The Korean Dilemma: Assuming Perfectibility but Recognizing Moral Frailty Don Baker Acta Koreana, Volume 22, Number 2, December 2019, pp. 287-304 (Article) Published by Keimyung University, Academia Koreana For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/756407 [ Access provided at 26 Sep 2021 18:07 GMT with no institutional affiliation ] ACTA KOREANA Vol. 22, No. 2, December 2019: 287–304 doi:10.18399/acta.2019.22.2.005 The Korean Dilemma: Assuming Perfectibility but Recognizing Moral Frailty DON BAKER For centuries a question at the core of Korean philosophical and religious thinking has been how to reconcile the recognition of moral frailty with the assumption that human beings have the ability to become morally perfect. One Buddhist solution has been to call for the gradual replacement of pre- enlightenment habits with moral habits after becoming enlightened to one’s own Buddha nature. Confucians have instead focused on managing the relationship between innate moral tendencies and equally innate selfish emotions. Christians offered another solution to this conundrum: dropping the assumption that human beings on their own can achieve moral perfection and instead focusing on relying to God’s help to overcome moral frailty. Indigenous new religions have proposed yet another solution: waiting for the unfavorable conditions that prevail in the world today to change so that it will be easier to act the way we know we should act. None of these proposed solutions satisfy everyone. As a result, Koreans continue their search for a way to explain, and overcome, moral failure while maintaining confidence in their ability to do so. Keywords: perfectibility, moral frailty, Buddhism, Neo-Confucianism, Catholic, Protestant, new religions DON BAKER ([email protected]) is a professor in the Department of Asian Studies, University of British Columbia, Canada. * This article was presented at a conference at the University of Prince Edward Island supported by UPEI’s international Seed Program for Korean Studies grant (AKS-2017-INC-2230001) through the Ministry of Education, Republic of Korea and Korean Studies Promotion Service (KSPS), the Academy of Korean Studies (AKS). 288 Acta Koreana, Vol. 22, No. 2, December 2019 In 1784 King Chŏngjo (r. 1777–1800) asked the young men studying for the higher civil service exam at Sŏnggyun’gwan [the National Confucian Academy] to respond in writing to several questions he posed about the Zhongyong (Doctrine of the Mean) (Chŏng 2001, II: 4, 1a). One of his questions, about chapter XXVIII of that text, reveals that he had doubts about the Confucian promise that sagehood was attainable. His concern is clear: sagehood in the Neo-Confucian intellectual universe in which he operated refers to both personal ethical virtuosity which encompasses the ability to interact appropriately in every interaction one finds oneself in as well as the related ability to transform the world to ensure that all interactions within it are appropriate. He voiced his concern that, since a sage must meet both of those qualifications, sagehood was an impossible dream (Chŏng 2001, II: 4, 55b). The Zhongyong passage he cited states that only the Son of Heaven, meaning the emperor of China, can bring the world into conformity with the Dao. No one else should dare to try to do that, even if they have perfected their ability to think and act appropriately. Even the Son of Heaven will be unable to reform his realm to make it accord with the Dao unless he can act with perfect ethical virtuosity (Ames and Hall 2001, 109–10). Since King Chŏngjo was only a king and not the emperor of China, he would not be able to rule the ways in which the sages of old ruled, even if he were able to fully actualize his ethical power. King Chŏngjo’s specific question about that passage was, “If ‘to be born in the present and yet restore the Dao of the past’ is thus an impossible dream, then does that not mean that we cannot become sages no matter how hard we study and therefore we cannot expect to rule in as exemplary a fashion as they did in the great dynasties of ancient times?” (Chŏng 2001, II: 4, 55b). This, of course, would apply not only to the king but to all of his subjects as well. Tasan Chŏng Yagyong 丁若鏞 (1762–1836) was one of those students to whom the king addressed that question. In his written response, Tasan wrote: Shun and the Duke of Zhou were able to occupy powerful posts and ensure that the Dao prevailed. Confucius, on the other hand, was never able to obtain a powerful post and therefore was not able to ensure that the Dao prevailed. Earlier lines tell us that Shun and the Duke of Zhou were able to establish proper rituals, impose proper standards, and determine the proper form of writing” (Ames and Hall 2001, 109–10). A later section stated that Confucius looked up to Yao and Shun as though they were his own ancestors and followed their example (Ames and Hall 2001, 111). This tells us that a sage is someone who has the ability to establish proper rituals, impose proper standards, and determine the proper form of writing. Sages all have that potential. Whether they are able to realize their potential depends on the times in which they live. To be born in the present yet restore the Dao of the past is not something someone can accomplish without a powerful post. This statement, therefore, is nothing more than Confucius bewailing his fate (Chŏng 2001, II: 4, 55b). Tasan avoided answering part of the king’s question here. After all, the king is the most powerful person in his kingdom. He has more power than Confucius had. If he could Baker: The Korean Dilemma 289 become an ethical virtuoso, then he could rule in an exemplary fashion even if he could not fully qualify for sage status by completely restoring the Dao. Perhaps Tasan avoided the first part of the king’s question, “we cannot become sages no matter how hard we study,” because he wanted his king to try his best to ensure that the Dao prevailed in Chosŏn. It is clear elsewhere in his writings, however, that Tasan recognized that becoming a sage is not an easy task, even though sagehood is open to everyone.1 We see the king’s question recurring in Korean philosophy and religion. There is a strong optimistic strain in Korean thought, a belief that we all have it within ourselves to become a Buddha, become a sage, or become simply a moral person who always does what he knows he should do. However, Koreans have also always been realistic enough to recognize that they themselves and those who surround them are not morally perfect. Like people everywhere on this planet, Koreans often do not know what the right thing to do in a particular situation is and, even if they do know, they find that they do not act in accordance with that knowledge. Moral frailty is an inescapable part of the human condition. As such, it is an issue all sophisticated religions and ethical philosophies have had to address. Korean thinkers, however, appear to be particularly sensitive to the contradiction between the assumption of human perfectibility and the recognition of human moral weakness. The most creative thinkers in Korean history have all tried to explain why human beings fail to realize their full potential and then, based on their explanation, propose a way to overcome that frailty. Over the centuries, Korean creative thinkers have become more and more pessimistic about the ability of human beings to overcome moral weakness and have proposed more and more possible solutions to that vexing problem. Buddhism Buddhism is difficult to confine to either the categories of philosophy or religion because it focuses on concrete problems of human existence, just as religions do, but it often does so with philosophical arguments. In particular, Buddhist thinkers and practitioners have been concerned with identifying the causes of human suffering and eliminating them. Identifying the causes of human suffering is a serious problem for Buddhists because they operate on the assumption that we are all essentially Buddhas, which means we should not suffer, and yet we do suffer. Why is that the case? The Buddhist answer is that it is our own fault. We suffer because we are ignorant of the reason we suffer: We think things in the phenomenal world are real and therefore we desire them and become attached to them but those things change and leave us, causing frustration and therefore suffering. This contradiction between the assumption that we are essentially Buddhas yet we don’t think like Buddhas causes a dilemma. As the Sutra of Perfect Enlightenment explains, “If all 1 Note, for example, the statement in Zhongyong XXII that we have the potential, by fully actualizing our true human nature, to link up with Heaven and Earth and play an equal role in maintaining appropriate interactions throughout the universe. In other words, we all have the potential to become a sage. 290 Acta Koreana, Vol. 22, No. 2, December 2019 sentient beings are originally Buddhas, then how can they also possess ignorance? If sentient beings are originally ignorant, how can we say that they have always been perfect Buddhas?” (Muller and Kihwa 1999, 123). In his commentary on this passage, the Korean monk Kihwa (1376–1433) suggested that practitioners push this contradiction aside and instead focus on eliminating the ignorance that keeps them from actualizing their inner Buddha. If they can do that, they will “penetrate to the sublime state of the Buddha” (Muller and Kihwa 1999, 124).