Traditional Philosophy of India and China

The Tradition of Philosophy in Ancient India

The Tradition of Philosophy in China

One of the world’s most ancient civilizations originated in what is now the People’s Republic of China. Approximately 8,000 years ago, a portion of the local population transitioned to a productive economy, cultivating millet (Setaria italica) and domesticating pigs. In time, Near Eastern cultures brought wheat, barley, and livestock (cattle, sheep, and goats) to the region. Rice was also domesticated, particularly in southern China. Archaeological findings have definitively confirmed that by at least the 17th century BCE, a state known from written records as Shang-Yin existed in the middle reaches of the Yellow River. There is reason to believe that even earlier states preceded it, as ancient Chinese historical tradition traces the origins of Chinese civilization much further back in time. In the Shang period, we find the early forms of the logographic writing system characteristic of China, a system still in use today. Around the 12th to 11th centuries BCE (though exact dates remain a matter of heated debate among historians), supreme power passed to the Zhou, who had previously been vassals of Shang. Over time, the Zhou nobility, initially subservient to the ruler (the wang), carved out their own domains and became embroiled in bloody internecine conflicts that lasted for centuries. They also had to defend against raids from nomadic tribes, particularly from the north, who coveted the wealth of the settled agrarians. Eventually, the political role of the Zhou ruler diminished, and in 770 BCE, the capital was moved eastward, marking the de facto dissolution of the unified state, though the wang retained his title in name only. It was during this period, known as Eastern Zhou (as opposed to the earlier Western Zhou), that the Chinese philosophical tradition began to take shape. The events of this early era are reflected, among other sources, in the Chunqiu (Spring and Autumn Annals), which Confucius himself is believed to have contributed to (see more on him below). Most of the philosophical schools of China were formed during the final period of Zhou dominance, known as the Warring States period. It was also during this era, between the 5th and 3rd centuries BCE, that China entered the Iron Age, mastering the production of tools made from this metal, which had significant advantages over bronze.

The conflicts between the states were eventually brought to an end by the victory of the state of Qin. Its ruler, the future Emperor Qin Shi Huang, in 221 BCE, unified all the Zhou domains under his authority. Under his reign, the construction of the Great Wall of China was completed. However, his rule was short-lived, lasting only until 206 BCE. It was during this time that China emerged as a single political entity, one that would later expand to its present-day borders. In the following centuries, during the Han Dynasty (206 BCE to 220 CE), the Chinese people formed into an ethnic community, known today as the Han (currently, the Han make up around 90% of the population of the People’s Republic of China).

During this nearly millennia-long period, China experienced tumultuous development, characterized by technological breakthroughs, social changes, and brutal struggles marked by social upheavals. The sense of fragility and uncertainty, coupled with the hope that these conflicts could be resolved by uniting around a strong, wise ruler, shaped the central concern of Chinese philosophy. This concern centered on the search for a solution to the question of how to regulate relations between people and what principles should govern state power to ensure peace and prosperity for the community.

The worldview of Chinese thinkers was largely grounded in ancient mythological traditions and the folk wisdom of the Chinese people, who had long practiced an ancestral cult, layered over earlier totemic clan beliefs. The Shang people referred to the supreme deity as Shangdi, and the wang, the supreme ruler of the state and the Son of Heaven, primarily performed the role of a priest, honoring his deceased ancestors. These ancestors were identified with Heaven, their dwelling place, which thus came to play a central role in Chinese cosmological thought. The concept of Heaven as the source of all existence was a frequent focus of philosophical reflection. Heaven bestowed blessings upon humanity, yet it also had the power to punish deviations from its will. Divination was widely practiced to interpret Heaven’s will, and sacrifices were offered to appease it.

The practice of divination is reflected in the ancient text Yijing (Book of Changes), which dates from the 8th to 7th centuries BCE. Every moment of reality is viewed in the text as a balance of two forces, Yin and Yang, whose combination forms eight basic symbols, or trigrams, and whose pairings in all possible combinations create 64 hexagrams, each symbolizing a specific phase of transition from one state to another.

Historical records and legends, along with folk songs, also provide insight into the prevailing moods, beliefs, and worldviews of the time, all of which influenced the thinking of the first philosophers.

In the 6th to 5th centuries BCE, numerous philosophical schools emerged, many founded by members of the courtly bureaucracy, who were educated in literacy and various aspects of state service. Among them were those who advocated specific doctrines concerning social order and the cultivation of exemplary individuals. The most famous among these was the teacher Kong (known to us as Confucius, or Kongzi). He lived for 73 years (551—478 BCE), and though he came from an aristocratic lineage, his childhood was marked by poverty (his father, an officer, died early). Confucius undoubtedly possessed extraordinary intellectual abilities and a strong motivation for learning, which allowed him to make a living as a teacher. He collected folk songs and hymns (he is credited with compiling one of the most important anthologies of Chinese verse, the Shijing or Book of Songs), and he kept and edited historical chronicles. At the same time, his numerous teachings were recorded by his disciples in the collection Lunyu (The Analects).

For Confucius, the golden age of social harmony and prosperity lay in the past, during the reign of legendary emperors who followed the mandate of Heaven and performed rituals necessary to harmonize the world of life. The restoration of this social order, according to Confucius, lay in the full revival of these rituals. However, strict adherence to ritual also required the cultivation of virtue among the rulers, for the corruption and greed of the powerful led to disaster.

Thus, Confucius' response to the central question of Chinese thinkers was that society should be governed by noble people. Nobility is achieved through the cultivation of certain virtues, the foundation of which is the principle of benevolent respect for others and personal devotion to the common good (in Chinese, ren, often translated as "humaneness"). This can also be understood as a form of corporate ethics, where honor, reputation, and the interests of one’s clan take precedence over personal gain, which a base person might pursue even at the cost of betrayal. As Confucius said, "The noble person cares for honor, while the base person cares for profit." Nobility, in this sense, unites both internal motives and external behaviors. It embodies li, a form of propriety and strict adherence to the rules of decorum, including rituals, with music playing a significant role. Propriety also includes a marked respect for one's elders, the submission of the subordinate to the superior, and the diligent execution of all orders without sabotage, yet it also imposes limits on the superior’s arbitrary power. Confucianism established a paternalistic ideology of political relations, wherein rulers were to act toward their subjects as fathers toward their families. This power is unshakable, but the father acts for the benefit of his family. Similarly, the ruler must act for the good of his subjects.

Confucius' teachings largely consist of various instructions for evaluating human actions, aimed at moral education and improvement, which he saw as the primary means to achieve social harmony. However, when it came to understanding the structure of the universe, Confucius fully relied on ancient tradition. The philosophical orientation of his reflections lacked any investigatory interest or theoretical analysis. His thinking was dogmatic, and he did not so much defend convictions formed through prolonged independent contemplation, but rather stood as an apologist for ancient tradition, basing his views primarily on the authority of legendary rulers of the past, whom he presented as models to be emulated. Confucius defined his credo thus: to transmit, not create, to love and trust in the ancients. And yet, this mode of argument was likely the only effective and comprehensible approach in his time. Every person, according to this view, must learn, but that which one should trust already existed in a longed-for, ancient time when wise rulers lived, acting according to the will of Heaven and placing everyone in their proper position, according to their abilities and talents, in alignment with their destiny. By promoting morality, nobility, and trust in tradition, the world could be changed for the better. This combination of a critical stance towards contemporary society and attempts to correct it by turning people toward the study of past exemplars laid the foundation for a philosophical tradition.

Confucius had many disciples, many of whom themselves became teachers, and the school he founded became, perhaps, the most influential in the Far East. His teachings still shape the mentalities of the Chinese, Koreans, Japanese, and Vietnamese today.

However, the doctrine that moral cultivation is the foundation of social harmony does not, in itself, resolve the question of the content of moral norms or the possibility of their implementation.

Confucius' follower, Mencius (372-289 BCE), was convinced that all people possess an innate moral sense, manifested in four uniquely human experiences: (1) compassion for the suffering of others; (2) the ability to feel shame for oneself and to invoke shame in others; (3) the capacity to deny oneself something desirable for the benefit of another; and (4) the ability to reflect, affirming or rejecting something. Mencius supported his beliefs with a compelling example: can anyone remain indifferent to the desperate cry of a child who has fallen into a well, even if that child is a stranger, and one has pressing matters at hand? And could anyone admit, without shame, that under such circumstances they left the child to fend for itself? Thus, people have an inherent feeling that inclines them to help others and restrain themselves.

Another notable Confucian, Xunzi (313-238 BCE), argued the opposite: by nature, humans are malevolent, and only through education and external compulsion can they be directed towards proper behavior—behavior that is decent and just. Xunzi supported his position by pointing out that all people naturally pursue their own advantage and find it difficult to forgo what they desire, especially if they can obtain it, even at the expense of another; people are naturally lustful and greedy.

Gaozi (who lived in the 4th century BCE), however, argued that by birth, humans are neither good nor evil. Natural inclinations should not be interpreted as good or bad in a moral context. A person becomes good or evil only through the qualities instilled in them during their life. Dong Zhongshu (179-104 BCE) expanded on this view of human moral nature with a vivid metaphor: human nature is like a rice sprout, and goodness is like a grain of rice. While rice grains originate from rice sprouts, the grain is not identical to the sprout. In other words, a person's good actions can be developed from what they are at birth, but inborn traits alone are insufficient.

However, one of the sharpest debates among Chinese thinkers concerned the nature of the law that the wise should follow and that should serve as the foundation of governance. Several schools emerged in opposition to each other on this issue. But first, the problem needs to be clarified.

When we speak of laws or rules, we imagine a certain order that manifests in events. Law limits conceivable freedom: only one thing from among the possible is realized. Why is it that one possibility is realized and not another? What determines the course of events? Concerning human beings, the law delineates two different boundaries of actions. There are events over which people have no control; what happens independently of human will and desires is inevitable for them. Whether one wishes it or not, chemical reactions occur as they do, celestial bodies are positioned where they are, and so on. A person's understanding of what they can influence and how they can do so is a cornerstone of worldview and shapes the mentality of a community, which uniquely interprets its actions based on this. But if a person has a choice (or at least believes they do), the law imposes restrictions on what they could do but refrain from doing—not due to any objective obstacle, but because they take on an obligation to act in one way and not another. This limitation may arise from the individual's own will (they choose to do so), or it may be an externally imposed obligation: the person must act in a certain way because they are compelled by someone they cannot disobey. When all events are interpreted as the will of some powerful force, humans bow to that will. At the same time, they perceive these events as something that could have happened or not. And if it were possible to influence the will of these forces—through prayer, pleading, or appeasement—one might obtain the desired outcome. Such logic defines the meaning of religious practices.

For Confucius and his followers, there is the will of Heaven and the arbitrariness of humans in earthly life. This arbitrariness leads to misfortune, while the will of Heaven orders the world harmoniously so that people receive their blessings. Heaven is strict but just, and social morality, based on certain principles, ensures that people receive the rewards they desire. The moral law compels people to consider the wishes of others and to subordinate themselves to the common good. For Confucians, a concrete example of such moral virtues is propriety, which is reduced to ritualized norms of behavior. These norms are already known; they do not need to be invented—they were once fundamental, and society now suffers because it deviates from this model. It is noteworthy that such a law does not express the will of any individual; it is not someone's decision or command. It is similar to knowing that a particular method of cultivating wheat consistently yields abundant harvests—this method was known to our ancestors, regardless of how they discovered it, and so anyone who desires a harvest must follow this method.

But can all human behavior be ritualized? Clearly, there is a limitation here: the conservative thinker is caught in a trap when faced with something that does not fit the known model, and they lack an algorithm for action in new, unforeseen situations. Nonetheless, it is easy for the conservative to criticize any innovations if they are accompanied by negative consequences. Naturally, the innovations are to blame for all that is bad.

There was an even more conservative opposition to the Confucians, which saw the root of evil precisely in artificial rituals, ceremonial actions, and in the general expansion of state institutions. Historically, this opposition emerged among the southern Chinese shamans during the northern expansion of imperial power and the subsequent internecine conflicts that brought suffering to many. This school of thought, known as the Daoists (Daojia), was the first to base its teachings on theoretical thinking. (More on them will follow.)

The alternative critique of the Confucians was voiced by those who saw the ruler’s will as the foundation of law, asserting his right to establish rules for his subjects rather than seeking them in ancient texts. In Chinese, the law as a command issued by someone, the will of the ruler, or law in the juridical sense, is called “fa.” Hence, the name of the school—the fa jia, or the Legalists, also known as legists (the school took shape in the 4th—3rd centuries BCE). However, to ensure these commands were followed, it was necessary to compel the subjects to obey. How could this be achieved? The Legalists recommended ensuring that the fear of punishment for disobeying the ruler’s orders outweighed the inconvenience caused by complying with his will. Punishment had to be harsh and inevitable.

For the Legalists, among whom the most notable figures were Shen Dao (circa 395—circa 315 BCE), Shen Buhai (circa 385—circa 337 BCE), Shang (Gongsun) Yang (390—338 BCE), and Han Fei (circa 280—circa 233 BCE), the effective governance of a state was determined by the ruler’s power to subjugate the people. The wise ruler creates laws to which he subjects fools. Therefore, instead of enlightening the populace, one must conceal one's affairs from them, forcing them to labor continuously and live in fear for their lives. Gongsun Yang believed that eloquence and intellect were the accomplices of rebellion; propriety and music were the offspring of debauchery; mercy and humanity bred disobedience; and appointing virtuous men to office was akin to letting rats into a grain store. War, which demands iron discipline, was seen as the best remedy for civil unrest. Han Fei, in turn, held that teaching the people humanity and justice was akin to promising to teach someone something they were incapable of learning, thus deceiving them. Such virtues, he claimed, could no more be imparted than one could bestow intelligence (a natural endowment) or longevity (which is predestined for some and not for others).

Legalism, therefore, preached the supremacy of law as the ruler’s will, which encouraged the spread of written laws and legislative institutions in the name of authority—essentially laying the groundwork for the principles of the rule of law, though in an authoritarian state. In such a state, rights were far from being guaranteed to all members of society. The will and interests of the people were disregarded, as they were seen as irrational and irrelevant.

The ritualized propriety of the Confucians was also rejected by another school—the followers of the teacher Mo Di (or Mozi). His exact years of birth and death are uncertain, though he was born between 490 and 468 BCE and died between 403 and 376 BCE. The Mohists came from the lower strata of society, from those hired to guard temples, essentially mercenary soldiers. They formed a sort of military-religious order, initially a closely-knit group active in propagating their teachings. Their system was founded on a combination of the theology of Heaven and an ethical program, the methodological foundations of which were given much weight by the Mohists, unlike other schools in China. Moreover, the Mohists exhibited a heightened interest in fortification and the conduct of defensive warfare.

In Mozi’s view, people’s interests were determined by their basic needs. In a year of plenty, people are kind and humane, but in a year of famine, they become cruel and merciless. To survive, they must unite in pursuit of the common good, and this requires subordinating selfish desires to collective interests. Instead of the strict hierarchy and subordination between the old and young, which Mozi ironically described as a divisive form of love, he proposed an alternative—brotherly love that unites people, regardless of their social background. One should treat not only one's own people humanely but extend this love to all humanity (in essence, broadening the circle of kin to encompass all). Thus, Mozi’s position was fundamentally incompatible with both Confucianism and Legalism. The Confucians' rituals, he argued, were merely wasteful and ineffective. The law that should govern society ought to be based on principles of mutual and universal benefit. This mutual benefit constituted true justice.

The Mohists did not oppose individual self-interest to collectivism, for to love others was also to love oneself, as one is also a part of humanity. Hence, the common interest should not be set in opposition to the benefit of some over others; it must be reciprocal. The ruler’s role was to uncover the talents of individuals and assign them positions where their abilities would bring the greatest benefit to all. The will of Heaven, which played a central role in Mohist arguments, did not predestine human fate. Rather, Heaven was conceived by the Mohists as a force that favored those who displayed unifying love, granting them happiness through this unity. Heaven had its desires and intentions, loved the world under Heaven, wished it prosperity, and hated discord and poverty. However, it acted through the active efforts of people, guiding them through intermediary spirits. As we see, Mohist arguments combined two lines of reasoning: rational-utilitarian (demonstrating mutual benefit) and religious-theological (invoking the spirits who conveyed the will of a higher benevolent power).

Let us now turn to the Daoists, whose characteristic appeal to nature in matters of conduct and lawmaking sets them apart. The classic Daoist text, the Dao De Jing ("The Classic of the Way and Virtue"), is attributed to the semi-legendary founder Laozi ("the Old Master"). Laozi was traditionally considered a contemporary of Confucius, although modern scholars suggest he lived no earlier than the 5th century BCE. The two key terms—dao and de—were not invented by the Daoists, as they were widely used by all Chinese thinkers. However, the Dao De Jing offers a refined theoretical interpretation of these terms. The term de has its roots in the oldest Chinese texts. Its translation as "virtue" or "grace" is multifaceted. De, in the Chinese view, is the force that nourishes what grows and makes it fruitful. However, it also refers to the given nature of something, the inherent quality that produces results. Whether this result is deemed good depends on perspective: what is beneficial to one person, such as great physical strength, may be undesirable to another, like their opponent in a struggle. This given nature also contains dual meanings: it is both something bestowed and something received from a particular source. In Daoist tradition, that source was dao.

Initially, dao simply meant "way" or "path," but in its metaphorical sense, it expressed the process of change and the course of events. In Confucian thought, dao referred to the harmonious and virtuous order of things, which manifested itself in various virtues (de): loyalty, devotion, justice, and so on. Thus, de for Confucius represented the virtues of a noble person.

However, in Laozi's thought, dao is conceived as the ultimate principle underlying all transformations, manifesting itself in the ever-changing events of the world. It is present in everything. Dao precedes all existence, generating all things—even Heaven is born of dao. The flow of events, according to the Daoists, was understood as a law of transformation into the opposite, where anything that reaches an extreme eventually shifts into its contrary. Hence the logic of action "towards the opposite": if one does not protect something valuable, there will be no thieves; if one does not flaunt wealth, no one will envy it. The people do not need knowledge that stirs their passions, but rather full stomachs. Like water, which contends with nothing yet benefits all, so too are the actions of those who do not interfere with the course of events, trying to bend them to their will. The wise do not seek what does not come naturally from the flow of events, and thus, they are content. They are cautious, like those crossing a river on thin ice, and they do nothing unnecessary. Those who desire little gain much.

The one who is like the Dao receives everything in due time, without effort. He who follows his own plans and attempts to alter the natural course of the world will not be able to retain what he desires; the more tightly he grasps it, the more it will slip through his fingers.

"Who stands on tiptoe cannot remain so for long. Who takes great strides will not travel far. Who displays himself will not be noticed. Who praises himself will receive no honor. Who attacks will surely lose. Who exalts himself over others will not be recognized as superior. According to the Dao, all these are vain desires and senseless actions. People despise such behavior. Therefore, the one who follows the Dao does not act this way." (Dao De Jing, 24. The translation was made by the author of this section based on several versions of translations from Chinese by different authors, not from the original).

This logic of non-interference (wu wei) encouraged the rejection of designs and passionate desires, which the Daoists associated with all negative consequences. Over time, Daoism evolved into a form of mysticism, with various pursuits of immortality. Daoist circles proved receptive to Buddhist ideas, although Buddhism also became Daoism's main rival. As a philosophical school, Daoism reached its zenith in the treatises of Yang Zhu (440—360 BCE), Zhuangzi (369—286 BCE), and the work Liezi (Master Lie, identified with Lie Yukou, who lived during the Warring States period).

In conclusion, it is worth mentioning the fate of all these schools. Legalism became the official ideology of the Qin Empire, while Confucians were fiercely persecuted. However, the swift collapse of this state ended the dominance of Legalism. Some elements of Legalist teachings were adopted by Confucians, who recognized the role of the ruler’s legal institutions (Sunzi’s teachings became key in this modified Confucianism). Under the new imperial Han dynasty, Confucianism became the official ideology, its code being developed by Dong Zhongshu. In this period, Confucianism acquired distinctly religious features, and in this form, it remained influential for many years. Mozi’s teachings lost their influence early on, while Daoism, as a mystical-religious practice, came to resemble Buddhism.

Two other branches of philosophy—natural philosophy and logic, and the theory of knowledge—did not receive much impetus for deep development in Chinese tradition and remained peripheral. It is worth mentioning the yin-yang school, whose representatives were mainly physicians. They developed the teachings that continue to underlie traditional Chinese medicine today. According to their views, the state of the body is determined by the balance of two processes: the fluid principle of yin (associated with anything diffuse, moist, amorphous, dark, and feminine) and yang (associated with formation, consolidation, hardness, heat, brightness, and masculinity).

The rules of thought (logic) were the subject of reflection in the ming jia school (School of Names), and the later Mohists actively engaged with the methodology of knowledge. They were particularly interested in precise definitions so that a name would strictly correspond to what it signified (i.e., fully express the essential features of the object). Here, Gongsun Long (circa 325—250 BCE) deserves mention, who became famous for his paradoxical judgments, where he sought to expose the contradictions of common thinking. For example, a well-known fragment of his reasoning states that "a white horse is not a horse," since the combination of the two qualities "to have a white color" and "to be a horse" is not identical to the single quality of "being a horse." To the objection that someone who possesses a white horse evidently possesses a horse, Gongsun Long argued that when someone asks for a horse, they could be given either a black or a bay one. But when asking specifically for a white horse, they reject other colors. There was, at this point, no clear distinction between the concept and the name, which led to such confusion. (The names "white horse" and "horse," of course, have different meanings and denote non-identical scopes. However, the concept of "horse" encompasses all horses, including white ones.)

Thus, the formation of philosophy in ancient India and China occurred simultaneously, from the 6th century BCE to the 2nd century CE. However, the needs that drove philosophical development in these centers differed. In China, philosophy was predominantly socially and ethically oriented, seeking principles of organizing social relationships that would prevent discord, internal strife, social instability, and poverty. In India, the primary motive of philosophical inquiry was personal salvation through liberation from suffering and detachment from the world. Nine main schools of Indian philosophy emerged: Charvaka-Lokayata, Buddhism, Jainism, Samkhya, Yoga, Nyaya, Vaisheshika, Purva Mimamsa, and Vedanta. The first three of these, unlike the other six, did not acknowledge the authority of the Vedas. In Chinese philosophy, Confucianism, which saw the foundation of social harmony in the cultivation of noble rulers who followed ancient rituals and listened to the voice of Heaven, faced opposition from the Mohists and Legalists. The Mohists believed that Heaven favored those who acted with love toward all and followed rules of coexistence that ensured mutual benefit for everyone, while the Legalists believed that the foundation of social relations should be the strict observance of the ruler’s legislative will. Daoists developed an original speculative teaching, based on the logic of non-interference in the course of events as determined by the Dao—the fabric of worldly change. Over time, Daoism transformed into a mystical doctrine, with the goal of achieving personal immortality. The pinnacle of classical Indian philosophy is the monistic doctrine of the identity of the Atman and Brahman (the I-subject of consciousness and God as the absolute reality and cause of all things in the world). Other versions of Indian philosophy examined alternative models of the relationship between the real world and the I-subject, as well as the causes that give rise to sensory images and human suffering.