Kihwa (己和 Hamhŏ Tŭkt'ong 涵虚得通, 1376-1433) was born just sixteen years prior to the Koryŏ/Chosŏn dynastic transition, into a family of the elite, and was educated with other upper-class sons at the recently-established Sŏnggyun'gwan (成均館) Confucian academy. In the course of his studies at this institution, Kihwa is said to have attained to a remarkable level of proficiency in Chinese philosophy and literature, as his biographer goes to unusual lengths to convey the extent to which his professors esteemed him:

Entering the academy as a youth, he was able to memorize more than a thousand phrases daily. As time passed, he deeply penetrated the universality of the single thread, clarifying the meanings of the classics and expounding their content. His reputation was unmatched. Grasping the subtlety of the transmitted teachings, all their profundities were disclosed in his explanations. He was possessed of a sonorous voice and graceful beauty, like flowers laid upon silk brocade--even such metaphor falls short of description. People said that he would become the minister truly capable of transmitting the heavenly mandate, extending upward to the ruler and bringing blessings down to the people. In his grasp of the correct principles of society he had no need to be ashamed even if he were to appear before the likes of Chou and Shao.[6]

    Acknowledging the obvious hyperbole that is invariably seen in the biographical sketches written by disciples of eminent Buddhist teachers, we must nevertheless pay attention to what is contained in this passage as (1) there is not, in the entire corpus of Korean Buddhist hagiographies an appraisal of scholarly (Confucian) acumen comparable to this, and (2) this strong assessment of Kihwa's early abilities is corroborated in the degree to which he, later in his Buddhist career, took such a strong interest in, and showed such unusual ability in literary/philosophical/exegetical pursuits. Furthermore, a reading of his later works shows an unusual mastery of the Five Classics, Four Books and the Taoist canon.

Despite Kihwa's deep love of Confucian learning, he was greatly affected at the age of twenty-one by the tragic death of a close friend, and as a result, turned to the Buddhist path. After a short period of wandering and study, he became a disciple of the National Teacher Muhak (無學 1327-1405), a master of the Imje Sŏn kong'an tradition. Kihwa spent the rest of his days immersed in meditation, travel, teaching and an extensive literary pursuit that included commentarial work, essay writing and poetry. Despite the diminished influence of Buddhism, toward the end of his life he served as a tutor to the royal family. After this stint, he retired once again to the mountain monasteries, where he taught and wrote until his passing away in 1433. During his life, Kihwa wrote several important and influential treatises and commentaries on Buddhist works that established him as one of the leading thinkers in the entire Korean Buddhist tradition.[7]

    Placed as he was, in the position of leading representative of the Buddhist sangha at the time when it was under siege, Kihwa no doubt felt considerable pressure to offer a response to the Neo-Confucian charges. Respond he did--in the form of a philosophical treatise that has become a landmark in Korean intellectual history--the Hyŏn chŏng non (顯正論 "Exposition of the Correct," hereafter abbreviated as HCN). In the HCN Kihwa attempted to answer the standard set of criticisms made by the Neo-Confucians that had been summarized in the Pulsshi chappyŏn. Therefore the relationship between the Chappyŏn and the HCN is such that we might well characterize the latter work as almost a direct rebuttal to the former.[8]

    The circumstances of Kihwa's composition of this treatise in defense of Buddhism against Confucian-based criticisms have a direct precedent in the circumstances surrounding Tsung-mi's (宗密 780-841) essay, the Yüan jen lun ("Inquiry into the Origin of Humanity" 原人論),[9] written in answer to the polemical tracts of the Neo-Confucian Han Yü.[10] Tsung-mi, like Kihwa, was placed in the position of having to defend a well-entrenched and largely corrupt Buddhist bureaucracy. Tsung-mi was also much like Kihwa in being a scholar of considerable non-Buddhist classical background, who held a solid respect for many aspects of Confucian and Taoist learning. Thus both men also shared in a general sense, in their broad vision of all three teachings being viable religious paths.[11]

    While treating similar topics from similar perspectives, two treatises differ in their basic line of argument. Tsung-mi's work, reflecting its author's interest in doctrinal classification, is primarily an attempt to show how Confucianism and Taoism are related to Buddhism as expedient, but nonetheless heterodox (外教 wai-chiao) teachings. His tone toward Confucianism and Taoism is conciliatory, but he will clearly distinguish the two from Buddhism as being teachings of "men and gods." Kihwa's argument, on the other hand, relies primarily on an understanding of the presence of a metaphysics of interpenetration that operates equally in all three teachings of Confucianism, Taoism and Buddhism, but which he claims has been brought to different levels of actualization by the practitioners of each of the three teachings. Kihwa perceives the three teachings as varying expressions of a singular reality. Thus, despite his conversion to Buddhism, he did not reject his earlier Confucian and Taoist learning. Accordingly, in his Buddhist apologetic writings he did not seek to disparage the fundamental Confucian doctrine; rather, he sought to show that while the Confucian teachings were worthy of deep respect, the Confucians themselves had often missed the deeper implications of their own texts.

    Kihwa's basic hermeneutical principle for analyzing the relationship between the three teachings is one that blends the paradigms of essence-function (體用 ch'e-yong) and interpenetration (通達 t'ongdal), both of which were ubiquitous in variant forms in pre-Buddhist East Asian thought,[12] and which were incorporated as basic hermeneutical tools in East Asian Buddhist philosophy, as exemplified in such works as the Awakening of Faith and the Sutra of Perfect Enlightenment.[13] Using the essence-function formula, Kihwa explains that the single reality, or principle--that is, the enlightened mind of Buddhism, the Tao of Taoism and the in 仁 (Chinese jen) of Confucianism, are in essence the same thing, differing only in terms of their linguistic expression according to the time and circumstance. The three teachings share on vital points: a belief in the basic goodness of the human mind and the possibility for the proper actualization of that mind through training (or, in the case of Taoism for example, "untraining").

    Kihwa begins his essay by focusing on the most fundamental point that Buddhism and Confucianism have in common: the perfectibility of the human being through practice. In the pattern of  the essence-function framework, he introduces the passions/discriminations (chŏng 情) as the manifest function of the originally good (Buddha/human) nature (sŏng 性). Here he alludes to the opening paragraph of the Doctrine of the Mean, reinterpreting the Doctrine of the Mean's key terms: nature, passions/discriminations and the Way:

The nature is neither existent nor non-existent; yet it pervades existence and non-existence. That which originally lacks ancient and modern and yet which pervades ancient and modern is the Way. Existence and non-existence rely upon the nature and the passions. "Ancient" and "modern" depend on life and death. Even though nature originally has no passions, delusion of the nature produces the passions. Once the passions are produced, wisdom is blocked; thoughts transform and the essence is altered. This is how the myriad things are formed and how life and death originate. The passions have purity and impurity, good and evil. Purity and goodness are the things that produce sagehood; impurity and evil bring about the condition of foolishness. Hence you should know that if the passions are not produced, neither sage nor fool has the means to exist. (HPC 7.217a5-13)

Kihwa proceeds by pointing out that the primary goal of all three traditions is the ridding of the mind of impurities, or what is termed in the Great Learning as "rectification of the mind." Once the mind is rectified, it can be used for anything: governing the state, bringing peace to the land, or becoming a bodhisattva. Buddhism has a method of accomplishing this that is in full congruence with Confucian principles.

    While Kihwa endeavors to answer all of the Neo-Confucian objections to some extent, the linchpin of his argument lies in the fact that he considers Confucians to have inadequately grasped the implications of their own texts, most notably the primary Confucian principle of in/jen. Here he focuses on a famous line of Ch'eng-hao which says "the man of in regards heaven earth and the myriad things as his own body."[14]

To introduce this dimension of his argument, Kihwa refers back to a passage from the beginning of Tsung-mi's Yüan-jen lun, where Tsung-mi equates the five lay precepts of Buddhism with the five norms of Confucianism, these correlations being: in/jen (仁 humanity, benevolence) is equal to "no killing"; ŭi/i (義 righteousness) is equal to "no stealing"; i/li (禮 propriety) is equal to "no sexual misconduct": chi/chi (智 wisdom) is equal to "no consumption of alcohol" and shin/hsin (信 faith, trust) is equal to "no false speech."[15] However, Kihwa is not concerned with elaborating on all five of these pairs. He is interested in the first one.

    Kihwa focuses in the correlation of in/jen with the Buddhist notion of ahiṃsā, the fullest expression of which he finds in the Hua-yen doctrine of mutual containment of the myriad things of the universe. He uses it as the main point of departure for his argument for the superiority of Buddhism, emphasizing Buddhism's completeness in both understanding and practice of in/interpenetration. The foil here is the ancient cultural practice (condoned in Confucian texts) of killing of animals for food or for ritual sacrifice. While Ch'eng-hao has stated that "the man of in/jen forms a single body with the universe and all creatures," Kihwa argues that it is only Buddhists who truly act according to this principle. If Ch'eng-hao means what he says, then how could it be acceptable for this "man of in" to kill those creatures? Among the three teachings, it is only Buddhism that takes a unequivocal position against killing. Kihwa says:

Since Heaven and Earth are the father and mother of the myriad things, then all those things that are born between Heaven and Earth are the children of Heaven and Earth. The relationship of Heaven and Earth toward the myriad things is just like the relationship of mother and father to their child. Between children there are differences in intelligence in the same way that there are differences in luminosity between humans and the other things of the universe. Yet even if a child is stupid the parents love it and treat it tenderly. . . How much more are they concerned about its being harmed?

Simultaneously killing life and nourishing life is like killing one of one's children in order to nourish another. What kind of parent can do this? Having their children kill each other is certainly not the wish of any parent. How could the mutual inflicting of harm among people and the animals be the wish of Heaven and Earth? Humanity and the myriad things already possess the same material force. While sharing in the same principle of Heaven and Earth, they also share the same space in Heaven and Earth. Since they are already endowed with same material force and principle, where can there exist a separate principle that condones killing life in order to nourish life?! It is like these sayings: "The universe and I share the same root; the myriad things and myself are one body." (T 2016.48.915a8) These are the words of Śākyamuni. "The man of in takes Heaven, Earth and the myriad things as his own body." These are the words of a Confucian. Only when one's words are fully in accord with one's actions is one completing the Way of in!

 In the medical texts, conditions of numbness or paralysis of the limbs are technically termed "non-in" (purin 不仁). The limbs are the extremities of the body, and although it is the extremities that show the symptoms of sickness, the problem is actually that the material force is not penetrating (pult'ong 不通). This means that in this case the term in refers to Heaven and Earth and the myriad things in fusion as one body--that is, there is no separation between them. If you deeply embody this principle, then no matter how insignificant a living being, there is no way you will inflict harm upon it. This can indeed be called "the attainment of the Way of in!" If it is not this way then the material force of people and animals is blocked and does not flow; principle is obstructed and does not penetrate, just like the numbness of the hands and feet . . .

   The Analects say: "When the master fished he would not use a net; when hunting he would not shoot a perched bird." (Analects 7:26)  Mencius said: "The superior man stays far away from the kitchen. If he hears the screams of the animals he cannot bear to eat their flesh." (Mencius 1A:7) These are all examples of incompletely actualized in. Why don't they try to come up to the level of "forming a single body"? The Doctrine of the Mean says: "His words reflecting his actions, his actions reflecting his words--how can this Superior Man not be sincere through and through?"[16] Who among those I have cited here comes up to this level? This is an example of the Confucians preaching about the goodness of the path of in but not following through. If it is necessary to place limits on the killing of birds, why even shoot the arrow at all? If it bothers you to shoot a perched bird, why shoot it when it is flying? If the superior man is going to avoid the kitchen, why does he eat meat at all? (HPC 7.2129b-c)

    This is the basic line of Kihwa's defense of Buddhism. He is not going to expend his energies defending Buddhist practices, in great part, no doubt, because he feels that the attacks do not merit a defense. But it is also obvious that he believes that on a strictly philosophical and moral basis, the attackers stand on weak ground.

    As we move on to other portions of the debate, for instance, where Chŏng Tojŏn uses passages from the Analects and I Ching to criticize the Buddhist theory of causation, Kihwa cites passages from the same texts to show that they actually teach the law of cause and effect. In fact, he maintains that the whole Confucian concept of human refinement cannot but rely on the principle of karmic habituation. In regard to this point he says:

Dreams are the play of the human spirit, not the domain of external form. Confucius dreamed of the Duke of Chou because his mind abode daily in Chou's Way. Because he concentrated on practicing it, his spirit naturally became attuned to it. All people are like this. Day by day they are focusing on either good or evil. The good see greatness in their dreams, while the evil see misery. Why is this? The good unflaggingly follow righteousness; the evil voraciously seek their own gain. As the good concentrate on righteousness, with each action they become increasingly attuned to the good. As the evil abandon themselves to profit, with each action they depart further from righteousness. Since the good accord with goodness in every activity, others will naturally regard them as good. Since the evil depart from righteousness in each activity, others will naturally regard them as evil. Since people regard the good as good, they will naturally stand out, and they will be rewarded with praise and emolument. Since people regard the evil as evil, they will naturally stand out and they will meet with punishment. Because of this the good person gradually grows in happiness and attains prosperity. The evil one, continually miserable, schemes to avoid his demise. (HPC 7.222a-7-14)

    In the latter portion of the Hyŏn chŏng non Kihwa quickly runs through the more superficial arguments raised by Chŏng: that Buddhism should be discredited as a "foreign" religion; that Buddhism is a harbinger of personal and national calamity, and that the sangha is parasitic and corrupt. He dismisses the argument of "alienness" as ridiculous, asking how the Way can be "Indian" or "Chinese." Where, he asks, is the "great center of the world"? (HPC 7.223b.15)

    In response to the argument that the advent of Buddhism has inevitably been followed by calamity, Kihwa first points out the great disasters that were endured even by the sage-emperors in pre-Buddhist times. He also reminds his readers that on the personal level, even Confucius and Yen-hui were unable to avoid poverty. He then points out the grand successes of the great Buddhist-inspired dynasties, such as the T'ang in China and the Unified Shilla in Korea. To the charge of parasitism, Kihwa answers that Buddhists work hard at their own job, which is to bring goodness and succor to the masses. When people are lazy, he says, it is not the fault of Confucianism or Buddhism--it is an individual failure. He asks how critics can expect all Buddhist followers to be perfect. "Since the death of Confucius, have we seen another Yen-hui?"[17]

    To the criticism of Buddhism's usage of the Indian custom of abandoning the secular life to enter the priesthood, he replies that the only real essential is "not to depart from the Tao, nothing more."(HPC 7.218a.20-21) Nonetheless, he says, the afflictions in the human mind lie deep, and since they arise fundamentally from attached love,[18] sometimes the renunciation of the worldly life can be helpful in the effort of advancing one's religious consciousness. To further defend the practice of leaving home against protestations that it is the equivalent breaking the eternal human relationships, Kihwa invokes the doctrine of expedient means,[19] equating "expediency" with flexibility. Both the eternal and the expedient are needed, he says, "but if you lack the eternal, there is nothing to protect the norm. If you lack expediency, you have no way to adapt to others and transform them." (HPC 7.218b.11)

    He then cites examples from Buddhist and Confucian history that show how the reinterpretation of the rules ended up with a better result. For instance, the leaving of home by Śākyamuni (an act criticized by Neo-Confucians) actually brought more good reputation to his parents than any other course could have.[20] This means that the sage has the authority to adapt to conditions in order to bring about the actualization of the highest principles. Kihwa finishes out this section by defending Buddhism against the charge of non-loyalty to the rulership by pointing out that Buddhist priests have always prayed for the well being of the ruler and the state. Buddhism's encouragement of the people toward the good has also brought about greater peace in the realm.

    It is not until the end of the essay when Kihwa answers the charges of Buddhist nihilism. This is probably the least philosophically sound portion of his argument, as he attempts to show through a somewhat contrived textual citation that Confucianism and Taoism also contain the doctrines of anātman and śūnyatā.

Haven't you heard? "In the world there are not two Ways; the sages lack double-minded-ness." This means that even if sages are separated by the distance of a thousand ri and the time of ten thousand generations, their minds lack the slightest difference.

Confucius said, "no willfulness, no arbitrariness, no stubbornness, no self." (Analects 9:4)

The I Ching says: "Turning his back, there is no self; walking in court, there is no person. Without self or person, where can there be defilement?"[21]

The Buddha said: "There is no self and no person to cultivate all good dharmas. This is the attainment of wisdom."[22]

This is an example of sages being from different ages but being identical in their minds. (HPC 7.224c14-19)

    For those familiar with the context of these citations in the Analects and I Ching, it is obvious that Kihwa is stretching things a bit here, as neither of these non-Buddhist intimations of "no-self" come close in connotation to the Buddhist notion of anātman. He does do a bit better in his final comparison however, in drawing a correspondence among the three teachings in terms of a common understanding of the integration of movement and stillness--a way of expressing the Buddhist emptiness:

So what are the samenesses and differences, the relative strengths and weaknesses of Lao-tzu, Śākyamuni and the Confucians?

Lao-tzu said: "No doing and no not-doing; eternally doing yet not-doing."[23]

Śākyamuni said: "Quiescent yet constantly luminous, luminous yet constantly quiescent." (T 2016.48.528a01)

Confucius is recorded as having said: "The Changes have neither thought nor activity, still and unmoving they extend and penetrate the world."[24]

Now this "stillness" which has never failed to "extend", is the same thing as the "quiescence" which is "eternally luminous." The "extending and penetrating" which has never not been "still," is exactly the same as the "luminosity which is eternally quiescent." "No doing and no not-doing" is none other than "still, yet eternally extending." "Eternally doing yet with nothing to be done" is none other than "extending, yet eternally still." If you can grasp this, then the words of the three teachers fit together like the broken pieces of the same board--as if they had all come out of the same mouth! (HPC 225b1-9)

    This constitutes the bottom line of Kihwa's understanding of the fundamental philosophical unity of the three teachings. It within the realms of "empty yet not empty" or what Buddhism calls the "middle path," that Kihwa finds their unifying principle. The position of "empty yet existent" reflects a metaphysical understanding that is guided by interpenetration, in that there should not be either a physical or conceptual obstruction between emptiness and existence. They mutually contain each other; they are neither the same nor different.

    Absent in Kihwa's essay is a sustained defense against the long-standing charges of antinomianism that had been leveled against the Ch'an and Sŏn schools for centuries. It may be that he feels he has already replied to this in his "nobody is perfect" argument (where he remarked that Confucians also have difficulty meeting the standards of Yen-hui). He may also have felt that the doctrinal arguments required at this point demanded too much Buddhist technical knowledge on the part of his audience--as it is clear from statements in the conclusion of this essay that it is aimed directly for reading by the rulership. Kihwa's response can be characterized as being as moralistic as it is rigorously metaphysical in that the core of his argument lies in laying hold of one of the Confucians' most cited dictums of "practice what you preach" and turning it back on them. This sort of response on the part of Kihwa is not surprising when we reflect on the nature of his commentarial works, where his tendency is to focus directly on the relation of the application of the particular doctrine to practice.

    The Hyŏn chŏng non stands out as a very special document, not only in Korean intellectual history, but in the intellectual history of the entire East Asian tradition, as there are simply almost no treatises composed by Buddhists during the several centuries period of conflict that attempt such a full-scale response to the avalanche of anti-Buddhist Neo-Confucian polemical works. While there is, from the Neo-Confucian side, no shortage of anti-Buddhist literature, most of this is incredibly simplistic in its treatment of Buddhist doctrine and practice. Most obvious here are the anti-Buddhist works of Chu Hsi and the Ch'eng brothers--all formidable thinkers who had a solid background in Buddhism--and yet whose writings badly distort or ignore basic Buddhist concepts to a surprising extent. It is therefore the relative balanced view exhibited in the Hyŏn chŏng non that gives it a special place in the East Asian intellectual tradition.

    Noting the turn of events subsequent to the publication of the Hyŏn chŏng non, it would appear that the treatise had little lasting effect on the overall outcome of the Buddhist suppression. During subsequent decades, Confucian-sponsored government measures against the Buddhist sangha would grow in severity before they finally leveled off. The Hyŏn chŏng non nonetheless remains a vitally important document for grasping the intellectual climate at a time of great transition in Korean religious history. It is also a fine example of the writing of one of Korea's most important Buddhist philosophers.

REFERENCES