ABSTRACT “Western‐centrism” refers to a worldview centered on Western civilization with an explicit belief in the superiority of Western cultures to non‐Western cultures in all aspects. How did it come into being? When was its intellectual foundation laid? Who made the formative efforts to establish it in intellectual thought? This essay suggests that as a systematic thought, its formative stage was set in the beginning of the Enlightenment and became an established intellectual belief before the modern era. In the course of its formulation, major Enlightenment thinkers laid its intellectual foundation. Its philosophical roots arose in some influential Enlightenment thinkers' encounters with Eastern intellectual thought, especially Chinese metaphysics, political theory, and moral philosophy. This essay focuses on some Enlightenment thinkers including Leibniz, Wolff, Quesnay, Montesquieu, Kant, Hegel, and other thinkers. By examining how Chinese philosophy served as a mirror for European thinkers to reflect on European thought and helped them formulate their own philosophical views, it attempts to show how the success and failure of cross‐cultural dialog lay the intellectual foundation of Western‐centrism and what lessons should be drawn from the intellectual encounters for future cultural exchanges.
Boredom besets us despite the advanced technology and diversified lifestyles nowadays. The article examines the sources of boredom and the ways to deal with it along with Zhu Xi (1130-1200), the Song Neo-Confucian. In light of Zhu, boredom can be reduced by making oneself less boredom prone, which is mainly achieved by the recognition of the meaning of and in life and existence. This recognition works in prompting us to find things interesting and engage in things. In other words, the antidote to boredom lies mainly in maintaining the liveliness of our heart-mind (xin (sic)), which is related to the recognition of the pattern (li (sic)). This account is intriguing as it can account for both the objective and subjective elements concerning the constitution of meaning, preventing meaning from being repressive or willful.
I discuss three philosophical puzzles about changing the past, and offer puzzling solutions, informed by the Coombes-Lewis-Vihvelin view of ability, or CVL for short. The queries are, respectively, (1) whether changing the past can be modeled, (2) whether rational agents are able to change the past, and (3) whether, given determinism, the necessity of the past hampers the prospect for free will. A model is a complete, consistent way the actual world might be. The first puzzle is whether, supposing the possibility of time travel, one can model changing the past. I argue that all models of time travel are Ludovician, meaning they do not permit changing the past. Call this weak accidental necessity: Another question arises about the strong accidental necessity of the past, whether weak accidental necessity entails that the past is beyond human control. David Lewis famously argues against this inference, offering a model of no-difference time travel along with a solution to the grandfather paradox: time travelers are able to change the past though they never do. CVL accepts Lewis's claims but replaces his contextualism with Kadri Vihvelin's wide-narrow ability distinction, informed by Olivia Coombes's cognitive science model, and supplemented with my own account of warrant for judgments about wide ability. The first two puzzles give rise to the third. CVL is a compatibilist view, holding that free will-understood as requiring the ability to do otherwise-is coherent given determinism. However, assumptions about the necessity of the past are prevalent in versions of the consequence argument for incompatibilism, the denial of compatibilism. My comments about the consequence argument are complex. I begin with the no-past objection and show that a standard reply leads to a determinism-independent argument against the ability to do otherwise. In addition, the consequence argument rests on the assumption that a lack of wide ability logically transfers: I am unable to leave a room if the door is locked unless I am able to unlock the door. I show the inference is invalid.
The philosophical system of the Shangjunshu 商君書 (the Book of Lord Shang ; hereinafter the BLS ) can be understood by analyzing its theses concerning the concept of the shengren 聖人 (sage). Similarly, to other philosophical texts in Chinese philosophy, the BLS expresses its ideals through the concept of the sage, devoting a great deal of space to expounding on it rather than simply assimilating the ideal of a sage to that of any male of exceptional ability. In the BLS , the sage establishes laws, defines all things, and attains fuguo qiangbing 富國強兵 (state enrichment and army strengthening) by combining agriculture and warfare. Focusing on the BLS 's theses on the sage, we can better understand the complex philosophy stated in this book and possibly gain insight into the directions that humanity should pursue.
In a recent paper, Dimitris Vardoulakis (2022b) criticises Heidegger's interpretation of Aristotelian phronesis by explaining how it conflates several important distinctions Aristotle makes concerning phronesis and techne and thus how it glosses over phronesis' intrinsic fallibility. My main contention with Vardoulakis' critique is that it is not entirely sensitive to Heidegger's own epistemological leanings that may be informing said interpretation, and to how they are not necessarily anathema to a differently construed kind of phronetic fallibility, one based not on a fallible calculability of final ends by instrumental ones but on a categorical distinction between different kinds of disclosures. So even if Vardoulakis is accurate in assessing that Heideggerian phronesis requires the calculability of ends to be the sole jurisdiction of techne, this fails to show that phronetic fallibility itself requires a calculability of its own ends.
According to Tolstoy's theory of art, personal expression plays a crucial role as an essential artistic element since it is associated with originality and emotional communication. Is personal expression also significant in philosophy? We often tend to believe that in a philosophical theory, this element is, or should be, absent in the pursuit of epistemic neutrality. However, Nietzsche raises the suspicion that philosophers may tend to rationalize their passions through their theories. In this regard, philosophy and art would not be so different. To explore this connection further, I first delve into personal expression in art. Second, I outline three ways in which personal factors can influence philosophical inquiry. Third, I compare personal expression in art with that in philosophy.
What is the future of classical music? The outlook appears bleak; without concerted intervention, there may be very few people left to either perform or appreciate it in the near future. What actions can be taken, and who should spearhead them? While governmental and cultural institutions are expected to do their part by allocating resources for classical music education and performances, this paper argues that performers, as cultural agents, also have a pivotal role to play in preserving a practice with profound cultural and societal significance. Therefore, beyond their technical and musical prowess, musicians must also cultivate additional skills, including critical and reflective capabilities. This reimagining of the performer's role necessitates a broader ethical reassessment of classical music as a professional pursuit. Over centuries, music has evolved from mere craftsmanship to a refined art form. Now, it stands at a juncture where it must redefine itself as a cultural profession to reclaim its relevance in contemporary and future societies. The survival of classical music rests on its ability to make this shift.
A guiding principle is that there is no guiding principle. This means that one both should and should not follow this principle. This is called the paradox of the Dao in Laozi, which arises from statements like "the Dao that can be put into words is not the authentic Dao"; it suggests both the inexpressibility and the expressibility of the Dao. Chad Hansen proposes the antilanguage interpretation for the paradox of the Dao in Laozi. But the antilanguage interpretation is unsatisfying, for it is both incoherent by itself and inconsistent with the text in Laozi. Text evidence shows that vagueness is relevant to the paradox of the Dao, which could be relocated as the sorites paradox. With the help of Williamson's epistemicism and the anti-KK argument, a new interpretation, the anti-DD argument, is proposed for the paradox of the Dao. This interpretation both avoids the infinite regress of Hansen's interpretation and aligns better with the text in Laozi.
One of the main epistemic norms of mainstream epistemology revolves around how to reject epistemic relativism and embrace universalism. The argument has frequently been that different epistemological perspectives are incompatible and hence breed protracted disagreement. Being incompatible means that one cannot judge which of these incompatible epistemic viewpoints are valid. To mitigate this obstacle, it is argued that epistemic relativism should not be taken seriously because of its potential to promote protracted disagreement and conflict. In this essay, I argue that one of the foundations of cognitive injustices around the world emerges from this assumption that for there to be knowledge, one ought to embrace epistemological universalism while abandoning wholesale epistemic diversity. I do not only demonstrate that this assumption rests on a mistake but also that epistemological universalism, which is frequently deployed to support the norm of dissolving difference, is a hidden relativism. The rest of the essay examines the virtues of epistemic relativism to the prospect of epistemic diversity within the context of decoloniality.
The (sic)(sic)(sic)(sic) "Collaborative Learning" is an online academic forum that hosts a range of lectures, book discussions and roundtables each year, creating a space for collaboration, as well as bringing different opinions into a conversation. The roundtable on "Environmentalism" aligned with the forum's aims, bringing together three prominent scholars into a conversation that was rich in shared insights yet divergent in opinions. Yumi Suzuki opened the discussion by challenging the common tendency in Chinese philosophy to address environmental issues through Daoism, exploring what Confucianism has to offer instead. As a philosophy concerned with social issues, Confucianism sought productive ways of working with nature without excessively limiting human progress. Jean-Yves Heurtebise offered a contrasting view, provocatively suggesting that early Chinese philosophy has little to offer in addressing today's environmental concerns, which he sees as transcultural and beyond the scope of cultural particularities. Marion Hourdequin, however, emphasized that while ecological issues are global, different cultures "foreground" different values, highlighting social relations and collective responsibility in the Analects. Although Confucius is often seen as conservative, Hourdequin notes that the Analects is all about social change. Rather than retreating into tradition, we might, like Confucius, "stay with the trouble"-facing current environmental challenges while drawing from ancient philosophies. This article synthesizes the key points of the roundtable discussion and concludes by highlighting central insights that situate Confucian thought within broader efforts to rethink ecological degradation and strategies for addressing it.
This paper addresses the philosophical debate surrounding the ontological status of virtual objects. According to an influential anti-realist view, virtual objects are merely fictional and therefore do not exist. My primary aim is to defend a realist view about virtual objects against this fictionalist anti-realist view. I first challenge the anti-realist view by comparing make-believe games and virtual worlds. Then, I argue that although the debate between realists and anti-realists about virtual objects may seem to reach a stalemate, a shared point of agreement can be used to break it. A key idea I seek to highlight is that there is no ontologically significant difference between colored objects and virtual objects. Lastly, I propose an error theory to address a potential worry with my view.
In contemporary philosophy, truth is often restricted to propositions or their bearers. Other uses of "true"-as in the case of "true friend"-are seen as philosophically insignificant. Arguments for this restriction are few and far between and require elaboration. By integrating contemporary and early modern views, we address this need by presenting two principal arguments for such restriction. The first argument concerns the primary and literal sense of "truth," and the second focuses on epistemic usefulness. However, we show that both fail to motivate such a restriction. We argue that nonpropositional accounts of truth in the Tanakh and in Buddhism present unified senses of propositional and nonpropositional truth that resist the charge of epistemic uselessness and, as such, act as counterexamples to both arguments. Specifically, these non-European accounts of truth show that one should not assume that propositional uses of "truth" are the only philosophically important uses.
Recently, Sungmoon Kim developed a theory of what he calls "Confucian democratic perfectionism" aimed at combining Confucianism, public reason, and democracy for contemporary East Asian societies. The primary question guiding this article is whether Kim's promotion of Confucian values is justified by a normative commitment to democratic constitution-making. I see two specific difficulties with Kim's democratic constitution-making, with the second more serious than the first. First, in terms of theoretical identity, the Confucian values promoted through a public reason-based approach are not intelligible as Confucian. Second, Kim's democratic commitment is morally inadequate in two ways-it cannot make sense of substate peoples' right of self-determination within a singular notion of Confucian democracy, and further, a fallback on the right to democratic participation conflicts with more inclusive standards of popular sovereignty.
Despite how often he is quoted and discussed in the literature on Colonial Latin American Studies, there have been few attempts to interpret Guamán Poma as proposing an original philosophical position. This essay intends to be an initial move in this direction and argues that his distinct conception of land and the philosophical praxis related to it may serve as inspiration for a new metaphysics of land, in which both our ontology and our epistemology are dependent on the territory we inhabit, and in which philosophers are conceived as travelers, as pilgrims who both reconnoiter the territory in the manner of astrologists and transform it under the guise of artists. The essay, though, does not limit itself to hermeneutical considerations, and instead attempts to argue for a new philosophical conception inspired by Guamán Poma; to do so, it reconsiders several ideas stemming from the work of Gloria Anzaldúa (on borderlands) and Nishida Kitarō (on the logic of basho). Along the way, it also offers general remarks on the methodology used and on its possible applications to intercultural philosophy in general.
The (sic)(sic)(sic)(sic) "Collaborative Learning" project is a free online academic forum that hosts dozens of events annually. Its tenth roundtable, on "Progressive Confucianism," was held on February 20, 2025.1 The event placed two leading progressive Confucian theorists, Chenyang Li and Stephen C. Angle, into discussion with several other leading scholars of contemporary Confucian moral and political theory, featuring Ranjoo Herr, Elena Ziliotti, Sophia Feiyan Gao, Li Luyao, and audience members. The group exchanged views on a variety of important questions, including: the relation between traditional Confucianism and modern forms of equality, including political equality, gender equality, and human rights; the relation between traditional Confucianism and modern academic Confucian philosophy; and what exactly is progressive about progressive Confucianism. This article first introduces progressive Confucianism as an emergent camp of Confucian normative theory. It then recaps key points of the roundtable discussion and concludes by outlining a few key takeaways that help further contextualize the place of these theories in contemporary Confucian discourse.
The 四海为学 "Collaborative Learning" project is a free online academic forum that hosts over 20 events annually.1 The sixth roundtable, "Irony in the Analects," brought together leading experts in Confucianism, including Huaiyu Wang, Dimitra Amarantidou, and Brook Ziporyn. This event aimed to challenge the overly serious caricature of the Analects and Confucius found in many contemporary discussions. Scholars often treat the Analects as a solemn, moralizing text, and Confucius is depicted as an inflexible pedagogue who simply told his students what they should and should not do.2 Upon closer reading, however, we can see that the Analects (or Lunyu 論語) is not as straightforward as is often assumed. Wang, Amarantidou, and Ziporyn provide listeners with an array of evidence for more ironic approaches to the Confucian classic, as well as to its central figure, Confucius. Huaiyu Wang 王懷聿3 began his discussion focusing on two related issues. First, drawing on passages 3.18, 5.11, and 13.184 from the Analects, Wang presented two contrary ways of reading and interpreting Confucius's conversations: as authoritative instruction from a morally perfect sage, or as intimate and personal exchanges infused with humor and irony. Relatedly, the second issue Wang raised, hinted at already in the title, is whether Confucius can be regarded solely as a sage or whether he is also sometimes portrayed as a scamp in the Analects. Wang began with an exploration of Analects 3.18: The Master said, "The full observance of the rules of propriety in serving one's prince is accounted by people to be flattery."5 According to a propositional reading of this passage, as Wang explained, the one who fully observes rules of propriety is taken by people to be a flatterer. Therefore, the logical conclusion would be that, to avoid negative perceptions from others, one should not try to fully observe the rules, which was clearly how some scholars interpreted the passage. However, as Wang proposed, there is an alternative interpretation of 3.18. Reading between the lines, the passage could be viewed as "ironic." It could be taken to say that, although when one serves the prince with full observance of propriety, people take them to be a flatterer, one should nevertheless still do so since it is the right thing to do. The two above readings seem to oppose one another, but, as Wang suggested, readers can shift from taking the words literally to reading with a sense of irony. As he later demonstrated, this is yet another layer to the irony of the Analects. Wang is especially interested in these types of cases where contrary ways of reading and interpreting conversations in the Analects are equally well-supported by the text. One way is to see them as authoritative instructions from an immaculate sage—from a godly figure who knows everything and dictates to others what the right thing to do is. But the other way, Wang's preferred reading, is to take the Analects as an intimate and personal exchange of thoughts between the Master and his disciples, littered with humor and irony. Wang quotes from Lin Yutang's 林语堂 (d. 1976) argument for reading humor in the Analects: "One can arrive at a true appreciation of the beauty of Confucius character only through his humor, […] the mellow, kindly humor of resignation." Lin continues: "… many of the sayings recorded in the Analects can only be properly understood in the nature of light, humorous remarks between him and his intimate disciples" (Lin 1943, 165). To Wang, it is important to always keep this type of reading in mind when engaging with the Confucian classic. Analects 5.11 also provides instances of Confucius using humor and irony to mellow his teachings. In this passage we find Zigong saying: "What I do not want others to impose upon me, I also do not want to impose upon others." The Master replies, "Ci, this is not what you can attain." If we follow a propositional reading, as suggested by many analytic philosophers today, Confucius here determined that Zigong was incapable of acting according to the Golden Rule, thus it is a discouraging, negative evaluation of Zigong's ability for moral progress. If we read 5.11 with light humor and irony, however, as suggested by Lin Yutang, Wang notes that we can see it as gentle disapproval of Zigong's assertive attitude. Wang further suggested that some possible implications from Confucius' words may include: (1) Do you know how hard it is to follow this golden rule truthfully? (2) Don't we always want to impose more on others and want nothing imposed upon us by others? Or, (3) Why don't you start doing this first before you make such a high claim? And maybe (4) I myself have tried to do this for long but only with limited success! These various readings open the text to multiple interpretations, and demand that readers engage with various understandings, rather than simply memorize the Master's words. Indeed, in some parts of the text readers cannot shy away from robust interpretive demands. Analects 13.18 is perhaps the single most controversial passage of the entire book. Here Confucius responds to Duke She bragging about the upright (zhi 直) Gong who reported on his own father for stealing goats from his neighbor. Confucius famously (or notoriously) responds: "Those who are upright among my clan are different from this. Fathers cover up for their sons, and sons cover up for their fathers. Zhi 直 (forthright/upright behavior) is to be found in this." Many Chinese and Western contemporary scholars have taken this to be a directive from an authoritative master. The Master promoted "unswerving loyalty" to one's parents, and thus prevented the growth of public spirit. Fingarette in particular argues that 13.18 implies the supreme authority of a single, definite cosmic order, and that "the problem of genuine choice among real alternatives never occurred to Confucius" (Fingarette 1972, 23). However, taking an alternative point of view, we can read the passage as a mildly humorous and ironic response to an authoritative lord (Duke She). The Master may be in fact playing with the double meaning of zhi, namely, "upright" and "forthright." He could be suggesting that while the father or the son in his clan might not be upright (zhi 直) in covering up each other, they were forthright (zhi 直) in expressing their genuine emotions of family love—these diverging paths of interpretation are surely interesting avenues to explore.6 If we follow Lin Yutang's argument, as Wang proposed, we can see how even this seemingly straightforward response can be ironic. Confucius does not have to be read as saying "this is how someone should deal with the situation," but instead as inviting critical reflection. Dealing with various ironic takes on this passage could yield diverse readings. In his famous book The Importance of Living (Lin 1937), Lin proposes that the "scamp" or vagabond embodies an ideal of human dignity and could represent hope for modern civilization. This is inspired by the image of the Chinese philosopher as one who dreams "with one eye open" and views life with love and sweet irony, mixing cynicism with kindly tolerance. A "scamp" roams and wanders, and might be a playful and mischievous person who, for example, robs the rich without harming them (Dictionary 1989). "Scamp" is a word of mild reproof and some playfulness, referring to a good-for-nothing, worthless person, a rascal. Interpreting Analects 13.18 from Lin's "scamp as an ideal" viewpoint, Confucius is not actually endorsing the father and son's actions as examples of upright moral behavior. The father and son can be viewed rather like scamps who leave "one eye open and one eye closed," as a cunning way to deal with a tricky and paradoxical situation. This reading also invites us to rethink the relationship between the sage and the scamp. As Wang explained, one commonality they share is that both choose to abide by their "true nature" against the dogmatists and hypocrites of the day. The scamp may challenge authorities with mischievous defiance, while the sage could criticize and transform the mendacious social and political structures with the cultivation and preservation of people's true nature. Therefore, as a virtuoso of the art of life, a Confucian sage is not contrary to the ideal of a scamp. The sage may tolerate, approve, or even personify the scamp as a type of ideal. In fact, in Sima Qian's 司馬遷 (d. 86 BCE) Shiji 史記 (Records of the Grand Historian), we read about Confucius's ready confirmation of his own crestfallen look as a homeless wandering dog (sangjia zhi gou 喪家之狗) in his vagabond years (Sima and Watson 1993). It is also possible that Confucius was regarded as a "scamp" by the political authorities of his time. This image of the Master reveals a strong consistency with the interpretation that appreciates humor and irony in the Analects. This way of reading the text could be a revision of the conventional conception of Confucius as a saint or sage, an authoritative figure of moral perfection and god-like knowledge and ability to tell everyone what the right thing to do is. In line with historical reality, as recorded in Sima Qian's work, Confucius is a common man with no rank (buyi 布衣). Nevertheless, Sima Qian includes Confucius's biography in the section on hereditary houses (shijia世家), normally a title for the royal family, implying his affirmation of Confucius's legacy being passed down for generations. Wang, as the tentative conclusion of his presentation, pointed out that this categorization shows a deep appreciation of Confucius's superb ability to maintain peace, grace, and good humor, as well as to hold onto his true nature and teachings of benevolence (ren 仁) and justice (yi 義) despite all his failures. Dimitra Amarantidou7 responded to Wang highlighting two major points. She first noted the tension between accepting sageliness and irony in the same breath. It seems that the two are incompatible even if we consider Lin Yutang's depiction of Confucius as "the guy next door," or an imperfect man. Attempting to think beyond this surface tension, Amarantidou suggested separating sageliness from perfection. Sageliness can be understood in a way that includes being aware of the shortcomings of others, as well as one's own, and dealing with them with the kind of tolerant irony proposed by Lin. This understanding of sageliness would make more sense, since it is normally inconceivable to think of a perfected sage as willing to play with words—which is precisely what irony entails. So we might not think of an immaculate sage as ironic, or as speaking in anything but a straightforward manner, but we might still imagine sageliness in ways that are compatible with irony. Secondly, Amarantidou considered whether we can think about irony beyond the level of utterances as given in the examples Wang presented. Although Amarantidou also uses these passages for exploring instances of irony in the Analects, where the intended meaning of Confucius's words is different from or even opposite to the literal meaning, she regards these passages as instances of a classic form of irony, namely, verbal or linguistic irony. Irony perceived in this way is not much different from irony in Western traditions, pertaining to language and utterances. Thinking beyond the purely linguistic level, however, Amarantidou argued, irony in the Analects reveals further implications—linguistic irony may beget another kind of irony, which is more corrosive to the meaning and more confusing for the reader. Wang replied to Amarantidou's second point first, highlighting that the philosophy of irony is indeed worth more scholarly attention. It has not be thoroughly explored, and certainly what we find in the Analects may represent a different type of irony. Moving to the first point, Wang noted that not only Western translations and interpretations of the Analects portray Confucius as the perfect sage, but this is the dominant depiction of the Master in Chinese tradition, as well. In earlier times, however, people viewed Confucius as a real character. In fact, Confucius's prominent successor, Mencius, was the one to point out that a sage is not infallible (Mencius or Mengzi 孟子 2B18).8 So, Wang noted, non-perfection should be pertinent to how we understand the sage or sageliness. Although many Western scholars, as well as later Confucian scholars, regard the sage as an ever serious moral paragon, Wang proposed engaging in more careful readings of Confucius's character. In many conversations in the Analects we find that Confucius is more like a person who had failed in life, wandering around to advocate his ideas, hoping to find someone who could truly appreciate him. In fact, there were many other highly regarded, wandering Confucian figures, such as Zhu Xi 朱熹 (d. 1200). It is not uncommon to find great Confucian thinkers who only played a small public role for a short period. This, responding to Amarantidou's second point again, Wang argued, is the real irony of life—irony in one's words comes from irony within life itself. Entering the discussion, Brook Ziporyn9 expressed similar interest in pursuing and calibrating what kind of irony might be applicable in the Analects. Taking this roundtable as a good opportunity to refine the concept, Ziporyn raised three questions. Returning to Fingarette's idea of a "single cosmic order," quoted in Wang's presentation, Ziporyn asked, first, whether a "real alternative" ever occurs to Confucius or whether Fingarette's point is in fact about what Analects 13.18 contravenes. Confucius and a son that shield each other is not the only form of zhi 直 (upright behavior), and Fingarette's view thus seems to be "patently insane". Rather than denying the second sense of zhi, "forthcoming," Ziporyn wondered if Wang was actually suggesting an inherent doubleness in the idea of zhi. This inherent tension within zhi, which is both "upright" and "forthright," may be what is called an inescapable "irony of life." Irony in this case refers to zhi occupying a center (zhong 中) between two seemingly contradictory sides, and being drawn in two directions, alternating between liangduan (liang duan 兩 端, two ends). The suggestion is that this reading could be factored into our reading of the Analects. Ziporyn's second point was on how Confucius may tolerate, approve, and personify the "scamp." In addition to Sima Qian's characterization of Confucius as a failure, Ziporyn wondered if Wang would also consider Confucius's behavior in Analects 13.18 as "scampish." Confucius is saying something that is deliberately provocative, and his way of responding may not be simply instructive, but also troublemaking. Confucius thus not only approves of the scampish behavior of those who protect their parents but also personifies the idea himself. Finally, going back to "fei-er-suo-ji非爾所及 (something that one cannot reach)" in Analects 5.11, Ziporyn explained that what Confucius suggests to Zigong is not trying to achieve something beyond his reach, thus critiquing the overzealous application of virtues. Ziporyn here touches upon a deeper layer of irony in the Analects, arguing that Confucius is undermining the Golden Rule, implying that it is unachievable, while in fact his very words also embody it. In response to the question of Analects 13.18 in dealing with Duke She, Wang emphasized that the inherent tension within zhi reflects the tension between Confucius's reverence toward authority (Duke She is, after all, a lord) and the need to express gentle disapproval. Confucius is respectful of authority but is also a multilayered character. Not only in this, Wang noted, but in other settings in life, Confucius personifies a scamp, who does not wish to upset authority but to play with words within a social setting, to reveal some ulterior meaning and encourage reflection. Although Duke She did not employ Confucius, because he did not like Confucius's character, this is precisely the point Analects is making, that like for Socrates, for Confucius it was not necessary to be employed by a ruler. So, ci 刺 (from fengci 諷刺, "irony," "sarcasm," or "to mock"; ci literally means "thorn") can make one uncomfortable, but it is not a form of direct confrontation—a point people often miss. Following up with a question, Amarantidou brought up an understanding of irony as an expression of deferral—as moral discretion or quan 權 ("weighing things," "flexibility"), as proposed by Wang in his earlier work. Irony, Amarantidou argued, is opening up a space for reflection for the interlocutor. However, can the "scamp" reading be compatible with such a moral stance? In other words, as Amarantidou explained, are the figures of the scamp and the deferring gentleman opposed, or is it better to think of Confucius as a "gentlemanly scamp"? Wang suggested that there can be different types of scamps. Some scamps just escape their responsibility, but Confucius is not this type of scamp. Importantly, the scamp attitude is within the nature of human beings, traceable to humanity's "ape" heritage. People should not be rigid in conforming to rules, and should not lose too much of their true nature as "evolved monkeys." One needs to strike a balance between staying true to oneself and achieving situational appropriateness. This, Wang argued, is the difference between Confucianism and Daoism, namely, that the latter may expect humans to be more radical scamps. Therefore, the scamp attitude in the Analects should be regarded as a balancing act between one's true nature and the appropriateness of social situations. The second speaker, Dimitra Amarantidou, began her discussion of irony in the Analects with reflections on the historical figure of Confucius. Raising the question of whether there is one true Confucius that we should seek to recover, or whether every age has its own Confucius,10 Amarantidou pointed out the evolution of the image of Confucius from the Spring-Autumn period (770-476 BCE) to Neo-Confucianism of the later Song to Ming Dynasties. Wrestling with this question, she warned that the assumption of a true image of Confucius leads to a tension in discussions of irony. If Confucius is a sage in some immaculate sense, he cannot be ironic; if he is ironic, then he cannot be an immaculate sage. To resolve this tension, she proposed thinking of Confucius as an ironic sage.11 Combining the notion of irony and sageliness might get us closer to the Confucius of the Analects, and also fits nicely both with Wang's discussion of Confucius as a scamp and with the unique type of irony Ziporyn suggests.12 Confucian irony stems from the observation that Confucius was tactful and skilled with language. Amarantidou first draws our attention to narrowly construed irony—or the verbal irony found in passages of the Analects. There is more to be said, however, as there also appears to be broadly construed irony, a philosophical stance, as argued by people such as Lin Yutang. Starting with the narrowly construed verbal irony, we can look at Analects 5.20, where we find a high minister, Ji Wenzi, suggesting that people should act only after thinking about it three times. Confucius reportedly responds: "Two times is fine." According to many interpretations, Confucius's suggestion of "two times" rather than "three" conveys more than just an arbitrary number; it is about developing a sense of morality and moral cultivation in a particular way. Accordingly, Confucius is suggesting that abiding by fixed rules or standards can be problematic (and we saw the emphasis on quan or "weighing things" above). In other words, Confucius is challenging the certainty of assertions such as "always thinking three times." In this sense, he offers an indirect critique of thinking which is fixed in certain ways. The playful manner Confucius uses, suggesting that two times is enough and three is too much, should be taken as a jocular opening of ironic space wherein his interlocutors can critically reflect on their more static views. Similarly, Confucius once said that since his teachings were not successful, he should get on a boat and drift around on the seas. His disciple Zilu, he says, should accompany him. But after Zilu happily agrees, Confucius rescinds his statement, saying of Zilu, "there is no material to make the boat" (Analects 5.7). The influential commentator Zheng Xuan 鄭玄 (d. 200) elaborates on this passage: Because Zilu did not understand his subtle language, Confucius is teasing him (gu xi zhi er故戲之耳). This conversation challenges previous hagiographies and paints an unorthodox portrait of Confucius as someone who transmits wisdom, yet is sometimes unaware of his own lack of wisdom, or the wisdom of others. Zheng Xuan offers two different glosses of what Confucius may mean. First, he might be making fun of Zilu for not understanding him. Second, Confucius may be taking back his words because he regrets Zilu's pride (Liu 1990, 172). As Amarantidou argued, in both cases, Confucius is somebody who plays with words, teasing his disciples, and does not provide straightforward answers, but demands critical reflection from others. There may be other important implications, Amarantidou noted, such as those Wang mentioned, for instance, that he is being self-critical—he is pointing out that he is not really capable of going out to sea and needs to rely on others. Read in this way, we might understand many of the passages in the Analects considered "ironic" as actually examples of what is known in the Confucian tradition as "subtle words" (微言weiyan).13 This poses the question, as Amarantidou noted, why even call it "irony"? Why not just call it "subtle words"? These subtle words are an indirect form of communication, a tool of instruction with a pedagogical function.14 Nevertheless, this irony is a subtle way of talking that is meant to be understood. This is precisely the irony also found in Roman educators Cicero and Quintilian, and perhaps most famously in Socrates. It is not supposed to trick others or mock them. Lin (1943) discusses this type of irony in the Analects as well, and develops the philosophical implications further. Lin takes Confucius as a fallible human, who is not unlike any other person. The irony Confucius employs then becomes a philosophical stance—and here we find Amarantidou echoing Wang's earlier ideas and drawing them into conversation with one another. Lin connects irony to "reasonableness" (qingli 情理) which is rooted in a general idea of common sense and is manifest in Confucius' tolerance toward other people's vices. Lin uses a distinction between vegetarians and "vegetarians" to make his point. There are vegetarians who will never eat meat and "vegetarians" who enjoy pork in their cabbage soup. This is an example of reasonableness. Reasonableness means that a person is not a slave to a principle and considers situational particulars and emotions (qing情)—and again this is related to the idea of quan or "weighing things" mentioned above. Many have also noted that various forms of flexibility are indispensable to Confucius's teachings. Rather than just condemning people for their shortcomings, Confucius's irony is gently pointing out errors by poking fun at both others and himself. The irony we find in the Analects can therefore be read as expressing a reasonableness that exemplifies weighing and flexibility. Concluding her discussion, Amarantidou considered how much further we might be able to take this understanding of irony. Could we take irony as the verbal expression of a broadly construed reversal? Wang's understanding was moving along these lines as well, and this is what Lin's work also demonstrates. We might even go so far as to say irony is analogous to a reversed mirror of reality, offering a flipped image of the accepted value system. The opening lines of the Analects (1.1) give us an example of such an ironic reversal: "To learn and regularly apply what you have learned, isn't it a pleasure? To welcome friends from distant places, isn't it a joy? To stay undisturbed when people don't think highly of you, isn't that the mark of a decent person?" Here, what is conventionally underestimated—simple joys in life, such as the company of like-minded friends—is given elevated status. What is usually not tolerated, the low opinion of others, becomes an exercise in decency. What is normally loathed, namely, having to apply what one has learned to deal with life's difficulties, is seen as an opportunity for growing one's love of learning. Moreover, formulated as rhetorical questions, Confucius's observations in 1.1 can be read as ironic. They are presented as self-evident truths, while actually demanding deep reflection and devoted practice. Irony, Amarantidou argued, functions pedagogically as a method of instruction, pointing to some situations that are conventionally taken to be bad (or good), and reversing these situations to reveal deeper insights and opportunities for growth. Beginning the discussion on Amarantidou's presentation, Ziporyn asked about whether there might be an even thicker sense of irony being referenced in the passages she mentioned. In particular, he offered a more concentrated reading of "there is no material to make the boat" (wu suo qu cai無所取材) (Analects 5.7). The word for "raw material" here is cai 材 which can also be read as cai 才 or "talent." This could also mean that Confucius was telling Zilu he is braver than Confucius but is not the material (does not have the talent) to live outside of society as his aide-de-camp. This could also be about Confucius himself; that is, the one who is lacking talent might not be Zilu, but Confucius. Confucius could be recognizing that he does not dare to live alone, and yet does still think that he would try anyways. We find other passages like this in the Analects, as Ziporyn noted. For example, in 14.38 we find Zilu, yet again, in conversation with a gatekeeper. The latter, upon finding out that Zilu is a disciple of Confucius, says of him, "Isn't he the one who knows what he is trying to achieve is not possible and yet works towards it anyways?" (Analects 14.38), in that, he knows it is hopeless but cannot remove himself from it. In other words, there is a special virtue in seriously following through with a task one knows is likely not practical. This is a quixotic task and is admirable only when it is acknowledged as quixotic—that is, only when it is realized to be not accomplishable. There is an irony here in that Confucius may be being disparaging of Zilu and himself, while at the same time praising them both. In this sense, some degree of lack of courage is also (ironically) a virtue. The co-existence of these different threads, which are not grounded in one principle or another, is the subtlety of the "subtle words" mentioned above. On this point, Wang raised two questions. First, about the translation of "irony" in Chinese. The typical translation is "fengci 諷刺." Wang argued that this is not wrong, but inadequate and especially removed from the everyday use of this word, noting that "subtle words (weiyan 微言)" is actually also already a translation of irony. Weiyan is much more ambiguous, and leaves room for the more playful side of Confucius and the Analects that this roundtable is seeking to explore. Second, Wang raised the question why "thinking three times" matters and whether there is a substantial difference between twice and thrice. Is this about finding balance in making decisions? On the one hand, a wise person is not confused and would not hesitate (Analects 9.29; 14.28: zhizhe bu huo 知者不惑), but irony involves some hesitation and not knowing what to do. At least in the way irony has been discussed in this roundtable so far, Wang pointed out, such a space should exist. On possible Chinese translations of "irony," Amarantidou argued that fengci 諷刺 and fanfeng 反諷 are difficult to accept, especially by contemporary Chinese scholars, because they make Confucius seem arrogant, like he is regularly mocking or demeaning people. Fanyu 反語, "reversed words" or "reversal of words," is perhaps a better rendering in that it is more ambiguous toward the speaker's intentions. The easy way out, as Amarantidou suggested, might be just to use the English word "irony" even in Chinese contexts, as it may seem more acceptable. If a Chinese word must be used, Amarantidou suggested that fanyu would be the best, with the addition of adequate footnotes and explications. Returning to the passage about Ji Wenzi thinking three times before acting, and Confucius responding "thinking twice is okay" (Analects 5.20), Amarantidou noted that it is a valid interpretation to say that Confucius intended this remark as praise to Ji Wenzi. The passage could also be saying that thinking too much leads to the decider being too hesitant. We could think about a more general claim being made here as well. Beyond speaking about Ji Wenzi, Confucius might also be saying not to take oneself too seriously, and be encouraging engagement in the world. One should not be overly confident in their ability to figure things out. Oftentimes it takes actual practical action to sort through the world. Thinking is important, but should not be overly emphasized. This also entails that people should try to be open to different situations that could shape moral cultivation. The suggestion is that there is no single formula and people should not be too rigid. At the same time, this comment is ironic, considering that Confucius is offering a formula on not following formulas—he is telling us it is two in place of three, but at the same time it is not about this number at all. However, if we take this as an example of playful "subtle words," then Confucius is not so much giving another formula as emphasizing a break from thinking which relies on formulas. This, Amarantidou a
In a democracy, when a group of deliberators have a set of differing (and contrary) views and beliefs about a particular policy or action, p , a recommended course of action is for them to pursue, and ultimately reach, a consensus on p . The pursuit of consensus allows deliberators to ‘reach over the aisle’ in accommodating dissenting views through rational dialogue until a consensual agreement is reached by all the deliberators. What fuels this pursuit of consensus is the ‘will to consensus’—a ‘frame of mind’ or a ‘disposition’ to resolve disagreements into a consensus. In this paper, I will raise some conceptual problems with positing a ‘will to consensus’ that is prior to, and supervenes on, the rational discussion of deliberators. Instead of a ‘will to consensus’, democratic theorists should be content with the minimal claim of a ‘will to dialogue’.
In a democracy, when a group of deliberators have a set of differing (and contrary) views and beliefs about a particular policy or action, p , a recommended course of action is for them to pursue, and ultimately reach, a consensus on p . The pursuit of consensus allows deliberators to ‘reach over the aisle’ in accommodating dissenting views through rational dialogue until a consensual agreement is reached by all the deliberators. What fuels this pursuit of consensus is the ‘will to consensus’—a ‘frame of mind’ or a ‘disposition’ to resolve disagreements into a consensus. In this paper, I will raise some conceptual problems with positing a ‘will to consensus’ that is prior to, and supervenes on, the rational discussion of deliberators. Instead of a ‘will to consensus’, democratic theorists should be content with the minimal claim of a ‘will to dialogue’.
In January 1902, Joseph Moku'& omacr;hai Poepoe began publishing a monthly journal titled Ke Kanawai (the law). As an attorney, author, and editor, Poepoe endeavored to provide resources in ka '& omacr;lelo Hawai'i (the Hawaiian language) for Kanaka (Hawaiians) living in a world now governed by American law. The three extant issues (January through March) contain a column titled "Kakaolelo-Logika," a transliteration of "logic" paired with the term "k & amacr;k & amacr;'& omacr;lelo," commonly glossed as "oration," "counsel," or "debate," but traditionally referring to cultural specialists that advised leaders and were known for being adept in speaking. This column is likely the earliest prolonged engagement with western philosophy by a Kanaka writing in '& omacr;lelo Hawai'i. The purpose of this article is to lay the groundwork for further discussing questions of comparative philosophy in a Hawaiian context. Thus, the article proceeds in two parts. First, I contextualize the column within its historical setting; then, I translate the column. This will set the stage for future work of interpretation and comparison.
In this paper, I discuss whether the truth of causal statements depends on factors from the context of assessment. I use MacFarlane's New Relativism and his discussion of taste statements and knowledge statements as a model and explain how to extend this to causal statements. I argue that causal statements can depend on assessor factors. My argument depends on examining one medical example in extensive detail, from the point of view of different speaker contexts and different assessor contexts.
