How to Think Politically Read online

  Ancients

  1

  Confucius: The Sage

  Assassination, treachery, sedition, war and torture were normal in the feudal kingdoms of ancient China, the world’s longest continuous civilization. During what is called the ‘Spring and Autumn Period’, which lasted from 771 to the mid-fifth century bc, hundreds of small feuding principalities were gradually consolidated by ambitious rulers into larger kingdoms. As with Renaissance Italy some two thousand years later, this time of violent political conflict was also a time of great cultural and intellectual ferment.

  In the midst of the political turmoil, within and between these many warring states, Confucius sought to bring order, justice and harmony to society by offering his advice to a series of princes. Although he had some influence on a few princely rulers, especially in his home state of Lu, in general, Confucius’s lifelong efforts to promote humane government led only to his own persecution and banishment, as he fled from kingdom to kingdom. Like Karl Marx in nineteenth-century Europe, he lived a life of poverty, was exiled and was barely acknowledged during his lifetime. When his favourite disciple came to visit the weary 73-year-old Confucius, seeking insight, his master could only offer a meaningful sigh of resignation.

  Confucius – whom the Jesuit missionaries in China called the famous teacher ‘Kongzi’ (‘Master Kong’) – lived 25 centuries ago. Like many of the most influential teachers in world history, such as Jesus and Socrates, he never wrote anything, so our knowledge of him must be reconstructed from accounts left by his disciples and enemies, often centuries later. Hence, there will always be deep uncertainty regarding the precise nature of his teaching. Again, like Jesus and Socrates, Confucius faced persecution and failure in his own lifetime, but profoundly shaped subsequent generations, becoming by far the most influential teacher in the history of China. Later writings about Confucius, such as the Analects, a collection of his sayings and ideas attributed to the Great Sage by his followers, report not only what he said but also, just as importantly, what he did and how he lived.

  Confucius clearly preferred an ethics of personal virtue over an ethics of rules and laws: ‘Guide them by edicts, keep them in line with punishments, and the common people will stay out of trouble, but will have no sense of shame. Guide them by virtue, keep them in line with the rites, and they will, besides having a sense of shame, reform themselves.’ The goal in modern Western ethics and law is to conform our deeds to a rational moral or legal standard. Although a few such maxims can be found in the reported sayings of Confucius, such as ‘Do not impose upon others what you do not wish to have imposed upon yourself’, Confucian thought is generally focused not upon actions but upon the character of the agent. His ethics, like that of Socrates and of Jesus, is an ethics of being more than it is an ethics of doing. Before we can do the right thing, we need to become the right person.

  The challenge of a Confucian life is to become a certain kind of person: someone whose appetites, passions, thoughts and deeds are all harmonized by a fundamental attitude of goodness to all living things. But virtue involves good skills as well as a good will: the man of virtue cultivates benevolent dispositions which must be expressed in deeds of perfect propriety. This ‘way’ or ‘path’ of ethical discipline is focused on the mastery of inner passions and thoughts as well as the command of outer rituals. True benevolence requires the mastery both of self and of the social codes defining respect for every rank of person. Because Confucius’s thought centres on rites, he emphasizes etiquette in all areas of life: a person’s moral worth is measured by the degree of conformity to these rules, which reflect his or her own inner harmony.

  Plato and Aristotle, whom we will meet very soon, developed a similar blend of aesthetic and moral ideals in their notion of ‘beautiful goodness’. Virtuous conduct involves both moral goodness and nobility or beauty. It is not enough to have either good intentions or good manners. The Confucian ideal of virtue, like the ancient Greek one, is both aesthetic and moral, and relates to a person’s life overall. Both ideals emphasize the essential unity of the virtues embodied in a single person of good character.

  Confucius describes his own journey towards virtue in a famous passage from the Analects: ‘At fifteen I set my heart on learning; at thirty I took my stand; at forty I came to be free from doubts; at fifty I understood the Decree of Heaven; at sixty my ear was attuned; at seventy I followed my heart’s desire without overstepping the line.’

  First, we see the legendary emphasis upon learning. By learning, Confucius clearly does not mean only the mastery of information. Confucian learning means ‘learning by heart’: that is, studying the classic stories, songs, books and poems until they are incorporated into one’s deepest beliefs and desires. A Confucian scholar, says a later sage, does not annotate the classics; rather, he lets the classics annotate him. Yes, this kind of learning does involve some amount of memorization. Yet the goal is not merely to memorize but to live the classical texts. Confucianism is more than just a political theory; it is a way of life.

  Second, by ‘taking a stand’, Confucius does not mean adopting a particular ideology but, rather, assuming the responsibilities of one’s rank and station by mastering ritual propriety.

  Third, ‘becoming free from doubts’ means much more than certainty about beliefs; it means harmonizing one’s convictions with one’s conduct. Becoming free from doubts means becoming free from any fear or worry; it means never suffering from psychic conflict or remorse, never being ‘of two minds’.

  Fourth, ‘understanding the Decree of Heaven’ is easy to misinterpret. Confucian ethics is not based upon obedience to the will of a personal god. Rather, Confucius seems to mean that our lives must somehow fit in with the order of the cosmos as a whole. For him, the drama of human life must accord with the larger drama of cosmic life, perhaps including fate and the sacred realm of the ancestors.

  Fifth, ‘my ear was attuned’ draws our attention to an aesthetic or even musical dimension of virtue. The moral virtuoso is someone whose whole manner and demeanour have been shaped by the harmonies embodied in noble poetry and drama, as well as music itself. His emotions and gestures are so ‘attuned’ to the finest ideals of culture that his conduct can be called ‘poetry in motion’.

  Finally, through a lifelong effort of self-discipline and self-cultivation, the virtuous man can follow any of his desires without any fear of doing something improper. He no longer imitates any external models; he has become the model himself. His natural or spontaneous desires are fully integrated with true benevolence and ritual propriety.

  There are two moral exemplars in Confucian ethics: the gentleman and the sage. Confucius normally holds up the gentleman as the proper aim of human virtue: a gentleman is a highly cultivated scholar devoted to public service. But above even the gentleman is the sage. Confucius says that he has never met a sage, though he refers to ‘sage-kings’ of the distant past that he admires. And he frequently denies that he himself is a sage, although later generations gave him the name ‘the Great Sage’. But it is clear that a sage is the highest possible human ideal for Confucius – even though most men, he thought, should aim at becoming merely a gentleman. A gentleman is clearly an ideal of a specific culture, an idealization of a kind of enlightened nobleman; a sage is not someone defined by a particular position in the social hierarchy. In its ideal of a sage, Confucian ethics transcends the prejudices of a particular social order.

  Aristotle, as we shall see, also develops the same two ethical standards: he endorses for most men the ideal of the gentleman (the ‘great-souled man’) but then also elevates above the gentleman the universal ideal of the philosopher or sage. Confucius, like Aristotle, partly expresses the customary ideals of his own society, but he also creates a new ideal that rises above specific times and places, providing a model for all humans. Despite his high ideals, Confucius was realistic about human nature, especially the nature of political leaders. He observed that ‘I have yet to find anyone who de
votes as much attention to virtue as he does to sex’.

  Confucian politics, like the politics of Plato or Aristotle, is a branch of ethics. There is no separate political ethics or ‘reasons of state’ that would permit rulers to violate ordinary morality. In the Confucian tradition, there are five sacred relationships, each with its own set of virtues: father and son, husband and wife, older brother and younger brother, friend and friend, ruler and subject.

  Each of these relationships (with the exception of friendship) is hierarchical and demands distinctive virtues of authority and obedience. The solemn duty of a ruler is to lead by his own example, which is much more important than any law or policy: ‘The virtue of the ruler is like the wind; the weakness of the people is like the grass; the wind must blow over the grass.’

  We don’t know much about Confucius’s own ideals of public affairs, but one famous passage in the Analects identifies three primary instruments of good government: stockpiles of weapons, stores of food and the confidence of the people. When asked about which of these goods to surrender if a ruler cannot have them all, he says ‘give up arms’, since food is a higher priority. But even food, he says, is less important than the confidence of the people, which is the only true foundation of good government. Confucius is reported to have endorsed low taxes on farmers so as to ensure bountiful stores of food. Despite similar violent political turmoil in ancient China and in Renaissance Italy, Confucius’s focus on domestic policy and his disdain for military affairs contrasts sharply with the approach of Machiavelli, who, as we shall see, advised princes to study war above all things.

  Confucianism eventually became the official ideology of Chinese rulers for almost two millennia, and Confucian texts became the basis for all education aimed at public service in China. Much more than an official ideology, the Confucian ideals of learning and of filial piety can rightly be said to form the very basis of Chinese culture. In that sense, Confucius has no parallel in the West, apart from Jesus perhaps.

  Confucianism itself, however, was transformed by contact with other currents of Chinese ethical and religious thought, especially Taoism and Buddhism, into an evolving neo-Confucianism. As China began to modernize in the nineteenth century, many reformers attacked Confucianism for being feudal, patriarchal, rigid and anti-scientific. Confucian education and ritual were actively suppressed in China by the revolutionary regime of Communist leader Mao Zedong, but have enjoyed a major revival since Mao’s death in 1976. Chinese culture, politics and society are still indelibly marked by millennia of Confucian thought.

  What remains of Confucius’s legacy? Above all, perhaps, the ideal of government led by learned men as well as the ideal of filial piety. To this day, the highest praise China’s communist rulers can give to each other is: ‘He never once showed disrespect to his elders.’

  However, when Confucianism was officially at its lowest ebb, during the Cultural Revolution (1966–76), young Communist cadres displayed shocking disrespect and cruelty to their elders. The Cultural Revolution was Mao’s attempt to mobilize China’s youth to root out reactionary backsliding among their elders. But the moral chaos on display during the Cultural Revolution alerted China’s communist leaders to the urgent necessity of restoring a moral ethos to Chinese society. Because China’s ruling Communist Party remains officially committed to atheism, Confucianism seemed the best choice for moral education since it is not oriented towards God or the gods, and it is indigenous to China.

  Today China remains ruled by ‘learned guardians’, but instead of the traditional literary and musical education, aspiring Chinese bureaucrats and rulers now tend to study economics and engineering. Modern China is governed by a technocratic, paternalistic elite rather than by Confucian gentlemen. What would Confucius himself say about these developments? After long silent consideration, the Master would smile wanly and sigh.

  2

  Plato: The Dramatist

  In 399 bc the ancient Greek city-state of Athens was transfixed by the trial of Socrates. The barefoot, street-corner philosopher was notorious for asking tough questions of leading Athenian priests, generals, scholars, artists and lawyers, to see if they knew what they were talking about. Virtually no one could defend their beliefs from the demonically clever Socrates, who tied his interlocutors into verbal knots before they spluttered or blushed in humiliation. Since most people, especially eminent people, resent being made to look foolish, they responded to these Socratic ‘teachable moments’ in the customary human way: they conspired to kill him.

  Although old, poor and grotesquely ugly, Socrates attracted as followers many young, wealthy and beautiful Athenians, who enjoyed seeing their elders skewered by the fearless philosopher. One of these young followers was Plato, who worshipped Socrates as a paragon of moral and intellectual virtue, only to look on with horror as his revered teacher, mentor and friend was condemned to death by the people of Athens.

  After the death of Socrates, Plato sought to honour his beloved master by re-creating in writing the experience of Socratic conversation. Plato wrote 30 philosophical dialogues, most of which feature Socrates as a leading character. Plato was aware of the risks of attempting to represent Socratic teaching in writing, since Socrates himself never wrote anything. Indeed, Socrates claimed not even to know anything. He asked people questions – hoping to discover the knowledge that he himself disavowed. Socrates called himself a ‘philosopher’, meaning a lover of wisdom, to contrast himself with the ‘sophists’, who claimed to have knowledge and to teach it for a fee.

  Why did Socrates teach only by conversation? Why did Plato write only dialogues? Perhaps Socrates, like his student Plato, believed that writing freezes and kills thought, rendering it like butterfly specimens in a book. In Socratic conversation and in Platonic dialogue we are treated to the living movement of thought. Socrates and Plato were sceptical about the possibility of defining truth in verbal propositions; Plato often suggests that truth is ultimately something we can only see (in our mind’s eye), not say. The historical Socrates was known to be ironic and playful, half-revealing, half-concealing his own views. Plato followed the example of his teacher, so scholars today cannot agree about which views presented by Socrates represent the historical Socrates or Plato himself. In this book we will freely ascribe to Plato the views expressed in his dialogues by his teacher, Socrates.

  Plato’s philosophy emerges from the relationship between what Socrates says in the dialogues and what Plato shows us in the dramatic action. We see this most memorably in Plato’s account of the trial of Socrates, the Apology. During the trial, Socrates attempts to defend himself from charges of impiety and of corrupting Athenian youth by claiming that philosophy is good both for each individual person and for the city-state as a whole. He says that ‘an unexamined life is not worth living’ and that Athens will never truly flourish unless it can wake up from its slumber of prejudice and ignorance. Socrates is so convinced of the importance of philosophy for his beloved Athens that, after the jury convicts him, he proposes that he be rewarded rather than punished. In response, the jury sentences him to death.

  In Plato’s dialogues we see both a vindication of Socrates and a warning about the hazards of mixing philosophy and politics. Plato affirms the genuine good that philosophy offers to individuals and to cities by orienting personal beliefs and public policies towards the pursuit of truth. He argues that for individuals or cities to act on unfounded beliefs is for them to stumble in the darkness of illusion and ignorance. At the same time, however, his account of the fate of Socrates reveals that philosophy can also be a danger to political communities. Politics, especially democratic politics, must rest upon shared beliefs, and it is often more important that these beliefs be shared than that they be true. Do we want citizens to take a sceptical and ironic stance towards their own democratic beliefs? Or should citizens be willing to die for beliefs that cannot withstand philosophical scrutiny? Debate plays a role in politics, but a democracy is not a debating society. P
olitics often depends upon decisive action made without the luxury of philosophical investigation. Plato manages to defend both the integrity of philosophy and the integrity of politics – even when they come into tragic conflict.

  Are the great political philosophers able to escape the prejudices of their own time and place? The answer is a qualified yes. We saw that Confucius and Aristotle created a new ideal of the sage, whom they regarded as superior to the well-born nobles of their day. Plato, in Book Five of his dialogue the Republic, creates a utopian vision of a perfectly just society that could not be more sharply opposed to the Athens of his day. Plato describes three ‘waves’ of reform necessary for a just polity: that is, a just political community. The first wave is equal opportunity in every career for men and women. Plato proposes that women should be encouraged to become scholars, athletes, soldiers and rulers – even though women did not enjoy these opportunities in reality for another 24 centuries. He is aware that these radical ideas will be met with ridicule and abuse, which we see dramatized in the dialogue. The second wave of reform is even more startling: the rulers of the city are forbidden from owning property or even having families, so that they will promote the good of the whole city rather than their own personal wealth and children. Like soldiers, the rulers will make use only of public property, and their children will be bred and raised in common by professional nurses in public daycare centres. Finally, and most shocking of all, Plato claims that ‘there will never be an end to the evils of political life unless rulers become philosophers and philosophers become rulers’. Like the other waves of reform, Plato’s suggestion that philosophers should rule is met with ridicule by characters in his dialogue. Everyone, then and now, agrees that philosophers are hopeless at anything so practical as ruling. However improbable or even comical these three waves of reform may be, Plato makes it clear that only such a radical plan could protect philosophy from politics. His Republic is the only political regime that might not kill Socrates.