concerned with
the nature of reality. I have then made brief gestures toward how
these issues might connect to metaphysical problems in the European
tradition.



A second problem is with drawing boundaries. A label like
"metaphysics" refers to certain human practices at the
same time that it draws boundaries around those practices. While
Chinese philosophers engaged in the kinds of practices that
metaphysics refers to, they did not draw the same boundaries.
Isolating metaphysical inquiry from practices of self-cultivation, for
example, would have struck almost any Chinese philosopher as odd, if
not dangerous. There is no native Chinese term marking the same
boundaries as "metaphysics" in European philosophy. When
Chinese encountered the term, it was translated by way of Japanese as
*xing er shang xue* Xing Er Shang Xue ,
literally, "the study of what is above forms." "What
is above forms" had long been a central concept in Chinese
philosophy, originating in a passage from the "Xici"
commentary on the *Yi Jing* Yi Jing , the *Classic
of Changes*, which says: "What is above forms refers to the
way [*dao* Dao ]; what is below forms refers to utensils
[*qi* Qi ]" (Gao Heng 1998,
 407).[2]
 The distinction between what is above forms and what is below forms
has a vague resemblance to the distinction between metaphysics and
physics, but it is more specific (Zheng 2017; R. Wang 2015). The
contrast is between the formed and the formless. Both were taken to be
immanent in the world. They are two aspects of the processes of nature
and would not be taken as distinct areas of inquiry. The implications
of this view will appear across a range of metaphysical issues.


## 2. Proto-Metaphysical Background: The Mandate of Heaven



As far as we know, explicit metaphysical discussions began in China in
the mid to late 4th century BCE with the *Laozi*
(*Daodejing*) and associated texts. Before that, the two
dominant philosophical movements were the Mohists and the Confucians
(Ru). Both focused on political and ethical issues and showed little
direct concern with metaphysical questions, but their discussions of
the divine set the context for the emergence of metaphysical
debates.



The two most relevant concepts are *tian* Tian  (heaven) and
*ming* Ming  (the command; fate). The idea of
*tianming* Tian Ming  (the "Mandate of
Heaven") first came to prominence in rationalizing the conquest
of the Shang dynasty by King Wen and King Wu, who founded the Zhou
dynasty in the eleventh century BCE. Heaven is described in
anthropomorphic terms as having awareness, preferences, and values.
Its most fundamental concern is for the people, as expressed in a
famous line from the "Great Declaration" chapter of the
*Book of Documents* (*Shangshu* Shang Shu ):
"Heaven sees from where my people see; heaven hears from where
my people hear" (quoted from *Mengzi* 5A5). As a
political doctrine, the claim is that heaven will support rulers who
help the people and will bring disaster on rulers who do not. On this
view, the world works on consistent patterns that encompass ethical
and political concerns. Human beings determine their own success or
failure based on these patterns rather than depending on divine whim.
The emergence of this view is commonly seen as a decisive moment in
the formation of Chinese philosophy.



While heaven is presented as willful and anthropomorphic in the early
parts of the *Shangshu* Shang Shu , it was not
transcendent in the sense of being external to the system of nature.
The term *tian* simultaneously refers to the sky, the orderly
movement of the heavens, and something that covers all things equally.
The classical Chinese word for the "world" or
"realm" is literally what is "under-heaven",
*tianxia* Tian Xia . Since the actions of heaven occur
through the world, the two are often difficult to distinguish. The
primary expression of heaven's will is through human
actions--to lose heaven's mandate is to lose their support.
The eventual transition in conceptions of heaven from a willful deity
to the causal patterns of nature was possible because heaven was never
separate from those patterns. Debates were about the nature of heaven
rather than its existence, and heaven remained a central term for
philosophers holding widely different viewpoints.



The belief that heaven supported good rulers and punished the bad came
into question as the Zhou dynasty fell apart. Something like the
classical problem of evil arose as centuries of civil war and disaster
made it difficult to believe that the world was structured along
ethical lines (Perkins 2014). Three responses to this crisis can be
distinguished. One, exemplified by the Mohists, defended and theorized
the earlier view that heaven rewarded those who are good, defined as
those who care inclusively for other people. The second emphasized
that good and bad events come without reason and without concern for
justice. This view was associated with a new meaning for
*ming*, taking it not as a command but as something more like
blind fate. The third position argued for the regularity of natural
patterns but took those patterns as amoral. On this view, human beings
remain in control of their fate, but what brings success is not
ethical action, at least in a conventional sense. Versions of this
view appears in the *Laozi* and in theories arising from
practical arts like medicine or military strategy. While expressed in
different ways in different times, the belief that nature follows
consistent patterns that can guide human action became a dominant view
across Chinese philosophies, while the relationship between these
patterns and humanistic values became one of the main points of
dispute.


## 3. The Cosmogonic Turn



Sometime probably in the middle of the fourth century BCE, a radical
shift in vocabulary, concerns, and visions of the human took
 place.[3]
 This new position has long been known from the *Laozi*, but
recent archaeological discoveries show that the *Laozi* was
just one of a number of positions that together constitute what we
might call "a cosmogonic
 turn."[4]
 These texts are the first we know of to directly question how the
diverse things of the world arise and take form. This concern seems to
have been bound up with de-centering and de-privileging human beings.
As the *Zhuangzi* puts it:



> 
> 
> In stating the number of things we say there are "ten
> thousand," and human beings are just one of them. [...] In
> comparison with the ten-thousand things, [human beings] are not even
> like the tip of a hair to the body of a horse. (Guo 1978, 17: 564; cf.
> Ziporyn 2009: 69)
> 
> 
> 



This break with anthropocentrism went along with a shift away from
humanistic values like rightness (*yi* Yi ) or ritual
propriety (*li* Li ) and toward concerns with maintaining
life, reducing desires, and acting spontaneously.



These cosmogonies share the following four assumptions:


1. The diverse things of the world ultimately trace back to a single
source.
2. The generation of things happens spontaneously, without design or
purpose.
3. The ultimate is immanent in the world and can be accessed in some
way.
4. Between the ultimate and the myriad concrete things, there are
intermediary steps, particularly a role for polarities and cyclical
patterns.



Almost every example of cosmogonic thinking in Chinese philosophy
shares these characteristics, so I will discuss each in some
detail.


### 3.1 Monism



All Chinese thinkers who discussed ultimate origins took that origin
to be unique. The best known name for this source is *dao*
Dao , which means path, way, or guide. Another important name is
*taiji* Tai Ji , the "supreme
 polarity."[5]
 The term *taiji* appears in the *Yi Jing* as the
original unity from which *yin* and *yang* emerge. It
remained an important term, particularly during the Confucian revival
in the Song dynasty. Positing a single source had a decisive influence
on Chinese thought, as it implies an underlying unity and connection
that easily threatens differentiation and division (for the
implications of this idea of oneness, see Ivanhoe 2017 and Ivanhoe et.
al. 2018). One of the most persistent metaphysical concerns is the
ontological status of difference and individuation (see Kwok 2016;
Perkins 2015; Chai 2014a; Ziporyn 2013; Sim 2011; Fraser 2007; and Im
2007). This orientation is the opposite of that in philosophies based
on dualisms or ontologically independent substances, views that were
dominant through most of European intellectual history. We can say
that European metaphysics has tended to focus on *problems of
reconciliation* (how ontologically distinct things can interact),
while Chinese metaphysics has been more concerned with *problems of
distinction* (what grounds individuation).



There is some ambiguity in saying that the ultimate origin is one.
Chapter 42 of the *Laozi* says that "the one"
(*yi* Yi ) generates two, which generates three and then
the myriad things, but claims that the one itself is not ultimate. It
is generated from *dao*. Chapter 40 says that things are born
from being [*you* You ], but being is generated from
no-being [*wu* Wu ]. This reflects one of the earliest
metaphysical debates--is this unitary origin a thing? There seems
to have been advocates for each side, but the view that came to
dominate is given as a principle in the *Zhuangzi*: "what
things things is not itself a thing" (*wuwuzhe feiwu*
Wu Wu Zhe Fei Wu ) (Guo 1978, 22: 763; cf.
Ziporyn 2009: 91).



The terms *you* You  and *wu* Wu  are among the
most important metaphysical terms in the Chinese tradition (see Jing
Liu 2017; Chai 2014b; B. Wang 2011; Cheng 2009; Bai 2008; and the
essays in Liu and Berger 2014). They are often translated as
"being" and "non-being", but *wu*
refers not to radical nothingness but to the lack of differentiated
beings. Thus in the context of the *Laozi*, Hans-Georg Moeller
(2007) translates the two terms as "presence" and
"non-presence", Roger T. Ames and David L. Hall (2003)
translate them as "determinate" and
"indeterminate", and Brook Ziporyn (2014) as
"being-there" and "not-being-there".



Taking the ultimate as no-thing places it at or beyond the limits of
language. How to speak of the ultimate without making it into an
object or thing became another persistent philosophical issue. The
*Zhuangzi* points out that as soon as you label something, even
as no-being (*wu*), it becomes a thing that needs its own
explanation:



> 
> 
> There is being, there is no-being, there is not yet beginning to be
> no-being, there is not yet beginning to be not yet beginning to be
> no-being. (Guo 1978, 2: 79; cf. Ziporyn 2009: 15)
> 
> 
> 



This dialectic between being and no-being was later taken up in a
different form through Buddhist debates about emptiness, and it can be
considered one of the central metaphysical problems throughout the
Chinese philosophical tradition.


### 3.2 Spontaneous Generation



If we take no-being as indeterminacy, then the problem of a first
cause is not getting many from one nor getting something from nothing
but rather how differentiation emerges from the undifferentiated. The
common explanation appeals to another key metaphysical
concept--*ziran* Zi Ran . The character
*zi* Zi  is a reflexive pronoun, and *ran* Ran 
means to be in a certain way. Thus *ziran* means to be
so-of-oneself or to be "self-so" (for a thorough
discussion, see Bruya 2022). *Ziran* excludes appeals to
purpose, deliberation or design, and the rise of the term paralleled a
displacement of heaven by terms such as *dao*. Using
*ziran* to explain how things arise may seem like an evasion,
not much different from replying, "that's just how it
is." If we are to avoid an infinite regress of causes, though,
the only possibility is to stop at something that just is the way it
is from its own being. The role of *ziran* (self-so) is similar
to the role of *causa sui* (self-caused) in European
philosophy. While classical European metaphysics attempts to isolate
self-causality in a transcendent God, the Chinese took it as the very
nature of existence. In this approach, there are similarities with
Spinoza's identification of being and *conatus*
(striving) and even with Nietzsche's "will to
power".



Two important points follow. First, existence is seen not in terms of
abstract being but rather as *sheng* Sheng : life, growth,
birth, vitality. The fundamental role of *sheng* appears
explicitly in the "Xici" commentary on the *Yi
Jing*, which says that the foundation of the *Changes* is
*shengsheng*, "generating and generating",
"growing and growing", "living and living", or
"*natura naturans*" (Gao Heng 1998: 388). This
phrase inspired the famous description of nature as *shengsheng
buxi* Sheng Sheng Bu Xi : generating, generating,
never ceasing! It is sometimes said that Chinese philosophy lacks
ontology (and thus metaphysics) because philosophers were never
concerned with being as such. It is more accurate to say that Chinese
philosophers took dynamic organization as implicit in the very nature
of being, rather than positing an external source for motion and
order. This means that ontology is also cosmology, even biology.



Second, if spontaneous generation is the very nature of being, then
one can legitimately attribute *ziran* to both the ultimate and
to things themselves. Chapter 25 of the *Laozi* says,
"Human beings follow earth, earth follows heaven, heaven follows
*dao*, *dao* follows *ziran*", but chapter
64 speaks of "the *ziran* of the myriad things",
and in chapter 17, the people refer to their own *ziran*. This
immanence contrasts with the common division between God as
self-caused and everything else as caused by God, a view which
ultimately sees being as divided into two fundamentally different
kinds. In employing a univocal conception of being as *sheng*,
Chinese philosophies did not segregate self-generation from the
world.


### 3.3 Immanence



The third common point is that the ultimate is immanent in the world.
Verbs in classical Chinese are not modified for tense, and this
introduces a fundamental ambiguity into all of these
cosmogonies--while they can be read as describing something that
happened in the past, they can just as well describe an ongoing
process in which the generative function is always present. In one
passage, Zhuangzi is asked where *dao* is and he replies that
there is no place from which *dao* is absent. Pushed to give an
example, he says *dao* is in ants and crickets. When asked to
go lower, Zhuangzi says *dao* is in weeds, broken tiles, and
even in piss and dung (Guo 1978, 22: 750; cf. Ziporyn 2009: 89).
Similar statements would later be made about Buddha-nature,
particularly in the tradition of Chan Chan  (Zen) Buddhism. The
immanence of the source is demonstrated most of all by the fact that
it remains accessible to cultivated people. In the *Laozi*,
*dao* is something one can use in the world:



> 
> 
> *Dao* is constantly without name. Although in its unhewn
> simplicity it is minute, heaven and earth do not dare subordinate it.
> If princes and kings can preserve it, the ten thousand things will
> make themselves their guests. (Ch 32)
> 
> 
> 



It is difficult to find the right language to describe the
relationship between *dao* and human beings. The *dao*
is not external and it is not an object that could be grasped, so it
is not a matter of getting or reaching it. Since the self-so
spontaneity to which *dao* refers is always present, what is
required is a negative process of removing obstacles. *Ziran*
is what remains if we free ourselves from striving and conventional
goals. Thus this same process is described as *wuwei*
Wu Wei , which literally means "lacking action"
but refers to giving up actions that are coercive, effortful, or
forced. The *Zhuangzi* describes this process as the
"fasting of the heart/mind" (*xinzhai*
Xin Zhai ), which allows us to rely directly on vital energy
(*qi*) and respond spontaneously to whatever appears before us
(Guo 1978, 4: 147; cf. Ziporyn 2009: 26).


### 3.4 Polarity and Cycles



All of the cosmogonies posit stages between the ultimate and the
concrete myriad things of the world. If the ultimate ground of things
is immanent rather than teleological, then concrete things must be
explained through a gradual process of spontaneous differentiation.
Having a series of stages also allows for degrees of differentiation
within a connected whole. That provides an explanation not just for
things, but also for nature as a system.



The most common stage involves interaction between two forces. These
polar forces could be specified in many ways--heaven and earth,
hot and cold, dry and moist--but the pair that came to dominate
is *yin* Yin  and *yang*Yang . (For a thorough
study of *yin* and *yang*, see R. Wang 2012.)
*Yang* originally referred to the south side of a mountain,
which received the sun, while *yin* referred to the north side.
Ultimately, *yang* was associated with the masculine, the
forceful, and the bright, while *yin* was associated with the
feminine, the yielding, and the obscure. Creativity followed from the
interaction of *yin* and *yang*, analogous to sexual
reproduction.



All of the cosmogonies include cycles and processes of return. One
prominent model was the four seasons. The change of seasons places
cycles of growth and decay into a broader context of continuous
vitality. The change of seasons itself, though, was seen as expressing
a more fundamental cycle between poles such as *yin* and
*yang*. Cyclical change could also be theorized through the
progressions of generation (*sheng* Sheng ) or overcoming
(*ke* Ke ) among the five phases (*wuxing*
Wu Xing ): wood, earth, fire, water, and metal. Another
version of this cycling between poles was the claim that when
processes reach an extreme, they reverse. Yet another manifestation is
that things emerge from a common source and ultimately return to that
source. In all of these cases, cyclicality explains the sustainability
and predictability of natural patterns.


## 4. Impartiality and Differentiation



No pre-Buddhist Chinese philosophers claimed that the qualitatively
differentiated world we experience is an illusion, but their monistic
metaphysics privileged connectedness and unity. While patterns of
*differentiation* may be objective, *individuation*
(i.e., what counts as a thing) is provisional and contextual. It is
always possible to view all things as forming one whole or one body,
and this unity tends toward equalizing things. From our contextual
point of view, one thing can be said to be bigger, better, or more
beautiful than another, but from a broader perspective all things have
the same status as parts of a single body. This could lead toward
skepticism of absolute values (as in the *Zhuangzi*) or toward
an imperative to care for all things. Hui Shi (c. 380-305 BCE)
is reported to have said: "Care overflowingly for all the myriad
things; heaven and earth form one body [*yiti*
Yi Ti ]" (Guo 1978, 33: 1102; Ziporyn 2009: 124). This
can be seen as a radicalization of the Mohist claim that heaven
generates all human beings and thus cares for them all equally, a
point rooted in the early Zhou view of heaven as protecting the
people. A progression toward more and more radical impartiality is
mapped out in a passage from the *Lushi chunqiu*
Lu Shi Chun Qiu , a text compiled around 239 BCE. The
passage begins with a statement of nature's impartiality:



> 
> 
> The world is not one person's world but the world's world.
> The harmony of *yinyang* does not grow just one type. Sweet dew
> and timely rain are not partial to one thing. The birth of the myriad
> peoples does not favor one person.
> 
> 
> 



This is followed by story contrasting Kongzi (Confucius) and Lao Dan
(Laozi):



> 
> 
> A person of Jing lost a bow and was not willing to search for it,
> saying, "A person of Jing lost it, a person of Jing will find
> it, so why search?" Kongzi heard this and said, "If you
> leave out 'Jing,' then it is acceptable". Lao Dan
> heard it and said, "If you leave out 'person,' then
> it is acceptable." Thus it was Lao Dan who reached the utmost
> impartiality. (Chen Qiyou 1984, 1/4:
>  45)[6]
> 
> 
> 



The level of impartiality attributed to Laozi eliminates the
possibility of loss, leading to equanimity.



As the reference to Kongzi suggests, this tendency toward inclusivity
threatened the humanistic ethics of the Confucians. Their main
response addressed a gap in the cosmogonies exemplified by the
*Laozi*. These cosmogonies explained the dynamism inherent in
particular things and the broader patterns of nature, but they did not
address the differences between kinds of things--what makes human
beings differ consistently from dogs? The concept that arose to fill
this gap and to justify Confucian humanism is *xing* Xing .
*Xing* is most often translated as the "nature" of
a thing or kind of thing, but it refers specifically to the way a
thing responds spontaneously to its environment. In human beings,
*xing* manifests itself primarily as desires and emotions,
broadly labeled as *qing* Qing  (genuine affects). One of
the key questions debated by the Confucians was the degree to which
ethical concerns like care, respect, and shame were embedded in these
natural spontaneous affects.



*Xing* became a foundation for theories of motivation but its
roots are in metaphysics. *Xing* derives from heaven and is
closely connected to *sheng* Sheng , the term meaning to live
or generate. *Xing* moves from the generic creativity or
vitality of nature to the specific life processes of kinds of things.
More concretely, *xing* was conceptualized as the dynamic flow
of *qi* (vital energy). One recently discovered text from the
late 4th century BCE (known as the *Xing zi ming
chu* Xing Zi Ming Chu ) brings these levels
together:



> 
> 
> Although all human beings have *xing*, the heart lacks a stable
> resolve. It awaits things and then stirs, awaits being pleased and
> then acts, awaits practice and then stabilizes. The vital energies
> (*qi* Qi ) of pleasure, anger, grief, and sadness are
> *xing*. Their appearing on the outside is because things
> stimulate them. *Xing* comes out from what is allotted
> (*ming*) and what is allotted comes down from heaven
> (*tian*). (S. Cook 2012, 697-700, slips 1-3).
> 
> 
> 



The term *qi*, translated here as "vital energy",
is already well known in English. It was originally taken as one of
several kinds of stuff, connected with air and breath, but it
eventually became the dominant label for the basic stuff of the world,
used to explain all kinds of dynamic processes, from the formation of
heaven and earth to patterns of weather to the processes of the human
 heart.[7]
 It was closely connected with life and the generative power of
nature. In this passage, human affects (including desires and a
tendency to approve or disapprove) are the movement of this
*qi* when stimulated by events in the world. This is part of
the Confucian response to the focus on *wuwei* and reducing
desires in texts like the *Laozi* and
*Zhuangzi*--affects like sorrow and care arise
spontaneously, by *ziran*. They are as natural for human beings
as it is for water to flow downward or for trees to grow toward the
sun.



It may seem that this topic has drifted from metaphysics into ethics,
but human actions are not different in kind from the movements of
other things in the world, and human motivation expresses the tendency
toward growth inherent in the very nature of existence. The use of
*xing* and *ziran* in relation to motivation differs
from the concerns around free will in almost every way, but they all
arise as ways of explaining how human choices relate to the forces
driving change in the rest of the natural world, or even how human
choices relate to the very nature of being. In this way, they unite
metaphysics and ethics.



Beyond its role in explaining motivation, *xing* helps explain
the organization of the world into individuals and kinds. In a series
of passages arguing with a rival named Gaozi, Mengzi shows that
whatever would explain the natures of things must have its own
dynamism and directionality, and it must explain the specific
differences between kinds of things (6A1-3). On the one side,
*xing* differentiates things in terms of coherent patterns of
force, providing a contextual and provisional basis for individuation.
One can refer to the *xing* of a human being but also the
*xing* of the human mouth (6A7), to the *xing* of a
mountain ecosystem (6A8) or the *xing* of a single tree (6A1).
On the other side, *xing* was generally used as a species
concept--things of the same kind have the same *xing*.
Mengzi's ethical philosophy is based on his belief that human
beings share certain ways of responding to the world, all having the
same *xing*. The status of species, though, was a point of
controversy, linked to the question of whether or not all human beings
could be held to the same standards. A more radical line of thought
took each individual as having its own unique *xing*, a view
rooted in parts of the *Zhuangzi* and developed later by Guo
Xiang (?-312 CE) (Chiu forthcoming).


## 5. Correlative Cosmology



Near the end of the Warring States Period, new assumptions about
cosmology and metaphysics appeared that dominated the Han dynasty and
profoundly influenced the development of Chinese thought. This new
view has come to be known as "correlative cosmology," but
it was not a single cosmology as much as several cosmological
principles (Brindley 2012,
 2-3).[8]
 Its core elements are various schema for sorting phenomena into kinds
(*lei* Lei ) and a theory of causality based on stimulus
and response (*ganying* Gan Ying ). These elements
appear together in a paradigmatic statement from the *Lushi
chunqiu*:



> 
> 
> Things of the same kind summon each other, those with the same vital
> energy join together, and sounds that match resonate. Thus if you
> strum a *gong* note other *gong* will resonate; if you
> strum a *jue* note other *jue* will vibrate. Use a
> dragon to bring rain; use the form to move the shadow. The masses of
> people think that fortune and misfortune come from fate
> [*ming*]. How could they know from where they truly come! (Chen
> Qiyou 1984, 20/4: 1369)
> 
> 
> 



The categories used could be more or less specific, so on one side
might be "human being" or "animal" while on
the most general side all things could be classified as either
*yin* or *yang*. Another of the most common categories
were wood, earth, fire, water, and metal, known as the five phases
(*wuxing*). Yet another set were based on the *Yi Jing*,
using either the eight trigrams or sixty-four hexagrams. These systems
of categorization were eventually integrated, so that categories from
one could be translated into the others. Given the underlying ontology
of change and process, categorization is not based on inherent
qualities or essences but on typical ways of acting and
reacting--does it tend to expand or contract, work gradually or
swiftly, manifest itself obviously or subtly? Since these traits are
relational, the same "thing" may not always be in the same
category (it might act like wood in one context but metal in another),
and because they are dynamic, the categories give immediate
information on how things can be controlled, directed, or diminished.
The application of the categories depends on context and the context
depends on our particular purposes, but they are meant to express real
properties of things.



Consider the use of the most general categories, *yin* and
*yang*. *Yang* labels the tendency to expand and
dominate; *yin* labels the tendency to draw things in by
yielding. Anything can be put in one of these two categories, but
*yin* and *yang* are not inherent properties. The same
thing that might be active and dominating in one relationship might be
softer and yielding in another (as is commonly the case in Chinese
medicine). The function of the labels can be compared to the way we
label cause and effect. We can designate a cause and an effect in any
change, but being a cause is not an essential property. Everything is
simultaneously the cause of many effects and the effect of many
causes. As cause and effect illustrate, even a set of binary
categories can be helpful in analyzing situations, and
*yinyang* could be specified in various ways. In the *Yi
Jing*, lines representing either *yin* (a divided line) or
*yang* (a straight line) can be combined into groups of three
to form eight trigrams, or groups of six to form 64 categories. Each
of these lines could be taken as more or less stable, leading to 4096
possible situations.



The conception of causality at work here has come to be labeled with
the Chinese phrase *ganying* Gan Ying , "stimulus
and response". This way of approaching causality reflects the
fact that existence is inherently active and dynamic: nothing is
purely passive or inert. The effects of a stimulus depend on the
receptive and responsive capacities of the thing stimulated. One
common model for *ganying* was resonance, as in the quotation
above where the vibrations of one string stimulate vibrations in
strings tuned to the same note.



The final element is the role of correlations. To place phenomena in
the same category is to situate them as having similar functions in
analogous configurations. To be *yin* is to have a relationship
to something that is *yang*, to be wood-like is to stand in
certain relationships to fire, metal, earth, and water. This way of
categorizing allows correlations across what would seem to be very
different kinds of things. For example, an illness that is
*yang* (expansive or overactive) can be treated with foods that
are *yin* (receptive or calming). This kind of thinking is
rooted in a concern for acting in harmony with natural patterns, going
back to the concept of *shi* Shi , which refers to the
seasons, to the temporal configuration of a given moment, and to the
ability to act according to the demands of that moment (Sellman 2002).
These correlations were based on empirical observations, but as the
categories were integrated and extended to all phenomena, the
connections become less and less apparent, sometimes seeming forced
and arbitrary. For example, for the first month that starts spring,
the *Lushi chunqiu* correlates certain days of the month,
scaly animals, the musical note *jue*, sour tastes, and the
number eight, but it also recommends surveying the land to set the
boundaries of fields (so that conflicts are settled before planting
begins), bans killing young animals and destroying eggs (so as to
avoid shortages later), and forbids conscripting groups for war or
major construction (so that they have time to plant the fields) (Chen
Qiyou 1984, 1/1: 1-2). These are essentially rules for
sustainability.



The model that dominated modern European thinking about
causality--linear causality through collision (on the model of
billiard balls)--was not central to Chinese reflections on
causality (as it was not central in Europe before the late
Renaissance). For Chinese philosophers, the paradigms for causality
were things like the effects of music over a distance, the
relationship between spring and the growth of plants, and the
influence between a teacher and student. This orientation followed
from belief that all things are interconnected and are ultimately
composed of the same stuff, *qi*. It also reflected practical
concerns--How does culture work so that people can live together
harmoniously? How do we relate to nature in a way that is sustainable?
Approaching causality from this direction, though, is notoriously
difficult. Han dynasty philosophers were basically starting from what
we might now call ecological thinking or theories of complexity.



Correlative cosmology posited a systematically ordered universe whose
patterns could be grasped and mastered. The earlier quote from the
*Lushi chunqiu* ends with a powerful message: people think
some things happen without reason or cause, attributing it to fate,
but they are wrong. Nothing happens without a cause, and the system of
causes can be known and controlled. This view placed human beings in
control of their fates.



The elevation of human power appears in the way the system of
correlations provided a metaphysical foundation for what would seem to
be human constructs. One early example was the correlation of leniency
and violence (or the civil, *wen* Wen , and the martial,
*wu* Wu ) with the spring and the fall. This correlation
made the use of violence a necessary and natural principle, while also
restricting it to certain times. The paradigm for justifying social
order through correlations is the *Chunqiu fanlu*
Chun Qiu Fan Lu , traditionally attributed to Dong
Zhongshu (179-104 BCE). In this text, *yin* and
*yang* remain complementary but shift from equal forces driving
generation to markers for hierarchical positions in a system of
correlated arrangements (R. Wang 2005). To give just one example:



> 
> 
> The righteous [relationships] between ruler and minister, husband and
> wife, and father and son all derive from the Way of yin and yang. The
> ruler is yang; the minister is yin. The father is yang; the son is
> yin. The husband is yang; the wife is yin. There are no places where
> the Way of yin circulates alone. At the beginning [of the yearly
> cycle], yin is not permitted to arise by itself. Likewise, at the end
> [of the yearly cycle], yin is not permitted to share in [the glories]
> of yang's achievements. Such is the righteous principle of
> "joining." Thus, the minister joins his achievements to
> the lord; the son joins his achievements to the father; the wife joins
> her achievements to the husband; yin joins its achievements to yang;
> and Earth joins its achievements to Heaven (trans. from Queen and
> Major 2016, 426-27)
> 
> 
> 



This cosmology ends up doing much of the work that was done by
anthropomorphism in the European tradition. In both cases, human
culture is seen as mirroring structures at the foundation of the
natural world. In the case of Europe, that foundation is seen as
human-like in that we are made in the image of God, thus
anthropomorphizing nature. In Chinese correlative cosmology, the
opposite occurs, where specifically human phenomena are theorized as
natural. In both cases, social and political hierarchies are given a
metaphysical basis. The fact that similar oppressive hierarchies were
rationalized and naturalized by radically different metaphysical views
suggests the ease with which metaphysics comes to serve the interests
of power.



Han dynasty philosophy could still be quite critical. The elevation of
*yang* over *yin* in the *Chunqiu fanlu* is
partly driven by a desire to minimize state violence, which it
correlates with *yin*. A more radical political alternative
appears in the *Huainanzi* Huai Nan Zi , a text
compiled around 139 BCE. The *Huainanzi* emphasizes the
inherent tendency of being toward diversification. Correlative
influences generate a world that is too complex to grasp or master;
politically, that justifies decentralization, minimal state power, and
the value of diversity. Later in the Han dynasty, Wang Chong
Wang Chong  (27-100 CE) offers more fundamental criticisms,
emphasizing the limits of human power to control and predict natural
phenomena, the disjunction between virtue and worldly success, and the
arbitrariness of explanations in terms of categories like the five
phases. This argument is grounded in metaphysics. Wang Chong
explicitly argues against beliefs that the world is ordered according
to anything like a human design, claiming instead that everything
arises spontaneously, by *ziran* (see McLeod 2019; Henderson
1984, 97-101).



The Han dynasty collapsed in 220 CE, leading to a long period of
fragmentation, instability, and uncertainty. The dominant
philosophical movement is known as *Xuanxue* Xuan Xue ,
"Profound Learning." The term *xuan* means dark,
obscure, or profound, but it also has a sense of what precedes any
division, as it is used in the first chapter of the *Laozi*.
The best known works from this movement are the commentaries by Wang
Bi (226-249) (on the *Laozi* and *Yi Jing*) and by
Guo Xiang (?-312 CE) (on the
 *Zhuangzi*).[9]
 Because of the centrality of the *Laozi* and
*Zhuangzi*, the movement is sometimes known in English as
"Neo-Daoism." Different philosophers held different
positions, but the core metaphysical issue was how to understand
*dao* as ultimate ground, particularly how to interpret
descriptions of *dao* as no-being (*wu* Wu ) and
how to understand the relations between *dao* and the concrete
world of experience.



*Xuanxue* was important for establishing the metaphysical
vocabulary used in later Chinese philosophy. One of the most important
terms is *li* Li , which in its original use was a verb
for laying out borders according to the contours of the land, or for
carving jade according to its own inherent structure. Both Wang Bi and
Guo Xiang use *li* as a technical term--for Wang Bi
*li* refers to the patterns of coherence represented by the
hexagrams of the *Yi Jing*, while for Guo Xiang *li*
refers to patterns of differentiation that spontaneously arise in the
world (Ziporyn 2014: 137-84). *Li* was later used by
Chinese Buddhists to refer to emptiness and by Neo-Confucians to refer
to patterns of coherence. The latter is discussed in Section 7.



A second key concept to arise is the pairing of *ti* Ti 
and *yong* Yong  (see Ziporyn 2014: 149-155; Zhang
2002: 252-53; Cua 2002; Cheng 2002). *Yong* means use or
function. *Ti* originally refers to an organized form, a
pattern that can be recognized, or to a body or part of the body. The
pairing of *tiyong* was applied in different ways, but what is
most consistent through these uses is that *ti* is singular and
*yong* is multiple. For example, the same piece of wood
(*ti*) could have many different uses (*yong*): to fuel
a fire, to build a house, to carve into bowls, and so on. As in this
example, the multiplicity of *yong* comes through involvement
in concrete circumstances or purposes. In this way, *ti* is
usually less determinate than *yong*. In fact, the ultimate
*ti* was generally taken as fully indeterminate, thus allowing
for infinite determinate uses (*yong*). The contrast between
*ti* and *yong* sometimes looks like a contrast between
the thing itself and the various ways it can be used. Such a contrast
is highlighted in the translation of *ti* as substance, but
this translation is misleading in several ways. First, like
*yin* and *yang*, the labels *ti* and
*yong* are contextual and thus the very same thing might be
considered as *ti* in one context but as *yong* in
another. Second, the ultimate *ti* is almost never taken to be
individuated--it is emptiness or vital energy or the patterns of
coherence (*li*) that all things share. So, individuation
occurs more on the level of *yong* than *ti*. It is
worth noting that the phrase chosen to translate the *ontos* in
ontology was *benti* Ben Ti , literally the
"root" *ti*, a term that was prominent in
Neo-Confucianism.


## 6. Buddhist Metaphysics in China



A radical transformation of metaphysical views in China followed the
introduction and incorporation of Buddhist philosophy, a process that
began in the 1st century CE. On the surface, one might
think that Buddhism opposes metaphysical speculation. In the famous
parable of the arrow, the Buddha compares a student insistent on
metaphysical speculation to someone who has been shot with a poisoned
arrow but refuses to be treated until he knows who shot the arrow, why
they shot it, where the arrow came from, and so on. The point is that
we know that the central problem in life is suffering and we know that
the cure is the elimination of self-centered desires. Nonetheless,
Buddhists commonly claim that one can be released from such desires by
seeing reality as it truly is. The truth to be realized is that there
is no self as an independent and lasting being. Much of Buddhist
philosophy can be read as a sustained attack on any kind of
substance-based metaphysics. The existence of substances (and thus of
the self as a real and lasting thing) requires three things:
ontological separation between things (making the self distinct from
others), internal unity (so that it is *one* self), and
sameness over time (so it remains the *same* self). Buddhists
attack all three of these, arguing that things are interconnected,
lack intrinsic unity, and change endlessly. Their arguments invoke two
of the main principles of Buddhist metaphysics--impermanence
(*anitya*/*wuchang* Wu Chang ) and dependent
co-arising (*pratityasamutpada*/*yuanqi*
Yuan Qi ).



The process oriented metaphysics of Buddhism fit with the Chinese
philosophical tradition, but it brought a level of precision and
complexity honed through a long tradition of intense disputation and
dialectic. Positions that had been taken for granted in China were
articulated in detail and defended against alternatives that had never
been a concern (such as the idea of an eternal and unchanging soul).
New possibilities were introduced, including the claim that only
consciousness is real. Of course, as Buddhism impacted Chinese
philosophy, China transformed Buddhism, leading to schools of Buddhism
that never existed in India. Buddhist metaphysics in China is complex
and diverse and I will just focus a few
 examples.[10]



Much of Buddhist metaphysics involves negotiating a middle ground
between reification and nihilism. The problem appears in relation to
the self--it may be true that there is no self, but surely there
is something which grounds or generates or is the illusion of self.
One early school (Abhidharma) argued the self is a label for what is
really an aggregate of momentary elements and factors, known as
*dharmas* (*fa* Fa ). Apparent wholes like the self
can be mereologically reduced to constituent factors, just as a
chariot can be reduced to its parts. A more radical view extended the
critique of the self to any entity that might be taken as
independently real or self-defined, in Buddhist terms, anything that
might have *svabhava*, literally "self-being"
or "self-nature" (in Chinese, *zixing*
Zi Xing ). This denial of self-being follows from dependent
co-arising, which claims that any event depends on and is bound up
with others. Lacking an independent essence or ground, all phenomena
are said to be empty, *sunyata* or *kong*
Kong . Emptiness is meant to be a middle ground between affirming
or denying the existence of things, but such a middle ground is
difficult to articulate, and the history of Buddhist philosophy can be
seen as a dialectic between those proposing some kind of reality
(accused of reification) and those rejecting it (accused of
nihilism).



This dialectic is portrayed differently by different thinkers,
depending on what they take to be the final position that encompasses
all others. As an example, we can consider the progression given by
Zongmi Zong Mi  (780-841), a philosopher representative
of the Huayan Hua Yan  school but with close links to Chan
(see Gregory 2002). In his *Inquiry into the Origins of
Humanity* (*Yuanren lun* Yuan Ren Lun ) Zongmi
begins with the view that each person has a soul that is reincarnated
according to his or her actions. He critiques this position by
analyzing this self in terms of its parts--the self cannot be
identified with the totality of parts (since some parts are lost at
death) nor with one part among many (which would make the other parts
irrelevant and thus not really even parts). This leads into the next
position, that



> 
> 
> bodily form and cognitive mind, because of the force of causes and
> conditions, arise and perish from moment to moment, continuing in a
> series without cease, like the trickling of water or the flame of a
> lamp. (trans. from Gregory 2009: 143)
> 
> 
> 



According to Zongmi, this denial of the self cannot account for
continuity, and in particular, the links between actions and
consequences (karma). Some medium must hold the various elements
together. That leads into the third position, that all the various
changes are appearances of one mind, which is the ultimate reality.
This was the position of the Yogacara or Consciousness-Only
(*weishi* Wei Shi ) school of Buddhism.



The claim that mind is the ultimate reality tends back toward the side
of reification and so the next step negates it. Zongmi's
argument is typical of the Madhyamaka school (commonly known in
Chinese as the "Three Teachings," *Sanlun*
San Lun ). If we identify this one mind with actual thoughts,
then either both are illusions or both are real, but if we separate
this mind from actual thoughts then we end up with thoughts that exist
on their own and a mind that has no qualities whatsoever. While the
target here is mind as the ultimate reality, a similar argument can be
used to attack anything claimed to be independent and unchanging. For
Zongmi, this position denies any form of being and so it cannot end
the dialectic. He calls the fifth and final position "The
Teaching that Reveals the Nature," reinterpreting a term we have
already seen, *xing* Xing , which here stands for the
Buddha-nature (*Fo xing* Fo Xing ). This ultimate
reality could also be referred to as the true mind or as the
Tathagatagarbha (*Rulaizang*Ru Lai Zang ),
which literally means the "Womb of the Thus-Come"
("Thus-Come" being a common name for the Buddha).



While the last three positions all had prominent advocates in China,
the final position became dominant and was shared by Tiantai
Tian Tai , Huayan, and Chan Buddhists. One obvious question is
how this final position differs from the position of
Consciousness-Only. Zongmi extends a line of argument common in
Chinese Buddhism, which is to critique any form of dualism. Since
nothing we experience is truly independent, simple, or unchanging, any
metaphysics that posits substances with self-being requires a
bifurcation between reality and appearances, or more specifically,
between the substance itself and the various qualities or modes by
which it appears. Buddhists argue against the coherence of any such
division. This is the meaning of the common saying: "form is
emptiness and emptiness is form." Zongmi pushes this argument
further to argue against any split between reality and illusion or
between enlightenment and non-enlightenment. This leads to the claim
that all sentient beings are already enlightened--what is needed
is not to change reality or gain anything but just to realize that we
are already where we need to be.



The relationship between reality and illusion is one of the central
debates within Chinese Buddhism (Kantor 2015). The most famous
expression of this debate appears in the *Platform Sutra of the
Sixth Patriarch*, a foundational text for Chan Buddhism. The star
disciple (Shen Xiu) first composes this poem:



> 
> 
> The body is the tree of insight;
>   
> 
> The mind is like a clear mirror.
>   
> 
> Always clean and polish it;
>   
> 
> Never allow dirt or dust!
> 
> 
> 



Hui Neng (638-713 CE), the central figure of the text, writes
this poem in reply:



> 
> 
> Insight originally has no tree;
>   
> 
> The bright mirror has no stand.
>   
> 
> Buddha-nature is always pure and clean;
>   
> 
> How could there ever be dirt or dust? (trans. from Ivanhoe 2009,
> 15-16)
> 
> 
> 



The contrast between the two poems marks the split between the gradual
and sudden enlightenment schools of Chan.



How to discuss the relationship between the realm of experience and
emptiness or Buddha-nature was another common theme in Chinese
Buddhist philosophy. One of the more thorough and influential
discussions is the *Meditative Approaches to the Huayan
Dharmadhatu* (*Huayan Fajie Guan Men*
Hua Yan Fa Jie Guan Men ), attributed to
Dushun Du Shun  (557-640) (see Fox 2009). According to
Dushun, the world of experience can be viewed in four different ways.
The first is as phenomena or events (*shi* Shi ), which is
equivalent to the realm of form. The second is as emptiness, referred
to here with the term *li* Li . The point is that, in one
sense, reality can be seen as the multitude of phenomena but, in
another sense, it can all be seen as empty, which entails a kind of
equality and interchangeability. The third perspective addresses the
relationship between emptiness and phenomena, using the relationship
between water and waves as a metaphor. The two are mutually
encompassing and mutually dependent, just as there is no water without
waves and waves are nothing other than water, yet we can focus solely
on the wave or solely on the water. The point is that designating a
wave is not the same as designating water, yet these designations do
not "obstruct" each other. The very same reality can be
taken as the phenomena of everyday experience and as emptiness.



The fourth perspective brings us to a metaphysical issue that has
recurred across the Chinese philosophical tradition--the
interconnection of things. It is not just that emptiness and phenomena
are mutually penetrating but that any phenomenon is penetrated by all
others. The claim that any one thing includes all others is clearest
on the level of causality and intelligibility. Consider the cause for
your reading this article. It might be for help in a course, or
because you followed a link out of curiosity, or from a desire to
better understand the context of the *Laozi*. But we could say
the cause was the story of how your parents met--had that not
happened you would not be reading this article. Or it might be the
story of how my parents met, or the creation of the internet, or the
founding of Stanford University, or the gravitational pull of the
earth. If everything is interconnected, then anything could be given
as a cause for your reading this article. What makes one answer better
than another is determined only by the interests of the questioner
(are they interested in increasing web traffic to the *SEP*?
understanding digital humanities? writing my biography? writing
yours?). This shows how any one event implicates and arises with all
others. Consider further, though, that all things are empty. They have
no independent self-nature, so what it is to be that thing is
explained entirely by all of the factors that allow it to appear as
what it is. Thus it is not just that things depend on each other but
that things include each other. This inclusion applies not just
between any two events but also between any event and the totality of
other events; the story of the whole universe can be explicated from
any one point. Brook Ziporyn (2000) calls this "omnicentric
holism"and it has similarities with Leibniz's claim that
every substance (monad) implicitly expresses all others. This
conclusion serves the soteriological purposes of Buddhist
philosophy--if any one thing implies all others, then it is
impossible to grasp only one thing. Grasping and attachment become
incoherent. It is worth comparing this result with the elimination of
loss through radical impartiality, discussed in Section 4.



## 7. Coherence and Vital Energy in Neo-Confucianism



The interpenetration of emptiness and phenomena is an affirmation of
the changing world in which we live. Thus, it is false to see Chinese
Buddhism as life-negating or as denying the diversity of the world.
Nonetheless, the metaphysics of emptiness is directed toward
overcoming attachments. Diversity remains, but there are no
individuals to grasp. The Confucian response, which became a dominant
force in the Song dynasty (960-1279), was driven primarily by an
aversion to these consequences. This reaction can be seen in three
concrete positions--the acceptance of suffering and death as
unavoidable, the differentiation of roles and norms within society,
and the embrace of negative affects such as sorrow at the death of a
parent or anxious concern for a child in danger. This Confucian
movement is known in Chinese as the "Learning of the Way"
(*Daoxue* Dao Xue ) and in English as
"Neo-Confucianism."



While based on practical concerns, this Confucian revival was
supported by metaphysical
 claims.[11]
 In terms of the dialectal movement we have seen, the Neo-Confucians
take all of the Buddhist positions as nihilistic. The first
influential Confucian responses appear in cosmological arguments. We
can take Zhang Zai Zhang Zai  (1020-1077) as an example.
(For studies of Zhang Zai, see Ziporyn 2015; Kim 2015; Kasoff 1984.)
Zhang Zai's basic move is to argue that the ultimate, labeled as
"Supreme Emptiness" (*Taixu* Tai Xu ),
cannot be nothingness but must be *qi*, and the fundamental
characteristic of this *qi* must be a dynamic interplay between
opposites. Zhang explains:



> 
> 
> The Supreme Emptiness of necessity consists of vital energy. Vital
> energy of necessity integrates to become the myriad things. Things of
> necessity disintegrate and return to the Supreme Emptiness. Appearance
> and disappearance following this cycle are a matter of necessity.
> (trans. modified from W. Chan 1969: 501)
> 
> 
> 



There are several important points to note in Zhang Zai's
position. First, he explicitly argues that the only way to explain the
origins of the world we experience is if dynamism and differentiation
are the very nature of existence. For this reason, Brook Ziporyn
argues that the ultimate for Zhang Zai is not *qi* but harmony
itself (Ziporyn 2015). Second, by positing *qi* as fundamental,
Zhang Zai shifts from questions about nihilism and reification back to
the relationship between the formed and the formless. In making the
formed and formless two modalities of existence, Zhang Zai allows that
both are equally real. In this way, he reaffirms the importance of
individuated things like parents and children.



Zhang Zai's cosmology echoes the earlier Chinese cosmologies
discussed in Section 3. To say that the nature of *qi* is
active differentiation is to say that the nature of *qi* is
*sheng*, vitality or generation. This emphasis on being as a
force of growth and vitality was a common point among Neo-Confucians,
linked directly to the virtue of *ren* Ren , humaneness or
benevolence. To be humane is to support and extend the generative
process of nature itself. Furthermore, there is a unity to things in
the world, grounded in the fact that they are all made up of
*qi* and they unfold in interlocking patterns of influence. As
Zhang Zai puts it in the famous *Western Inscription*:



> 
> 
> Heaven is my father and earth is my mother, and even such a small
> creature as I finds an intimate place in their midst. Therefore that
> which fills the universe I regard as my body [*ti* Ti ]
> and that which directs the universe I consider as my nature
> [*xing* Xing ]. All people are my brothers and sisters, and
> all things are my companions. (trans from W. Chan 1969: 497)
> 
> 
> 



Cheng Hao Cheng Hao  (1032-1085) compares one who does not
care for other things to someone who has lost sensation in their own
limbs. Wang Yangming Wang Yang Ming  (1472-1529)
extends these feelings of concern even to trampled grass and broken
tiles.



Deriving inclusive care from the vitality and unity of nature appeared
in the Warring States Period, but in opposition to Confucianism. For
the Confucians, this focus on being as vitality needs an inherent
order, which came through a reinterpretation of the term *li*
Li . The complexity of the term appears in the range of common
translations: principle, patterns, coherence. *Li* often refers
to something we should follow and in this sense it might be taken as
principles, but *li* also refers to actual patterns of
differentiation, not just to ideals. Considering that *li* is
contextual and involves human purposes and perspectives, translating
the term as "coherence" or "coherent patterns"
probably best brings these various aspects together. Stephen C. Angle
gives an excellent brief definition of *li* as "the
valuable, intelligible way that things fit together" (Angle
2009:
 32).[12]
 There are patterns of coherence in the world, and these patterns
define individual things, constitute nature as a system, and structure
human society. *Li* describes the way that these patterns can
be optimally harmonized or made to cohere so as to foster the human
good (i.e., to be *valuable* and *intelligible*).



The Neo-Confucian interpretation of *li* is a return to earlier
Chinese views that took nature as having stable patterns that we can
recognize and follow. The Neo-Confucians defend these earlier views
against what they saw as Buddhist attacks by claiming that the
differentiated structure of the world we live in is real. These
patterns of coherence give specific form to our concerns and efforts,
so that one can justify caring primarily for one's own parents
while still taking all things as extensions of one's own body.
Even so, the Neo-Confucian conception of *li* retains several
Buddhist aspects.



The most obvious example is the claim that the totality of *li*
is contained in any one thing. Cheng Yi Cheng Yi 
(1033-1107) coined what became a standard motto: "Li is
one but distinguished as many" (*li yi fen shu*
Li Yi Fen Shu ) (Angle 2009: 44). This unity within
diversity was illustrated with a metaphor taken from
Buddhism--the moon reflects on many different surfaces, but it
remains the one same moon. Since *li* refers to patterns of
coherence and all things ultimately form one body, it follows that all
things are mutually implicated, a point already discussed in relation
to Huayan Buddhism above. The Neo-Confucians do not go so far as to
say that each *thing* contains all other *things*,
though. Any instance of coherence implicates all others, but events
still have their own reality.



Another common Neo-Confucian claim with Buddhist overtones follows: if
the totality of *li* is included within any particular thing,
then it must exist within each person's heart/mind. One of the
main disputes among the Neo-Confucians was on the precise meaning and
significance of this point. Zhu Xi Zhu Xi  (1130-1200)
argued that *li* is the nature (*xing*) found in the
heart, while Lu Xiangshan Lu Xiang Shan  (1139-1192)
and Wang Yangming took *li* and the heart to be identical. This
leads to a difference in emphasis between the two main schools of
Neo-Confucianism regarding their recommended process of accessing
*li*: the "School of Li" (*lixue*
Li Xue ) (also known as the Cheng-Zhu school) placed more
emphasis on study and learning, while the "School of
Heart/Mind" (*xinxue* Xin Xue ) (the Lu-Wang
school) concentrated more on self-reflection. This difference, though,
is one of emphasis: since they agreed that *li* could be
accessed through our own heart and through things in the world, all
Neo-Confucians promoted both self-reflection and learning.



Neo-Confucians always discuss *li* in relation to *qi*,
vital energy. If *li* refers to patterns of coherence,
*qi* is the stuff in which those patterns inhere. This
distinction has functional similarities with Aristotle's
distinction between form and matter, but the force of activity and
change is with *qi* rather than *li*. That means that
*li* must be immanent in *qi* in some sense. The precise
ontological status of *li* and *qi* became one of the
main metaphysical disputes among Confucian philosophers. One could
easily claim that the distinction between patterns of coherence and
the stuff that follows the patterns is conceptual rather than
ontological. That is close to the view seen in Zhang Zai, for whom
*qi* is active and inherently patterned. For Zhu Xi and Wang
Yangming, though, *li* has ontological priority over
*qi*. Zhu Xi writes:



> 
> 
> Fundamentally, *li* and vital energy cannot be spoken of as
> prior or posterior. But if we must trace their origin, we are obliged
> to say that *li* is prior. However, *li* is not a
> separate entity. It exists right in vital energy. Without vital
> energy, *li* would have nothing to adhere to. (trans. modified
> from W. Chan 1969: 634)
> 
> 
> 



The question of the relationship between *qi* and *li*
extended into cosmogonies as well. While Zhang Zai took *qi* to
be the ultimate, Zhu Xi claimed the ultimate was *li* (using
the term Supreme Polarity). Since *li* is the locus of
intelligibility and values, the question ultimately was whether causal
and explanatory priority was with this coherence or if coherence was
instead a product of the generative forces of nature
(*qi*).



The distinction between *li* and *qi* provided a way to
deal with the tension between the claim that the nature of human
beings is good and the recognition that people need extensive
self-cultivation in order to actually be good. *Li* is
inherently good and is the same in all things. In that sense, we
already have all that we need. The quality of *qi*, though,
varies. Turbid *qi*--which manifests itself as selfishness
and partiality--obscures *li*. Thus from the perspective
of *li* human nature is good, but from the perspective of
*li* and *qi* together, a person can be good, bad, or in
between. On the psychological level, the work of self-cultivation is
cultivating tranquility and impartiality; on the metaphysical level,
one purifies *qi* so as to more perfectly express and
participate in *li*.



This view of self-cultivation inherits the Buddhist claim that, since
everyone possesses Buddha-nature (*fo xing*), everyone is
already enlightened, but merges it with Mengzi's claim that
human nature (*xing*) is good. Unlike Mengzi, the process of
self-cultivation is not a process of extension but rather of removing
the obstacles that keep us from being what we already are. Phillip J.
Ivanhoe has nicely captured this point by contrasting the views of
self-cultivation for Mengzi and Wang Yangming as the difference
between a model of development and a model of discovery (Ivanhoe
2002). As in Buddhism, what needs to be removed are selfish and biased
desires. Unlike Buddhism, and in line with Mengzi, this enlightened
condition does not lead to a calm state free of desires and negative
emotions. Instead, the *li* within us is expressed as
spontaneously appropriate desires and emotions, including negative
emotions like grief for a dying parent or anxious concern for a child
in danger.


## 8. Conclusion: Beyond "Chinese Philosophy"



If one turns to metaphysics in the twentieth century and beyond, it
becomes necessary to distinguish "Philosophy in China"
from "Chinese Philosophy". Like almost everywhere else in
the world, the twentieth century in China was characterized by the
incorporation of ideas from other cultures, most obviously from
Europe. The terms "philosophy" and
"metaphysics" were introduced as distinct concepts through
translation and thus they become the objects of conscious reflection.
Even scholars dedicated to "Chinese Philosophy" set
themselves in dialogue with the West, so that almost all philosophy
was more or less intercultural. The main influences from Europe were
Kant, Hegel, and Marx, but a wide range of philosophers were
incorporated, including Nietzsche, Bergson, Dewey, and Heidegger.
Almost all of the major philosophers in China--from Xiong Shili
Xiong Shi Li  (1885-1968) to Feng Youlan
Feng You Lan  (1895-1990) to Mou Zongsan
Mou Zong San  (1909-1995)--were concerned with
establishing a metaphysical foundation for Chinese
 Philosophy.[13]
 These philosophers, drawing on resources from multiple cultures and
traditions, are better suited for an entry on
"Metaphysics" than one on "Metaphysics in Chinese
Philosophy".