Front. Philos. China 2015, 10(4): 691–694 DOI 10.3868/s030-004-015-0055-3

BOOK REVIEW

Edward Slingerland, Trying Not to Try: The Ancient Chinese Art and Modern Science of Spontaneity. New York: Crown Publishers, 2014, vi. + 285 pp., ISBN: 9780770437619.

As the title suggests, Edward Slingerland’s book, Trying Not to Try: The Ancient Chinese Art and Modern Science of Spontaneity, can be read in two different ways. From one perspective, it is an accessible presentation of the development of classical Chinese philosophy centering on spontaneity or wuwei 無為. There are chapters dedicated to the Lunyu (Analects) (with some Xunzi included), Laozi, Mengzi, and Zhuangzi. Each philosophy is discussed as arising in response to problems and gaps in its predecessor, as can be seen in the chapter titles such as “Trying Hard Not to Try,” (Kongzi and Xunzi) “Stop Trying,” (Laozi) “Try, but Not Too Much,” (Mengzi) and “Forget About It” (Zhuangzi). At the same time, the book can be read simply as an account of the value of spontaneity and the difficulty of achieving it. The decision to include various Chinese philosophers follows the same logic which led Slingerland to embrace theories from contemporary psychology—they help us better understand the topic. There are tensions between these two projects, but Slingerland aligns them remarkably well. While concentrated on the problem of spontaneity, the chapters provide a surprisingly comprehensive account of the main classical philosophical texts. At the same time, they are presented in a way that would be compelling for someone with no direct interest in learning about China. In some ways, Trying Not to Try is a reprise of Slingerland’s earlier book, Effortless Action: Wu-wei as Conceptual Metaphor and Spiritual Ideal in Early China (Oxford University Press, 2007). The current book approaches much of the same material, but with an eye toward reaching a broader audience, including those interested in Asian thought and those reading popular works in cognitive science. In keeping with this purpose, Slingerland gives no justifications for his interpretations of the Chinese materials, nor does he discuss those places in which one might give alternate readings. Similarly, scientific claims are made with reference to specific experiments, but there is no critical discussion of this evidence, making it difficult to evaluate. These limits might be frustrating to scholars, but they make sense given the intended audience. Slingerland uses two main strategies to make the Chinese materials accessible and persuasive. One is to link seemingly foreign Chinese ideas to phenomena common in American life. For example, the various recluses appearing in the Lunyu are “the original hippies, dropping out, turning on, and stickin’ it to the Man more than two thousand years before the invention of the tie-dye and the 692 Front. Philos. China 2015, 10(4)

Grateful Dead” (86). Mengzi is said to have gone to the state of Teng because the king was establishing “a kind of non-partisan think tank,” (121) and Chapter 53 of the Laozi (“The court is corrupt, the fields are overgrown…”) “sounds as if it were lifted from a contemporary ‘Occupy Wall Street’ pamphlet” (87). The second strategy is to support Chinese philosophical claims through recent work in cognitive science. Like the first strategy, this takes claims that seem obscure or mystical and translates them into a scientific discourse that is both familiar and authoritative. Slingerland weaves these references into every chapter. For example, in discussing the Laozi, Slingerland appeals to experiments showing the “ironic effects” of deliberate effort, particularly efforts to be fair or moral (97−98). In discussing the Mengzi, he appeals to the “mirror neuron” system by which human beings feel what they perceive another human being to be feeling, generating empathy (117), and to evidence for a natural sense of righteous indignation (117−18). Slingerland even claims that, “the Mencian view that morality is about emotion-driven, wu-wei behavior is becoming the dominant view among psychologists” (118). Of particular interest is Slingerland’s attempt to give a naturalistic account of one of the most mysterious terms in classical Chinese philosophy—de 德 (virtues). Slingerland takes de as the charismatic power that arises from wuwei, but he explains this in natural terms: “Looked at from a contemporary perspective, we can redescribe de as the body language that someone exhibits when their cognitive control centers are downregulated—when they are being genuinely spontaneous” (190). This is attractive, he says, “because evolution has shaped us to home in on signals of sincerity that are difficult to consciously simulate” (195). Slingerland’s approach works well in showing the relevance of Chinese philosophy today, and there are several particularly strong points. First, while he uses science primarily to legitimize Chinese philosophy, he sometimes argues that those applying science also have things to learn from Chinese philosophers. That is, the Chinese are not just telling us what we already know. Second, since he believes the problem of “trying not to try” resists any conclusive resolution, Slingerland presents the texts not as generating a final solution, but as offering various strategies to suit different people, stages of life, or situations. This outcome fits the approach of Chinese philosophers themselves. Third, while not explicit, the book reads as a powerful critique of European philosophy. On Slingerland’s account, Chinese philosophers got closer to the truth on almost every point. That will come as a shock to most philosophers familiar only with the European philosophical tradition. Slingerland’s strategy of assimilating Chinese thought to contemporary discourses has risks. Most obviously, it sometimes prevents Chinese views from appearing as alternatives. There are a number of examples, but one of the most problematic is the interpretation of the Chinese tradition in terms of a familiar