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Оглавление1 Introduction: (De)Mystifying the Chinese Culture
These “Ocean Men” [foreigners], as they are called . . . are tall beasts with deep sunken eyes and beaklike noses. The lower part of their faces, the backs of their hands, and I understand, their entire bodies are covered with a mat of curly hair, much as are the monkeys of the southern forests. But the strangest part about them is that, although undoubtedly men, they seem to possess none of the mental faculties of men. The most bestial of peasants is far more human, although these Ocean Men go from place to place with the self-reliance of a man of scholarship and are in some respects exceedingly clever. It is quite possible that they are susceptible to training and could with patience be taught the modes of conduct proper to a human being. (cited in Oliver, 1971, p. 5)
The above passage is the depiction by a scholarly Chinese of his first impression of white men in his country. The absurdity of such a perception is beyond question. However, that somebody should view a fellow human being, though of a different race, in such a manner is by no means a uniquely Chinese phenomenon. What is of interest here is not the absurdity of the story or the ignorance of a particular human being or species, for mere ignorance cannot adequately explain such a phenomenon. Nor is the observer’s possible prejudice to take the blame. What is at work is the observer’s enculturated consciousness, which is facilitating, albeit to a woeful effect, his reconstruction of the white men based on his experience of members of the white race, which, unfortunately, is extremely limited.
What, then, does this have to do with writing technologies?
The answer, which is far more complicated than I can articulate here, lies in people’s perception and subsequent rhetorical construction of the meaning of a particular phenomenon, ideology, or artifact . . . be it a foreigner or a new technology. What a foreigner is, in the above case, depends on the observer’s experience with the human species, which is limited to his own race, and makes sense only in the context of his own race. In a similar way, what a writing technology is—what it means, how it should be used, and how it should be further developed—depends, to a large extent, on how people (the participants of technology development) perceive and define this technology.
Therefore, it is the main goal of this book to interpret such perceptions and their implications on the development of technologies, particularly writing technologies. However, the purpose of this book is multifold: to define technology, technology development, and technology transfer; to present a coherent and comprehensive picture of the emergence of various writing technologies throughout the history of China, including, for example, oracle inscriptions, bronze inscriptions, pen, ink, early forms of paper (such as bamboo, wood, and silk), paper of the modern form, block and movable type printing, the Chinese typewriter, and the computer; to explore the impact of these writing technologies on the respective historical periods with special regard to writing and communication behavior; and, most importantly, to deconstruct the social, political, and cultural contexts and their shaping influence on writing technology developments.
China: An Intriguing Case
Several factors make China an intriguing case for the study of writing technology development: a long history of civilization (over five thousand years), a source of some of the most important inventions of writing technologies (such as pen, ink, paper, and printing), a confusing pattern of development (with some periods flourishing with milestone emergences and others completely void of development), a combination of both native developments and foreign transfers (thus rendering itself an appropriate case study of technology transfer), and an intriguing, if not mysterious, writing system.
The first intriguing factor, China’s long civilization of over five thousand years, provides a rich site for any study, not the least of which is writing technology development. The history of the written Chinese itself can be traced as far back as the Dawenkou culture between the twenty-eighth century BCE and the twenty-third century BCE (Peng et al., 1989, p. 432). Over four or five thousand years of evolution, the Chinese civilization underwent a series of differing cultures during different historical periods and dynasties. This myriad of cultures adds an intriguing complexity to the context of writing technology development. In addition, a mature civilization as the site of study yields validity to our investigation, which targets culture as the scene of development.
A second intriguing factor lies in the fact that the Chinese civilization has been host to several of the most important inventions in writing technologies, such as pen, paper, ink, and printing. As early as the sixteenth century BCE, in the Shang Dynasty, when there was hardly any writing, not to mention writing technology, in other parts of the world, the Chinese were already using turtle shells and other animal bones for oracle inscriptions (Xia et al., 1979, p. 1673). This was arguably the earliest form of writing technology in the history of human civilization.
Another notable era of writing technology development is the subsequent period of the Zhou Dynasty (from the eleventh to the third century BCE). This so-called classical period of China saw the use of bamboo pens, soot ink, and bamboo and wood slips as primitive forms of paper (Carter, 1955, p. 94). Then came the invention of the writing brush, made of hair, in the third century BCE. This invention, according to Thomas Carter, “worked a transformation in writing materials, [which was] indicated by two changes in the language,” one being that “the word for chapter used after this time means ‘roll’” and the other being that “the word for writing materials becomes ‘bamboo and silk’ instead of ‘bamboo and wood’” (1955, p. 94).
China’s pioneering role in the invention of writing technology was best evidenced by two major inventions in the later history of China: paper and printing. Paper, which was commonly believed to have been invented around 105 CE (a claim disputed by many scholars), liberated the Chinese from the heavy bamboo “papers.” Printing in China witnessed two landmark inventions: that of block printing and that of the movable type printing. Block printing was invented in the golden age of literary and artistic prosperity in the eighth century, which saw the birth of some of the greatest poets and artists in China’s history. Then in the eleventh century came the invention of movable type printing. These two inventions of printing quickly spread to European countries and revolutionized, to a large degree, the writing technologies of their respective historical periods.
Although China cannot claim credit for the modern forms of all these writing technologies, few civilizations parallel China in spearheading writing technology developments in earlier historical periods. This multiplicity of writing technology inventions yields rich options for meaningful studies of writing technology development.
A third intriguing factor about China is that the history of writing technology development exhibits a confusing pattern, with flourishing developments in some historical periods and total inertia in others. The modern period, which spans a term of several centuries, is surprisingly impoverished in writing technology inventions, when compared with the early part of Chinese history. The West, in the meantime, seems to have been taking big strides in advancing various writing technologies. In the second half of the nineteenth century, for example, driven by an ideology of systematic management, America invented and discovered the use of the typewriter, duplicating methods such as hand printing and press printing, and filing systems. These inventions furnished the necessary technological means for the then increasing demand for written communication “to provide consistency, exactness, and documentation” (Yates, 1989, p. 22). However, the culmination of the development of writing technologies in the West, so far, has to be the invention and use of the computer, which has come to pervade and revolutionize writing in almost all fields and disciplines. Conversely, with regard to this most recent, most revolutionizing writing technology, China is so far behind the West in its development and implementation as to strain credulity. Yet there seems to exist no theory that could adequately explain how a country that had pioneered most of the way in advancing writing technologies in the history of human civilization could be so outpaced in its computer technology. Economic underdevelopment, though a seemingly feasible explanation for such a phenomenon, can only be an oversimplified justification. The answer has to lie in the more complicated cultural context that provides nourishing ground for the growth of new technologies. This idea alone adds interesting facets to our study.
A fourth factor that adds an intriguing dimension to our study is that the Chinese history of writing technology development encompasses both native developments and foreign transfers. China’s early computer technology, for example, was a wholesale transfer from the West. Yet, due to the unique nature of Chinese script, the Western design of the computer was unusable for producing Chinese characters. Fundamental modifications, therefore, were incorporated into the design to localize this technology in China, to render it useful in the Chinese context. This act of transfer and localization is an important aspect not to be overlooked in any study of writing technologies.
A fifth, and final, intriguing factor about the China case is the unique nature of the Chinese language/script, which is fundamentally different from Roman-based scripts such as English. While English is a phoneme-based alphabetical language, Chinese is an ideogram-based script language. (A more elaborate discussion of the nature of Chinese script is provided in the next section.) Translated into computer terms, each English letter takes up one byte of space in the ASCII system whereas each Chinese character occupies two. Therefore, in localizing the computer technology for the Chinese context, the specific changes in the design of the computer to accommodate such differences add yet another interesting facet to the study. (In fact, the complexities of this script with regard to both its nature and history defy easy characterization and warrant a separate section with a more elaborate and in-depth discussion. This, however, is certainly not meant to undermine the significance of the other factors that have contributed to the intriguing nature of the China case.)
The Mystery of the Chinese Script
Although the nature of Chinese script (and the mystery surrounding it), as discussed in the preceding section, is only one of the five factors that make China’s writing technology development an intriguing case, it deserves special treatment here for three distinct reasons. First, every writing technology in the history of China has been a direct outcome of the development of the Chinese language, the various stages of which demanded and dictated corresponding writing technologies that could accommodate the changing nature of the Chinese script. Second, the unique, complex nature of this script has had direct bearings and, in most cases, shaping influences on how the writing technologies were conceived and developed. Third, the Chinese language has undergone a long history of evolution (over 4,000 years) and many significant changes in the course of its development. Understanding this history is critical to a better understanding of writing technology development.
A meaningful starting point of discussion of the Chinese script, then, is its origin. Due to the long, pre-record history of the Chinese civilization, it is difficult, if not impossible, to pinpoint an exact historical point when Chinese script originated. This difficulty has been acknowledged by many researchers and is reflected in the differing periods they have designated for the origin of Chinese script (see, for example, Boltz, 1999; Cheung, 1983; “Chinese Language,” 1997; Jian, 1979; Lattimore, 1946; Rodzinski, 1984). Various stories have been told about the origin of Chinese script, with many ancient ones pointing to a man named Cangjie:
Cangjie, according to one legend, saw a divine being whose face had unusual features which looked like a picture of writings. In imitation of his image, Cangjie created the earliest written characters. After that, certain ancient accounts go on to say, millet rained from heaven and the spirits howled every night to lament the leakage of the divine secret of writing. Another story says that Cangjie saw the footprints of birds and beasts, which inspired him to create written characters. (“Chinese language,” 1997)
The truthfulness of the stories is certainly questionable. More likely, Cangjie only sorted out the characters already invented by the people (“Chinese language”; Xia et al., 1979, p. 312). A recent discovery of some ancient tombs in Yanghe, Shandong Province, has unearthed a dozen pottery vessels dating back to a late period of the Dawenkou culture of about 4,500 years ago. Each of these pottery vessels bears a character, and these characters “are found to be stylized pictures of some physical objects” and are therefore called pictographs (“Chinese language,” 1997). These pictographs are already quite close in style and structure to the oracle bone inscriptions of the sixteenth century BCE but predated the latter by about 1000 years (“Chinese language,” 1997).
Similar discoveries have been made in the last few decades, with some unearthed, character-bearing pottery vessels dating back to as early as the period between 4800–4200 BCE (Cheung, 1983, p. 324–25). Of course, these characters are less than regular enough to form a systematic script, the first of which is usually considered to be the oracle bone inscriptions of the Shang Dynasty, around the sixteenth century BCE.
As mentioned earlier, unlike that of many European languages, Chinese script is not an alphabetic script , but a script of ideograms. According to Feibo Du (1998) and “Chinese language” (1997), the formation of Chinese characters follows three principles: hieroglyphics (the drawing of pictographs), associative compounds, and pictophonetics.
Hieroglyphics, probably the earliest method of forming Chinese characters, refers to the method of forming a character according to the actual form of the object the character refers to. For example, the character for the sun was written as, for the moon , for water , and for cow . The similarity between the character and the object it signifies is obvious. As this script evolved over the centuries, these pictographs gradually acquired a square shape, with some being simplified and others complicated, but overall regularized and systematized. Hieroglyphics provided the basis upon which subsequent methods of character formation were developed.
Though easy to understand, pictographs have a serious drawback: they cannot express abstract ideas. To make up for such a drawback, associative compounds were developed to form characters that combine two or more pictographic characters, each with a meaning of its own, to express abstract ideas. For example, the sun and the moon combined to form the character ming, , meaning “bright.” The sun placed over a line forms the character dan, , meaning “morning” or “sunrise.”
Neither pictographs nor associative compounds, however, indicate how the characters should be pronounced. Hence, the method pictophonetics was developed. Pictophonetics combines two elements: meaning and sound, in forming characters. For example, the character for “papa,” combines the element fu for the meaning (father) and the element ba for the sound.
The significance of these three methods of creating script is that they represent some of the most common measures of developing a systematic script for the ancient Chinese language. Researchers often use them as evaluation criteria for determining whether a particular historical period possessed a systematic script. Of course, later versions of Chinese script, especially that of the current Chinese language, contain characters that do not fall into any of the three categories. This is why some researchers (e.g., Jian, 1979) have argued that modern Chinese script should contain six essential features (more details later in the book). Nevertheless, they are valuable tools for our examination of the development of writing and writing technologies, especially in the early stages of Chinese history.
The Mystery of the Dominant Chinese Ideologies
A crucial aspect to an in-depth comprehension of the Chinese culture is the understanding of its dominant ideologies, for the development of any writing technology is inevitably shaped by the ideologies of a particular culture. In the history of Chinese thought, there have existed many different ideologies, but my discussion will focus on the three most dominant ones: Confucianism, Taoism, and Buddhism, because these three have exerted the most influence on the Chinese culture, not only across all geographical regions but also across most historical periods. Other ideologies, such as Legalism, Marxism-Leninism, and Maoism, are more or less regional or ephemeral; discussion of these ideologies will, therefore, be done only when they apply to my discussion of the development of a particular writing technology in subsequent chapters.
Confucianism
Confucianism, probably the most influential ideology in the history of Chinese thought and therefore worthy of a detailed examination, originated mainly in the teachings of Confucius and his disciples. Confucius (551–479 BCE) was born around the late period of Spring and Autumn and the early period of Warring States. Throughout his life, he was mostly poor, untitled, and without official position. Probably because of this, he devoted his whole life to learning and teaching. According to Ci Hai (an encyclopedic dictionary of the Chinese language), he had as many as 300 disciples, about 70 of whom became famous (p. 1119). Confucius was a philosopher, a political scientist, an educationalist, and a social critic. His ideas are mostly preserved in the so-called “five classics,” namely, The Book of Songs, The Book of History, The Book of Rites, The Book of Change, and The Spring and Autumn Annals, and four books (i.e., The Great Learning [or Ethics and Politics], the The Golden Medium [or The Book of Mean, or Central Harmony], The Analects [or The Sayings of Confucius], and The Book of Mencius). The book that most directly records his sayings is The Analects. Confucius’s time was an era of instability. It was a time when the objective traditions of the land were being eroded by the influence of a subjective sophistry similar to that in the Greek tradition. “And it was Confucius who inspired a defense against these sophistic innovations by reasserting confidence in old principles and practices” (Ware, 1955, p. 10). Robert Oliver (1971) argues that Confucius set for himself the goal “to change the nature of Chinese civilization with a bloodless revolution” (p. 121). He may be overstating the case here, and such an assertion is obviously arguable, for it was never Confucius’s intention to upset but to preserve the great tradition in Chinese civilization, or more accurately, as Thomas Cleary (1991) has asserted, to revitalize the culture “in its role as a means of cultivating human feelings and maintaining the integrity and well-being of a people” (p. 1).
Confucius’s philosophy was deeply rooted in a concept of social order and harmony. He sought a society of harmony by means of self-purification by individuals, which was to be achieved through increased knowledge, for, “like Socrates, Confucius believed profoundly that one could not renounce what he knew to be right” (Oliver, 1971, p. 132). So, in essence, “Confucianism stood for a rational social order through the ethical approach, based on personal cultivation. It aimed at political order by laying the basis for it in a moral order, and it sought political harmony by trying to achieve the moral harmony in man himself” (Lin, 1938, p. 6). Confucius believed that the cultivation of the self would lead to the regulation of family life, which in turn would lead to the ordering of a national life. Therefore, one major means for attaining such a moral social order is through the education of the individual. Education is for the general enhancement of the individual and the success of groups—family, community, nation—to which the individual belongs (Cleary, 1991, p. 1–2). As Confucius said, “a piece of jade cannot become an object of art without chiseling, and a man cannot come to know the moral law without education” (Lin, 1938, p. 241). Once this piece of jade is “chiseled” and becomes a piece of art, it can help chisel others. However, as Mencius, the most faithful follower and developer of Confucianism, said, “Never has a man who has bent himself been able to make others straight” (Oliver, 1971, p. 169). So, the cultivation of the individual will leads to the cultivation of the family, and then of the community, and then of the nation, until finally we have achieved a moral social order.
However, cultivation of the individual must be based on the moral virtue of the humanness or humanity of human beings, for it is the moral foundation of social order. Though Confucius never clearly defined humanity, his concept of humanity can be understood in social terms: “being respectful at home, serious at work, and faithful in human relations” (Cleary, 1992, p. 3). Cleary identifies five characteristics in Confucius’s conception of humanity, namely, respectfulness, magnanimity, truthfulness, acuity, and generosity (p. 4). Confucius believed that the measure of man is man. The whole philosophy of ritual and music, which Confucius emphasized in his writings as a part of the social order, is but to set the human heart right (Lin, 1938, p. 13).
An important part of this humanism is the concept of jen, variously translated as human, humane, humanitarian, humanity, kindness, benevolence, and true manhood. He considered it the highest human attainment “to find the central clue to our moral being which unites us to the universal order (or to attain central harmony)” (Lin, 1938, p. 185). To Confucius, when a man seeks to establish himself, he establishes others; when he wants to succeed himself, he helps others to succeed. Such a notion of self-improvement and social action is closely related to the notion of jen.
Another important concept in Confucius’s conception of social order is yi (or justice, or duty, or principle). Although Confucius’s notion of duty may seem to some people to be referring to an unquestioning obedience to superior authority, he never meant it to be obedience to dictators or rulers who pretended to advocate justice but really sought profit and advantage. Instead, it refers to an obligation to justice that will only strengthen the moral fiber of society.
One more concept in Confucius’s notion of a moral social order is li, or known in varied translations as etiquette, propriety, or moral discipline. According to Confucius, the meaning of etiquette includes “concepts of mannerly behavior in day-to-day life, proper enactment of social rituals like marriage and mourning, and protocols for international and official occasions” (Cleary, 1992, p. 5). Lin (1938) also sees its close link with social practices and sees it as including folkways, religious customs, festivals, laws, dress, food, and housing. To these original existing practices, he says, should be added a conception of a rational social order, and “you have li in its most complete sense” (p. 225). Confucius considered li to be an indication of the moral strength of a nation. In its highest sense, it means “an ideal social order with everything in its place, and particularly a rationalized feudal order” (Lin, 1938, p. 13).
Knowledge is yet another concept in Confucius’s philosophy. He defined knowledge as knowing people and as seeking to understand human nature in its context and in individual and social lives. Knowledge was regarded by Confucius as a way of self-perfection, of self-cultivation (Oliver, 1971, p. 132). “In its highest development, knowledge was to become wisdom, able to comprehend particulars through a unified insight” (Cleary, 1992, p. 6).
Such is but a very sketchy examination of Confucius’s philosophy. Due to the seemingly unsystematic nature of his writings, it is hard to present a comprehensive picture of his philosophy, but Cleary (1991) has presented us with a good summarizing statement:
The glue that binds everything together in the pragmatic moral universe of Confucius is the virtue of truthfulness or trustworthiness, faithfulness to the ideals exemplified by the sum of the cardinal virtues of humanity, justice, courtesy, and wisdom. Confucius likened trust to the link between a vehicle and its source of power and taught that trust was absolutely essential to the life of a nation. (p. 6)
Confucianism has influenced China for about 2,500 years. Ignoring its influence by any researchers of the history of Chinese thought and culture would be a grave mistake. Lin (1938) attributed three factors to the tremendous impact of Confucianism in Chinese history:
first, the intrinsic appeal of Confucius’s ideas to the Chinese way of thinking; second, the enormous historical learning and scholarship accumulated and practically monopolized by the Confucianists, in contrast to other schools which did not bother with historical learning (and this body of scholarship carried enough weight and prestige of its own); and thirdly, the evident charm of personality and prestige of the Master himself. (p. 24)
The magnitude of the influence of Confucianism is so much so that it has pervaded the speech and actions of almost every ordinary Chinese without him/her necessarily being aware of it.
Of all the aspects of Confucianism, the most relevant to my study is its rhetorical implications. There have been various, sometimes conflicting, studies on Confucian rhetoric. Haixia Wang (1993) provides a succinct summary of these studies. According to Wang, Confucian rhetoric is characterized by three distinctive traits: communal, historical, and dialogical. Wang defines communal as Confucian rhetoric that is based on communal understandings and interpretations of moral notions rather than a specific set of precise criteria. Non-deductive reasoning is favored as well as deductive reasoning. Confucianism emphasizes the concept of the community of like minds, that is, members of a community sharing common viewpoints on certain issues. Discourse that strays from such communal understandings is not likely to be effective rhetoric.
Confucian rhetoric is historical, according to Wang (1993), in that “each individual . . . is responsible for decisions regarding how exactly in each specific situation the principles of Confucian ethical notions will be applied” (p. 44). There is no set of self-consistent rules for moral judgment. The same is true with Confucian rhetorical principles. The rhetor is left to make his/her own judgment in response to exigent situations of discourse.
The communal and historical nature of Confucian rhetoric inevitably makes it also dialogic. The need to interpret communal understanding and to make judgments in exigent situations renders Confucian rhetoric a negotiation and argumentation among the Confucian rules about the meaning and the implementation of Confucian ethical notions in specific situations. “The necessity to discuss these implementations and the possibility that individual agents may be arbitrary make dissensus within a consensual community necessary, thus the inevitable dialogic nature of Confucian rhetoric” (Wang, 1993, p. 44).
I have devoted quite some length to the discussion of Confucianism because, as one of the most dominant ideologies in the history of China, its impact on people’s perceptions of various social phenomena, including technology development, is readily felt in the development of major writing technologies in China, which I will show in the next chapters.
Taoism
Taoism was founded by Lao Tzu (also spelled as Lao Zi), who lived in the times of Spring and Autumn (770 BCE–476 BCE), and one of his students and his successor, Chuang Tzu (also spelt as Zhuang Zi). They are the two most profound thinkers in the history of Chinese philosophy who have been least understood by people. Yet, their philosophy has been as influential as Confucianism to the Chinese culture, if not more so. Some Western researchers have even traced a part of the Western philosophical tradition to Taoism.
To understand Taoism, we must first of all know what Tao (or Dao) is. Unfortunately, since Lao Tzu and Chuang Tzu never really defined Tao in clear-cut terms, any attempt to do so might do it an injustice. Nevertheless, this should not deter our efforts to understand its essence. Essentially, Tao refers to the “Way,” the way of things. It makes possible what is impossible: “Tao gives birth to one, one to two, two to three, and three to everything else” (Lao Tzu, 1963, Ch. 42). It identifies itself with inferior and negative terms such as the weak, the low, etc. It is characterized by its identity as nonbeing (wu), no-name (wu-ming), no-form (wu-xing), not-having (wu-you), not-striving (wu-wei), not-knowing (wu-zhi), etc. It could be interpreted as the mysterious almighty creator, the basic element in the cosmos, an equivalent to the Western logos, the totality of all things or the ultimate reality, natural laws or the order of nature, the Great One, elusiveness, something undefined yet complete, chaos, or non-being. Or, none of the above.
Such an elusive nature renders Tao as something formless, inaudible, invisible, intangible, distant, and vague. Yet it is this very elusive nature that has intrigued people, that has drawn people to study or follow its principles. Viewed from a different perspective, this elusiveness can also be seen as flexibility, and it is this seemingly infinite flexibility that enables people to explain so many of the mysteries and the seemingly unexplainable phenomena in this world. Tao is the state of non-opposites that strike the balance between things; Tao is a transformational tool that nurtures interchangeability and, consequently, relativism. Tao aims at arriving at dialectic relations between dichotomies, yielding to and helping strengthen a rising power in order to hasten the moment of its decline; ultimately, it strives to achieve a whole and complete entity, an ultimate or essential realm, by means of a certain mystical or Taoist transcendence beyond the whole problem.
Taoism is engaged in the reversal or inversion of the metaphysical tradition. However, such a reversal or inversion is only the initial stage rather than the end of the deconstructive process. They do not aim at privileging the “other” term, but rather problematizing the reification, uncovering the interplay, and opening up the closure of binary oppositions in metaphysical thinking. In this sense, Taoism shares many principles with Derrida’s theory of deconstruction, which is why it is all the more important to understand Taoist precepts, as they readily apply to many contemporary social phenomena. What is distinctive about Taoism is that it goes one step further than Derridean deconstruction in that it aims at unifying the differences so that one can ultimately be immersed into nature.
Taoism points out that once the world is differentiated in terms of dichotomies such as right/wrong, good/bad, life/death, beautiful/ugly, success/failure, gain/loss, more/less, long/short, big/small, etc., man’s use of such terms will inevitably carry with it an immediate value judgment on experience, which then, to a great extent, affects his attitude and action. Taoism posits that all values are relative, perspective-bound, and arbitrary because they are not the intrinsic nature of things. The dualistic conceptualization prevents us from seeing the internal structure of a thing, which is to be understood in terms of differences. If from this internal point of view these dualistic terms become reversible and interchangeable, then there is no more opposition between them. The opposite terms become interdependent and complementary at a deeper level: without “that,” there is no “this’: without “this,” “that” has nothing to hold onto. According to Taoism, terms are mutually defined. One does not have any value without the other:
There is a beginning. There is a not-yet-beginning. There is a not-yet-beginning-to-be-a-not-yet-beginning to be a beginning. There is being. There is nonbeing. There is a not-yet-beginning to be nonbeing. There is a not-yet-beginning-to-be-a-not-yet-beginning to be nonbeing. Suddenly there is being and nonbeing. But between this being and nonbeing. I don’t really know which is being and which is nonbeing. (Chuang Tzu, 1965 Ch. 2)
This famous quote is probably the best summary and representation of the Taoist perspective of relativism. What Chuang Tzu is saying here is that things, including those that are posited as opposites in dichotomies, are dependent upon one another to have an existence of any meaning or significance. Viewed this way, nothing is really more significant than the other, which then allows no necessity for the privileging of one thing over another. The following story from Chuang Tzu best illustrates the principle of relativity in Taoism:
When Zhuangzi’s [Chuang Tzu] wife died and Hui Shi came to convey his condolences, he found Zhuangzi squatting with his knees out, drumming on a pan and singing. “You lived with her, she raised your children, and you grew old together,” Hui Shi said. “Not weeping when she died would have been bad enough. Aren’t you going too far by drumming on a pan and singing?”
“No,” Zhuangzi said, “when she first died, how could I have escaped feeling the loss? Then I looked back to the beginning before she had life. Not only before she had life, but before she had form. Not only before she had form, but before she had vital energy. In this confused amorphous realm, something changed and vital energy appeared; when the vital energy was changed, form appeared; with changes in form, life began. Now there is another change bringing death. This is like the progression of the four seasons of spring and fall, winter and summer. Here she was lying down to sleep in a huge room, and I followed her, sobbing and wailing. When I realized my actions showed I hadn’t understood destiny, I stopped.” (Ebrey, 1993, p. 31)
Let me try to summarize Taoism without doing it too much injustice. Lao Tzu and Chuang Tzu’s Tao can be understood as the way of life or the laws of nature. Tao ultimately leads to everything. Everything is made up of two opposites, which can transform into one another. The formation and transformation of everything represent the unity of being and non-being. Being and non-being depend on each other, but the non-being is more fundamental. Everything results from being, which, however, results from non-being.
Perhaps it makes more sense if we compare Taoism with Confucianism. While Confucianism emphasizes rational understanding, Taoism depends on feeling and intuition. Confucianism sees truth and knowledge as being out there whereas Taoism regards the nature of truth as uncertain and conceived knowledge and truth as products more of perception. Confucianism values clarity in speaking and was against sophistries and vagueness; in contrast Taoism sees perceived vagueness as a virtue and considers argumentation to be futile.
In brief, while Confucianism represents the orthodox of the Chinese culture with its traditions and the master narratives, Taoism seems to reflect the more unorthodox traditions in the Chinese culture and to account in a better way for the unaccountable. What Taoism tries to do is to reconcile the orthodox with the unorthodox, the unaccountable, the marginal, and bring them to unity. The way of doing this is through the unity of our way of life with the laws of nature. What is significant about Taoism is its emphasis on the equal importance of both the orthodox and the unorthodox, thus granting space to the marginalized. This is what attracts people who subscribe to Taoism, and many people find Taoist principles especially applicable today when chaos and the unaccountable seem more than rare occurrences.
Rhetorically speaking, the Taoist view of language is characterized by a more radical “historicism or situatedness” ( H. Wang, 1993, p. 54). Taoist use of language, argues H. Wang, “relies on human spontaneity, which is guided by human reasoning” (p. 54). This spontaneous nature of language use results from the fact that, while things in nature are constantly changing, man’s limited perception of them reflects only the present:
Since the linguistic systems are actually conceptual frameworks that organize and articulate our experiences with the world, to the extent that these frameworks spontaneously sort out only fluid boundaries and relations among momentary differences according to the circumstances, it is helpful; the effort to fix these boundaries as people often do in argumentation, however, is not helpful. (H. Wang, p. 57)
Understood this way, Taoism situates discourse in concrete social and historical contexts, and Taoist rhetoric is essentially “dynamic, creative, and individualistic” in nature (H. Wang, p. 58).
Buddhism
The main reason that Buddhism, one of the most dominant religions in the history of China, finds its way into my discussion of ideologies involved in technology development and transfer is that, although a religion, it is no doubt one of the most influential ideologies that has impacted the Chinese of all kinds, from the intellectual elite to the uneducated, from high government officials to laymen, from the wealthy to the poor. As Robert Somers (1990) has claimed, “few aspects of Chinese life, from high politics to popular culture, were untouched by the increased influence and mass appeal of this sophisticated religious system and the church that articulated and disseminated its teachings” (p. x). Buddhism “worked its way into all the domains of Chinese life—fundamental social doctrine, systems of belief, political institutions, and every sphere of culture, including architecture, sculpture, and painting” (Somers, p. x).
Buddhism first originated in India and later spread to China. Its exact date of introduction into China is an issue of dispute. It has been variously identified as around the first half of the first century CE (Fung, 1948), or the second half of the first century CE (Wright, 1990), or the second century CE (Xia et al., 1979), with some claims as specific as 67 CE (Pachow, 1980) and others as vague as the period from the first to the third centuries CE (Ebrey, 1993). Buddhism was commonly believed to have been founded by Shakyamuni Buddha (ca. 563–483 BCE). “As a set of ideas, it built on the Indian conviction that sentient beings transmigrate through endless series of lives as people, animals, gods, hungry ghosts, hell dwellers, or titans, moving up or down according to the karma, or good and bad deeds, that they accumulated,” Ebrey (1993) explains. “The major insight of the Buddha was that life is inevitably unsatisfactory because beings become enmeshed in the web of their attachments. Yet he offered hope, teaching that it was possible to escape the cycle of rebirth by moral conduct, meditative discipline, and the development of wisdom” (p. 97).
After its introduction into China, Buddhism branched off into many different schools. In spite of their differences, they generally agree on the theory of Karma, translated as Ye in Chinese and deed and action in English. Such a translation, however, does it much injustice, as its actual meaning extends far beyond simple deed or action to cover one’s speech and thoughts as well. Whatever one does, says, or thinks causes some effect, whether in the present or in the future, and “the being of an individual is made up of a chain of causes and effects” (Fung, 1948, p. 243). This chain of causes and effects spans a long cycle. “The present life of a sentient being is only one aspect in this whole process. Death is not the end of his being, but is only another aspect of the process. What an individual is in this life comes as a result of what he did in the past, and what he does in the present will determine what he will be in the future. Hence, what he does now will bear its fruits in a future life, and what he will do then will again bear its fruits in yet another future life, and so on ad infinitum. This chain of causation is what is called Samsara, the Wheel of Birth and Death. It is the main source from which come the sufferings of individual sentient beings” (Fung, 1948, p. 243–44). Only in the course of many rebirths can man accumulate Karma and attain an emancipation of the self, the Nirvana.
According to Buddhism, the transcendence of the cycle of life and death ( i.e., becoming a Buddha) is considered one’s highest, ultimate attainment. The path to this apex is one’s cultivation of the mind, which depends on endless good deeds and five prohibitions: no killing, no robbery, no adultery, no lie, and no alcohol, the meanings of which are compared by Wei Shou, a Chinese historian of the sixth century, to the five Confucian virtues of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness (Ebrey, 1993). Such a comparison, which seems to put Buddhism and Confucianism on the same philosophical plane, is certainly open to debate as many scholars in Chinese philosophy will attest to the obvious differences and contentions between Buddhism and Confucianism (see, for example, Ch’en, 1973; Chan, 1985). Nevertheless, it points to the fact that Buddhism, one of the most dominant religions and prevailing philosophies in the history of China, has had its fair share of ideological influences in various spheres of Chinese life.
While the real meanings of Buddhist principles, in spite of my obviously simplistic attempt to summarize them, are far from being transparent, its impact on China is undeniably huge. Its impact is such that, as Arthur Wright (1990) has claimed, “an understanding of Buddhism in Chinese history helps to explain and clarify the whole of China’s development, that without such an understanding much remains inexplicable, [ . . . ] that the observation of Buddhism in interaction with Chinese cultural elements serves to bring into bold relief those institutions, points of view, and habits of mind which are most intractably and intransigently Chinese” (p. 32–33). Of course, as Wright has also asserted, a thorough understanding of the impact of Buddhist principles on various facets of the Chinese life requires the study of the following aspects:
the history of the relationship between Buddhism and Chinese law
the history of the state policies and institutions for the control of Buddhism
the history of the relation between Buddhism and religious Taoism
the history of Buddhism in relation to Chinese philosophy
all aspects of Buddhism in relation to the total culture of a specific period. (p. 33)
Lack of study in these areas, however, should not deter our effort directed at understanding Buddhism. As my brief summary of Buddhist principles has demonstrated, it is not impossible to catch at least some occasional glimpses, if not anything else, of some of the essences of Buddhism, which should shed much light on our discussion of the development of some of the writing technologies in China.
A discussion, however brief, of these three most dominant ideologies in the history of China begs the natural question: how do Confucianism, Taoism, and Buddhism coexist, and how do they fare with one another? While the coexistence of these three ideologies is a known fact, their coexistence has not exactly been one of harmony and accord. In the previous section, I discussed the differences between Confucianism and Taoism, so here I will mention some major arguments that outline the distinction and tension between Buddhism and the other two ideologies.
Since the Buddhist concept of Karma and retribution identifies the individual as the cause of all evil, Buddhism encountered strong resistance in medieval China. Buddhists then engaged themselves in strong defense. In her analysis of Xiaodao Lun (Laughing at the Tao), an anti-Taoist polemical text written by the official Zhen Luan and presented to Emperor Wu of the Northern Zhou Dynasty in 570 CE, Livia Kohn (1995) observes four distinct lines of reasoning in defense of Buddhism. The first was the argument for difference, which countered the notion of equality between Taoism, Confucianism, and Buddhism and strongly insisted that Buddhism was fundamentally different from the other two. The second was the Buddhist claim that its teaching was superior “because of its transcendent and otherworldly nature.” The third, which seems to be in direct contradiction to the first two, was its claim that Buddhist teaching was useful in the Confucian state and was more original and effective than Taoism. The fourth argument went one step further to claim that the sages of ancient China were in fact disciples of Buddha and that Buddhism was therefore the very foundation of the Chinese intellectual and social scene instead of being merely one of its additions (p. 38–39).
Buddhist arguments that were specifically directed toward Taoism, claims Kohn, were even more aggressive. One argument accused Taoists of inconsistency between their preaching and practice, claiming that Taoists preached noble philosophies while practicing dishonesty and vulgarity in their ways of dealing with the world. A second Buddhist argument dismissed Taoism as politically useless and harmful, arguing that Taoism, with its betrayal and rebellious practices, was a potential source of political instability and moral degradation of social virtues and thus formed a destructive link in the fine equilibrium of social, natural, and political forces. A third argument by Buddhism “invoked Confucian morality and common sense to move against specific Taoist ideas and practices,” charging that the Taoist practices, as in the interaction between yin and yang, the swapping of wives as part of their ritual, and the use of alcohol, all went against Confucian morality (Kohn, 1995, p. 40). A fourth argument was fired at Taoism, against its claim to universality, arguing that the concept of Tao as the source of all things and as the key to understanding the world was misleading and could endanger the wellness of the state and the empire.
Such were the representative arguments against Taoism, and sometimes against Confucianism, in defense of Buddhism. Xiaodao Lun, the above-mentioned anti-Taoist polemic text, uses all these positions and is, in a way, a conglomerate of all these self-defense Buddhist arguments. Challenging the presumption that Taoism is the best teaching for the Chinese culture, Xiaodao Lun points out the inappropriateness of Taoism for such a role due to its absurdity, nonsensicality, and inconsistency. This work is an illustrative example of the Buddhist self-defense against the threat from orthodox Confucianism and popular Taoism and, in a way, reflects the curious phenomenon of contentious coexistence between Confucianism, Taoism, and Buddhism throughout most of the Chinese history.
Due to the fact that Buddhism in China is represented by many different schools of thought, and interpretations of Buddhism have been various and sometimes conflicting, it is extremely difficult to summarize Buddhist rhetoric. Nevertheless, it is not impossible to capture a glance at the essence of the Buddhist view of language. Because Buddhists believe “things neither exist nor non-exist in language as ‘nameable constituents,’ they argue that “the ultimate truth is beyond the capacity of language” (H. Wang, 1993, p. 62). “However, they have a firm belief in the crucial role and necessity of language in pursuing the truth in this world” (H. Wang, 1993 p. 65). The dual nature of things, which are at the same time both real and unreal, makes it necessary for us to communicate things and experiences, and language as a “skillful and expedient means to express the supreme truth” becomes a necessary tool, however inadequate this tool might be. The Buddhist view of language, points out Haixia Wang, therefore represents a balanced position between the deconstructionist and foundationalist extremes. Such a rhetorical perspective is in some way an integration of other traditional Chinese rhetorical perspectives, including the Confucian and Taoist rhetorics.
It should be noted, though, that, as I mentioned earlier, there have been other, relatively less influential ideologies, which, however, played important roles in their respective historical periods. For example, Maoism dominated the Chinese ideological scene for several decades in the contemporary history of China. Its influence certainly can in no way be discounted when we consider the recent development of writing technologies. Such a plethora of ideologies makes it almost a certainty that several ideologies might be at work during any given historical period. This, in turn, complicates the issue of technology transfer and development and, at the same time, makes it all the more important to consider the role of ideologies in this complicated process.
