May 05 2009
What the Tao? How (and Why) the West Co-opted Taoism
Yin Yang symbol courtesy of Taluda at http://www.sxc.hu/photo/992405
This is the text of a paper that I wrote in college (in proper MLA format) concerning the history of Taoism in America. I post it here for your knowledge and (hopefully) your reading please. Please let me know what you think.
Type the word, “Tao,” into the search engine of Amazon.com and a stunning 41,072 results (book listings) appear. Not surprisingly, Tao Te Ching, the sacred book of Taoism, tops this list. Well-represented also are also many works written by Chinese and religious scholars—those dry, plodding tomes that are usually published by university presses. But a disturbing number of books on the list have titles such as The Tao of Poo (as in Winnie the Poo), The Tao of Willie (as in Willie Nelson), The Tao of Love and Sex, and The Tao of Network Security Monitoring: Beyond Intrusion Detection, to name just a tiny fraction of the many secularist—and sometimes, downright silly—(mis)usages of the Tao in literature. Unfortunately, literature is not the only area where the Tao is victimized by Western rhetoric. Retailers, too, learned that, by simply uttering the word “Tao,” they could miraculously change Taoism’s yin and yang symbol (that famous half black and half white circle) into the huge, green dollar signs of American commerce.
Many stores, for instance, now sell a wide assortment of jewelry and t-shirts that sport the yin/yang symbol—the sacred symbol of Taoism. Meanwhile, men and women have the yin/yang symbol tattooed on their yin/yangs, among other places; indeed, the commercialization of the yin/yang symbol speaks to an inescapably Western, far-from-spiritual, truth—Taoism is trendy, fun, carefree, and, above all, easy. Anyone can practice Taoism. After all, weren’t those qualities the reasons why the West co-opted “all things Tao” in the first place?
Russell Kirkland, Associate Professor of Religion and Asian Studies at the University of Georgia, neatly summed up the Western Taoist mindset in an address before the University of Tennessee:
“Taoism” has come to be imagined…as a living spiritual ideal into which anyone today…particularly the individual American—can easily step. Such ideas have been, for decades, created and propagated by Americans who could care less about the realities of Chinese culture. These Americans can be identified primarily by one common characteristic—they publish books with American trade publishers, that is, books designed and marketed to sell in large volumes.
But what is it about the rhetoric of Taoism that lends itself so easily to Western manipulation? Is the philosophy and practice of Taoism, itself, somehow to blame for this Western ideal? For the answers to these questions, one must examine what, in the history of China, led to the formation of Taoism, what (and why) certain Taoist beliefs led to specific religious practices, and what particular rhetorical aspects of Taoism were so appealing to the West that they co-opted it as their own. The answers to these questions are both the challenge of this paper and a fascinating glimpse into a philosophy and a religion that can’t be neatly conceptualized, the proponents of which believe that there is only one way to live—the Way of the Tao.
In the Beginning…
Taoism owes its existence to shamanism. Considered the world’s first major religion, shamanism emerged approximately 8,000 years ago in Siberia. Before long, it spread to the rest of the world, leaving Taoism, among other religions, in its wake. The contributions that shamanism made to Taoism are many. For instance, shamans believe that there are two worlds—one spiritual and one physical—that exist parallel to each other. Further, the spirit world holds sway over all that is physical and, as such, it can bring a person sickness or health, abundance or poverty. It is imperative, then, that the physical world maintains contact with the spirit world. This is where the shaman comes in, for the shaman has the ability to travel to the spirit world and intercede with it on the physical world’s behalf. Taoists hold similar beliefs.
But that was not the only rhetorical contribution that shamanism made to the Tao. In his book, The Elements of Taiosm, Martin Palmer wrote:
What shamanism had, which helped the idea of Tao to emerge, was the
sense of a relationship between the laws of nature and the ultimate power
of the universe. This idea that harmony and balance within nature reflects
the harmony and balance of the universe is as central to shamanism as it
is to Taoism. (17-18)
Though the shamanistic influence on Taoism is apparent, the actual beginning of this religious practice is not. The first groups that called themselves Taoists emerged around the fifth century CE. Scholars believe that these groups developed, in part, as a reaction to the spreading influence and acceptance of Buddhism throughout China. At that period in Medieval China, the north and south sectors of the country were politically divided. Consequently, many people, from both sectors, rejected Buddhism, making these dissidents eager to establish, organize, and institutionalize their true religious heritage, a religion that they hoped would successfully compete with Buddhism (Kirkland, 16-17). From this humble, nationalistic beginning, Taoism was formed.
But it would be a mistake to assume that this was the definitive beginning of this religion. In fact, of all the major religions of China, the actual roots of Taoism are the most elusive. One reason for this elusiveness is that the concept of the Tao is much older than Taoism and was talked and written about long before any such entity as Taoism existed. The Tao, in fact, was the cultural axis around which Asia rotated. On this subject, Jung Young Lee, a Korean national and scholar on Asian thought and religion writes, “[y]in-yang symbolic thinking [a major component of Taoism] is so deeply rooted in the minds of traditional East Asian people that it is difficult to understand the civilization of East Asia without considering the symbols of yin and yang” (49). Because the Tao is so deeply ingrained in Asian culture, perhaps it is not surprising that this concept would not only be formalized into a religious practice, but also be written about extensively, eventually expanding into a collection of over four thousand books.
One such book, Tao-te ching, written by Lao-tzu in the sixth century B.C., was one of the earliest treatises on Taoism. Perhaps befitting such an elusive religion, the actual identify of Lao-tzu is, himself, in question. Many scholars doubt that he ever existed and feel that the Tao-te ching is a compilation of verses written by several Taoists. Regardless of who actually wrote Tao-te ching, however, this book was extremely important to the development of Taoism, as was the Chuang Tzu. But these two classical Taoist texts were not the only voices of Taoism; many other philosophers added their ideas to the Taoist mix. This collaborate effort at creating Taoism is what makes this religion so unique—and so frustratingly complex.
Moreover, because Taoism did not spring from the teachings of a central leader, as did Buddhism, Christianity, and most other major religions, Taoists were not required to follow a set structure of beliefs. Consequently, Taoism is more diverse in its practices, beliefs, and spiritual focuses than is any other religion—and perhaps more ripe for spiritual picking by the West.
The Way of the Tao
Despite the way “the Tao” has been depicted in the West, Taoism is not an easy religion/philosophy to grasp. In ancient China, a sage spent many, many years practicing this discipline before he could hope to receive any enlightenment. To make this practice even more difficult, Taoism, meaning, “The Way of the Tao” had a meaning that was ephemeral, at best. The ephemeral nature of the Tao is reflected in the paradoxical rhetoric that sages, particularly Lao Tzu and Chuang Tzu, used to describe it.
A verse in the Tao te ching states this point succinctly:
‘The Tao than can be spoken is not the real Tao.
‘The name that can be named is not the true name.’ (qtd. in Palmer, 1)
Chuange Tzu, in particular, seemed to delight in the Tao’s quicksilver nature by writing such verses as:
The Great Tao is not named;
Great Discriminations are not spoken;
Great Benevolence is not benevolent;
Great Modesty is not humble;
Great Daring does not attack.
If the Tao is made clear it is not the Tao.’ (qtd. in Palmer, 2)
Note that the meaning of the above verse is far from clear—which is exactly the point. Taoist sages deliberately used the rhetoric of paradox (the placement of extreme opposites) to make the reader really think about the meaning of the text. Another reason that paradox was used so frequently was the Taoist belief that the Tao cannot be expressed in verbal rhetoric; it can only be experienced within. According to Palmer:
The whole point [of the use of paradox] is to revolutionize our ideals of
what is definable and to open us up to new ideas and awarenesses of
meaning. To miss this point is to fail to grasp the wonderful fun that
Taoism has with language and imagery and thus fall into a sort of Taoist
fundamentalism. (8)
This verse from the Chuang Tzu beautifully captures the essence of Taoism:
Once Chuang Chou (Chuang Tzu) dreamt he was a butterfly, a butterfly
flitting and fluttering around, happy with himself and doing as he pleased.
He didn’t know he was Chuang Chow. Suddenly he woke up and there he
was solid and unmistakable Chuang Chou. But he didn’t know if he was
Chuang Chou who had dreamt he was a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming
he was Chuang Chou. (qtd. in Palmer, 7)
Such verses as the above served to further a Taoist’s spiritual quest, which was to achieve unity with the Ultimate Tao, “the ultimate source of all, the origin before origin and the uncreated which creates everything” (Palmer, 3). Although Westerners routinely characterize this “Tao” as God, Palmer disagrees. “What we have to discard,” he writes, “ is the concept that Tao is in any sense a creator god…The Tao creates simply because it is the actual essence of all things. It does not set out to ‘create’ but things emerge as a result of Tao” (3-4)
Central to the Tao’s ability to create is the yin/yang principle. According to Taoists, the rhetoric of creation began with the split of yin and yang. Before then, there was the Great Void, the Great Ultimate, and other terms that meant an absolute, unchanging state. They termed this state, “chaos.” When yin and yang split, however, bipolarization occurred and change became the new order of the universe. “The universe was [then] seen as a ceaseless flow of change and transformation through the interplay of these two forces” (Lee, 24). To a Taoist, then, the only constant is change and yin and yang is the vehicle.
Yin and Yang are expressed, rhetorically, as total opposites that are, nonetheless, locked in an eternal struggle with each other. Yang symbolizes the male—sun, heat, dryness, red, spring-summer, etc. Yin symbolizes the female—north, darkness, cold, moistness, autumn-winter, etc. Though in opposition with each other, these two forces are also complementary to each other—one cannot exist without the other. Further, one side never completely dominates the other because, when yin reaches its maximum, it gives way to yang. This concept can be seen in nature:
Light expands to its maximum at noon, but it begins to contract as soon
as it reaches its maximum. At the same time, darkness expands to its
maximum at midnight and begins to contract again. Moreover, when
light expands to its maximum at noon, darkness contracts to its minimum;
when darkness expands to its maximum at midnight, light contracts to its
minimum. (Lee, 29)
The dualistic, yet inclusive, nature of this force is graphically illustrated by the famous yin/yang symbol, known as the Diagram of the Great Ultimate, which is a half black, half white circle. These two spheres are “S” shaped and curve around each other in a symbolic embrace. Further, a tiny dot of white is inside of the black sphere and a tiny dot of black is within the white sphere, symbolizing that nothing is all yin and nothing is all yang. Rather, each side of the polarity holds the seed of the other within it.
This symbology informs every aspect of Taoist practice, as well as the character of the Chinese culture. Unlike the competing dualism of the West, which teaches that one only wins by defeating, and eliminating, one’s enemy, yin/yang’s complementary dualism teaches that one should not fight ones opposite, for one’s opposite is part of oneself. Eliminating one’s opposite, therefore, is tantamount to eliminating oneself.
How, then, can one assure successful achievements in the world? C. Alexander Simpkins and Annellen Simpkins, authors of Simple Taoism: A Guide to Living in Balance, offer an explanation:
Anything we do will invariably create its own opposite. To succeed in life…we should step back and permit this balancing to take place. The situations of life seem to be one way, but they quickly assert their dual nature. (13)
Though fairly representative of part of a Taoist’s belief system, rhetoric like the above helps to create a Taoist stereotype, one that has quickly wound its way through Western thought. Indeed, one can readily see the influence of this rhetoric in such common Western sayings as “go with the flow.”
Further, in her book, Religions of Asia, Ninian Smart adds to this common Taoist stereotype, by saying, “[t]aoist thought emphasizing not acting, naturalness, spontaneity, passivity. It is a quietist tradition, emphasizing peace and meditation and it looks, in its experiential dimension, to the achievement of a contemplative inner stillness” (197).
Comments like the above encourage the casual observer of Taoism to believe, as most Westerners do, that Taoism is simple, that no real discipline is involved. This rhetoric is, indeed, part of the attraction Taoism has for the Westerner. After all, if this rhetoric about the “passive Taoist,” sitting in meditation all day, is true, then it relieves a person from the rules and strictures that most other religions impose. But this completely passive notion of Taoism couldn’t be further from the truth. Rather, “[t]aoist religions are a complex, vast collection of customs, rituals, and beliefs that have never been organized into one single, consistent set of doctrines” (Simpkins & Simpkins, 37) Some of these rituals/practices Taoists employ are meditation, alchemy, divinatory methods, and several forms of martial arts, all of which are designed to aid them in their union with the Great Ultimate. Still, Westerners believe that Taoism is a flexible, vague practice, an empty religious canvas upon which they can paint their own desires and spirituality. How did this happen?
East Meets West
Part of the reason that the West “shanghaied” Taoism and plundered its spiritual treasures, is that the rhetoric of Taoism is so ephemeral. Unlike other religions, Taoists do not perform well-publicized rituals. While Muslims prostrate themselves in their mosques, while Buddhists chant in their shrines, while Jews, donning traditional skullcaps, solemnly worship in their temples, Taoists do, well…whatever it is that Taoists do. This vague mental picture of Taoism contributed to the West’s ability to remake this religion according to their desires. Brandon Toropoy and Chad Hanson, authors of The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Taoism, agree. “Taoism,” they wrote, “ is one of those traditions people talk about…a great deal without taking the trouble to explore it at any length. The word Tao itself has, for better or worse, become a kind of shorthand for ‘tough-to-figure-out metaphysical stuff’” (5).
Another reason for the West’s attitude about Taoism is a sort of cultural egotism. “Many Westerners still imperialistically assume,” Kirkland says, “that the primary reason for them to study the religions of other cultures is to identify elements that can be appropriated into their own lives, or even new religious identities that can be assumed at will by ‘any of us’”(1). Further:
Through the twentieth century, general discussions of Taoism usually
came from, or pandered to, an audience that felt entitled to gratify itself
by defining ‘Taoism’ in terms that made ‘us’ feel good about ourselves.
For the general public in the West, Taoism was often to be defined as
something ‘for us,’ specifically, a set of ideas and values that (a)
complement and/or correct our own cultural/religious heritage, yet (b)
do not require us to learn anything that we do not already believe, or do
anything that we would find difficult or unpleasant to do (Kirkland, 6)
It seems, then, that the ephemeral rhetoric of Taoist beliefs and practices intersected with the cultural imperialism of the West, thereby creating a vapid version of an ancient, sacred spiritual tradition. All may not be lost, however. As long as the Tao is spoken and written about, there will be some who will delve beneath its trendy façade and experience the true Tao. Then again, some will find enlightenment just by reading the Tao of Poo, thus practicing their version—the American Way of the Tao.
Works Cites
Kirkland, Russell. Taosim: The Enduring Tradition. New York: Routledge, 2004
Kirkland, Russell. “The Taoism of the Western Imagination and the Taoism of China:
De-Colonializing the Exotic Teachings of the East.” University of Tennessee,
20 Oct. 1997.
Lee, Jung Young. The Trinity in Asian Perspective. Tennessee: Abingdon Press, 1996.
Palmer, Martin. The Elements of Taoism. New York: Barnes & Noble, 1991.
Simpkins, C. Alexander., and Annellen Simpkins. Simple Taoism: A Guide to Living in
Balance. Massachusetts: Tuttle Publishing, 1999.
Smart, Ninian. Religions of Asia. New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1993.
Toropov, Brandon., Chad Hanson. The Complete Idiots Guide to Taoism. Indiana:
Alpha Books, 2002.
