Daoism and Human Rights: Integrating the Incommensurable

David A. Palmer

Department of Sociology, the University of Hong Kong

I’m neither a theologian nor a philosopher, nor am I a scholar of human rights; as an anthropologist I’m interested in the “native point of view” – what might real, living Daoists themselves say and do about human rights? Over two decades of interacting with Daoists in China, I have hardly ever heard human rights mentioned in their conversations with me or among themselves; nor am I aware of a single article or publication by a Chinese Daoistpractitioner on the topic of human rights.

The absence of an explicit Daoist discourse on human rights does not, however, indicate the absence of conceptual elements in Daoist thought that can be correlated with human rights, as shown by Bede Bidlack in his contribution to this volume.[1] The discourse on human rights emerged from the European enlightenment out of a culture matrix inflected by Christianity and Greek philosophy; through the spread of Western civilization and institutions, it has now become part of the global normative order. All other cultural and religious traditions have, during this process, been drawn into this discourse and forced to rethink and sometimes reform their teachings and practices in consequence.

Daoism is a latecomer to this conversation. In order to understand the reason for this, a discourse on Daoism and human rights needs to consider the location of the Daoist tradition in an embodied, social context. The focus of Daoist practice is the body – the transformation of the individual body through techniques of “life cultivation” (yangsheng), meditation and inner alchemy; and the coordinated activity of bodies through communal rituals. At a basic level both types of practice share the common aim of promoting human flourishing through health, security, prosperity and harmony, to which individual practices of the body add the ultimate aim of spiritual transcendence. At either level, Daoism is primarily a trove of technical knowledge, based on a common cosmology. Daoist “discourse” is primarily a means to practical, embodied or mystical ends rather than conceptual debate. Thus, Daoist religious specialists have traditionally been trained in technical and embodied knowledge rather than intellectual discourse, working among the people, in local communities. Daoist philosophical discourseor so-called “philosophical Daoism” has primarily been the work of people located within discursive communitiesoutside the living Daoist tradition –historically within the primarily Confucian social elite or, in modern times, within academic departments that operate according to the disembodied discursive practices of Western philosophy. A genuine conversation between Daoism and human rights, however, requires not only an engagement between different forms of discourse, but also between different ways of being in the world.

Perhaps such a conversation could begin with the words of my main Daoist informant and teacher over the past decade, whom I will call Master Wen, in deference to his pursuit of anonymity. A deeply devoted and highly accomplished practitioner, he also has a high level of intellectual sophistication and is the most knowledgeable Daoist I have met during my years of research. Master Wen was previously the deputy director of the Daoist Association of a famous sacred mountain; but, weary of monastic politics, he returned to secular life and now lives an anonymous life as an obscure urban hermit. One day as we sat in a teahouse, he began a rant about the “slave mentality” of Chinese people that, in his view, the Chinese state has nurtured over 2500 years. When I mentioned to him that Daoism has been criticized for doing nothing to restrain this authoritarian culture, Wen himself mentioned human rights, emphatically stating that“Daoism absolutely upholds human rights because it is opposed to asking the individual to sacrifice himself for others, for the collectivity.” He praised the philosopher Yang Zhu (440-360 BC) who famously said that he would not pluck a hair from his body to benefit others, and Zhuangzi’s teaching that we should model ourselves on the useless old tree. For Master Wen, notions of service to others are used as pretexts to sacrifice individual rights and freedoms for the benefit of political power, in the name of the collective. “You take a few people who have sacrificed themselves, you make them into heroes, you say it is very good to sacrifice yourself, and then you ask everyone to sacrifice themselves for the political authority. Even if you offer yourself up in sacrifice, you are setting yourself up as an example, and saying that either you are morally superior to others, or that others should sacrifice themselves too. … You will expect others to follow you and obey you in return. That's what so many saints and sages have done. They act so selfless, but then they want you to worship them. And then those who don't sacrifice themselves, are labeled as evil; they will be oppressed and killed.”[2]

While Wen’s discourse is inflected by his lived experience in socialist China, in which notions of sacrifice and “serving the people” have been deployed in the service of political authoritarianism, it is consistent with both his explications of Daoist spiritual cultivation and with a streak of libertarianism that can be traced back tothe Zhuangzi. Master Wen’s discourse was actually not about “rights”, but a scathing critique of the notion of “duty”. And yet, he was equally critical of Western appropriations of Daoism in the service of individual freedom: “Daoist cultivation doesn’t mean that you can just be who you want -- there is a work of self-transformation, to reach your true self (zhenwo) which is at one with all beings in the cosmos (tiandiwanwu). You can’t just take non-action (wuwei) and say it means that you make no effort and can do whatever you want. Wuwei refers to non-interference, to not imposing your self on others -- but you still need to make an effort on your self.”

Wen’s discourse on spiritual cultivation stresses self-transcendence, beginning with “quiescence” (jing), letting go of the turbulence of mental and bodily desires, leading to alignment with one’s “true self” or “heart-nature” (xinxing) that is at one with the cosmos. He repeatedly emphasizes that morality is fundamental to this process – but morality is not a “duty” to others, nor is it a set of norms derived from an abstract principle -- rather, it is a spontaneous expression of authentic being. True morality is thus an expression of ziranor natural spontaneity. Immoral and selfish behavior consists in the will to power of an individual who tries to impose himself and his desires on others, in violation of his authentic spontaneity that is in line with the organic harmony of all beings.

Under a condition of ziran, both rights and duties, understood as part of a binding social contract, are thus unnecessary. Under ziran, people will find a natural harmony; they will not interfere with or harm each other. A “duty” to do anything beyondziran, or the “right” to do anything other than cultivate ziran, would be contrary to cosmic harmony. When all are in spontaneity, all are in harmony; there is no need for contractual rights and duties; there is no need for a state. A discourse on human rights would thus seem to be irrelevant.

The Daoist vision, however, is a utopian one. Daoist spontaneity has never been realized in a true polity (or is imagined to have existed only in a primitivist golden age); zirancan only be attained through a regimen of self-cultivation that is only accessible to a small number of people. And, as Master Wen concluded after he reflected on his disappointment at the low level of spiritual cultivation of most Daoist monks in China, it can only be so -- since the principle of spontaneity also militates against making strenuous effort to implement this utopian ideal and practice among a whole population. Human rights, on the other hand, address the reality of morally imperfect states and individuals – what external laws and ethical principles can restrict the actions of rulers and individuals who do not spontaneously restrict their will to power over others? Given that most people and states are not ziran, and tend to impose their will on others, an external, legal framework is required to define and enforce mutual rights and obligations, and the rights of individuals in relation to the state.

From this perspective, the project of human rights may well be entirely incommensurable with Daoism, since it presupposes accepting a social reality that Daoist cultivation precisely strives to transcend. In practice, Daoist practitioners strive to attain ziranand wuweiin a social context in which most people around them do not engage in Daoist cultivation, are not spontaneously moral, and constantly try to impose their will on others. Through practicing wuwei, although living among other people, Daoist practitioners avoid entanglements in the mutual conflicts and negotiations among people, and try to exert a positive influence on others, again in a spontaneous manner, without imposing their ideas and practices. Human rights regimes, on the other hand, are not only theoretical constructs; they are social practices and institutions that have, historically, come into being only through protracted struggles between people and states through social movements and revolutions; and that are given flesh and substance through negotiations and struggles in the streets, in the media and in the courtrooms over the application of general principles in specific cases. Virtually every stage of human rights as social practice involves contests between different parties organizing themselves to impose their demands – a far cry from Daoist spontaneity and non-interference! The practice of human rights appears to be as alien to Daoist cultivation as its theory.

We cannot, however, draw the conclusion that Daoism is necessarily opposed to, or indifferent to human rights. Daoism is not a monopolistic ideology that rejects any system of thought and practice that cannot be logically derived from its own first principles. On the contrary, human rights canbe incorporated into Daoism, following the logic of what I would call “polyontologicalcomplementarity” – the pragmatic integration of incommensurable ontologies. To illustrate this dynamic, let us consider how Daoism has integrated other systems of thought, using the example of Confucianism as well as Buddhism. In chapter 38 of theDaodejing, we read:

When Dao is lost, we have Virtue (de)

When Virtue is lost, we have benevolence (ren)

When benevolence is lost, we have righteousness (yi)

When righteousness is lost, we have ritual propriety (li).

This passage is one of the most polemically anti-Confucian of the Daodejing. And yet, as a community of practice, Daoism has gladly incorporated Confucianism into its own system. This does not necessarily reflect a random eclecticism or syncretism, as is often assumed. Rather, Daoism has constructed a systemic hierarchy. For example, in the passage quoted above, the highest and most preferable state is described as being in Dao. But not all people have reached that state, and so the next best thing for them is Virtue. But not all people have Virtue, so the next best thing is (Confucian) benevolence, righteousness and ritual propriety. In this structure, Daoist concepts and practices are considered to be the superior ones, but Confucian moralityand propriety are taken to be inferior but necessary foundations for the Daoist spiritual path. For example, according to Wang Chongyang (1113-1170), the founder of the order of Complete Perfection, wrote in his Instructions on the Gold Pass and Jade Lock that Buddhist precepts and compassion, and Confucian filial piety and loyalty, are essential prerequisites for advanced Daoist cultivation:

“Perfected Chongyang instructed, “First, you must observe the precepts and develop clarity, stillness, forbearance, compassion, genuineness, and goodness. You must abstain from the ten evils, practice expedient means, and strive to save all sentient beings. You must also be loyal to the ruler and king, and be filial and reverent to parents and teachers. This is the method of cultivation. Then and only then can you practice the exercises of [Daoist] perfection (zhengong).”[3]

The Daoist integration of Daoism, Confucianism and Buddhism (which has a radically different ontology from the former two teachings) in what is often called the “Union of the Three Teachings” (sanjiaoheyi) does not paper over the philosophical and practical differences between the three, but places them in a complementary hierarchy. In this structure, the independence of the three teachings is recognized and preserved. All three are understood to be different but compatible on a pragmatic level.

Following the same logic, it is possible to consider a complementaryintegration between the “two teachings” of Daoism and human rights. On the one hand, as I have argued in this paper, Daoism and human rights come from radically different historical and cultural genealogies, and are incommensurable on an ontological level. It may be impossible to derive one from the other, as argued by Chia in his contribution to this volume. On the other hand, one can argue that Daoism is compatible with human rights and, as demonstrated by Lee[4] and by Bidlack, one can correlate aspects of Daoist teachings and practices with aspects of human rights discourse. A genuine Daoist practicing wuweiand spontaneity would spontaneously respect the human rights of others. And, as claimed by American Daoist practitioners I have interviewed,[5] it can be argued that human rights and freedoms provide a better foundation for Daoist cultivation than Confucian patriarchy. Thus, while essentially distinct, Daoism and human rights are complementary, and are potentially mutually reinforcing. Indeed, it could be argued that without Daoist spirituality, the philosophical “baggage” of the discourse and practice of human rights -- strong commitments to competitive self-interest, radical autonomy and disengaged freedom[6] -- risks placing too much emphasis on what is little more than the unfettered desires and willful imposition of the individual ego. On the other hand, without human rights, it can be argued that Daoist spontaneity and non-interference aretoo easily co-opted by forms of authoritarian and patriarchal oppression that are antithetical to Daoist cultivation.

From a Daoist perspective, such a combination should be a hierarchical one, in which human rights would provide a lower-level social foundation, while Daoist cultivation is a path to higher-level spiritual progress. Since, in the reality of the world of common people and rulers, most people are unable to control their desires and their will to power over others, human rights are thus necessary as a basic protection for each individual against the interference of others and of the state. But unlike for many in the West and elsewhere who see human rights and freedoms as the supreme value and the end goal of history, a Daoist might see human rights as simply a desirable foundation, that must be coupled with the supreme value of union with Dao, ultimately transcending the very need for human obligations and rights.

[1] So far, the literature directly addressing the relationship between Daoism and human rights seems to be limited to two articles: “Preserving one’s Nature: Primitivist Daoism and Human Rights” by the American-based Jung H. Lee, Journal of Chinese philosophy 34:4 (2007), 597 -612; and “Daoist thought and concepts of human rights” (Daojiaosixiangyurenquanguannian) by the Chinese scholar Guo Wu, in the Hong Kong Daoist magazine Hongdaono. 2, 2001.

[2] Interview recording, Chengdu, 20 June 2013.

[3] Quoted in Louis Komjathy, Cultivating Perfection: Mysticism and Self-Transformation in Early Quanzhen Daoism. Leiden: Brill, 2007, p. 151.

[4]Lee, “Preserving one’s Nature”, op. cit.

[5] See the forthcoming book by David A. Palmer and Elijah Siegler, Dream Trippers: Global Daoism and the Predicament of Modern Spirituality.

[6]Lee, “Preserving one’s Nature”, 599.