How can perspectives from Asian philosophy be integrated into philosophical practice?

In this and subsequent blog posts I will explore this issue alongside more general reflections on philosophical counseling and World philosophy. In this first post, I take a closer look at Confucius, the towering figure of Chinese philosophy, and the idea that philosophical reflection, essentially speaking, is to think in three dimensions.

Already a revolutionary figure in his own time, Confucius (551BC-479BC) remains famous for his concise observations on human nature, ethics, virtue and statesmanship. However, contrary to the canonized portrayal of him as a prodigious sage preoccupied mainly with presenting his own ideas to the world, closer scrutiny of his works reveals a man who found it equally important to provoke others into thinking for themselves.

Consider, for instance, the following citation from the Analects:

「不愤不启、不悱不发、举一隅不以三隅反、则不复也。」

”Only for one deeply frustrated over what he does not know will I provide a start; only for one struggling to form his thoughts into words will I provide a beginning. But if I hold up one corner and he cannot respond with the other three I will not repeat myself” (Analects, 7.8).

What is Confucius saying here? And how can we relate it to philosophical counseling?

As a first point, it is worth noting how Confucius implicitly stresses the delicate work balance that lies at the heart of any philosophical encounter. In philosophical counseling sessions, for instance, it is generally the rule that it is the client, not the counselor, who carries the main burden of reflecting critically on the philosophical matter at hand. Although the counselor can offer guidance and holds responsibility for the overall structure of the dialogue (guiding the conversation, asking the right questions, offering relevant perspectives from the history of ideas, and so on), the client must accept responsibility for his or her own situation and trust that it can be transformed through philosophical reflection in order for the dialogue to be fruitful.

More importantly, however, is Confucius’s apparent reference to philosophical reflection as a three-dimensional activity – when offering “one corner”, he expects to be told the remaining “three”. Just like Husserl reminds us that we are always perceptually aware that visual objects have backsides even if they can’t currently be seen (looking at a cube, for instance, I know that it has a backside, even if it isn’t visible to me from this particular angle), Confucius’s point can be used to illustrate how philosophical reflection can bring out the unseen, yet ever-present, existential questions that lurk underneath the surface of everyday life. In the back of our minds we know they are there, only we keep ourselves from facing them until they sneak up on us in the form of mid-life crises, existential dilemmas, anxiety, depression, and related symptoms. A man jaded from a failing marriage, for example, or a woman frustrated by a missed career opportunity can often benefit from shifting their attention in this way to the deeper questions at the base of their experience: Who am I? Why am I here? Where am I going?

Philosophy can help us do this.

But as Confucius at the same time reminds us this requires an enduring willingness on our part to stay curious, remain humble and – not least – to embrace the three-dimensional character of philosophical reflection.