O.B The Mandate of Heaven
O.B The Mandate of Heaven
O.B The Mandate of Heaven
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Threat?
The vision of ideal political, cultural, and social conditions which served Con-
fucius as ethical orientation was perceived by him as a concrete historical past
of his own country. In continuing our comparison of cultures we note the dif-
ference between his vision of a splendid past on the one hand, and the utopias
of Western thinkers on the other: As everyone knew since it was published,
Thomas Morus’ Utopia (1516) was to be found on an island that did not exist.
Similarly, when Charles de Secondat, baron de Montesquieu published his Lettre
Persanes in 1721, it was clear that the correspondence between two Persian
nobleman visiting Europe, and their loved ones at home in Persia was fiction.
Nevertheless, for Thomas Morus as for Montesquieu the literary products of
their artful imagination were tools to criticize the conditions in their countries
by confronting them with a fictitious alternative.
But in contrast to European fictitious descriptions of an ideal condition of
the public sphere, Confucius’ critique of the deplorable status quo engulfing
him during his lifetime was based on the conviction that the splendid alter-
natives he saw in front of his mental eye had actually existed in the not-too-
distance past. This vision was kept alive as a view of a peaceful, prosperous,
and happy age in the collective memory of his people that existed not on some
remote, imagined island, but on this very earth and in their own country.
His point of departure made Confucius and his non-utopian teaching
uniquely different from Western social philosophies. It also gave him consid-
erable more authority in demanding change as a return to what had proven
to work well in the past. It is maybe a matter of linguistic or political taste
whether one wants to call such an approach conservative or even reaction-
ary. It was, nevertheless, by implication as well as in some texts explicitly,
a powerful critique of the status quo and a consistent demand on people
to change their ways by looking back at how their immortal ancestors had
behaved.
The Confucian view of history entailed weaknesses as well: It prevented
China from establishing a firm and lasting legal system based on past experi-
ences with human failure. Such a code of rules would by implication cement
certain aspects of a status quo, but such an affirmation of present conditions
was utterly undesirable from the perspective of the great sage harking back
to a splendid past. Then, what was the future state of affairs going to be? Is it
possible to simply demand that a people, a society, a culture step back into its
own past? Are there Western authors who in a similar way suggest reviving an
admirable age that has gone bye?
In his Decline of the West Oswald Spengler (1880–1936) succeeded in per-
suading almost an entire generation of Western intellectuals to abandon their
trust in incessant progress. That optimistic belief had dominated previous cen-
turies in Europe and America; it persists in many circles in the assumption that
there must be unending growth in the economy. But the Agadir Crisis of 1911
was seen by Spengler as a preview of World War i, as a watershed in the devel-
opment of the West that fit his cyclical philosophy of history.
In consecutive cycles, as Spengler saw them, the fate of a population is
doomed to go from bad to worse because it starts with a culture as a source
of life and creativity, but then gradually mutates into what he gives a negative
tone when calling it a civilization. “The Civilization is the inevitable destiny of
the culture… Civilizations are the most external and artificial states of which
a species of developed humanity is capable. They are a conclusion, the thing-
become succeeding the thing-becoming, death following life, rigidity following
expansion…” (Spengler 1980: 31)1
As early as 1918 Spengler found the then current form of civilization in the
West increasingly to be that of bureaucratic rule: Bureaucracies replace flex-
ible interactions among potentially creative individuals with an impersonal
abstract order, and shift what used to be responsibilities of competent decision
makers to an anonymous system. On this Max Weber agreed with Spengler. The
problem of bureaucratization is even more pressing today than it was a cen-
tury ago: Bureaucracies stifle contemporary social reality from San Francisco
to Berlin and beyond.
These systems of public administration usually start out in history as means
to an end in the service of individuals and of public order, often legitimated
by high flung long-term cultural goals. But in the course of time, disillusioned
bureaucrats will let them degenerate to become ends in themselves. Simmel
described this tragic tendency convincingly even before Spengler did (Helle,
2013: 62f.). Spengler argued in the continuity of Simmel’s dichotomy of content
and form, but changed the terminology from content to life and from form to
Gestalt. There are numerous references to Chinese culture throughout Spen-
gler’s book.
1 In German terminology “Kultur” is associated with poetry and classical music, “Zivilisation”
by contrast with technology and bureaucracy.
4 This, as the following dates, refer again to the time before the common era = bce.
ancestors, expect their mortal followers or relatives to do. To this end they feel
the need to know something about their future, or even about the meaning of
their respective present. All this is perceived as results of what immortals de-
cide. Illustrations for similar behavior with the same intentions in other parts
of the world are, for instance, inspecting the intestines of a slaughtered animal,
laying out Tarot Cards, or simply throwing dice.
Schwartz reports about the Shang period – as I mentioned above – that cer-
tain bones, typically the shoulder blade, or the shell of a turtle were heated
in fire until they cracked. The shape and quality of the resulting rupture was
then interpreted by the diviner as the answer from the beyond to what the re-
spective faithful precursor of the dice-thrower of today wanted to know. Early
forms of Chinese scripture were inscribed into the heated bone or shell mate-
rial, similar to taking notes, in order to clarify and memorize the results of the
divining procedure.
Based on this type of information Schwartz succeeded in reconstructing a
whole age. His results include explaining the process of centralizing religious
power in the course of which “the king becomes the main diviner” (Schwartz
1985: 37). The task of divining is originally one of the responsibilities of nu-
merous shamans all over the country. But then the development described by
Schwartz leads to a process in the course of which religious power is central-
ized in the person of the king who becomes the supreme shaman, in tandem
with having the highest political, military, and legal authority (to the extent to
which these terms can be applied to the Shang period).
When interpreting the words that can be found on the ancient bones and
turtle shells, one cannot but acknowledge the prevailing significance of ances-
tor worship (ibid: 38). Admittedly, there is reference to spirits of rivers, moun-
tains, and to spirits of weather phenomena like wind and rain. There are also
inscriptions on bones and turtle shells about the sun, the moon, about specific
stars as well as the high god of heaven Shang-Di (上帝)5 or in a later phase
of cultural evolution, when the deity was removed and in a way emancipated
from the Shang kinship system, simply about Di (帝) as the highest deity. But
all these heavenly powers, including the spirits of mountains and stars, appear
secondary to the ancestors who are better known and of course closer to home
for everyone.
The latter are the group from which Shang-Di eventually emerged as the god
of heaven, having as it were started his career as deity also merely as an ances-
tor of the leading clan. In the early days before Shang-Di evolved into Di, it was
5 As we have seen above, this word was used by the Jesuit missionaries for the “Heavenly
Father” of Christians.
and the public in China and in explaining, why the two areas of social behavior
have not become as clearly distinct from each other as in the West. The ease
with which Chinese even today define people to whom they feel close as their
adoptive kin or quasi brothers and sisters is striking to a Western observer.
In China since at least 1200 bce the power of the deceased ancestor is
based on a concept comparable to what in Western religious terminology is
called Realpräsenz (being really present). For the faithful Catholic, Orthodox,
and (since 1577) Lutheran Christian during consecration as the climax of the
liturgy, God is in fact present in the consecrated bread and wine and thus con-
stitutes a Realpräsenz in the midst of the congregation. In the Orthodox Chris-
tian tradition, the same is true for the respective saint who is believed to be
present in his or her icon, provided that icon was created by the artist accord-
ing to fixed rules for painting icons. Like the Christian God during the liturgy,
or the Saint seen in his or her icon, one’s own ancestor in China is really present
in the family ritual.
Schwartz clarifies that by quoting from the book of Mozi (also spelled Mo-tsu
or Mo-tse): “The spirit of the man is not the man, yet the spirit of your elder
brother is your elder brother. Sacrificing to a man’s spirit is not sacrificing to a
man; sacrificing to your elder brother’s sprit is sacrificing to your elder brother.”
(Schwartz 1985: 21). Just as – from the perspective of “we” versus “they” – in
The West the concept of Realpräsenz can only apply to “us” as members of
our own religious community, in China what was quoted here from the book
Mozi, can only apply to members of “our own” family. This creates a highly sig-
nificant boundary between kinship groups: My ancestors are really present in
this world, yours are not, at least they are not in my presence. In spite of – or in
addition to – this strict ritual distinction, Mozi is that ancient Chinese thinker
who – as I have explained here in the introduction – tried in vain to enter into
Chinese ethical tradition the principles of universal brotherly love.
Schwartz attributes the flexibility of the social system of kinship to the life
cycle of individuals: Over time sons become fathers, daughters become moth-
ers and – more significantly under the patrilocal family tradition – daughters
become mothers-in-law, and eventually, of course, they all become immortal
ancestors. In addition, some of the power a parent has over his infant child, is
retained, checked and mitigated by love, if such love prevails. This means that
the departed as well as the living need to primarily fulfill their duties according
to what they owe the members of their clan. And attending to those duties is
largely ritualized.
While according to the Hebrew Bible Yahweh entered into a contract speci-
fying the mutual obligations God and his people had toward each other, the
ancestors of China need no such abstract list of rules spelled out in detail as
in the Book of Deuteronomy.8 They all, the living and the dead Chinese family
members simply need to play their respective roles in the family drama as on
the stage of a theater. Life is a ritual; ethics are the duty to perform that ritual
with as much perfection as possible. Neglect of the ritual obligations towards
living family member as well as toward the departed is sinning against one’s
ancestors.
The metaphor of the theater is helpful here in comparing cultures. Modern
Western individualization tended to debunk the idea of role playing as forcing
the person into a predetermined mold leaving no room or opportunity for indi-
vidual spontaneity and development. This more recent attitude can obviously
not describe Western culture of the past, since there have been eras when it
was considered a pious decision for the individual to remain in his estate (Mar-
tin Luther: Jeder bleibe in seinem Stand) and play one’s God-given live-long role
religiously.
Even as late as the early twentieth century it was normal in many parts of
Europe for the son to continue in the occupation of his father. If during the
nineteenth century the sons did not follow that rule they often compensated
their deviation by aspiring to greatness outside their clan: Marx did not be-
come a lawyer like his father, Dilthey did not become a protestant preacher
like his father, and Simmel and Adorno did not become businessmen like their
fathers.
But in the contemporary West at the start of the third millennium ce, on
which we embarked more than a decade ago, role playing has become an activ-
ity people want to limit to between 40 and 50 hours per week. After they get off
work, they just want to be themselves rather than play a role. In China the status
of role playing follows a significantly different path in cultural history. Suffice
it for now to say in somewhat provocative brevity: If a Chinese person does not
play his or her role well on the stage of the kinship theater at home, then that
person is nothing more than a poor actor. Why is that so?
The ritual that can be reconstructed from the inscriptions on the oracle
bones summons the ancestor as follows: The well-known immortal family
member is asked to be present. This will remind him or her of their duties to-
ward their own clan. In return the assembled faithful promise to perform their
ritual obligations directed toward him or her. How can the living perform the
ceremony of divination and expect the dead to be addressed by it, to abide by
their respective role, if they themselves are not willing to do that? How can an
8 Also called “Devarim,” (spoken words) is the fifth book of the Hebrew Bible and of the Jewish
Torah.
actor on stage level critique against a co-player if he himself does a poor job
during his performance?
Every role-play of course depends on how the correlate roles are performed,
unless on stage in an exceptional situation an actor performs a soliloquy like
Hamlet. But the question “to be or not to be” can be raised only by an indi-
vidual, not by a clan: The clan is eternal; the option “not to be” does not ex-
ist. An individual can apologize for a deviant act; a clan cannot, because it
includes immortals endowed with a certain degree of infallibility. That makes
it more difficult for Confucian Japan to apologize for atrocities committed dur-
ing World War ii than for Christian Germany.
It is clear from these deliberations that the Chinese family as well as the
ritualized interaction (li = 礼) in its context have a religious base of its own.
Whereas in Christian cultures marriage and childbirth are attributed religious
meaning from a religion located primarily outside the kinship system, i.e. in
congregation and church, the Chinese tradition provides the source of religion
from within the clan. This means of course that the Western family can more
easily lose its religious dimension than the Chinese family can. In the West,
Catholic and Orthodox traditions are closely connected with the worship of
saints, a practice which – as was mentioned above – clearly depends on the
extent to which the respective saints are known and appear familiar to the
worshippers.
In the absence of a dualistic world view in the China of the Shang period,
the beyond is more or less a continuation of this world with the same type of
personnel living as members of large kinship systems and performing their
well-known family roles here as they do there. It is therefore plausible that the
social structure of the beyond is a replica of the society of mortals, or vice versa,
both including good as well as evil characters.
As I indicated here before, the patrilineal family seems to have evolved out
of the band needed for hunting as well as for military defense. In reverse, it
may be possible for the polity for its part to have evolved as an extension of the
kinship system of early Chinese society. That important development can be
assumed to have occurred in this way: The royal family-head searches out the
high God as his personal ancestor with the aid of diviners, and being closer to
him than any other living creature, eventually demands the monopoly of ac-
cess to him. This centralized religious authority in turn enforces his power as
secular ruler; and thus the king9 becomes the high priest and patriarch of his
people telling them what to do in his capacity as the supreme diviner. Then
they all are defined as members of his patrilineal and patrilocal family.
The bone inscriptions show that according to the religious ideas of the
Shang era the living and the dead are members of one overarching society en-
compassing them all. The dead ancestors participate in the family affairs with
the living, and the correct way to behave is solidified in ritualized family con-
duct. Thus doing the right thing is guided by ritual. And as a living person can
be offended by infringements on his or her kinship role, such offence can also
be given to an ancestor. In both cases it is necessary for the individual to apolo-
gize and make special efforts to restore a peaceful and loving relationship, be
it within the boundaries of this world, or be it crossing over into the beyond.
Out of this general social order of relatives evolves as central high god the
person of Di (帝) whom I mentioned here before, and who is experienced as
almighty, just like a father is seen by a small child. Schwartz quotes Keightley
(ibid: 30, foot note 37) about the power and characteristics of Di (spelt Ti): He
had “dominion over rain, wind, and other atmospheric phenomena, harvests,
the fate of urban settlements, warfare, sickness, and the king’s person. He may
share some of his functions with other spirits, but his ultimate sovereignty is
undisputable.” (ibid: 30). The high god was thus the transcendental counter-
part of the earthly king.
From a religious perspective that king (王= Wang), guided by Di from above,
appeared to be in a similar position as a medieval “pope.” But, in contrast to
“the West,” a division between religious and secular leadership did not evolve
in the days of the kings and emperors in China. The division between the two
realms is symbolized in the West by the emperor’s penitential encounter with
the pope as “vicar of Christ” in Canossa, Italy (1076–1077) following the dra-
matic and for the emperor and his entourage nearly fatal crossing of the Alps.
In the ritual encounter between pope and emperor that followed, the pope
represents the sacred, the emperor the secular power.
In China the emperor was a secular as well as a sacred person until the revo-
lution of 1911. Schwartz refers to thousands of years of cultural continuity. (ibid:
31). After numerous generations of uninhibited rule, one dynasty exhausted its
kinship resources and was replace by another in a more or less violent take-
over, but the earthly political order as a replica of the cosmic order was (un-
til 1911) never questioned. Some recent analysts of the Chinese condition are
inclined to extend this observation even beyond 1911 to the role Mao Zedong
played since 1949. Seeing his portrait looming large from above the entrance to
the Forbidden City in Peking seems to support such a hypothesis (not to speak
of Mao’s picture on every Chinese money bill to this day).
Be that as it may, the political and social order of at least pre-1911-China was
defined by the ritual behavior inside the families, i.e. by the quasi-liturgical
inner-familial interaction, so powerfully reinforced by Confucius who for
instance paralleled the relationship between father and son with that between
emperor and subject. This ritual behavior applied to Chinese kinship reality
from the imperial family all the way down to the simplest peasant household.
Its unifying effect counteracted the development of a class society: The pri-
mary source of inequality was the position in a kinship group, not in a class of
society!
It is a narrow, specifically Western view of a power relationship, to see as the
problem of inequality merely the duty of the underling to obey. In the Chinese
tradition the relationship obviously also entailed the solemn duty of the per-
son in power to care for, protect, and preferably love his son, younger brother
in the family, or lower ranking member of the political order respectively. Iso-
lating the aspect of obedience from seeing the power-holder as responsible
caretaker, would most likely have prevented Confucianism from surviving
through the millennia: Its historical vitality is based on the combination of
submission to him who provides protection.
The family as a metaphor for religion and politics is of course not peculiar to
the cultural history of China. The God portrayed by Christianity for centuries
was seen and addressed as a father in heaven for centuries. Political leaders as
late as the 1950ies in Germany were referred to as Landesvater (the country’s
father). But in the West, family relations never acquired the degree of central-
ity in life, which they apparently had (and have) in China. For centuries the
French, German, or Italian son or daughter who was disillusioned (or rejected)
by his kin, could find a new social home in a monastic organization of the
church, or the sons – provided wars lasted long enough – in the military.
In China too, wars as well as monasteries were and are available. A Daoist or
Buddhist woman or man could likely find acceptance in one of the numerous
monasteries. However, the social status awarded them there was of a differ-
ent nature and also not necessarily – as typically in the West till recently – re-
mained mandatory for the remainder of the person’s life. In the West adults
could, and – due to severe restrictions on the right to get married – were forced
to make a choice between living within or outside families.
The Chinese were typically not confronted with such an alternative: In Chi-
na the ritualized life inside the clan was (and is) the sanctioned way of life for
everybody. It has served for millennia as the model for a human existence in
peace and harmony both in family and state. Traditionally, families would per-
mit a son to become a monk only after he had (at least begotten) himself a son
to carry on the patrilineal family into the future.10
10 Compare the end of the novel A Dream of Red Mansions. See here Chapter 10.
Mencius and his disciple Wan Zhang. This quotation from the Analects11 shows
that a transfer of the Mandate cannot be made effective by handing over a
position from one monarch to the next simply on the basis of worldly power
Wan Zhang said, ‘Was it the case that Yao gave the throne to Shun?’
Mencius said, ‘No. The sovereign cannot give the throne to another.’
‘Yes – but Shun had the throne. Who gave it to him?’
‘Heaven gave it to him,’ was the answer.
“‘Heaven gave it to him:’ – did Heaven confer its appointment on him
with specific injunctions?”12
Mencius replied, ‘No. Heaven does not speak. It simply showed its will by
his personal conduct and his conduct of affairs.’
“‘It showed its will by his personal conduct and his conduct of affairs’ –
how was this?”
Mencius’s answer was, “The sovereign can present a man to Heaven, but he
cannot make Heaven give that man the throne. A prince can present a man to
the sovereign, but he cannot cause the sovereign to make that man a prince. A
great officer can present a man to his prince, but he cannot cause the prince
to make that man a great officer. Yao presented Shun to Heaven, and Heaven
accepted him. He presented him to the people, and the people accepted him.
Therefore, I said, ‘Heaven does not speak. It simply indicated its will by his
personal conduct and his conduct of affairs.’”
Zhang said, ‘I presume to ask how it was that Yao presented Shun to Heaven,
and Heaven accepted him; and that he exhibited him to the people, and the
people accepted him.’
Mencius replied, “He caused him to preside over the sacrifices, and all the
spirits were well pleased with them; thus Heaven accepted him. He caused
him to preside over the conduct of affairs, and affairs were well administered,
so that the people reposed under him; thus the people accepted him. Heaven
gave the throne to him. The people gave it to him. Therefore, I said, ‘The sover-
eign cannot give the throne to another’. Shun assisted Yao in the government
for twenty and eight years – this was more than man could have done, and
was from Heaven. After the death of Yao, when the three years’ mourning was
completed, Shun withdrew from the son of Yao to the south of South river.
The princes of the kingdom, however, returning to court, went not to the son
of Yao, but they went to Shun. Litigants went not to the son of Yao, but they
went to Shun. Singers sang not the son of Yao, but they sang Shun. Therefore,
I said, ‘Heaven gave him the throne.’ It was after these things that he went to
the Middle Kingdom, and occupied the seat of the Son of Heaven. If he had,
before these things, taken up his residence in the palace of Yao, and had ap-
plied pressure to the son of Yao, it would have been an act of usurpation, and
not the gift of Heaven. This sentiment is expressed in the words of The Great
Declaration: ‘Heaven sees according as my people see; Heaven hears according
as my people hear.’”
Here ends the dialogue between Mencius and his student. This quotation
raises the question, if there is a “democratic” tradition in ancient China be-
cause of the closing words from “The Great Declaration”? In any case, to Con-
fucius and his disciples, the rule of the king was not absolute but tied to ethical
knowledge and subject to judgment by a higher authority in the beyond. These
are the conditions which Confucius saw as his vision of an admirable past and
which he hoped to revive to social and political reality. Through his teaching he
hoped to contribute toward bringing back the lost splendor. From a historical
perspective of comparative religions this phase to which the great sage is hark-
ing back can perhaps be considered a revelation without lasting acceptance as
one of humankind’s missed opportunities.