Documente Academic
Documente Profesional
Documente Cultură
JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide
range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and
facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org.
Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at
https://about.jstor.org/terms
University of Hawai'i Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend
access to Philosophy East and West
This content downloaded from 95.16.49.58 on Wed, 20 Mar 2019 20:55:36 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
David L. Hall Process and anarchy-A Taoist vision of creativity
The Ruler of the Northern Ocean was Shu (Heedless) the Ruler of the Southern
Ocean was Hu (Sudden), and the Ruler of the Center was Chaos. Shu and Hu
were continually meeting in the land of Chaos, who treated them very well.
They consulted together how they might repay his kindness, and said, 'Men
all have seven orifices for the purpose of seeing, hearing, eating, and breathing,
while this (poor) Ruler alone has not one. Let us try and make them for him.'
Accordingly they dug one orifice in him every day; and at the end of seven days
Chaos died.'
This allegory, which succinctly expresses Taoist sentiments concerning the role
of discursive knowledge in human affairs, no doubt strikes the non-Chinese
mind as somewhat odd because of the solicitude shown for Chaos. Indeed,
James Legge, the British sinologist, whose lack of sympathy with much of
Chinese culture often led him to misunderstand the texts he so admirably
translated, comments on this allegory, "But surely it was better that Chaos
should give place to another state. 'Heedless' and 'Sudden' did not do a bad
work."2
In Legge's defense of the organization of the primordial Chaos we may see
reflected an attitude which is both a cause and a consequence of a fundamental
bias of metaphysical speculation in the Anglo-European tradition. An assump-
tion which has undergirded much of our traditional scientific and theological
understandings of the Universe is that from Chaos, construed as formless
nonbeing or as an unordered given, God fashioned the world through the
ordering activity of Creation. We come to understand our world by articulating
the principles of the order or patterning imposed upon Chaos in the initial
Creative Act. First principles (archai, principia) function as determining sources
of order serving to organize an antecedent irrational surd identified in our
principal cosmogonic myths as "chaos."
It is by no means necessary to accept the metaphysical necessity of an initial
creative act as suggested in our cosmogonic myths. Aristotle did not, and yet
it is he who has provided the locus classicus for our understanding of principles
as determining sources of order. A principle (arche) is: that from which a
thing can be known; that from which a thing first comes to be, or that at whose
will that which is moved is moved and that which changes changes.3 Principles
account for and establish the order of the world. As principles of knowledge,
beginnings are the origins of thought. As principles of being there are the
sources of origination per se. Beginnings in the political or social' sphere are
due to archai or princeps-those who command. In any of its forms a first
principle functions as a determining source of order.
Chaos is nonrational because it is unprincipled. It is, therefore, an-archic,
without an arche, which means it has no determining source of order. It is,
therefore, without a beginning or origin. Chaos is the indefinite in search of
David L. Hall is Professor of Philosophy at the University of Texas at El Paso, El Paso, Texas.
Philosophy East and West 28, no. 3, July 1978. ? by The University Press of Hawaii. All rights reserved.
This content downloaded from 95.16.49.58 on Wed, 20 Mar 2019 20:55:36 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
272 Hall
This content downloaded from 95.16.49.58 on Wed, 20 Mar 2019 20:55:36 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
273
This content downloaded from 95.16.49.58 on Wed, 20 Mar 2019 20:55:36 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
274 Hall
This content downloaded from 95.16.49.58 on Wed, 20 Mar 2019 20:55:36 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
275
This content downloaded from 95.16.49.58 on Wed, 20 Mar 2019 20:55:36 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
276 Hall
This content downloaded from 95.16.49.58 on Wed, 20 Mar 2019 20:55:36 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
277
This content downloaded from 95.16.49.58 on Wed, 20 Mar 2019 20:55:36 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
278 Hall
The concept of efficient cause, which is the model for most of our Western
notions of causation, entails the presumption of "strictly relevant antecedents."
If no antecedent event can be isolated and determined to be strictly relevant
to a second, subsequent, event, then the notion of efficient cause becomes
questionable. Without a well-delimited doctrine of efficient causation, no
concept of action can be made meaningful. And if action is not a meaningful
concept, neither is the notion of order as the result of an Orderer.
The Taoist would emphasize the effect of the Judaeo-Christian myth of "the
domination of nature" upon Anglo-European notions of freedom and de-
termination. The myth has its origins in a Creator God Who deputized human
beings as caretakers of His created order but Who then cursed them with the
necessity of labor because of the act of prideful self-assertion which separated
them from the rest of nature. Action is, ultimately, only a sublimation of labor,
which advertises its origins in the enmity between man and nature. Action
assumes the necessity of control, which interferes with the natural spontaneity
of things in themselves. The Taoist, on the other hand, does not feel himself
to be in conflict with his ambience, because he does not feel obliged to reestablish
a decaying theocentric order. Nor does he, for that matter, feel obliged to
single out any specific order as the true one. His vision of nature is as if it were
an uncarved block, a matrix of actualizable orders, passive to infinite patterning.
The primary fact about the Taoist universe is that it is the sum of all orders
resulting from the self-creativity of each event. There are as many actualizable
worlds as there are events in the process of becoming. Tao as Becoming-Itself
is the sum of all orders, including any specific order realized from the perspective
of single event. Being is just that specific order. Nonbeing is every other
order. Being and Non-Being are abstracted from the self-creation of events.
Becoming is the fundamental reality from which Being and Nonbeing are
abstractions. Taking the term "Cosmos" in its broadest sense, it is the sum
of all orders, which is, of course, Becoming-Itself. According to the Taoist
vision, Becoming, Cosmos, Chaos (hun-tunf) and Tao as That Which are
synonymous.
We see now the meaning of the parable concerning Chaos with which we
began. The organization of Chaos, a requirement of discursive knowledge,
This content downloaded from 95.16.49.58 on Wed, 20 Mar 2019 20:55:36 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
279
involves the carving of the Uncarved Block, which requires the establishment
of a privileged order from among the sum of all orders. Such a privileged order
insures a preeminent role for the organizer of Chaos-the rational being. Once
that role is given, it is no longer possible to grasp the meaning of Tao, for
reason cannot proceed except through delimitation and exclusive differentia-
tions.
Obviously, if we insist upon a rational analysis, the notion that the Tao is
Chaos as the sum of all orders will make little sense. For in place of the ex-
perience of "undifferentiated homogeneity" we shall think in terms of "in-
compossible orders," and the notion of the sum of all orders will translate as
a confused melange without coherent structure-in short, Chaos in the
traditional Western sense. To grasp the Taoist sense of the equivalence of
Tao, Cosmos, Chaos, and Becoming, or Process, it is necessary to employ,
not reason, but intuition.
The Taoist concept of what we term "intuition" can be explicated by recourse
to an illustration from the Chinese Buddhist tradition, which, of course, was
heavily influenced by Taoism. In the T'ang dynasty, at the close of the seventh
century by Western reckoning, Fa Tsang was invited to the palace of the
Empress Wu to expound the doctrines of Hwa Yen Buddhism. This he did
through a demonstration involving a room whose floor, ceiling, and walls,
were completely lined with mirrors and in the center of which he had placed a
statue of the Buddha. In each mirror a Buddha-image was produced, along
with the images in every other mirror. Holding a small crystal ball in his hand,
Fa Tsang illustrated how all the mirrors and their images were reflected in it
and it, in turn, was reflected in the mirrors, ad infinitum.22 Not only was he
attempting to illustrate the reciprocal interfusion of all things, but he wished
to evoke a sense of the dependent coorigination of each item in nature. This
"dependent-arising" provides a further ground for indifference toward the
isolation of causes viewed as strictly relevant antecedents.
As suggested by the Hall of Mirrors illustration, in nature there can be no
dominant principle defining any single order from which rational under-
standings might begin. The appropriation of the nature of things in terms of
the mutual interfusion of each with all cannot result in traditional knowledge.
In fact the intuitive grasp of such a world, or complex of worlds, is called by the
Taoist, wu-chihg, or no-knowledge. "It is called no-knowledge in that it is a
state which is not that of knowledge; it is not a piece carved out of the total
realm. It is the sharedness of the uncarved totality."23
Such "knowledge" we in the West would call mystical. To see sub specie
aeternitatis is to possess "cosmic consciousness." This insight into the Totality
is often rather casually associated with ecstatic experiences. Taoism can be
called "mystical," if the proper qualifications are given to the term. Tradition-
ally, the mystical attitude has three fundamental termini: God, the Soul,
Nature. Theistic mysticism, of the type exemplified by such Christian mystics
This content downloaded from 95.16.49.58 on Wed, 20 Mar 2019 20:55:36 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
280 Hall
This content downloaded from 95.16.49.58 on Wed, 20 Mar 2019 20:55:36 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
281
The Taoist, to "know" or to "act," must grasp the intrinsic natures of those
events comprising his field of inquiry or activity. All things participate in Tao
and manifest the fundamental yin-yang polarity. But each item in the universe
has its own tei, that is to say, its own excellence. Sometimes translated "power"
or "virtue", te means "that by virtue of which a thing is just what it is and no
other thing." I believe the best translation of te is, "intrinsic excellence." This
term evokes the sense of uniqueness characterizing that by virtue of which a
thing is just itself.
Everything possesses its peculiar te. The te of wu-wei is the attainment of goals
noninstrumentally, the realization of "ends without means." But to realize a
goal without striving toward that goal, it is necessary that one recognize the
te of that in accordance with which one is acting. To construe elements in
nature as outcomes of causal sequences is to view them only in their extrinsic
character, not as they exist in themselves. Such a construal is in fact tanta-
mount to selecting a single order of nature from the matrix of all possible
orders and calling that the order of nature. But each item, within or without
one's immediate experience, suggests a value orientation which lays claim to
an order from the prespective of that valuation. Intuitive understanding re-
quires that one understand from within that which is intuited in such a manner
as to appreciate the world construed from its perspective. This is wu-chih.
Wu-wei (no-action) requires that one "act" in accordance with the intuition of
the te of things. Such action is nonassertive in that it does not use these things
as extrinsic means but walks the ways of the things themselves. In this manner
one promotes the harmony of Chaos (hun-tun) by acting with rather than against
its elements.
In addition to wu-wei and wu-chih there is a third mode of participation in
the processes of nature-wu-yii. Wu-yii is the concept of no-desire which is
the subjective form of feeling associated with instances of wu-chih and wu-wei.
Together, the three notions of wu-chih, wu-wei, and wu-yii articulate the differ-
ences between the notions of creativity and the correlative concept of "power"
with which it has often been confused in Western thinking.
The significant contrast between the notions of power and creativity as
means of articulating the natures of things is suggested by Nietzsche's claim
that "every center of force ... construes all the rest of the world from its own
viewpoint, i.e., measures, feels, forms, according to its own force."25 Nietzsche
sees the activity of the events of nature in terms of "power displacement";26
the acts of construal are acts in the "agonal" sense familiar to Anglo-European
philosophy. Creativity, however, requires passive acts of construal charac-
terizable in terms of ek-stasis, the experience in and through another. It is
the possibility of ek-stasis, and its complement en-stasis, the sense of being
experienced from within, which allows for the exercise of creativity as opposed
to power. Underlying both ecstasy and enstasy in the creative act is the con-
static sense. This is the experience at one and the same moment of both the
This content downloaded from 95.16.49.58 on Wed, 20 Mar 2019 20:55:36 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
282 Hall
Anyone familiar with Chinese painting will have recognized some of the
insights alluded to as illustrated in many of the landscapes of the late Sung
dynasty. Unlike Western artists since the Renaissance who, when seeking
naturalistic portrayals, tended to employ perspectival techniques that produced
foreshortening and convergence effects matching the visual perception of spatial
distances, Chinese artists often painted on plane surfaces characterizing fore-
ground, midground, and background. Stressing middle distances, many Chinese
artists established a visual center for the painting which invited its appreciation
from within. Stepping within and dwelling at the center of the landscape allows
the appreciation of the fact that the visual perspective of the artist or the viewer
is not the most relevant fact in the appreciation of the painting. On the con-
trary, to truly experience the excellence (te) of the work, it is necessary to
experience it ecstatically, to dwell at its center, and to envision the universe
from that perspective. The true significance of aesthetic appreciation lies in
the possibility of experiencing a world created, not by the artist, nor by the
aesthete, but by the painting itself.
In classical China, the arts included much more than the traditional painting,
poetry, music, and soon. Perhaps the most provocative and best-known art
form deriving from classical China would likely not be termed an art form at
all by those who encounter it for the first time. I refer to T'ai Chi Ch'iank,
which is at one and the same time a meditative exercise, a technique for the
maintenance of health and long life, a dance, and a system of self-defense.
Above all, it is the single most direct and authentic expression of creativity as
I have been discussing it in these pages.27
As a meditative exercise, T'ai Chi may be practiced alone or in conjunction
with a partner. The movements are continuous and flowing expressions of the
yin and yang polarity. The "push-hands" movements performed with another
person promote an immediate sense of the firm and yielding aspects of every
activity in nature and provide instances of wu-wei as grounded in the harmony
of the ecstatic and enstatic senses. To be centered one must be relaxed, yet
intent, focused and congruent with each aspect of one's psychophysical being.
Centering involves a passive construal of one's ambience from one's focused
perspective. This is enstasy. Centering makes possible "blending," which
This content downloaded from 95.16.49.58 on Wed, 20 Mar 2019 20:55:36 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
283
involves the ecstatic sense of the center of the other. The senses of "where
you are" and "where the other is coming from" allow instances of knowing,
doing, and feeling to be creative processes which promote constatic unity and
which thus preclude the necessity of rational, ethical, or aesthetic principles
as determining sources of order.
T'ai Chi exercises promote the kind of sensitivities that allow one to recognize
the te of things. Knowing, acting, and feeling in accordance with the te of
each thing, including, of course, one's own te, requires the capacity to defer.
Deference is action (wu-wei) in accordance with the recognition (wu-chih) of
excellence (te). Deference patterns result from the mutual recognition of the
intrinsic excellences of events in nature. At the human level, creativity is
primarily a function of wu-chih, wu-wei, and wu-yii realized in response to the
differential excellences defined by a given context of communication.
Doubtless, there are significant practical limits to an individual's ability to
relate to his ambience through the media of wu-chih, wu-wei and wu-yii. To see
some phenomena from within might well lead to extreme confusion and even
insanity. And to walk the ways of some things would likely lead to destruction.
This is but to realize that there are patternings among events which are closed
to our appreciation and orders in our natural ambience in cooperation with
which we could not survive. The alternative, however, is not clearly superior,
for the way of self-assertive knowledge, action, and feeling increases the
short-term survival capacities of but a segment (the powerful and their bene-
ficiaries) of but one of the living species occupying the surface of a single
planet in this galaxy-itself but one of an untold number of such galaxies-
and that at no little cost to the total ecological system. The way of nonassertive-
ness seeks a harmony with Nature as becoming and thus eschews motivations
toward control, progress, and the domination of nature. Taoist arts, from
painting and poetry to T'ai Chi Ch'iian, allow us to expand the limitations
placed upon us by the sense of the finitude, ignorance, and perversity of human
beings which has developed, pari passu, with the civilization of experience.
The principal art is, of course, the art of life. And, to paraphrase Whitehead,
the function of creativity is to promote the art of life.28
If we view life as the "clutch at vivid immediacy,"29 we may believe that
the art of life is promoted best either through the functioning of reason as a
means of realizing the balanced complexity of the aesthetic intensities inherent
in the selection of a single order from out of Chaos, or through the functioning
of creativity as the realization, in a single intuitive insight, of Chaos as the
sum of all orders. The Taoist chooses the latter path. The realization of Chaos
(hun-tun) involves the constatic sense of the te of each thing as defining a world
from its individual perspective. Borrowing from the Hwa Yen Buddhist
terminology, we might say that the realization of Chaos (hun-tun) is the experi-
ence of "emptiness" (sunyata) which is neither voidness nor annihilation but
Becoming-Itself (Tao), understood as the Uncarved Block. In Becoming-Itself
This content downloaded from 95.16.49.58 on Wed, 20 Mar 2019 20:55:36 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
284 Hall
NOTES
1. Chuang Tzu, Chapter Seven, Quoted from, The Texts of Taoism, trans. James Legg
York: Dover, 1962), 1:266-267.
2. Chuang Tzu, p. 267.
3. See Metaphysics 1012b34-1013a20.
4. Process and Reality (New York: Macmillan, 1929), pp. 46-47.
5. Ibid., p. 31.
6. Ibid., p. 229.
7. Ibid., p. 32.
8. Charles Hartshorne, "The Development of Process Philosophy," in Philosophers of Pro
ed. Douglass Browning (New York: Random House, 1965), pp. xix-xx.
9. Adventures of Ideas (New York: Macmillan, 1933), p. 147.
10. Ibid., pp. 146-147.
11. See Process and Reality, pp. 31-32.
12. Chuang Tzu, Chapter Eight. Quoted from Chang Chung-Yuan, Creativity and Taoism
York: Harper and Row, 1963), p. 66.
13. Tao Te Ching, Chapter Thirty-Two. D. C. Lau, Lao Tzu-Tao Te Ching (Baltimore, M
land: Pelican Books, 1967).
14. Ibid.
15. Tao Te Ching, Chapter One. Wing-tsit Chan, The Way of Lao Tzu (New York: Bobbs-
Merrill, 1963), p. 97.
16. Quoted in Creativity and Taoism, p. 30.
17. Tao Te Ching, Chapter Forty. Chan, The Way of Lao Tzu, p. 173.
18. Tao Te Ching, Chapter Two, p. 103.
19. Process and Reality, p. 148.
20. Kuo Hsiang, Commentary on Chuang Tzu, Sec., 2,2:46b-47a. Quoted from Theodore de
Bary, ed., et al., Sources of Chinese Tradition (New York: Columbia University Press, 1963), 243.
21. Buddhist Philosophy in Theory and Practice (Baltimore, Maryland: Pelican Books, 1971),
pp. 75-76.
22. This illustration is cited in some detail in Garma C. C. Chang, The Buddhist Teaching of
Totality (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1974), pp. 22-24.
23. R. G. H. Siu, Ch'i: A Neo-Taoist Approach to Life (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1974), p. 221.
24. Chuang Tzu, Chapter Two. Quoted from Chuang Tzu: Inner Chapters, trans. Gia-Fu Feng
and Jane English (New York: Random House, 1974), p. 29.
25. The Will to Power, trans. Walter Kaufmann and R. J. Hollingdale (New York: Random
House, 1968), p. 339.
26. Ibid., see p. 40.
27. I am indebted to Audrey Joseph's unpublished paper, "Communication, Creativity and
This content downloaded from 95.16.49.58 on Wed, 20 Mar 2019 20:55:36 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
285
T'ai Chi Ch'uan", and to conversations with Professor Joseph, for much of my understanding of
the aesthetic character of T'ai Chi.
28. See A. N. Whitehead's The Function of Reason (Boston: The Beacon Press, 1958), passim
for the meaning of "the art of life." The statement paraphrased is, "The function of reason is to
promote the art of life." See p. 4.
29. Process and Reality, p. 160.
a A d A g ta j tgf
b~ b ? e . h ,, k ? f
" ,t
This content downloaded from 95.16.49.58 on Wed, 20 Mar 2019 20:55:36 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms