Greater than the Golden Rule

Most every religious, spiritual, and ethical tradition expresses an admonition that is often called the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” It is an elegant way to describe one's moral behavior towards others. Whether secular or religious, Western or Eastern, this concept of treating those you encounter in a way that you'd prefer to be treated makes logical and ethical sense. If we all would follow this rule, our society would be far more peaceful and kind.

But too often we do not observe this tenet. Our society is replete with behaviors that follow something more like, “Do to others, before they get a chance to do it to you.” “Strike first and ask questions later.” “Make them fear you, so they'll be less likely to threaten you.” This last thought is often expressed in street language by those who seek the respect of their peers, when they really mean they want others to feel apprehensive about them, or even intimidated. So, while the Golden Rule gets paid a lot of lip service, it often is not adhered to.

Despite its sage advice, there are a couple of valid criticisms of the Golden Rule. One that I've heard expressed is that it assumes that what you do to/for others is what they really want. However, it's based more on what you want, implying that your desire is universal. For example, I may want to be the center of attention and would prefer to have others place me in the limelight. But it could backfire if I focus that public recognition on a shy person. What is good for me may not at all be good for another person.

This criticism is quite similar to another one: that the Golden Rule can be a little too egotistic. The thrust behind this second critique suggests that we tend to be self-centered. The implication is that we must strive to overcome our self-interest, in order to make the world a better place. We must work against our inherent nature—which can be dishonest, if not corrupt—in order to improve society. But is this necessarily true?

There is an alternative view to either of these ideas, as put forth by the ancient Chinese philosopher Mengzi (or Mencius, as he became known in the West). His approach is that, at our core, we are good. This natural tendency towards goodness of ours gets exhibited in two ways: (1) we naturally feel love and compassion for those closest to us, and (2) our gut reaction, when we see innocent people suffering, is to help them.

Thus Mencius tells us that we are inherently not self-centered, thus our task is not to overcome an egocentric nature, but to extend our natural compassion we have for those nearby, to those at a distance. It's a very different way of opening our heart. He makes the crucial point that those people at a distance are really similar to close-by loved ones, so why not feel as much care for them?

A valuable byproduct of Mengzi's philosophy is that if we learn to extend kindness outwards across the world, we can also learn to do it for ourselves. It goes both ways. Some of us can be hard on ourselves. We could often use a little self-compassion.

Divergent Doctrines

China experienced a turbulent epoch, some 2500 years ago, during what is called the Warring States Period. For two to three centuries following the previous collapse of a steadfast and ethical rule—the Zhou (pronounced “Jo”) Dynasty—chaos governed, as numerous small states that had once been allied under the Zhou began to fight among themselves.

For the Chinese population, the Warring States Period was very disturbing, because their culture had always valued collective cooperation, but now their civilization seemed to be disintegrating. Those were distressing times.

Over a period of a couple of centuries during that warring period, a number of teachers and philosophers came to the fore and offered their analyses of the plight, along with their counsel about how to get things back on track and foster once again a moral society that valued unity. Out of this struggle came the teachings of several Chinese sages—the most famous today being Confucius.

As the conflicts wore on, without peace, other philosophers came into prominence and offered their ideas for how to get back on track. Some of them were Mencius, Mozi, Lauzi, Zhunzi, Zhuangzu, Zon Yau, Sunzi, and Han Fei. Many of them formed their own school, whose students later carried on the doctrines of the masters. This process was very similar to the assorted philosophical schools of ancient Greece—and in fact, at about the same time period.

Coming from divergent backgrounds and at different times during the Warring States Period, the teachings of the various philosophers often clashed. Had one of them—say Confucius—put forth a suggestion early on, which ended the ongoing conflicts, we may never have had the alternative and sundry ideas the other teachers offered. As a result, we have a wide variety of rich philosophical doctrines—each of which conflicts with and/or supplements the others in various ways.

I will focus here on two of these sages, Mencius and Zhunzi, who seem to have reached diametrically opposed conclusions on human nature. As the Warring States conflicts persisted, many people began to wonder about the essential qualities of human nature, and whether those qualities are moral or not. The core question: Is human nature good or bad? Are we basically virtuous or harmful creatures? Are we born as benign beings or as evil individuals? Thus, if the first case is true, do we try to encourage and promote our natural goodness or, in second case, purge ourselves of our wickedness?

Mencius took the position that we are inherently good—we're born innocent and our job is to nurture those sprouts of goodness, in order to come to realize our full potential as honorable people. Zhunzi took the opposite view: that human nature is basically bad—we're born as pernicious people and our job is to learn to purge ourselves of this baleful behavior. Life is a constant struggle to overcome that devilish trait of ours, Zhunzi maintained.

It's fascinating that both Mencius and Zhunzi, although they seem to be diametrically opposed, considered themselves to be pupils of Confucius. They both agreed that Chinese society must get back on the track of peace and order, but viewed humans as starting from opposing places. I won't try here to delve any deeper into the teachings of these two sages or explain their divergent doctrines. I'm sure that interminable debates could chew on this issue and never reach an agreed explanation, since the topic remains relevant and controversial, 2500 years later.

This kind of contention between scholars is not unique to Chinese philosophy. Western theologians have similarly disagreed. For example, within Christianity there is an analogous type of disagreement—between the Catholic doctrine of original sin and the Quaker concept of “that of God” within every person.

This question of the basic quality of human nature is a philosophical query—one that is as relevant today as it was three millennia ago. I find it fascinating that most all questions of science—unlike philosophy—get slowly, step-by-step, answered. Is the Earth at the center of the universe or not? Is there a “cure” for cancer? We may not know the answers at any given point in time, but the inevitable advancement of scientific knowledge will most likely one day offer an answer. Philosophical questions, however, often have no final answer. Are we innately good or bad? Tune in next century for the ongoing debate.