This will be my last post until September, as I will be traveling and attending a meditation retreat. Hope you all have a good summer!
Philosophical perspectives such as moral relativism and postmodernism suggest that there are no universal, culture-independent religious, metaphysical, or ethical truths. Instead, postmodernists and relativists suggest that all truth claims must be understood within their cultural and historical context. In the first part of this post, I drew on the Daoist text the Zhuangzi to illustrate that non-dogmatic philosophical views such as postmodernism are not unique to the modern world. (You can read that article here: https://recontextualize.substack.com/p/the-dao-and-postmodernism. Although it is quite common to think that non-dogmatic positions only flowered once humanity freed itself from “religious dogma,” this narrative does not stand up to the evidence. If we look at many leading scholars and contemplatives from traditions that would be classified as “religious” in today’s world, we find figures who refused to dogmatically assent to one particular set of beliefs. Like the postmodernists of today, these figures contemplated what this infinite proliferation of perspectives on truth by different people, communities, and cultures might mean for the nature of universal, timeless truth. Unlike many relativists and postmodernists today, however, these pre-modern figures did not take this as a refutation of the existence of universal truth, but rather as a sign that the conceptual mind is not the proper place to look for it. Like the last post, I will again focus primarily on Zhuang Zhou’s response to this postmodern problem as a representative of the pre-modern perspective.
Before delving into Zhuang Zhou’s response, we can briefly summarize what is, in my opinion, one of the strongest arguments for this postmodern perspective. (Versions of this argument can be found in Zhuang Zhou, Immanuel Kant, and Georg Friedrich Hegel.) Any method we use to justify a truth claim will always be valid within a particular perspective. For example, the medieval Christian theologians used Aristotelian scholastic logic to illustrate the existence of God. The modern scientific method is rooted in an empirical way of knowing that asserts we can understand reality by observing our five senses. Buddhism, Sufism, and other contemplative and mystical traditions largely rely on inquiry into the nature of immediate experience as the method for uncovering the truth. If we were to try to justify the truth claims of any of these traditions, we would have to adopt one of these methods of justification before we know which tradition or method is correct. Therefore, there is no way to investigate the truth neutrally. We either dogmatically choose one perspective and method of investigation, or we, like the postmodernists, conclude that there is no universal truth independent of tradition or culture.
Most modern Western philosophers who confront this problem respond by encouraging us to shift our focus away from universal truth and towards more pragmatic and social concerns. Immanuel Kant and Georg Friedrich Hegel both suggest that no truth claim can be abstracted outside of the functional role it plays in grounding a particular community’s way of life. Friedrich Nietzsche suggests we should simply discard the “will to truth” and instead focus on the “will to power,” embodying beliefs and values that allow us and our community to flourish. Karl Marx, the Critical Theorists, and many European philosophers, such as Michel Foucault, suggest that the terms for any discussion about truth are set by the ruling class. Because of this, they argue, we should always be skeptical of these abstract discussions and instead focus on addressing social injustices and power imbalances. These responses encourage skepticism towards the ultimate truth and instead ask us to turn our attention to social injustices and everyday living. These responses have much value to add to our discourse on truth. In my opinion, it is a sign of philosophical maturity to recede from abstract arguments about which culture, religion, or tradition is “right.” It is also essential to attend to social injustices and everyday ethical concerns. However, Zhuang Zhou and many pre-modern figures open up another dimension of this discourse by suggesting a route forward that does not require giving up on the ultimate truth.
For Zhuang Zhou, the impossibility of justifying one perspective over other perspectives does not mean truth does not exist, but rather that truth cannot be found in one particular perspective, belief, or tradition. He writes, “Day and night they alternate before our eyes, yet no one knows whence they sprout. Let us stop right there, no need to go further!” “Day and night” in this quotation is a metaphor for the constant alternation of perspectives on truth. Zhuang Zhou suggests that we should not concern ourselves with stopping this alternation by finding the “right” perspective. Instead, we can simply let this proliferation of perspectives continue and “stop right there.” Zhuang Zhou advises how to “stop right there” writing,
“You have so single-mindedly focused your will that you have been constantly hearkening to it, not with your ears but with your mind, and not only with your mind but even with your vital energy. Instead, let your hearkening stay positioned at the heart, your mind going no further than meshing there like a tally. The vital energy is then a vacuity, a waiting for, the presence of whatever things may come. The Dao alone is the gathering of this vacuity.”
Zhuang Zhou points out that when we hold our attention in the “mind,” the faculty that produces and contemplates conceptual beliefs, we also merge our “vital energy” with this conceptual faculty. Zhuang Zhou encourages a simple but profound reflection: if we don’t allow our attention or our “vital energy” to merge, settle, and rest within the various conceptual beliefs through which we could interpret our experience, it is possible to move through life without interpreting our experiences through the lens of a fixed set of beliefs. It is not necessary to become a Christian, a Buddhist, an atheist, a scientific materialist, or anything else, and then proceed to interpret the world through the set of beliefs that the tradition we aligned with professes. There is another option. We can allow our “vital energy” to become a “vacuity” that waits “for the presence of whatever things may come.” We can merge our attention, energy, and identity with the Dao.
It is easy to read this possibility of resting in the “Dao” instead of conceptual thought as some mysterious, mystical truth. However, I do not think this is how Zhuang Zhou intends it. After all, he refers to this section of the text as the “Illumination of the Obvious.” Zhuang Zhou is simply telling us to direct our attention away from our mind's constant attempt to constrain experience within a conceptual box and instead notice the open, accepting space in which all sensory and mental phenomena occur. Zhuang Zhou calls this process “fasting the mind” because as we rest our energy and attention in receptiveness, we exhaust the habitual tendency of the mind to interpret experience through a fixed set of beliefs. I emphasize the word fixed here because “fasting of the mind” does not require us to expel every thought or belief from our mind; a task that is neither possible (at least not permanently) nor desirable.
Zhuang Zhou writes, “With neither doorways nor protective walls, all dwellings will be as one to you. You will be of one household with all, but will find temporary lodgings in whatever you cannot avoid.” The aim of fasting the mind is not to withdraw from all perspectives and beliefs but rather to be able to inhabit different perspectives fluidly by grounding one’s identity in that which transcends but also includes all particular perspectives; the Dao. That which is beyond the conceptual mind cannot be understood intellectually but must be experienced and then stabilized through some form of contemplative practice. However, here Zhuang Zhou points to the essence of this process: “fasting the mind” by simply noticing the aspect of our experience that does not try to define and control phenomena but instead simply waits for the “presence of whatever may come.”
In this way, Zhuang Zhou does not take the postmodern problem of the endless proliferation of different perspectives on truth as a sign that there is no universal truth. Rather, Zhuang Zhou takes this as an illumination of the internal limit of the conceptual mind, implying that truth can only be found beyond the conceptual mind. This contemplative answer to postmodernism is not unique to Daoism. Just to give one brief example to substantiate my claim: we find a similar point of view in the thought of 12th-century Islamic mystic and philosopher Ibn Arabi. Ibn Arabi points out that if God is truly infinite and unlimited, He would not be limited to one particular definition or even to the transcendence of all definitions. To be truly unlimited, God must exist both in an unlimited, transcendent state and manifest as every limited perspective. Thus, Ibn Arabi reasons that the infinite proliferation of perspectives that we find about the nature of God and the nature of Truth is not contrary to the existence of an Ultimate Truth or God, but, on the contrary, is a necessary consequence of God’s unlimited and infinite nature. This is why Ibn Arabi writes of God, his beloved, “I have a Beloved whose name is that of all who have a name.”
Ibn Arabi starts from quite a different position than Zhuang Zhou. Zhuang Zhou starts from the many conceptual perspectives on truth human beings find themselves entrenched in, while Ibn Arabi starts by contemplating the nature of an infinite and unlimited God. We would find more differences by looking at other pre-modern figures from other traditions who deal with similar philosophical concerns. However, Zhuang Zhou, Ibn Arabi, and other pre-modern figures who confront this problem are united in that they do not take the inability to justify any particular conceptual system or perspective as the “true” one as evidence for the non-existence of universal truth. Rather, this is a sign that we should not look for universal truth within the conceptual mind. In this way, there is a sense in which pre-modern responses to relativism and postmodernism are less dogmatic than many modern responses. Many modern thinkers hold onto the dogmatic belief that universal truth must be accessible to the conceptual mind, and thus take the inability of the conceptual mind to grasp this universal truth as a sign that it does not exist. Ibn Arabi, Zhuang Zhou and many other pre-modern thinkers encourage us to look at the world more creatively; seeing internal contradictions of the conceptual mind not as a sign of the absence of truth but as a signal that we have reached the limit of our old modes of perception and are ready to move into more expansive and inclusive ways of perceiving and understanding our experience.1
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Although I grouped Hegel in with the “modern Western philosophers” who refuse to consider anything outside the conceptual mind, this is not entirely fair to him. If you have an interest in the strange contradictions of Hegel’s work, please read on. If not, feel free to ignore this footnote, as it is quite tangential to the post. Hegel does think that the aspect of our conceptual mind which creates fixed distinctions, what he calls the “understanding,” is limited. Hegel claims that the ultimate truth can be found in a more dynamic and fluid use of concepts, which he calls “reason.” Hegel’s “reason” is similar to the Dao in that it encourages a dynamic, context-sensitive adoption of beliefs and values. Hegel refers to that which transcends but also includes this dynamic flow of beliefs and values as the Absolute.
Although Hegel’s metaphysics is quite similar to Zhuang Zhou, Ibn Arabi, and other pre-modern figures, there is still a significant difference that made me group him in with philosophers biased towards conceptuality. While figures like Zhuang Zhou and Ibn Arabi encourage us to rest in or surrender to that which is beyond conceptuality and trust its intelligence over that of the conceptual mind, Hegel does not encourage us to fully put our trust in that which lies beyond conceptual distinctions. Rather, Hegel creates a hierarchy of expressions that “better” embody the Absolute than other expressions, suggesting philosophy, and specifically the philosophy of 19th-century Europe, is the highest and most complete expression of the Absolute. And maybe even worse, he suggests that the Absolute only started being expressed in a self-conscious way in the art of Greek antiquity, suggesting only those in white cultures were conscious of the Absolute at all.
In this sense, Hegel is quite a mixed bag. If we look at the structural aspects of his work, we will learn a great deal about the limits and value of the various perspectives on truth and their relationship to what is beyond all particular perspectives. However, if we look at Hegel’s discussions of history and ethics, we find something ironic and, unfortunately, something not uncommon in Western philosophy: using that very metaphysics to justify his own culture’s racist and Eurocentric conceptual perspective rather than encouraging a trust in what is beyond conceptual perspectives.