SOURCE: “Some Aspects of Mind and the Problem of Knowledge in Chu Hsi's Philosophy,” in Journal of Chinese Philosophy, Vol. 9, No. 1, March, 1982, pp. 11-43.

[In the essay below, Wittenborn studies Chu Hsi's theory of the mind, maintaining that although the theory represents the least successful facet of Chu Hsi's philosophical synthesis, his investigation of this issue resulted in a theory of knowledge rooted in a “firm psychological foundation.” Wittenborn further contends that Chu Hsi argues convincingly for the existence of li, or constitutive principle, rather than simply presupposing its existence, as did many of his predecessors and contemporaries.]

There is a great deal of difficulty in understanding such basic Neo-Confucian concepts as jen, tao, and li largely because of their fundamental simplicity in the sense that they are vast, sweeping and comprehensive, and hence very vague and not easily defined or precisely delineated. In contrast, mind (or “the” mind)—hsin—is difficult to understand because of its utter complexity; these are so many ramifications involved in discussing the mind that trying to cover them all only serves to further confuse other aspects of Chu Hsi's thinking that have been neatly dealt with and fitted into his system of philosophy. Even when one does approach some semblance of success in being able to tie together all the loose strands one ultimately finds that many simply do not fit.

Chu Hsi's theory of mind is clearly one of the least successful elements of his otherwise masterly synthesis. I suspect that this is due both to the fact that he was unwittingly but necessarily treading new paths, and that he was trying to do too much with too little.¹ By this I mean that Chu was trying to make the mind perform too many functions: he was attempting to adhere to the notion of mind that he believed Mencius had held, to account for a theory of knowledge expounded by the Great Learning, to deal with features of the mind found in the Doctrine of the Mean, to include elements from the Classic of Change that were further modified by Chou Tun-yi, to account for the emphasis put on constitutive energy (ch’i) by Chang Tsai, to try to escape the somewhat mystical approach of the mind by Ch’eng Hao without jettisoning it altogether, and to use the mind itself to oppose the Buddhists—but all of this was simply too much for any one concept to include. Mind, therefore, in the philosophy of Chu Hsi, became overextended. The result, nevertheless, is a mixed blessing: in one sense, mind is a tangled web of often conflicting and even contradictory statements that serve to make Chu appear a very inconsistent thinker and to that extent ineffectual; on the other hand, the very inclusion of so many divergent strands of thought make it all the richer, and in fact this very reservoir of charged and viable ideas far outweighs the limitations of its inconsistencies.

However, that Chu Hsi was treading a new path in the theory of mind is, in my opinion, his greatest contribution to Chinese thought. Unfortunately, this is one aspect that was often ignored by subsequent Chinese thinkers and has been recognized by only a few contemporary observers.² What Chu Hsi appears to have tried to do, and in a certain way he may not even have been aware of just what he was doing, was to develop a theory of knowledge based on a firm psychological foundation. Hence, Chu Hsi's theory of mind is one step in the advancement of Chinese philosophical psychology.

In addition to the difficulty of trying to trace a consistent argument in Chu's discussions on the mind, there is another more explicit problem that arises from Chu's psychological musings which should be noted. This is the question of how we come to know about constitutive principle (li).

Chu clearly asserts that for everything there must first be li³ and then it interacts with some form of ch’i to bring about the thing in question to which it accords in its makeup and function. Everything has its own particular li⁴ which determines its nature or essence or quality or constitution, and which fixes it in a certain class or category of being. Everything, whether it is animate or inanimate, natural or artificial, has li. Without li there can be no thing. Thus, the li of a ship is that it is of a certain design which best enables it to glide through the water, and the li of a cart provides it with wheels so that it can better move on land.

The necessity of li is so strong that not only can we infallibly deduce that where there is something there is a li of it and for it, but in fact, we must make such a deduction if we are to know li, for this is the only means open to us for knowing about li. In order to assert that there is a certain li of something and that it operates in some particular fashion, we must first understand its ch’i manifestation or actualization.

This, however, leads to a dilemma, for li is (or are) imperceptible and inexperiential; we can know li only by deduction from observing ch’i. But how do we really know li until we completely know ch’i? How do we know that there are any li at all? Just as we may always be in error about the makeup or function of some ch’i, so we may also be in error about its li, and so we may be in error about the entire concept of li.

Suppose for a moment that this manifestation of li and/or its function, or at least our understanding of it, changes. For instance, the cart may actually be able to move on water and to function just as well there as it does on land, just as well as does the boat which supposedly has a different li.⁵ Since the li of a thing does not appear to change, then we can only conclude that we were mistaken in the first place. This leads us inevitably into the quagmire of Cartesian doubt, for if we were mistaken in the beginning we can never be completely certain that we will not be mistaken again. The logical conclusion is that we can always be mistaken, and thus it will be impossible for us to be perfectly correct all the time about our understanding of a thing and its li. Or if we are correct, we can never be certain that we are, and the whole notion of li is thrown into doubt.

This may be Chu Hsi's greatest single flaw in his entire synthetic philosophy: How do we account for error? If we can be wrong about one thing, and there is no doubt that we can and are, then we can be wrong about anything. The standard explanation of error among the Neo-Confucian thinkers is that it stems basically from cloudiness in our ch’i, in the ch’i which forms our body and mind, the same ch’i which also accounts for bad and evil in the world. Since this is the very manifestation of li, then our knowledge of li must always be uncertain. That is, the very medium by which we perceive or apprehend li is also that very medium which is the sole cause of error. And so the notion of ch’i takes on the role of Descartes' “evil demon”: how can we ever know that we are not being tricked in absolutely everything that we think? How can we ever be certain that our understanding of ch’i is correct? Perhaps ch’i, all ch’i is always cloudy, perhaps not. But how do we know?

Descartes extricated himself from the quagmire by standing on a firm bed of an indubitable thought: the fact that he was thinking at all, even though all his other thoughts may have been fallible, was completely certain. And from this one certain and infallible fact, Descartes built his entire epistemological edifice.

But Chu Hsi was not open to such a theory of knowledge. The most rock-solid assumption or presupposition in Chu's entire philosophy appears to be the very li which has been drawn into question. In his eyes, there could be no doubt that such principles, or concepts, existed, and that they were exactly as he believed them to be. In this, Chu was very close to the “common sense” philosophy of G. E. Moore, who believed that the “good” is directly apprehensible, and Moore became known as an “ethical intuitionist,” a monicker that might very well fit Chu Hsi.⁶ How true this is largely problematical, but the point to be made here is that both philosophers said that there is Good (or the Goodness of li) because I can use my own common sense to see that this is so and no amount of speculation is going to change that. In this sense, they were just as unshakeable as the clergyman who will not be denied in his belief in God.

But I believe that by analyzing certain aspects of Chu's philosophy of mind we can shed light on this problem of knowledge and come to see that Chu Hsi, in fact, offers a compelling argument for the existence of constitutive principle in contrast simply to presupposing it.

I. MIND, CONSTITUTIVE ENERGY (CH’I) AND CONSTITUTIVE PRINCIPLE (LI)

Constitutive principle and constitutive energy are the two fundamental ontological principles. These two principles interact with each other to bring about all that we know as the world order. Generally speaking, constitutive principle is the logical patterning system and constitutive energy is the substantiating actualizable element.

Throughout the world there is constitutive principle and constitutive energy. Constitutive principle is the transcendent tao and is the root which produces all things; constitutive energy is the experiential material and is the instrument by which all things are produced. This is why when man and things are produced they must be endowed with constitutive principle before they have their nature, and why they must be endowed with constitutive energy before they have form.⁷

In regard to the mind, constitutive energy plays a dual role. In terms of the substance of the mind, mind is composed of the most refined (ching) portion of constitutive energy.⁸ Second, associated as it is with human-heartedness (jen), constitutive energy, as the function of the mind, is the actualizing agent of all that is potential, imparting to the mind a creative or generative function. As such, the mind is the source of the emotions and feelings.⁹ Hence, constitutive energy not only serves as the actualizing agent in the process of creation and transformation, but it also leads to evil and badness in a person. Mind itself, composed of the most refined constitutive energy, harbors no innate badness; as we shall see further on in the discussion on concentration, it is only when the psychological processes of the mind interact with constitutive principle that this energy has the ability to contaminate what eventually issues forth as feelings.

The relation between the mind and constitutive principle is more germane to a discussion of Chu Hsi's psychological epistemology. The mind is like a receptacle or enceinte for the constitutive principles. That is, the mind embraces or possesses all principles and all principles are complete within the mind¹⁰ and therein known as the Great Ultimate¹¹ (t’ai-chi). Chu at one point even states that the mind and constitutive principle are one.¹² But this should not be mistakenly understood that mind is principle and therefore in agreement with Lu Hsiang-shan's assertion that the mind is the universe. For Chu goes on to qualify his statement by explaining that principle is not next to (literally, in front of, tsai ch’ien-mien) but lies within the mind (tsai hsin-chih-chung). Liu Shu-hsien reminds us that “the mind and principle do have a very close relation between them, even though it falls short of identity. Chu Hsi maintains that the mind embraces all principles. He says, ‘Without the mind, principle would have nothing in which to inhere.’¹³ Thus, mind and principle are two, but the relation between them is that of inherence. It is in this sense that from the very start they pervade each other.”¹⁴

We may also say that mind has a relation to constitutive principle similar to that which constitutive energy does. The diffusion of principle permeates constitutive energy just as it permeates the mind, only its diffusion and permeation of constitutive energy is an occurrence in nature while its diffusion and permeation of mind occurs within the human world. Just as in cosmology Chu Hsi said that constitutive principle cannot be separated from and is dependent on constitutive energy, so in human affairs it cannot be separated from and is dependent on the mind. Therefore, both constitutive energy and mind are what give meaning to constitutive principle in that they act as agents for the expression of principle. What is important to note, however, is that in regard to the mind, constitutive principle is known as nature (hsing).

II. MIND, NATURE, AND FEELINGS

When principle is embraced by the mind it becomes man's nature. “In relation to the mind, [constitutive principle] is called nature. In relation to events, [mind] is called constitutive principle.”¹⁵ It is in this way that Chu Hsi often quoted Ch’eng Yi in saying that nature is principle (hsing-chi-li). If this is the case, then we cannot say that mind is principle as Lu Hsiang-shan did since mind and nature are clearly not equivalent,¹⁶ with mind enclosing principle. Furthermore, principle as the substance of heaven¹⁷ becomes embraced by the mind. It seems that when a person is born, he is born of heaven as well as of his parents, for heaven imparts to him the constitutive principle.¹⁸ Another way of saying this is that heaven endows the mind with constitutive principles and once endowed it becomes that individual's nature by virtue of being the “humanized” aspect of heaven. To clarify this, Chu Hsi agreed with the following assessment:

About the distinction between heaven, endowment, nature, and constitutive principle: Heaven refers to what is self-existent; endowment refers to that which operates and is endowed in all things; nature refers to the total substance and that by which all things attain their being; and constitutive principle refers to the laws underlying all things and events. Taken together, heaven is constitutive principle, endowment is nature, and nature is constitutive principle.¹⁹

Endowment (ming) is what is imparted by heaven to man and which becomes his nature. We may liken nature and endowment to two sides of the same coin. Endowment is what heaven imparts to man and things, and nature is what man and things receive from heaven.²⁰ Nevertheless, endowment is really a passive phase of heaven while nature is active and commensurate with the moral virtues of humanheartedness, rightmindedness, decorum, and wisdom (jen yi li chih) which in turn become manifest as compassion, conscientiousness, deference, and knowledge.²¹ In another development which brings the entire cycle around full circle, the virtues are reflections of the natural seasons²² as well as of the cosmic virtues of origin, growth, perfection, and fulfillment²³ (yuan heng li chen).

It is also important to note that “endowment” is different for different people: “The word ‘endowment’ is the same one we use when we say that ‘what is endowed by heaven is nature,’ which is to say, the constitutive principle of all that something innately receives. Nature also has this ‘endowment’ of that which is endowed in something, which is to say the portion of that which is so endowed, having the differences of many and few, and thick and thin.”²⁴ Chu emphasizes this in another section and stresses the point that there is nothing we can do about the particular nature we have been endowed with:

Man's nature is like a ray of sunlight: that which people and things receive is different. It is like the ray of sunlight shining through an opening which can be either large or small. So form and matter of people and things are fixed and once they are it is difficult to change them. It is like the cricket and the ant being so tiny—simply know the difference between the primary and the secondary [i.e., between what is important and what is not].²⁵

But just as the potential of constitutive principle is made manifest or actual by constitutive energy, nature, too, in its unstimulated phase is something different after it has been aroused. When nature becomes manifest it is known as the feelings (ch’ing). “Nature is the constitutive principle of the mind, and feelings are the movements of the mind.”²⁶ In fact, it is only because of the feelings that we even know about nature.²⁷ When the feelings are good then they will appear as compassion, conscientiousness, deference, and right knowledge, and from these manifest feelings we can infer the four innate virtues.²⁸ If we do not base our abservations first on the feelings then we simply cannot correctly know our nature. “It is like discussing whether the nature of medicine is hot or cold. It is only after administering the medicine that it will become hot or cold and this is its nature.”²⁹

However, the opposite is not strictly the case. That is, if we see some manifest evil feelings, we cannot infer that one's nature is bad, for nature is always good. “The feelings are not necessarily good. However, in their origin they can be considered good and not evil. It is only when they have been overturned (fan) that the feelings are bad.”³⁰ In such a case we will know that that person did not successfully keep his mind concentrated on purifying his innate virtue as it became contaminated through interaction with constitutive energy.

The concept of ch’ing itself, commonly translated “feelings,” or occasionally (and incorrectly in the philosophy of Chu Hsi) as “passions” or “emotions,” should not be confused with the emotive feelings usually ascribed to desires (yü). In particular, in the philosophy of Chu Hsi, ch’ing refers to the state or condition of the mind which is manifest after the mind has been stimulated and issued forth. In this sense, it is a complement to hsing, a person's basic human nature as it is endowed by heaven. Thus, a major Confucian theme is the interconnectedness of feelings (ch’ing), constitutive principle (li), and human nature (hsing).³¹

Of course, it is correct to say that it is proper to want to attain a position of sageliness, and in this way it can be argued that we have a “desire” to be a sage. But such a noble feeling for moral purification, revolving as it does around ch’ing, was inextricably connected to a cognitive process. In other words, the four virtues which issue forth as feelings after the mind is stimulated out of its latent phase of nature involves a spontaneous yet determined reaction, not the uncontrollable and often violent response totally independent of any rational control which “feelings” often connotes. Feelings for Chu Hsi are a controlled reaction, more empathetic than emotive.

Finally, we may note that not only is the mind the seat of nature and feelings, but it is the bridge between them. The mind unites or links together (t’ung) nature and feelings³² and in this way the mind controls (t’ung) our feelings. This is also why the mind is called the “ruler”³³ whether during periods of movement (i.e., when feelings are dominant) or during periods of rest (when nature is dominant). “The mind unites and regulates our nature and feelings. It is not the case that it is united with nature and feelings into one thing with no differentiation between them.”³⁴ Mind also acts in a manner similar to humanheartedness (jen) in that it is likened to a grain with the same generative properties as the kernel (also jen).³⁵ Because the mind is ruler and controls or links together nature and feelings, and because the mind is all-pervading and without any peers,³⁶ we may conclude that mind is on a level with tao itself since tao, too, is the only all-pervading entity that is without match.³⁷ In this sense, then, we may think of the mind as being absolute or non-pareil.³⁸ However, the functioning of the mind is an even more important aspect than its essence, and this leads us to consider a notion that has already been alluded to, that of the phases of the mind.

III. THE PHASES OF THE MIND

By dealing with the phases of the mind I hope to bring attention to a topic which is crucial to the philosophy of Chu Hsi but one which has been almost totally ignored by Western Sinologists and, with rare exceptions, dealt with summarily even by Chinese and Japanese scholars.³⁹ This dearth of attention seems strange, especially since two of the phases (imminent issuance and accomplished issuance,⁴⁰wei-fa and yi-fa) are found originally in the Neo-Confucian handbook, the Doctrine of the Mean. Even Tu Wei-ming, in his excellent and otherwise thorough discussion of this classic, merely throws quotes around the two phrases and then continues on to further matters.⁴¹ Moreover, the somewhat authoritative Encyclopedic Dictionary of the Chinese Language⁴² (Chung-wen ta tz’u-tien) notes only their appearance in the Doctrine of the Mean as the first instance of their use and then jumps ahead to Wang Yang-ming's Instructions for Practical Living (Ch’uan-hsi lu). Clearly, the idea of these phases or states of the mind had to await the heyday of speculative psychological philosophy which eventually emerged in the Sung. This having been said, we must ask what bearing this has on Chu Hsi's concept of mind.

In order to pass from a state of pre-consciousness to the activity of consciousness, that is, from unconsciousness through awareness to thinking, the mind moves through a series of phases. The first phase is that of total stillness (ching) when the mind is in a state of pure consciousness (i.e., with no thinking or reasoning involved), a state not unlike a condition of “unconsciousness,” which is not to say no consciousness or a lack of consciousness; it is simply that the potential of awareness is not yet realized. This stage cannot be said to have any inclinations toward good or evil, nor any capacity for sensation or cognition. Chu often characterized it as a place of total stillness (chi-ch’u) or as total stillness without movement⁴³ (chi-jan pu-tung).

Assuming that something occurs to stimulate the mind at rest in its abeyant state, the mind acquires a new attitude after stimulation, that of imminent issuance (wei-fa), wherein the mind's potential consciousness becomes “poised for take-off.” (Whether the mind has the capacity to stimulate itself is a question I am still not able to answer. Chu at times seems to lean in this direction, but possibly from his fear that this could result in a theory of “two minds” or a “dual mind,” he desisted from pursuing the matter.⁴⁴) Wei-fa literally means that time when the mind, or more properly, when the operations or processes of the mind have not yet issued forth. But because this step immediately precedes the activation of these processes they implicitly are imminent, ready for expression.

Imminent issuance is the phase where the potential functions of sensation have not yet become activated and remain in a latent state. It is the time when the subliminal states of feeling of joy, anger, sorrow and happiness (hsi nu ai le) are still dormant, when the virtues of human-heartedness, rightmindedness, propriety and wisdom (jen yi li chih) have not appeared as virtues but remain only potential. That is, they point to those states when they are still only in the stage of pure nature (hsing). Or, to put it another way, the phase of imminent issuance is that state when the mind has just been stimulated out of its state of perfect rest and which, because it is simply a condition of pure nature, or where there is nothing other than constitutive principle, it cannot but accord with the inner equilibrium (chung) of the principle of heaven.

Moreover, because the phase of imminent issuance is a state of pure nature, it follows that it is wholly good. And according to Chu, it is analogous to the substance or essence (t’i) of the mind. This is the true nature of a person's being, that aspect of essential characteristics which determines what an individual's personal attributes will be.⁴⁵ But in order to fully appreciate wei-fa it is necessary to contrast it with its mental correlate, yi-fa (accomplished issuance), of which more in a moment.

First, however, we consider the third phase of “incipient issuance” (chi). Aside from its numerous instances in the Classic of Change and the occasional interest shown by Hsun-tzu,^bd the earliest use of chi as a mental phenomenon seems to be that of Chou Tun-yi in his T’ung-shu, a treatise on the Classic of Change. Fortunately, Chu Hsi wrote fairly copious notes to Chou's work and it is to these that we turn. Chu explains chi as the most subtle of movements and that point at which good and evil separate or become distinct. “As soon as incipient issuance appears there is awareness of good and evil.”⁴⁶ As such, it is also the juncture where constitutive principle initially appears and where human desire begins to grow.⁴⁷ Elsewhere Chu notes that this phase lies between no movement and the movement of desire.⁴⁸Chi illustrates the essence of imminent issuance (wei-fa) as well as indicates the very beginnings of accomplished issuance (yi-fa).⁴⁹

Nevertheless, being the beginning of movement, chi is also the initial stage of conscious awareness. Incipient issuance is not only the point where sensation (kan) begins⁵⁰ but it is also the departure point for consciousness.⁵¹

In order to remain consistent with Chou's remarks Chu Hsi here posits an interesting notion. He writes that chi (incipient issuance) lies between what is normally termed “sincerity” (ch’eng) and, for want of a better word, “sensibility.”⁵² As used in these particular passages by both Chou and Chu, ch’eng seems to be a pure state of unadulturated and unstimulated unconsciousness; perhaps it may be likened to a subconscious level of awareness. What I have translated as “sensibility,” however, is far from the normal rendering of shen as soul or spirit. But my use of “sensibility” is based on Chu's own explanation that consciousness (chih-chüeh) is shen. “When we hit our hand or foot, then our hand or foot hurts. This is shen.”⁵³ This is clearly one more instance where Chu's insights outrace his vocabulary; he is forced once again to draw on conventional words to describe new concepts. It is also possible that Chou's use of ch’eng and shen were meant to convey similar ideas represented by wei-fa and yi-fa according to Ch’eng Yi and Chu Hsi.

Chi, then, is that subtle yet potential incipient state in the mind which is the hub where good and evil diverge. It is at this point in the mind's functioning that the mind is “uncommitted,” that instant when the mind could go either the way of good or of eivl. It is also that moment linking the very important span between imminent and accomplished issuance, when the mental faculties reach from being unconscious and insensate to the beginnings of conscious and rational awareness. As such, it is the moment when the phenomena of things are first investigated and when knowledge begins to be perfected, that is, when concepts begin to be formed and ideas formulated.

Finally, the movement passes on to the phase of “accomplished issuance” (yi-fa), mentioned earlier, where the mind becomes fully conscious of the active phase of the mind. This phase of the mind's operation indicates that time when the subliminal states of awareness and the innate virtues have become actual or manifest, the expressions which are visible to others as our feelings (ch’ing). Accomplished issuance is that stage when the mind is moving (tung) and active. And while imminent issuance, as noted earlier on, accords with the inner equilibrium of heaven, accomplished issuance accords with the harmony (ho) of the universal order.

This phase is also where the mind has become conscious of the senses: the ear and the eye hear and see, the hand and the foot move and feel.⁵⁴ And whereas the phase of imminent issuance is morally good only, accomplished issuance may realize good or evil feelings. In further contrast to wei-fa as the essence of the mind, yi-fa is the mind's function, the carrying out or exercising of the innate natural characteristics. In short, the feelings (ch’ing) are the manifestations of our nature (hsing). We may think of nature, then, as a sort of blueprint for the exercise of feelings which are completely visible. And once we have become conscious of the feelings we can then infer our nature. This is the only way a person can know his nature, for when one's mind is still in the phase of hsing, of imminent issuance, they do not yet command a sufficient state of consciousness to enable them to “know” anything.

Chu Hsi did not always subscribe to this interpretation of the mind's states or phases. In a letter written to some Hunan friends in 1169⁵⁵ Chu admits that in following Ch’eng Yi's early views that he himself had been mistaken in considering nature as the state of imminent issuance and the mind itself as the state of accomplished issuance. It was only later that he came to see that because the mind includes both of these states that the mind cannot, therefore, be equated with one of them. Instead the state of accomplished issuance is what we call the feelings, that is, the expression of the mind, in contrast to nature, the essence of the mind. Moreover, Ch’eng and Chu both came to acknowledge that the mind is one and cannot then be viewed in contrast or in opposition (tui) to any state or phase as it would be if it were taken as complementary to nature. Rather, feelings and nature are part of and within the mind.⁵⁶

Lest it appear that this writer is ascribing to Chu Hsi a theory or view of the mind never explicitly argued by Chu, it should be noted that the comments concerning the “phases” are pieced together from various remarks in his entire corpus of writings. It is a truism that Chinese philosophers were seldom given to the deductive step-by-step reasoning characterizing Western thinking. Perhaps it is an overstatement to agree with those observers who see the Chinese as intuitive thinkers shunning the postulate for instantaneous enlightment or spontaneous insight, but it does seem fair to admit that whole theories are rarely laid out from beginning to end in a single comprehensive treatise; rather, synoptic theories are scattered piecemeal throughout many different writings and one must sift through essays, letters, eulogies, commentaries and other tracts to fit these pieces into a comprehensive whole.

With Chu Hsi the problem is particularly acute because of the especially voluminous and copious writings left behind. But the task is compounded since, as pointed out before, it appears, as is the case with so many great thinkers delving into speculations never before encountered, that Chu Hsi was breaking new ground with a relatively limited vocabulary at hand for expressing his ideas. Furthermore, Chu himself may not have been entirely consciously aware of his pathfinding ideas. Fortunately, with the aid of later thinkers and with the benefit of our own hindsight, we are able to see from a new vantage point many perspectives that Chu was bound to miss. Even if Chu Hsi did not theorize exactly as I have shown in this paper, it seems reasonable to say that such ideas were never far from his mind and that he can take credit for sowing the seeds of a new dimension in Chinese intellectual thought.

One final note: If “phases of the mind” does not go down very well, then perhaps something like “states of consciousness” is more acceptable. However, by referring to the various stages or states of consciousness this presupposes the whole attitude of consciousness itself, which is exactly what I hoped to avoid. It has also been suggested that seeing in Chu Hsi's philosophy any hint of phases or states or quantum jumps at all is at least begging the question if not actually spurious. Admittedly, part of the reason for positing these phases was to magnify their status for explanatory purposes; certainly they move from first through last instantaneously, or as Chu says, “There is not a hair's difference between them.”⁵⁷ We do not yet really know the exact nature of the phases or precisely the conditions of transition between them. They may in fact be extremes of one state of consciousness rather than discrete states, and the movement throughout similar to William James's stream of consciousness. But because the study of the mind is still in its infancy, I am forced to emphasize these aspects, although it is also clear that Chu Hsi did discuss such phases. While it may not be wholly correct to say that Chu developed a complete theory of mind, it is legitimate to note his insights into the mind's makeup and functions, including the phases.

IV. EVIL AND CONCENTRATION

Before going on to discuss Chu Hsi's views on consciousness we may at this point ask that if the feelings and our awareness of them originate with a state of the mind that has been endowed by heaven, then where does evil or bad thinking come from? Metzger,⁵⁸ following Ch’ien Mu,⁵⁹ makes an interesting case that for Chu Hsi evil and good are found in both the transcendental as well as in the experiential worlds. That is, the common view of tao or li as being solely good and evil as arising only through contact with ch’i is a mistaken view that has unfortunately been perpetuated by such influential thinkers as Fung Yu-lan, whose strict interpretation underscored the li-ch’i duality in Chu Hsi.

It is true that on occasion Chu alluded to the idea that human desire (a source of evil if allowed to go unchecked) flowed out from the principle of heaven.⁶⁰ And we have seen that Chu, in supporting Chou Tun-yi, apparently accepted Chou's contention that the state of incipient issuance (chi), itself seemingly “pure,” was the point where good and evil separate and become distinct. It is tempting to follow up on this view if for no other reason than that it gives the volitional aspects of mind a greater role in a person's life.

If we follow the conventional theory that ch’i was the cause of evil then it is the mind, made up of constitutive energy—albeit not the “dregs” (cha-tzu) but the pure or refined (ching) portion—that is responsible for evil. But we can no longer think of the mind in such a generally indivisible way. Instead, we may think of the mind not as that which brings about evil, but rather that place or process wherein evil may first arise.

Evil, for Chu Hsi and other Neo-Confucians, seems to come about in the following manner. When the original state of nature (the time of the Great Void, t’ai-hsü) assumes its form, it necessarily becomes differentiated. In this state of differentiatedness there is bound to be opposition, discrimination and conflict, for it is this very contrasting nature between li and ch’i that gives rise to different things. But it is also this contrasting nature which is the potential for evil. In the process of differentiation, our “heavenly endowment” (t’ien-ming) may lack balance and harmony (chung-ho), and this lack causes us to deviate from the mean (chung).

Constitutive energy, whose unrefined portions can give rise to evil, is not in itself bad, and it is certainly necessary to life. It is in the interaction of li and ch’i where evil may arise. In other words, the Neo-Confucians did not say that differentiation resulting from physical nature as such is evil. To assert such an idea would be to fall into the Buddhist doctrine that the world is an illusion. What the Sung Confucians meant was that differentiation was the occasion for evil, not a necessary concomitant.

In order to understand this more fully, we must first determine just what the interaction between li and ch’i is. In the first place, one's nature is a combination of emptiness or void (hsü) and constitutive energy (ch’i).⁶¹ Moreover, we already know that the mind is made up of li and ch’i, and because li is analogous with consciousness⁶², Chu says that mind is a combination of nature and consciousness.⁶³ In other words, as we begin to differentiate and distinguish the various aspects of the mind more and more precisely, rather than being simply a result of the dichotomy of li and ch’i, the mind passes through a variety of phases, one which is one's nature and another which is a phase of movement, that is, the feelings (ch’ing). We may say that the mind is a result of the combining of, or the interaction between constitutive principle and constitutive energy, but this is not where evil comes from except in the sense that the interplay produces the mind wherefrom evil arises, although it is not strictly equivalent to evil.

Instead, we have the feelings, which is the movement phase of the mind. In addition, the feelings released is what we consider as desire. But desire itself is not necessarily bad; there are also good desires:

The mind is like water: nature resembles still water, and feelings are the water's flow. Desire is turbulent waves, but waves which can be both good and bad. The good sort of desire is the kind like my desire for humanheartedness, while the bad just rushes out like seething breakers. In general, a bad desire will destroy the constitutive principle of heaven, just as with pent up waters, [when suddenly released], there is nothing they do not harm. Mencius said that the feelings can be good. This is to speak of the uprightness of the feelings, for the feelings that flow out from our nature are originally all good. So in asking, what about the desire of “what is desired is called good,” I say that this is not the desire of passion but rather the desire of love.⁶⁴

Therefore, for reasons still unexplained, evil is the result of the state of the mind that has developed into desire which for some reason, beginning in the phase of incipient issuance, becomes an undesirable or a bad desire.

Such a Neo-Confucian attempt to find an explanation of evil had a two-fold thrust. In the first place, it provided an answer to the question about evil itself, and in the second place, it attempted to preserve Mencius' doctrine of original goodness. Even so, the Neo-Confucians did not whole-heartedly agree with Mencius that evil originated with man. To them, evil originated with physical nature. But his should not be taken to mean that they held evil to be a natural phenomenon and not a moral one. Although at times they seemed to confuse nature and moral evil, there is little doubt that they believed that moral good and evil arise only in society.

That is, the problem of good and evil becomes real only when one's moral life has begun, when in a one-on-one relationship one has to deal with a physical nature which is unbalanced, and which therefore causes one to deviate from the mean and which puts one in the position of isolation, discrimination and opposition, thus setting oneself against another individual. While evil, or evil desires or thoughts, may be seated in the mind, it only becomes an issue to contend with in a social situation. The moral problem is not so much why there is evil or where it comes from, although this aspect is important and certainly was not ignored, but rather how to keep from having evil thoughts and especially how to rectify them once they become emergent.⁶⁵ This is dealt with largely through the practice of concentration.

“Concentration”⁶⁶ (ching) is another concept, along with imminent issuance and accomplished issuance, which I believe has not received the attention it warrants, especially in its regard to the problem of evil. How to overcome evil was a continual dispute among Neo-Confucians, and Chu Hsi took great pains to exhort the unwary to root it out and to realize tao. One method he so strenuously encouraged was the pursuit of learning and the investigation of the phenomena of things.⁶⁷ But how does one go about this? One way was to “study below and reach above”⁶⁸ (hsia-hsüeh shang-ta). A more specific approach is to follow the ways of the ancients by learning the classics.⁶⁹ Other methods of study are through inquiry and thought,⁷⁰ establishing oneself,⁷¹ putting the mind in order,⁷² and through discriminating between right and wrong.⁷³

Invariably, all of these pursuits, and others as well, lay in preserving the originally good mind (ts’un liang-hsin) and not letting it go (pu-fang). This was seen originally by Mencius, and Chu held to it steadily and believed in it implicitly. Preserving one's mind is a prerequisite for gaining knowledge: “The mind embraces all principles and all principles are complete in this one mind. If you are not able to preserve the mind, you will not be able to investigate thoroughly the constitutive principle. If you are unable to investigate thoroughly constitutive principle, then you will not be able to exert your mind to the utmost.”⁷⁴

Underlying all of these methods for attaining a right mind and for preserving it was the practice of concentration: “If there is no concentration then we will never preserve it.”⁷⁵ Concentration is the fundamental method both for keeping evil thoughts away and then for being able to extend our knowledge in the investigation of principles.⁷⁶ Concentration, in fact, is the essence of the mind.⁷⁷ To concentrate is to maintain equilibrium, harmony, and balance, and to allow no discord in our thoughts,⁷⁸ to keep from being remiss or dissolute,⁷⁹ straightening our inner character,⁸⁰ making the mind upright and keeping the thoughts sincere,⁸¹ having no outward desires,⁸² and remaining attentive.⁸³ But primarily, concentration was for Chu Hsi, just as it was for Ch’eng Yi, to focus on one thing and not to let the mind wander from it. In short, to maintain singularity of mind or purposes is the essence of concentration.⁸⁴

Concentration was the cardinal precept of Chu Hsi's epistemological pursuit and not even for a moment could it be interrupted.⁸⁵ Concentration is also another way of making the mind the ruler,⁸⁶ for once we have brought our attention to the problem at hand and made our inner character accord with the universal order through sheer will power, then there is nothing that can command it or make it waver. If we can but be our own master, it follows that any evil thoughts which may arise will be turned aside and our mind will remain tranquil and clear and hence well-prepared for investigating principles in the pursuit of knowledge.⁸⁷

V. CONSCIOUSNESS

The most important point to be made concerning Chu Hsi's account of the phases of the mind is that they seem to be a formative theory of consciousness and of how consciousness arises. A significant development from this concerns knowledge, that is, how we come to have knowledge, how we know something or realize that something is the case. Clearly, consciousness and knowledge are closely linked together and cannot be considered apart from each other, and it is to Chu's insight that he understood this.

The whole problem of consciousness (chüeh, or more often, chih-chüeh) is tricky because Chu spoke so little about it. Still, he did address the issue at one point in dealing with the concept of humanheartedness. It may be recalled that Ch’eng Yi and Chu Hsi, in one sense, viewed jen as a kernel or seed and therefore that it possessed or was capable of a generative power. Chu was questioned a number of times whether jen could be considered as being conscious,⁸⁸ and he consistently denied any attempt to equate jen with consciousness (as Hsieh Liang-tso did),⁸⁹ not only because this would be too confining to jen, but also because consciousness is too cold, like intellect, whereas jen is warm, like love.⁹⁰ What Chu did not deny, however, was that mind possessed consciousness.⁹¹ In accepting this, consciousness becomes an inherent state in the mind, an innate faculty of the mind. But it is necessary to distinguish between the state of consciousness and actively being conscious of something. Being conscious of a sense is a second-level awareness.⁹² Although Chu does not address this specifically, we are forced to conclude that our consciousness of something comes from the faculty of consciousness.

Now, this faculty of consciousness, being an innate faculty of the mind, itself comes from or is an instance of the generative quality of jen, and this in turn is endowed in us, in our mind as our nature, by heaven. So the faculty of consciousness is a characteristic of heaven or the universe. Since the capacity to have awareness and to think intelligently was itself not the product of human intelligence, it existed as a cosmic given.⁹³ Neo-Confucians also assumed that this purely natural consciousness was indivisible throughout the cosmos. This idea was a correlate of their belief in the organic oneness of the cosmos and in the mind's transnatural power to control the cosmos.⁹⁴ Chu explicitly states that consciousness has power⁹⁵ (chüeh-yu-li).

Consciousness is a state of the mind but it is also awareness of being a state of the mind. Consciousness is, so to speak, aware of itself, and being a state of the mind as well as being aware that it is so, we can say that consciousness is a mental act or a mental state. Consciousness is the awareness or perception of what passes in a person's own mind. It is by means of consciousness that we acquire the notion of thinking and knowing. Furthermore, as awareness of itself through perception of the mind, consciousness can also be equated with “self-reflection” (fan-hsing) or introspection. In addition, there is the further distinction between the act of observing something for the purpose of acquiring knowledge about it and the awareness that we have come to possess such knowledge, i.e., the difference between simply knowing that X, and knowing that we know that X.⁹⁶ For instance, we may be aware of a sensation even though we may not distinguish what the sensation is. In other words, we have consciousness of a sensation in general without having knowledge of any particular sensation.

Let us think, for a moment, of the two major phases of the mind's operation, imminent issuance and accomplished issuance, as some kind of basic awareness and, in the case of the latter, an awareness of being aware, a self-awareness. The basic awareness is a potential ability to “know” or “sense” or “cognize” or “recognize” that something is happening. It is a basic theoretical and experiential given. We are not certain what its ultimate nature is, but it is the essence, the “total body”⁹⁷ (ch’uan-t’i), of the mind. In contrast is the phase of self-awareness, i.e., accomplished issuance, which is not limited to being conscious simply of one's existence, but where the mind is capable of being cognizant that it is in operation, where the mind is aware that it is formulating and applying (miao-yung) concepts.⁹⁸ And, it is consciousness which transverses the experiential continuum between mere awareness and the awareness of being aware (self-awareness). So, it is the function of the mind to reach from being conscious of something to having awareness of what this is, i.e., to having knowledge of it.

VI. THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE

The general view of Westerners writing on Chinese philosophy is that its main interest lies in human relations and ethical problems. Most such writers either do not see or do not want to see that in Chinese philosophy there is any epistemological consideration in examining the mind in regard to knowledge.⁹⁹ But ever since the Sung, even though ethical questions have certainly been dealt with and occupy a central position, it is also fair to say that Chinese thought has become very intellectual in nature and based on a rational process. If the ends are not entirely intellectual, the means certainly are. We should note, however, that knowledge and ethics are in no way exclusive, for just as “knowledge” (chih) is one of the four innate virtues or categories of the mind, so can we infer that knowledge itself is an ethical concept in that knowledge that a certain proposition is true, whether ethical or not, presupposes acceptance or belief of the proposition. Hence, the function of knowledge is present in any moral issue.

I have noted above that Chu Hsi's idea of the phases of the mind led to the notion of consciousness. Once there is consciousness then there can be knowledge of the object of our awareness. The reason for this is that consciousness is the essence of the mind, or of a person's mental state. That is, the essence of our mental process consists of phases of consciousness taken as a state of subjective awareness. Another way of saying this is that consciousness seems to be understanding arrived at intuitively, while knowledge is understanding attained through a process of learning. The mind on the natural level functions as consciousness, but in its functioning as knowledge or learning, which consists primarily of distinguishing differences and then making judgments about them, the mind is operating at an extended or transnatural level.

We have already determined that all principles inhere in the mind, that the mind in some way houses the principles. In addition, it is axiomatic in the philosophy of Chu Hsi that all things are a combination of constitutive principle and constitutive energy. Therefore, we have the condition that principles are in the mind, and principles also and at the same time inhere in constitutive energy to form “things” and “events.” This may lead one to imagine that there are two kinds of principles, or two sets of principles, something which no one has ever been willing to admit. But if these principles in the mind are the same as, are identical to those in objects in the real world, then we are on the verge of admitting that Lu Hsiang-shan was right in stating that mind is principle. As we have seen, Chu Hsi did come close to this when he mentioned that mind and constitutive principle are one. But what he may have discovered in saying this is that the principles in the mind and the principles in things and events are one phenomenon, not that the mind itself is one with principle.

In a way, these principles may be considered as being of two kinds: those inhering in constitutive energy are “pattern formations” or “forms of pattern,” while those in the mind are “forms of thought” or “forms of understanding.” In fact, this seems a necessary step to take for if we think of these “forms of thought” as “mental categories” or as “innate ideas” then we have the basic and essential ingredients with which to have knowledge. Chu Hsi, like so many thinkers, believed that the mind could not be a “blank slate,” a tabula rasa. The mind had to have some innate properties with which it could order the perceptions of outside phenomena in forming concepts. In doing this, principle took a step away from being the principle in things to being a principle in the mind to being a principle of the mind's functioning process, hence reason. In this respect, Chu Hsi is a good example of being a synthesis of both Rationalism and Empiricism.

Now, once a concept of something is formed through manipulating the “forms of thought” (principles) in our mind through a conscious process, the mind directs the application of this concept to the object whose constitutive energy has impinged on our mind and caused us to have a perception of that object. By applying a concept is meant making a judgment by means of this concept through a process of comparison and discrimination in an attempt to penetrate the ch’i and get behind it (t’ung) in order to reach or extend our understanding (chih-chih) in apprehending its principle.

More precisely, the mind engages in a process of “testing” and “inference.” The process of testing (yen) is an exercise in contrasting the thing with its opposite or its analog or relation¹⁰⁰ or correlate¹⁰¹ which, for Chu Hsi, must occur for there ever to be knowledge of a thing. The process of inference (t’ui) is the proceeding from our realization of our own innate principles (in the mind) and what is “close at hand” (chin-ssu) and pushing out in ever broader spheres¹⁰² in mentally grasping the essence of the nature of the phenomenon in question.¹⁰³

Once the mind has apprehended and identified the principle or “form of pattern” in the object, that object then becomes intelligible to us, and in becoming intelligible to the mind, to the principles or “forms of thought” in the mind, these forms or principles may be said to have been objectified.¹⁰⁴ Furthermore, in the forms of the mind being objectified, we can know our own mind. Rather than the mind turning in on itself with empty concepts that have not been “filled” by outside perceptions, we examine our knowledge of experience that comes through objectifying the mind by apprehending the principle in things.¹⁰⁵

In other words, the principles in the mind, limited as they are only to empty, or potential forms of knowledge, are stimulated by the ch’i of an object. This stimulation gives rise to an ever-increasingly broader range of comparisons between the principles in the mind and the principle in the thing, which we might well even think of as its primary qualities. Eventually, the mental principles become “objectified” by being filled with impressions of the object, at which point they reflect (ying) the nature of the object in that combining self-awareness or consciousness with the now filled neutral principles brings about our knowledge of the thing in question. Thus, Chu Hsi was able to avoid the rather bedevilling conundrum that so plagued the Kantian school which insisted that humans can have knowledge only of the “appearance” of things, never of the things-in-themselves.

In this way, Chu not only gave both meaning and existence to things as well as substantiality, but he also emphasized that pure introspection has no place in the process of knowledge. These were firm grounds for opposing the Buddhists as well as for countering such philosophical foes as Lu Hsiang-shan who believed that the concepts with which we know our mind and hence the world about us need not have been “filled” by any outside perceptions. The mind, thought Lu, can know itself without being objectified and so there is no meaning given to things.

VII. CONCLUSION

Although Chu Hsi did not explicitly theorize in this way, he does allude to such an intellectual process if we are willing to accept new interpretations of certain terms. For instance, in his comments to the Great Learning Chu writes, “Everything that people receive from heaven is free and spontaneous and thus contains all principles and responds in accordance with all affairs.”¹⁰⁶ The key word here is chü, “to contain completely,” although there is some equivocation on this word and exactly what it means here is open to interpretation.¹⁰⁷ In the Chu-tzu yu-lei are several instances where chü can be interpreted as “thoroughly” or “completely” (chü-tsai) in the sense that all principles are contained within the mind.¹⁰⁸ While it is true that the mind is seen as housing all principles, this passive sense offers no help in trying to explain an active mind in the conscious process of knowing.

Instead, I suggest that Chu Hsi, perhaps unconsciously or perhaps forced to explain a new concept with old terminology, took a step forward, away from chü as meaning completion or possession, to the notion of being substantial or even solid, as it is used to stand for “concrete” (chü-t’i), in contrast to “abstract” (ch’ou-hsiang). Hence, chü would indicate an “object” and in a verbal position, “make an object of” or objectify.¹⁰⁹

In addition, the concept of ch’eng-yi; which is usually taken to mean “sincere thoughts” or to make the thoughts sincere or genuine, could be taken, in this instance, in the sense of “solidifying” one's thoughts. Chu Hsi himself glosses ch’eng as shih which is generally interpreted, especially in its relation to ch’eng, as genuine or true. But since shih can also mean what is real, or actual, or substantial, I am tempted to conjecture that Chu is explaining, in his comments on the Great Learning, that by making our ideas, those ideas in our mind as principles, real through the process of objectifying them in external things and events, of making them objectively certain, we are, in effect, also rendering them genuine and true.¹¹⁰

Another instance of the coalescence of mental with phenomenal principles is Chu Hsi's notion of chi-wu, “to approach and contact a thing,” found in Chu's supplement to the Great Learning. Chu asserts that if we indeed wish to perfect our knowledge we must do this by thoroughly examining those things with which we come into contact. It is possible that by coming into contact with a thing Chu has in mind one's body touching or making some such union with an object. However, it seems much more in line with Chu's general outlook, and with the context in which the phrase chi-wu appears, that he understands a moral mental connecting with the internal properties of a thing in order to understand it rather than merely to gain a tactile experience of it. It would seem, as has been suggested,¹¹¹ that chi-wu is similar to Whitehead's notion of “prehension,” a mental comprehension or sensual apprehension.

One final example. Chu Hsi often spoke about the operation of the mind and that when acted upon the mind immediately penetrates all phenomena.¹¹² Being made up of the finer portions of constitutive energy, the mind is a purely spiritual entity (ling). It is so fine that it can penetrate the most minute thing, and when it does there is knowledge. This happens when the mind goes out to the world by embodying the things in the universe.¹¹³ Chu Hsi here uses t’i as a verb (“to embody”) in the sense of coming together with a thing and physically becoming one with it, becoming, at least figuratively, part of the thing itself.¹¹⁴T’i was explained specifically by Chu as placing the mind in a thing so as to investigate its principle, and it differs here from the use of t’i meaning substance as a complement to function.¹¹⁵ Once our mind embodies a thing it exercises a form of reflection, or “returning” (fan-fu) When the mind is imparted in a thing, it reflects that which stimulated it and then turning in upon itself, upon the principles inherent in it, the combination of consciousness and reflection of the external object brings about knowledge of that object.¹¹⁶

In summary, Chu Hsi was not, after all, trapped into a position of simply presupposing the concept of principle. Rather, he may have reasoned, at least indirectly or intuitively, that because we humans have knowledge about things (and this may be the one basic assumption that he did make, analogous to Descartes' final indubitable certainty that he was at least thinking), because there is the “fact” of knowing, this implies knowledge, or knowing, about something. Once we understand that there is something to have knowledge about (and the idea of an object is implicit in the concept of knowledge), then it is obvious that there must be something which has this knowledge. This leads to the idea of the knowing subject in contrast to the known object. Finally, Chu posited the concept of constitutive principle as that factor which is common to both subject and object, and reasoned that principle must inhere in our mind as well as in the object as the fundamental property of intelligence, linked together through the process of consciousness.

Chu Hsi, in the final analysis, raised to a new level in Chinese philosophy the concept of mind by adding a further dimension to our understanding of philosophical psychology, thus providing an ironclad argument for the profundity and the circumspection of Chinese reasoning.

Notes

1. Both Liu Shu-hsien, “The Function of the Mind in Chu Hsi's Philosophy,” Journal of Chinese Philosophy, 5:2 (June 1978), 206; and Thomas Metzger, Escape from Predicament: Neo-Confucianism and China's Evolving Political Culture, New York: Columbia University Press, 1977, 85, agree that Chu's concept of mind is especially difficult and that a thoroughgoing account is most tricky.

2. The only sources I have found which address themselves directly, at least in part, to Chu Hsi's philosophy of mind are the following: (in English): Metzger, Escape From Predicament; Liu Shu-hsien, “The Function of the Mind in Chu Hsi's Philosophy” Vincent Y. C. Shih, “The Mind and the Moral Order,” Melanges Chinois et Bouddhiques, 10, 1959, 347-364; W. E. Hocking, “Chu Hsi's Theory of Knowledge,” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies, 1, 109-127; Carsun Chang, “Is There No Epistemological Background for the Chinese Philosophy of Reason?”, Oriens Extremis, 1:2, 1954, 129-138; (in Chinese): Vincent Yu-chung Shih, “Hsin yü yü-chou chih chih-hsü” (The Mind and the Cosmological Order), in Chung-kuo hsüeh-shu shih lun-chi^cd (Collected Essays on the History of Chinese Scholarship), ed. by Ch’ien Mu, 4:2, Taipei: Chung-hua wen-hua ch’u-pan shih-yeh she, n.d., n.p. (actually a Chinese version of the above article by Shih in English); Ch’ien Mu, “Chu-tzu fan-lun hsin-ti kung-fu” (Chu Hsi's General Discussion of the Cultivation of the Mind), Chung-hua wen-hua fu-hsing yueh-k’an^ce (Chinese Cultural Renaissance Monthly), 2:12, February 1969, 11-15; and Ch’ien, Chu-tzu hsin-hsüeh-an^cf (A New Scholarly Record on Chu Hsi), 5 vols., Taipei: San-min shu-chu, 1971, the section dealing with the imminent issuance and accomplished issuance phases of the mind, 2:123-182; T’ang Chun-yi, Chung-kuo che-hsüeh yuan-lun^cg (Studies on the Foundations of Chinese Philosophy), Hong Kong: Hsin-Ya shu-yuan yen-chiu-so, 1973, v. 2; Mou Tsung-san, Hsin-t’i yü hsing-t’i^ch (Mind and Nature), 3 vols., Taipei: Cheng-chung shu-chü, 1973, especially v. 3; (in Japanese): Araki Kengo, “Shu-shi no jissen ron” (Chu Hsi's Practical Philosophy), Nihon Chugoku gakkai ho^ci (Journal of Japanese Sinology), 1 (1950), 37-48, especially section 5, 42-44; Tomoeda Ryutaro, “Shushi no jinsho” (Chu Hsi's Theory of Humanheartedness), Tokyo Shina gakuho^cj (Tokyo Journal of Sinology), 12 (1966), 55-74; and Tomoeda, “Shushi taikiron no seiritsu katei—ihatsu mihatsu sho no taikigaku ni oyoboseru eikyo” (The Formative Process of Chu Hsi's Theory of the Supreme Ultimate—Its Influence on the Explanation of the Supreme Ultimate in the Theory of Accomplished Issuance and Immanent Issuance), Tetsugaku^ck (Philosophy), Hiroshima, 37 (1959), 25-37; Yamane Mitsuyoshi, “Shushi ronri shiso no kenkyu—ki no igi ni tsuite’ (A study of Chu Hsi's Ethical Thought—On the Significance of Incipient Issuance), Hiroshima Daigaku bungakubu kiyo^cl (Bulletin of the Department of Literature of Hiroshima University), 19, April 1961, 104-130, Goto Shunzui, Shushi no ronri niso^cm (Chu Hsi's Ethical Ideas), Nishinomiya: Goto Shunzui hakase iko kankokai, 1964, especially 126-132; and Goto, “Shushi no ishiki shutai no mondai” (The Problem of Chu Hsi's Epistemological Subjectivism), Tetsugaku zasshi^cn (Philosophy Journal), 34:394 (1919), 1081-1089; Kinami Takuichi, “Moshi shinseisho to Shushigaku” (Mencius' Theory of Mind and Nature and the Philosophy of Chu Hsi), Tetsugaku (Philosophy), 6, 1956, 118-133.

3. “There is nothing under heaven which does not have li.” See Hsü chin-ssu lu [Supplement (or Sequel) to Reflections on Things at Hand], comp. by Chang Po-hsing, Taipei: Shih-chieh shu-chu, 1974, 24. Hereafter cited as HCSL.

4. Chu Hsi, Ssu-shu chi-chu^cu (Collected Commentaries on the Four Books), in the Ta-hsueh chang-chü^cv (Commentary on the Great Learning), Taipei: Shih-chieh chu-chu, 1971, 3.

5. It has been suggested, only partly in jest, that it then becomes a square boat with wheels.

6. See, however, the interesting article by Huang Siu-chi, “Chu Hsi's Ethical Rationalism,” Journal of Chinese Philosophy, 5:2, June 1978, 175-193.

7. Chu Hsi, Chu-tzu ch’üan-shu^co (Complete Works of Master Chu), ed. by Li Kuang-ti, Kuang-hsüeh ts’ung-k’an ed., 2 vols., Taipei: Kuang-hsüeh she-yin shu-kuan, 1977, 49/5b. Hereafter cited as CTCS.

8. CTCS, 44/2a.

9. CTCS, 44/3a.

10. CTCS, 2/4b, 44/2b.

11. T’ai-chi, the Supreme Ultimate, is the primary source of all reality and the final cause which controls the alternating forces of yin and yang^cp and through them the operations of the Five Agents (wu-hsing)^.cq Specifically for Chu Hsi, t’ai-chi is the sum total of all principles as well as Principle in its oneness, which means that there is only one T’ai-chi, yet each individual thing has t’ai-chi complete in it; that is, every thing is a complete system in itself—t’ai-chi is all things and is in all things. However, at times Chu says that the Supreme Ultimate is not itself something but is simply the name for all that there is.

12. CTCS, ibid.

13. CTCS, 44/2a.

14. “The Function of the Mind in Chu Hsi's Philosophy,” 197.

15. CTCS, 42/6a.

16. Liu Shu-hsien, “The Function of the Mind in Chu Hsi's Philosophy,” 199.

17. CTCS, 42/1b.

18. CTCS, 42/5a.

19. Wing-tsit Chan, A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963, 612. Hereafter cited as Source Book.

20. This from the opening sentence of the Doctrine of the Mean.

21. HCSL. 9.

22. HCSL, 13.

23. HCSL, 13; CTCS, 45/8a; Metzger, 88-89. For a discussion of the cosmic virtues, or cosmic cyclical points, see my “Tao and Jen: The Moral Dimension of Chu Hsi's Philosophy,” in Asian Culture Quarterly, 7:4 (Winter 1979), 11, n. 46.

24. HCSL, 10.

25. HCSL, 8.

26. HCSL, 11.

27. HCSL, 20.

28. CTCS, 45/5a.

29. HCSL, 9.

30. CTCS, 45/9a.

31. Metzger, Escape From Predicament, 31.

32. CTCS, 45/4a.

33. HCSL, 20. The idea of “ruler” (chu-tsai)^cw implies some sense of controlling or directing or governing. In fact, all of these words might just as well suffice, as could “lord” which Metzger employs, although its verbal form is misleading. However, since rule is not so active or forceful as are the other words, being closer to the sense of prescribing a way of conduct rather than actually controlling through power or authority, i.e., closer in spirit to wu-wei,^cx I have decided to use it.

34. CTCS, 45/4a-b; HCSL, 20.

35. HCSL, 20.

36. HCSL, 12.

37. HCSL, 27.

38. HCSL, 12.

39. Except for a spare note, the only genuine treatment I know of in English is by Metzger in Escape Form Predicament, 85-88, where he discusses them under the heading “The Naturally Given Phases of the Mind.” Metzger translates these two phases (he mentions three others) as “not yet issued; imminent issuance,” and “already issued; accomplished issuance.”

40. My use of the word “issuance” for fa is tentative and might also be rendered as “emerged,” “aroused,” “released,” “stimulated,” or even “manifest.” I have, admittedly, been influenced by Metzger's choice of words. The phrases refer to the two phases of the mind before and after they have been stimulated or provoked or actuated. It is probably too early still in the development of our observations of Chinese psychological theories to have at hand perfectly acceptable translations. Western psychologists might very well opt for “conscious” and “unconscious,” “sensible” and “insensible,” or “cognitive” and “noncognitive.” These of course are extended and implied meanings and I try to retain the flavor of the original by using “issuance.” For other examples, see, for instance, the table, Examples of the Various Modes of Human Consciousness, in “Intuitive Thinking” by H. R. Pollio in Aspects of Consciousness, v. 1, ed. by Geoffrey Underwood and Robin Stevens, London: Academic Press, 1979, 33.

41. Tu Wei-ming, Centrality and Commonality: An Essay on Chung-yung, Monograph No. 3 of the Society for Asian and Comparative Philosophy, Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1976, 27.

42. See 4:1587/70.

43. Ch’ien Mu, 2:148.

44. “The mind is like a stretch of road; it certainly cannot be taken as two things or events,” Chu Hsi, Chu-tzu yü-lei (Classified Conversations of Master Chu), comp. by Li Ching-te, 1473 ed., 8 vols., Taipei: Cheng-chung shu-chu, 1962, 1/9b. Hereafter cited as CTYL.

45. CTYL, 5/7b.

46. Chou-tzu ch’üan-shu (Complete Works of Master Chou), Kuang-hsüeh ts’ung-k’an ed., Taipei: Kuang-hsüeh she-yin shu-kuan, 1975, 129. Hereafter cited as Chou-tzu.

47. Chou-tzu, 126.

48. Ibid., 129.

49. Ibid., 130

50. Ibid., 136. “Although the phase of incipient issuance is already given to sensation, it is only the very beginning of sensation.”

51. Ibid., 129.

52. Ibid., 136.

53. Ibid., 133.

54. CTYL, 5/4a.

55. This letter is included in the HCSL, 30-32, and has been translated by Chan in Source Book, 600-602.

56. HCSL, 7.

57. HCSL, 29-30.

58. Escape From Predicament, 110-111.

59. Chu-tzu hsin-hsüeh-an, 1:406, 2:36; also cf. Metzger, 261, n. 210.

60. Chu-tzu hsin-hsüeh-an, 1:406.

61. CTYL, 5/11a.

62. CTYL, 5/3b.

63. CTYL, 5/11a.

64. HCSL, 7-8.

65. Anyone holding to the view that ch’i is the sole cause of evil should consult Metzger's account which argues against this traditional interpretation. Metzger admits to being strongly influenced by Ch’ien Mu. See the section on “The Given Force of Evil,” in Escape From Predicament, 108-113.

66. Wing-tsit Chan translates ching as “seriousness.” Chan writes in his Source Book, p. 785, that ching is a state of mind, that this seems to be similar to the Buddhist calmness of mind and has probably led Carsun Chang to translate it as “attentiveness” and “concentration,” and Graham to render it as “composure.” Chan goes on to explain that the Neo-Confucianists emphasized making an effort in human affairs, and therefore, that “seriousness” is the best choice.

    Certainly “seriousness” has its grounds, but Chan's arguments do not seem convincing. Seriousness is every bit as much a state of mind as is concentration. In fact, concentration implies a greater mental effort than does simply being serious. Some short comments from Chu Hsi himself can show this.

    Focusing on one thing is an explanation of the word ching.

    (Ch’ien Mu, Chu-tzu hsin-hsüeh-an, 2:299.)

    Not letting go is ching.

    (Ch’ien Mu, 2:299.)

    Ching is to manage something with singleminded emphasis.

    (Ch’ien Mu, 2:307.)

    Ching is a through-and-through effort.

    (CTCS, 1/21a.)

    In addition, the most common definition of the Sung concept of ching, at least as the Neo-Confucian philosophers used it, includes that found in both the Dai Kanwa Jiten^da (Great Sino-Japanese Encyclopedia), ed. by Morohashi Tetsuji, and the Chung-wen ta tz’u-tien (Encyclopedic Dictionary of the Chinese Language), the meaning stated by Ch’eng Yi and quoted on numerous occasions by Chu Hsi: “Ching is the mind concentrated on one thing and never allowed to wander,” or “Ching is emphasizing one thing without distraction” (ching-che chu-yi wu-shih).^db

    Furthermore, a well-known commentator on Confucian terminology, Liu Shih-p’ei, writes that “to the Sung Confucians ching was to preserve the mind (ts’un-hsing)^dc to the point of being unconscious of outside abstractions.” Liu Shih-p’ei, “Li-hsüeh ting-yi t’ung-shih” (A Survey of the Meanings of Words ir Neo-Confucian Philosophy), in Liu Shen-shu hsien-sheng yi-shu^dd (The Post humous Works of Liu Shih-p’ei), 1936, 1:22a. Also, “Ching indicates a person's perseverance,” Liu, 1:21a. Moreover, Cheng Chung-ying disagrees with Chan's “seriousness” by arguing that “in the usage of Cheng Yi-chuan and Chu Hsi, ‘ching’ signifies a state of mind characterized by self-control and self-concentration,” and concluded that “the term “seriousness’ is [not] sufficient for indicating the main conceptual content of the term ‘ching’ … On the other hand, Carsun Chang's ‘attentiveness’ or ‘concentration’ is a closer translation. “Review of Chan's translation of Reflection on Things at Hand,” in Philosophy East and West, 20, 4 (October 1970), 425.

    However, after all is said and done, I admit to being in basic agreement with Prof. Chan's view that rather than engage in endless discussion of terms, which seldom convinces anyone anyway, it is far better to read more of the Chinese works. (Personal communication, September 18, 1978).

67. My addition of the word “phenomena” to the standard translation of ko-wu^de is largely for purposes of clarity. “Investigation of things,” though closer in the literal sense, exhibits an uncomfortable imprecision. “Things” is so sweeping and vague, and “investigation” is open to so many methods and forms of examination, that it seems proper to bring a greater focus to bear on this knotty concept. Even so, it remains comprehensive which, no doubt, Chu Hsi intended.

68. HCSL, 41.

69. HCSL, 41-42; see also 75–80 for specific works.

70. HCSL, 41.

71. HCSL, 46.

72. HCSL, 44.

73. HCSL, 49.

74. CTYL, 2/4b.

75. HCSL, 87.

76. HCSL, 81.

77. Ibid.

78. HCSL, 95-96.

79. HCSL, 86.

80. HCSL, 82.

81. HCSL, 87.

82. HCSL, 92.

83. HCSL, 88.

84. HCSL, 91-92.

85. CTYL, 2/21b.

86. CTYL, 2/22a.

87. HCSL, 81.

88. CTCS, 47/7a-9a.

89. Cf. Chan, Source Book, 596.

90. CTCS, 47/8b.

91. While it is true that Chu was hesitant to speak of jen in terms of consciousness, the fact that both were incorporated by the mind inferentially makes them commensurate.

92. CTCS, 47/12b. The state, or innate attribute or faculty of consciousness would be a first-level awareness.

93. CTCS, 30/19a.

94. Metzger, Escape From Predicament, 67.

95. CTYL, 12/13a.

96. Cf. HCSL, 16.

97. CTYL, 5/11a.

98. Ibid.

99. In contrast, Japanese scholars delve deeply into questions concerning knowledge and intelligence and the supramoral aspects of the mind and man's knowing processes.

100. CTCS, 1021D, Cf. also The Philosophy of Human Nature by Chu Hsi, translated by J. Percy Bruce, London: Probsthain and Co., 1922, 291.

101. CTCS, 1022c; cf. Bruce, 294.

102. CTCS, 957b; cf. Bruce, 32.

103. CTCS, 1022a; cf. Bruce 292-293.

104. Cf. “Li is the nature which a person's mind becomes aware of in the process of his learning. Learning therefore ultimately serves the purpose of achieving self-awakening in a person.” in Cheng Chung-ying, “Practical Learning in Yen Yuan, Chu Hsi and Wang Yang-ming,” in Principle and Practicality: Essays in Neo-Confucianism and Practical Learning, Ed. by William Theodore de Bary and Irene Bloom, New York: Columbia University Press, 1979, 49.

105. I believe this is essentially what Cheng Chung-ying is indicating when he explains that it is only when mind apprehends the principles in things that mind can establish the truth and avoid selfish desires.

     Because of the ontological difference between mind and nature, mind must be exercised in a rational manner before it can reach a state of illumination of knowledge and insights into supreme goodness. Instead of holding that mind by its own power however could reveal its true identity, Chu Hsi, following the suggestion of Cheng Yi, holds that the true identity of mind is only established in a process of investigation of things and extension of knowledge of principles of things.

     Prof. Cheng goes on to clarify that mind may have some knowledge of principle to begin with, and that the ultimate aim of the mind is to realize total illumination of mind by knowledge. If I understand him correctly, what Prof. Cheng refers to as having some innate knowledge of principle is what I mean by pointing to the innate principles-cum-nature in the mind which act as the faculty for awareness or consciousness. The “illumination by knowledge” then would be the process of the principle of a thing becoming objectified in the mind.

     Finally, Cheng draws his own conclusion for the objective reality of the mind, as I have tried to show also, by arguing that when mind engages in the investigation of principles, it is this way in which the mind gains certainty about things. This is so because this form of knowing or reasoning, which Cheng calls intuitive induction, assumes that the nature from which mind receives its rational ability contains all the truth that there is to find. As a result, the mind is assured against “losing itself in a maze of unrelated bits of information and broken ideas.” See Cheng Chung-ying, “Conscience, Mind and Individual in Chinese Philosophy,” Journal of Chinese Philosophy, 2,1, December 1974, 3-40, esp. 20-22.

106. See Chu's comments to section 1.2.

107. Metzger translates chü as “(fully) put forth” and suggests that Chu adopted this view in order to keep from identifying mind as an equivalent with principle as did Lu Hsiang-shan. That is, Chu used chü to escape such copulas as chi^df or pien-shih^dg. See Metzger, Escape From Predicament, 143-144.

108. Cf. CTYL, 5/8b, 12/10a.

109. Mou Tsung-san^cy has shown how chü may mean something like, “reality.” See hi discussion on T’ien-t’ai Buddhism in Chih-te chih chüeh yü Chung-kuo che-hsüeh^cz (Intellectual Intuition and Chinese Philosophy), Taiwan: Commercial Press, 1971, 309-310. Thanks to Prof. John Berthrong for pointing this out to me.

110. See Cheng Chung-ying's excellent discussion of Chu's theory of learning, “Practical Learning in Yen Yuan, Chu Hsi and Wang Yang-ming”: “[Chu] generally meant by shih the truthful principle or the real principle of things. Shih in this sense is clearly tied up with his doctrine of li,” 50.

111. See David C. Yu, “Chu Hsi's Approach to Knowledge,” Chinese Culture, 10,4, December 1969, 8.

112. CTCS, 990b; cf. Bruce, 168.

113. CTCS, 992d; cf. Bruce 178.

114. CTCS, 1036d; cf. Bruce, 350-351.

115. CTCS, 993b-c; cf. Bruce, 180-181.

116. Any uncomfortable feeling that “know” and “knowing” is being used in several different senses here may be assuaged by noting that for Chu Hsi, just as for G. E. Moore and other serious thinkers, there was more than just one kind of knowledge. For Chu there are at least six kinds, or levels: (1) consciousness as knowledge—natural knowledge; (2) knowledge of acquaintence or apprehension—sensory knowledge; (3) knowledge of the self—subjective knowledge; (4) knowledge that X is the case—objective knowledge; (5) knowledge of right and wrong, or good and evil—moral knowledge; and (6) comprehension of the oneness or totality of the universe—sagehood, or sagely knowledge.

* Part of this article developed from my paper delivered at the 1980 Association for Asian Studies Conference in Washington, D.C., “The Problem of Li in Chu Hsi (Zhu Xi).” My appreciation to the numerous comments made at that time, and especially to the suggestions from Professor Cheng Chung-ying, although any and all inaccuracies are certainly my own.