Brian Bruya on A Cure for Chaos

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Brian Bruya on A Cure for Chaos

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C. C. Tsai is one of Asia’s most popular cartoonists, and his graphic editions of the Chinese classics have sold more than 40 million copies in over twenty languages. In A Cure for Chaos, he uses his virtuosic artistic skill and sly humor to create an entertaining and enlightening illustrated version of key selections from the Mencius, a profoundly influential work of Chinese philosophy. Translated and introduced by Tsai’s longtime collaborator Brian Bruya, a philosopher and scholar of ancient Chinese thought, A Cure for Chaos also features the original Chinese text on the margins of each page, enriching the book for readers and students of Chinese without distracting from the English-language cartoons.


For those unfamiliar with Mencius, could you briefly outline his significance within Confucian thought, and highlight the key themes that make his work relevant to contemporary readers?

Brian Bruya: Mencius is known in Chinese history as the Second Sage, after Confucius. He lived in the 4th cent. BCE during a period that was appropriately named the Warring States period. Following Confucius, some of his key ideas had to do with how to create a society that was well-ordered, virtuous, and prosperous, in a reciprocal way—from both the top down and from the bottom up.

Given the turbulent historical context of Mencius’s time, how do you see his ideas resonating with readers today, who often face their own challenges in a rapidly changing world? Are there particular themes that stand out as especially relevant?

BB: Absolutely. The mode of authority in Mencius’ time was focused on two things: keeping the people in check through strict punishments and keeping the benefits flowing to the upper class. The result, Mencius observed, was strife at all levels, with each person out for themselves. His solution to this chaos can be reduced to two basic ideas: ren (kindness) and yi (morality).

Could you elaborate on how Mencius conceived of ren and yi as solutions to the chaos of his time?

BB: Let’s start with yi—morality. This is basically the idea that in the face of a conflict between doing the right thing and doing what will benefit you, you will choose to do the right thing. What’s interesting about Mencius’ view is that instead of looking to external standards for morality, he directs people to their own inner moral compass. He says that we are all born with sprouts of morality inside of us and that if there is a combination of individual cultivation and social conditions that favor cultivation, we can grow moral individuals and achieve a harmonious society.

How does ren fit into this picture? How does kindness interact with this internal sense of morality?

BB: The word ren, translated as kindness, often also translated as benevolence, generally refers to someone higher up on the social hierarchy looking out for those lower on the hierarchy and thus acting as models of good behavior. And so, you have yi working from the bottom up, with each person striving to be moral, and ren working from the top down, with the leaders creating the conditions that allow for and encourage individuals to improve themselves.

C. C. Tsai’s visual style is quite distinctive. How does his art contribute to our understanding of these complex ideas, and are there specific examples where the illustrations particularly illuminate a point?

BB: Sure. One of my favorite passages in the book says the following: “Kindness is a person’s heart, and morality is a person’s path. What a pitiful thing to abandon your path and not follow it, or lose your heart and not search for it. If a person loses a chicken or a dog, he knows to go search for it. But people who lose their hearts don’t know the same.” Here, C. C. has a cute illustration of a person chasing after a fleeing dog and chicken. Through this and the other illustrated panels, we get a sense of the interiority of kindness, which is predominantly a feeling, and the exteriority of morality, which is expressed in one’s actions. The word for heart in Chinese, by the way, also doubles for our notion of mind.

Given the interplay between the text and the illustrations, how did you approach the translation to ensure both accuracy and the intended visual impact?

BB: In my process of translation, I read through the original text of the Mencius (which, by the way, is included in the margins of the book), then looked at C. C.’s illustrations and interpretation to get a sense of what he is trying to convey, and then I attempted to reproduce that sense in English. C. C. has an uncanny ability to take what can sometimes be pretty dry philosophy and convey it in a playful way, without losing the original subtleties. I tried my best to retain both the playfulness and the subtleties.

Can you give an example?

BB: In the famous child-near-a-well story, C. C. illustrates the story of a child about to fall into a well, which raises a sense of alarm in a passerby. C. C.’s illustration makes each frame of the story immediately recognizable, without the need to adapt the ancient language to anything more than straightforward, everyday prose. But, of course, he also adds some dramatization, such as the passerby exclaiming, “Oh, no!” and the baby screaming “Waa” when abruptly picked up by a stranger. These different levels of presentation—adapting the ancient language, getting the narrative into a contemporary idiom, and fitting the illustrations precisely—are all part of the process. This story, about the child and the well, is basically a thought experiment designed to convince the reader that everyone has an innate sense of morality.

Translating philosophical terms can be challenging. Were there specific instances that posed difficulties, and how did you navigate those choices?

BB:Yes, the most difficult part was the technical terminology: ren, yi, and so on. These terms go back to the very mists of early Chinese philosophy, have many nuances within the Chinese tradition, and have some standard translations in English that today come off as somewhat stilted—benevolence and righteousness, for example. In my translation of C. C.’s version of the Analects, I stuck to the traditional translation of benevolence for ren and scaled back righteousness to rightness for yi. But those terms still come off as stuffy and distant to a modern ear, and the dissonance is especially noticeable, I think, in a comic book. This time, after giving the terms a lot of thought while working on another translation from the same period, I decided to use more familiar words—kindness and morality. I’m sure some purists will object, but overall I think they fit Mencius’ intentions better than the stuffier alternatives.

Finally, what are the key takeaways you hope readers will gain from A Cure for Chaos, given your translation and C. C. Tsai’s visual approach?

BB: Well, of course, first, you want the reader to enjoy the ride. Mencius loves to tell a story to get a point across, and C. C. loves to illustrate stories, so right there, you have a great combination that should be entertaining for anyone who loves to get lost in a visual narrative. But these narratives are not just for the sake of entertainment. They also pack a philosophical punch. Is it true that people are fundamentally good? Let’s say that in some sense, it is true that each of us has a sprout of goodness in us. What are the implications of that for society—especially for education, a legal regime, and how our leaders and role models act? These profound questions lie beneath the cute stories.

About the Author

C. C. Tsai is one of Asia’s most beloved illustrators. His work has been featured in the New York Times Magazine and his bestselling editions of the Chinese classics have introduced generations of readers to the wisdom of such luminaries as Confucius, Sunzi, and Zhuangzi. Brian Bruya is professor of philosophy at Eastern Michigan University, where he teaches Chinese and comparative philosophy. His books include Ziran: The Philosophy of Spontaneous Self-Causation, and he has translated many of Tsai’s books into English. Christine Gross-Loh is the coauthor, with Michael Puett, of the international bestsellerThe Path: What Chinese Philosophers Can Teach Us about the Good Life. She has written for the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, the Atlantic, and the Guardian.