Interview with Dr. Chang Chung-Yuan [Philosophy: East and West no. 8] (KPFA)

Summary

This conversation centers on Daoism, especially the teachings of Laozi and Zhuangzi, and how those ideas relate to nature, human action, and the relationship between appearance and reality. The discussion is framed by an opening reference to the Chinese poem “Searching for the Hermit in Vain,” which evokes the Daoist sage as a rare figure who lives apart from ordinary society in the mountains, devoted to meditation and contemplation. The speaker introduces Dr. Zhang Zhongyun as a leading contemporary exponent of Daoism and notes his academic background, including a PhD from Columbia University, his teaching at the Asia Institute in New York, and his lectures at institutions such as the Eranos congress in Ascona, the C.G. Jung Institute in Zurich, Oxford University, and conferences in Barcelona and Venice. The conversation is presented in the context of a program sponsored by the Society of Jungian Analysts. A major theme is the meaning of wu wei, often translated as “non-action,” but clarified here as non-interference rather than passivity or nihilism. Dr. Zhang explains that Daoism does not advocate doing nothing; rather, it teaches people to follow the nature of things and avoid interfering with the natural order. He emphasizes that building a house, for example, is not contrary to the Dao, because it serves a real human need and aligns with the conditions of life. What Daoism opposes is arbitrary interference driven by private ambition, which can damage personal integrity and create disorder in relationships, communities, and even nations. The dialogue then turns to the question of whether human artifice is ever truly “against nature.” The speaker raises examples from Zhuangzi, including the story of Bolo, who trained horses by imposing artificial methods on their natural habits. Dr. Zhang responds by insisting that Daoist criticism is not directed against craftsmanship, art, or construction itself. Instead, the goal is to reveal the reality of each thing and work in accordance with its own nature. A craftsman should not force wood to behave like stone or stone to behave like wood; rather, one should cooperate with the inherent qualities of materials. This leads to a broader discussion of modern technology, where materials such as milk or concrete are transformed into unexpected forms. Dr. Zhang argues that such developments are still part of nature, since scientific discovery itself unfolds from nature’s own possibilities. The conversation also explores the Chinese term li, which is described as meaning both principle and reality, and originally referring to the markings in jade. Dr. Zhang contrasts li with shi, the changing events or appearances of the world, and explains that in Buddhist thought, especially in the Huayan school, li and shi are not separate but interpenetrating. This becomes a key philosophical point: Daoism and related Chinese traditions reject the separation of appearance and reality. What is artificial is not manifestation itself, but the distortion that occurs when appearance is treated as detached from reality. The discussion briefly compares this to Plato, but Dr. Zhang insists that Daoist thought does not posit a separate spiritual world; rather, the spiritual and concrete are one. Another important thread is the idea that one cannot truly go against the Dao or the natural order. The speaker uses the image of a person swimming in a strong river, and Dr. Zhang agrees that one cannot oppose the river’s current. Instead, the human task is to reveal the potentiality of li and Dao and to create better human relations. This is linked to the Japanese idea of judo, understood as studying the situation and cooperating with its direction rather than resisting it. The conversation suggests that wisdom lies in discerning the movement of things and aligning oneself with it. The final section focuses on self-transformation and insight. Dr. Zhang explains that Daoist practice involves transforming the self into “non-self,” meaning not the elimination of personhood but the overcoming of egoistic isolation. In this transformed state, the self includes other selves and becomes interrelated with the world. He describes this as a kind of intuitive insight akin to the Zen Buddhist notion of prajna. To illustrate interdependence, he uses the example of a table: each leg contains the potentiality of the whole table, and no part stands entirely by itself. He extends this organic model to the human body, the family, society, and the universe itself, describing reality as a self-balancing organism. Wisdom, in this view, consists in sensing and unfolding this hidden harmony, which is invisible and cannot be grasped by ordinary thought alone. The conversation ends with mutual thanks, leaving the impression that Daoist understanding is a practical, relational, and deeply integrative way of living in accord with the world.