Raymond Barnett

Interesting sources on Asian culture--Books

The Shorter Science and Civilisation in China: 1. Colin A. Ronan’s abridgement of the first two volumes of Joseph Needham’s original, staggeringly erudite multivolume magnum opus from Cambridge University. Needham’s insights into the language, geography, and history of China, the major intellectual systems (Taoism, Mohists, Neo-Confuianism, Buddhists, Legalists), and the dawn of proto-science in China. Needham’s blend of scientific knowledge and humanist currents in the broad sweep of China’s history is deeply impressive. Densely packed, but rewarding. 1978, Cambridge Univ. Press, paperback, 326 pages.

Sexual Life in Ancient China, by Dutch diplomat and polyglot Robert H. van Gulik. Van Gulik’s treatment traces not just who was having sex with whom and in what variations, but much more interestingly the civilization’s views on the body, the physiology and role of females and males, the yin-yang structure of the universe, how humans fit into that structure, the institution of courtesans (as distinct from mere prostitutes), and a host of fascinating insights into the culture. The book is structured chronologically, examining the subject at different periods in Chinese history, from the Chou dynasty to the Ming. The most graphic passages are rendered in Latin, but there’s plenty of text in English to render this a fascinating book. By the end, you’ll know a plethora of poetic names for the male sexual organ (Jade Stalk, Crimson Sword, etc.) , even more for the female sexual structures (Cinnabar Cleft, Strings of the Lyre, Precious Door, etc.), and more positions and rhythms for the sexual act itself than you (well, at least me) would imagine possible (the Turning Dragon, the Tiger’s Tread, Monkey’s Attack, Cleaving Cicada, etc). (Hey, the Chinese were an old, sophisticated civilization back when the French were still running around in animal skins chasing mammoths! )1974, E.J. Brill (Leiden), hardcover, 392 pages. Pricey.

Van Gulik also wrote a charming series of a dozen mysteries set in T’ang dynasty China, featuring the historical magistrate Dee Jen-djieh. These Judge Dee stories are not only good mysteries, with surprisingly well-wrought characters and lots of action and romance, but they also impart the texture of traditional China quite well. 1960’s, Univ. of Chicago Press (most recent editions), 200 or so pages each.

The Retreat of the Elephants: an environmental history of China. British historian Mark Elvin’s scholarly study of the historical destruction of the Chinese environment, and the reasons underlying the actions. His uncovering of the conscious policy of the early Chinese state to replace forests with rice cultivation in order to produce and feed soldiers for their armies of conquest is chilling. Heartbreaking, also, as he graphs the steady retreat of elephants, rhinoceroses, and gibbons from northern China southward, to their last refuge in extreme southern Yunnan province. Also a densely packed book, and much more scholarly, detailed, and focused in scope even than Ronan’s abridgement of Needham. 2004, Yale University Press, hardcover, 564 pages.

A Year in the Life of a Shinto Shrine. John Nelson follows the life and rituals of Nagasaki’s Suwa Shinto shrine over the course of the seasons, illuminating the much-misunderstood native Japanese religion of Shintoism and the gentle, earnest priests who bring the kami spirits into the lives of the shrine and its surrounding community. A window into not just the religion, but Japan and its people as well. 1996, Univ. Washington Press, paperback, 286 pages.

There is a genre of books describing the last traces of traditional Chinese culture persisting into the 19th century, haunting yet heartbreaking. Here are my favorites:

The Years that Were Fat. George Kates’ superb rendering of his seven “fat” years in Peking just before the Japanese tightened their grip in 1940. Perhaps the best of the genre. Kates thoroughly mastered the spoken and written language, and immersed himself in the life of the city. A fascinating and wise look at the grandeur and the weakness of traditional Chinese culture. 1988 reprint, Oxford University Press, paperback, 268 pages.

Peking Story: the last days of Old China. David Kidd married into one of North China’s oldest aristocratic families, and thus had a front-row seat to watch the final disintegration of the old ways in Peking, from 1946 to the Communists’ capture of the city in 1948, and the thorough unraveling of the old ways by his departure in 1950. Vivid details and an insider’s look at the end of a high culture that had persisted for three thousand years. 1988, Clarkson N. Potter/​Griffin paperbacks, 207 pages.

City of Lingering Splendour: a frank account of Old Peking’s pleasures. Poet John Blofeld’s chatty, nearly gossipy memoir of his younger days in China’s ancient capita from 1934 to 1937. The Bohemian, avant-garde counterpoint to Kidd’s look at the aristocracy. 1989, Shambhala, paperback, 255 pages.

From a Chinese City: in the heart of peacetime Vietnam. Frenchman Gontan de Poncins’ account of his time in the Cholon section of Saigon, in 1955 (after the French had left, before the Americans arrived). Traditional Chinese life survived much more robustly in the Chinese cities of Southeast Asia than in China itself after the Communist victory in 1949, and Poncin set himself down in a boarding house on Cholon’s main street, immersing himself in the life of that bustling Chinese city. Filled with the details, the colorful customs and mores of Chinese urban life. 1957, Trackless Sands Press, paperback, 256 pages.

Here are my favorite books on Taoism, the quintessential Chinese perspective on life that is at once mysterious, eccentric, passionate, wry, humorous, bewildering--the heart of authentic Chinese culture, and the planet’s oldest continually-practiced philosophy, religion, and outlook on living life:

The Taoist Body. THE scholarly introduction to Taoism, by Kristofer Schipper, former Director of Studies at the Sorbonne’s Ecole pratique des Hautes Etudes and an ordained Taoist priest. Schipper shows convincingly how Taoist perspectives and practices undergird the heart of Chinese culture and permeate Chinese institutions from painting to martial arts to folk festivals to popular religion. Anyone at all interested in modern and ancient Taoism should read the Authors Note and first two chapters, at least; the next two chapters are a stretch; the next four very difficult, the last two accessible and brilliant. 1993, Univ. California Press, paperback, 273 pages.

Relax, You’re already Home: everyday Taoist habits for a richer life. Raymond Barnett’s (yours truly) little primer on Taoism and how we can adopt its practices to enrich our daily modern lives is an introduction to Taoism for the lay person (rather than the scholar). The basic tenets and practices of the religion are presented in an informal, breezy (but sound) manner. Practical, and easy reading. 2004, Tarcher/​Penguin, paperback, 194 pages.

Taoism and the Arts of China. Stephen Little. A large, sumptuous catalogue of the 2000-2001 museum exhibit by the same name organized by The Art Institute of Chicago. The numerous illustrations of paintings, sculptures, calligraphy, and tomb objects are gorgeous, and keyed to five informative, fascinating essays on various aspects of the Taoist outlook on life and its vital role in the arts of China. 2000, The Art Institute of Chicago, in association with Univ. CA Press, paperback. 415 pages. Pricey, but well worth it.

Taoism: the parting of the Way. Holmes Welch. Dated, but still very charming comprehensive account of the major tenets and the history of Taoism through the ages. Written for the lay person, and easy reading as it recounts the major schools and the historical development of the religion. Part Three, The Taoist Movement, is the heart of the book. 1957, 1965, Beacon Press, paperback, 196 pages.

Taoism: Growth of a Religion. Isabelle Robinet’s scholarly, detailed history of Taoism from the Warring States period to the Yuan dynasty, covering the major sects and their scriptures and rituals. Though scholarly and comprehensive, it’s a relatively readable and relatively recent overview for the serious student. 1997, Stanford Univ. Press, paperback, 296 pages.

Taoist Mysteries and Magic. Poet John Blofeld’s account of his young years roaming the mist-shrouded mountains of China in search of hermits, eccentrics, fox spirits, romance, and the meaning of life as distilled by China’s spiritual masters. A romp, though assuredly not for everyone. 1973, Shambhala, paperback, 217 pages.

Websites

www.nri.org.uk/​ The website for the Needham Research Institute, which carries on British sinologist Joseph Needham’s work on Science and Civilization in China, in-depth treatments of the entire span of scientific, technological, and medical knowledge in China, put in the perspective of Chinese culture and civilization, and contrasted with the Western approach. Though there are but seven official volumes, most volumes have at least several sections comprising separate books, so that the entire series of some two dozen weighty tomes takes up over a yard’s length of a library shelf. A staggeringly erudite scholarly achievement, so vast and important that it continues vigorously after Needham’s death in 1995. The website provides overviews of the books, Needham’s colorful life, and the work of the Institute.

www.religionfacts.com/​ Check out this site’s entries for “Chinese religion” and “Taoism.” Though not profound, there are many links to specific subjects under each, which together form a relatively comprehensive if superficial look at the subjects.

Current daily news of China: the best are www.scmp.com/​ (the South China Morning Post, Hong Kong’s largest English language newspaper); www.chinapost.com.tw/​ (Taiwan’s leading English-language newspaper)
www.index-China.com/​ This site offers summaries of China’s food, tea, business, education, environment, politics, travel, and medicine, with links to more detailed sites in each, along with a dozen or so articles from the day’s edition of China News.net.

One of the chapters of Relax, You're Already Home was deleted from the published book by the editors at Tarcher/​Penguin Publishing. In their view, this chapter treating the relationship between Taoism and modern biological science was too technical and esoteric for general readers. I reluctantly acquiesced. But in the meantime, many readers have expressed to me a desire to know more about--just that!
For all of you who are intrigued by how ancient Chinese Taoism relates to modern Western science--here 'tis the "forbidden chapter"!

Delving deeper into Taoism and science

You may be curious as to how Taoism relates to science, since science is the underpinning of so much of our modern life in America. If you find these Taoist habits fitting nicely into your life, you may guess that Taoism and science at least are not antagonistic, despite their very different origins. And you'd be right. In fact, and surprisingly, we'll find that Taoism and science have a lot in common. Although yes, there are differences. First, the similarities. As we saw in the first several chapters, the ideas of Tao and Qi are fundamental.

Tao. In Taoism, Tao is the pattern of existence, the path that is revealed in the dance between matter and energy. Tao confers the inherent property of each phenomenon in the cosmos. Okakura describes Tao as "the mood of the universe" in his The Book of Tea. Tao is also the process generating the patterns that we see, the dynamic generating "things as they are." The Tao is characterized by order, by harmony, by pattern. The Tao of the cosmos permits the evolution of life and is supportive of life, although life is nothing special, simply another aspect of the unfolding of the Tao.

To my mind, the central finding of the scientific enterprise of the West of the last two hundred years is that reality has an order and a pattern to it. The scientific enterprise is the discovery of the order in the universe, and the description of that order in quantified, mathematical models. When that mathematical description is very precise, the relationships are called Laws. Physics and chemistry have succeeded in discovering many laws. When the relationships being described are too complex for precise mathematical description, the relationships are called Theories. Biology has discovered many theories, which are explanations that have been repeatedly subjected to scientific tests without being contradicted.
Science also has found that the properties of matter are inherent to matter. That is, the "nature" of reality inheres in that reality's physical properties, rather than being imposed from outside the system. Moreover, matter and energy are linked, and transform back and forth as described in the Laws of Thermodynamics. And finally, science has discovered that life is founded on the same laws and properties as inanimate reality. At the deepest level, life emerges from the same physical properties and interactions among atoms and molecules as characterize rocks, water, and fire.

We scientists have not yet succeeded in formulating a "unified theory" of all of reality, either in mathematical or descriptive terms. The concept of "the Tao," however, may quite readily be considered an informal, summative designation of the overarching pattern of order and the process of transformation discovered by science. Scientists do not accept informal formulations not subjected to formal experimental verification, of course, so they cannot admit the Tao into the scientific realm of explanation. Yet it remains true that the Tao is quite consistent with what science has discovered so far about order, pattern, inherent properties, transformative energetic processes, and common properties of life and non-living phenomena.

Qi. The energetic medium through which the transformative flow of the Tao is expressed is Qi. The Chinese term Qi can be translated as simply energy, but it has far richer implications, meaning also air, breath, steam, force, strength, and temper. This evocative term, in its various shades of suggestion, perfectly mirrors the manifold flow of the Tao, turning now this way, now that, endlessly transforming. By choosing to express the flow of the Tao in energetic terms, Taoism emphasizes the vital, pulsing nature of the Tao.
The manifold aspects of the flow of Qi can be grouped into two grand subsets, the Yin and the Yang. Yin, of course, includes all those energetic states that incorporate the yielding, shady, lunar, earthly, feminine aspects of reality, while Yang includes the aggressive, bright, solar, heavenly, masculine aspects of reality. Most importantly, these two grand subsets or groupings in the flow of Qi are not opposites, but are rather complementary. Each hyperdimensional "patch" in space-time reality is composed of aggregate combinations of yin and yang in its own unique, balanced combination. And the interplay of these patches is characterized by incessant transformation of yin elements to yang and vice versa. Again: Qi flows, transformation is the norm. Those wise in the ways of the flow of Qi claim to discern the paths of flow in mountains and rivers and the human body. Traditional Chinese medicine and acupuncture rely on knowledge of Qi pathways in humans to rectify blockages or perturbations in the harmonious flow of Qi.

We find in science a similar emphasis on energetics. The great findings of the Laws of Thermodynamics describe that matter and energy are the two grand states of reality, and that each is constantly transforming into the other (The First Law). The specific quantitative parameters of this universal matter-energy interchange have been worked out, reflecting modern science's emphasis on mathematical formulation. Energy, like Qi's definitions, can exist in many forms, each capable of transforming into the other. Among these states are potential energy, kinetic energy, chemical energy, and nuclear energy.
The Second Law of Thermodynamics describes how organized systems such as living creatures need a constant input of energy to maintain their structure in the face of the universal tendency for organization to decay (entropy). Biologists have found that the in-flow of energy is critical to organisms and to ecosystems, and have quantified the parameters of this flow into and through the various ecological layers of life. Life exists on earth only because of energy-yielding phenomenon which enter the earth's thin band of life at two places. Chemical energy enters at fissures in the ocean floors, as energy-rich molten streams of lava and steam spew forth from the ancient, molten center of the planet. Great mats of bacteria have developed around these fissures, ancient creatures that can extract energy from this fiery source to support their own life. Elaborate communities have developed around these acres of bacterial mats deep on the ocean's floor, feeding on the bacteria in level after level of energy transformation. (Other pockets of chemical energy being harvested by equally ancient creatures--the Archaeans--exist scattered nearer the surface of the planet, in the extreme environments favored by Archaeans such as hot springs and highly saline bodies of water.)

The second in-flow of energy supporting life on the planet is of course the sun, our own star. Solar energy rains upon the earth, and fortunately creatures from several domains and kingdoms of life have developed the ability to capture solar radiation and convert it to life-supporting uses--the process of photosynthesis. Photosynthetic capture of solar energy is widespread over the entire surface of the planet (both marine and terrestrial), with consequent levels of transformation of this biological energy flowing through the upper "trophic levels" (herbivores, carnivores, decomposers) of these ecosystems.
As we saw when considering the Tao above, Qi can thus be considered an informal, summative designation of these various energetic flows and transformations mapped out quantitatively and more precisely by modern science. Again like Tao, the term Qi cannot be admitted into customary scientific discourse, but can stand as a surprisingly consonant formulation that incorporates many of the general features of energy flow discovered by science.

Humans. Of course, we humans are most interested in our own place on the planet. In the Taoist view, humans are nothing extraordinary. We are simply one of the "ten thousand creatures." We have our own unique characteristics--primarily the complexity of our central nervous system, and our resulting hyper-sensitivity to Qi--but then every creature has its own unique characteristics. This uncompromising refusal to place humans on a pedestal is made clear throughout the Taoist source writings and in the distinctive Taoist approach to life.

"Everything has its own nature and its own function," says the Chuang Tze. "Nothing is without nature or function. Consider a small stalk or a great column, a leper or a beauty, things that are great or wicked, perverse, or strong. They are all one in Tao."
And elsewhere, the Chuang Tze asks these pointed questions: "If a man sleeps in a damp place, his back will ache and he will be half-paralyzed. But does this happen to eels? If a man lives up in tree, he will tremble with fright. But does this happen to monkeys? Of these three, who knows the right place to live? . . . Mao Chiang and Li Chi are considered beautiful by men. But if fish saw them, they would dive to the bottom of the river. If birds saw them, they would fly off. If deer saw them, they would run away. Of these four, who recognizes real beauty?"

Surprisingly enough, our Western science began as a Christian religious enterprise, the description of God's creation. But as the description of the world progressed, it became apparent that the creation differed in key respects from its formulation in the Christian religion. First, the earth was discovered not to be the center of the solar system, much less the universe. Then, most distressing, humans were discovered not to be fundamentally different than the rest of creation. We have no unique stamp of the "image of God" on us. Other creatures think, dream, sing, use language, create and use tools, and honor their dead, scientists have discovered. We humans did not emerge from a distinct creation event, but rather evolved from other apes, following the same rules in the same manner as every other plant and animal species has evolved from its ancestors. The blood in our veins is salty because our distant ancestors originated in the same primeval oceans as every other descendant of those ancestors. Our DNA uses the same nucleotides and the same genetic code as bacteria, redwoods, banana slugs, and every other creature on the planet. These and other findings make it very clear that the scientific view of the place of humans in the natural world is completely consonant with the Taoist outlook.

So we see that the fundamental ideas of Tao, Qi, and the place of humans are strikingly similar in Taoism and science. The similarities don't stop there. Let's briefly consider a few more.

Reversion. According to Taoists, the world works in cycles with things returning (reverting) sooner or later to the beginning point. "The ten thousand things rise and fall while the self watches their return," says the Tao Te Ching. "They grow and flourish and then return to the source. Returning to the source is the way of stillness, which is the way of nature." Elsewhere, Lao Tze writes that "Returning is the motion of the Tao."
Ecologists have determined that the elements present on the planet pass through a cyclic system of movements. Nitrogen, for example, passes from soil to plants to animals and, through decay, back to soil in a well-studied cycle (which is actually two linked cyclical processes, since the element may flow from the atmosphere to the soil, and then back to the atmosphere from the soil, due to the action of microorganisms). This nitrogen cycle operates relatively smoothly and functions by means of the activity of a host of living creatures (from bacteria to carnivores) and organic chemical processes. The early Taoists were well aware of certain aspects of this nitrogen cycle, for we read in the Tao Te Ching that "when the Tao is present in the Universe, the horses haul manure." That is, humans are participating in the grand cycling movement typical of the Tao by loading manure (human and animal) onto carts in the city and having horses haul it back to the countryside, to be put into the fields and its constituents subsequently reincorporated into crops.

Complementarity. As noted above in the discussion of Qi, Taoists (and many other outlooks in China) view reality as being composed of processes and phenomena that can generally be grouped into two great camps, yin and yang. The key point is that yin and yang are not opposed to each other. Rather, yin and yang are complementary; they balance each other. Indeed, they are both necessary components of the whole, as illustrated in the well-known "yin-yang" model of two interlocking curved shapes. This outlook contrasts with our typical Western outlook, which sees "opposites" as being starkly different, and antagonistic to each other. Think of our common views of good versus evil, male versus female, love versus hate, black versus white.

We biologists often find we can best describe natural processes in terms of two interacting systems, which frequently possess similarities to the yin-yang model. One example is the sympathetic and parasympathetic subsets of the autonomic nervous system studied by neurophysiologists. Ecologists speak of the evolution of organisms being governed by r-selection or by k-selection, that is, selection for competitive ability (surely a yang trait) or for productivity (clearly a yin trait). Selection pressures may change, and a k-selected species may transform to an r-selected "strategy," just as Taoists see yin and yang constantly transforming into each other.
Biopsychologists have discovered that the human cerebrum functions as two interconnected halves. The left half specializes in sequential, analytical thought processes, language, and time processing (surely yang activities). The right half specializes in Gestalt-type, intuitive thought processes, art, music, and spatial processing (clearly yin activities). Several psychologists, most notably Robert E. Ornstein, have commented on the remarkable parallels between these cerebral specializations and the yin-yang model.

In many areas of biological research, we scientists have learned how fruitless an "either-or" approach can be, in which one explanation must be correct to the exclusion of another. Instead, persuaded by experimental evidence, we frequently have been forced to adopt the yin-yang sort of view, in which various explanations are viewed not as opposed and exclusive, but rather as complementary. The "nature-nurture" debate is one example, as is the controversy among ecologists whether competition or predation structures biological communities. Long-distance navigational abilities by birds is yet another example.

Death. Taoists view death as an integral part of the natural process, not as an unnatural event, or an enemy of life. "Life arises from death, and death from life," the Chuang Tze claims. Elsewhere, Lao Tze advises a cripple who has just been rebuffed by Confucius, "Why don't you simply make him (Confucius) see that life and death are one thread, the same line viewed from different sides--and thus free him from his cuffs and fetters."

We biologists too view death as an essential part of the process of organic change that includes life. Without death, new life and new life forms could not occur. Those who study biogeochemical cycles find that death and the subsequent decay of organisms are prerequisite to recycling the elements necessary for new life to arise. We have already seen how nitrogen revolves from life to decay to the soil and back to life again in a perpetual cycle. Life arises from death, and death from life.
This view of the role of death in natural processes, of course, affects one's view of human death. The Taoists refused to view death as a calamity, unlike the Confucians, or even to fear death. Death was simply another transformation, and transformation is part of the Tao. Some Taoist texts indicate plainly that they were not sure what happened after death, but they certainly were not going to dread it.
"How can I tell if love of life is not a delusion," says the Chuang Tze. "How can I tell whether a man who fears death is not like a man who has left home and dreads returning? Lady Li was the daughter of a border guard of Ai. When the Duke of Chin first took her captive, she wept until her dress was soaked with tears. But once she was living in the Duke's palace, sharing his bed, and eating delicious food, she wondered why she had ever cried. How can I tell whether the dead are not amazed that they ever clung to life?"

In other instances, the Taoists simply seem to accept death as the end of one's existence as a personality. Note that this calm acceptance of the cessation of one's existence is not predicated on an afterlife, as in the transcendental Christian or Muslim traditions. "The true man of old knew nothing about loving life or hating death," says the Chuang Tze. "When he was born, he felt no elation. When he entered death, there was no sorrow. Carefree he went. Carefree he came. That was all. . . He accepted what was given with delight, and when it was gone, he gave it no more thought."
Although it is my experience that we scientists likewise seem to be divided on our approach to human death, it seems safe to say that the majority of us either accept death as the end of one's personality, or simply confess ignorance as to what happens.

Basis for similarities. Why these similarities between modern Western science and the ancient Chinese outlook of Taoism? The Tao Te Ching itself gives us the answer. "How do I know the universe is like this?" it asks. The answer follows directly: "By looking!" Here we see the root of the similarities: the methods employed by each are the same. We scientists base our knowledge on careful observation of the natural world. Even in the experimental method, I am observing a situation in which (hopefully!) only one variable has changed. And now we see that the Taoists also arrive at their outlook on the universe by observing it, indeed observing it with a clear, unfettered mind. "There is nothing like using restraint. Restraint begins with giving up one's own ideas," says the Tao Te Ching.

The Taoists of traditional China were people of the woods and mountains, and the urban gardens and parks. They spent a great deal of time simply sitting by streams or wandering through forests. Chinese landscape painting has pictured them over many centuries of superb paintings, quietly and attentively observing streams from a hut, or walking with a sharp eye and ear among groves of trees or bamboo: in nature, and alert to its features. Because Taoists knew the natural world intimately, nature metaphors and examples abound in the Tao Te Ching and the Chuang Tse.
"A man is born gentle and weak. At his death he is hard and stiff. Green plants are tender and filled with sap. At their death they are withered and dry." (Tao Te Ching)
"Chuang Tse replied, Have you ever watched a wildcat or a weasel? It crouches close to the ground and waits for its prey. Then it leaps up and down, first one way, then the other, until it catches and kills its prey." (Chuang Tse)
"My dependence is like that of the snake on his skin or of the cicada on his wings. . . Once upon a time, I--Chuang Tse--dreamed I was a butterfly flying happily here and there, enjoying life without knowing who I was. Suddenly I woke up and I was indeed Chuang Tse. Did Chuang Tse dream he was a butterfly, or did the butterfly dream he was Chuang Tse?" (Chuang Tse)
"Do you know the story of the praying mantis? . . . Do you know how a tiger trainer works? He knows when the tigers are hungry and when they are full. Thereby he is in touch with their fierce nature." (Chuang Tse)

Just as Taoism and science share a common way of gathering information upon which to build a view of reality, so they also share a common ultimate source of knowledge. In cases of contrasting views, the deciding judgment comes not from a book, nor from a person, nor from a supernatural being's revelations. The final arbiter is the phenomenon itself. The scientist goes back to the field, or back to the bench, and looks at the phenomenon again, using perhaps a new stain or new experiment. The Taoist goes back to the natural world and patiently, calmly watches the flow of the stream and the steady progression of seasonal changes. Reality itself, carefully observed, is the source of knowledge and the final arbiter in both these systems. "How do I know the universe is like this? By looking!"

Differences. It is important to admit, however, that even though there are fundamental similarities between Taoism and science, there are also some clear differences. Some of these ways in which the two differ are important.

Verbal argument. Taoists dislike argument and mistrust people with verbal facility. "Those who know do not talk. Those who talk do not know," the Tao Te Ching says. "Truthful words are not beautiful. Beautiful words are not truthful. Good men do not argue. Those who argue are not good," it says elsewhere. Most of us scientists, on the other hand, relish spirited exchange of opinions, either verbally or in print. We use the "peer review" system to judge grant requests and articles for publication. The most interesting section of scientific journals is the "Notes" section, containing critical comments on previously published articles. It is out of this climate of (sometimes unbridled) criticism of each other's ideas that scientific advances occur.

Machines. Taoists also dislike machines and harbor deep suspicions of those who use machines. The Tao Te Ching describes the ideal country as follows. "A small country has fewer people. Though there are machines that can work ten to a hundred times faster than man, they are not needed. . . Though there are boats and carriages, no one uses them. . . Men return to the knotting of rope in place of writing." Needless to say, this aversion to machines is absent in science, where machines are seen as boons to expand our range of observations. Indeed, it is impossible to conceive of modern science independent of the array of microscopes, oscilloscopes, spectrophotometers, centrifuges, calorimeters, and myriad other instruments which have opened up worlds of observation and modes of quantification virtually closed without them. To a large degree, the story of modern science is the story of the invention of the machines used in its investigations.

Experiments. Another very important difference is in the area of experimentation. Although it is true that objective observation is the crux of science, the most powerful use of this act is when the observation of one situation is compared with the observation of another situation identical to the first except in one respect--that one respect being the experimental (or independent) variable. By thus manipulating the phenomenon under observation, the effect of the variable may be induced. That's the crux of the way we scientists operate.
In Taoism, on the other hand, there is no mention of the experimental method, much less an expressed understanding of its power in the discovery and description of natural processes. Indeed, there is an unmistakable sense of distaste for human manipulation of the natural world. "Do you think you can take over the universe and improve it? I do not believe it can be done. The universe is sacred. You cannot improve it. If you try to change it, you will ruin it. If you try to hold it, you will lose it" (Tao Te Ching). When they express this view, Taoists are not thinking only of the efforts of evil, manipulative humans to change and control the world for their own selfish profit. The honest, sincere, goodly efforts of humans to improve the world are just as distasteful to Taoists. In the Taoist way of viewing reality, the world is just right just as it is. Any attempt to force it into some other configuration inevitably sullies it, regardless of the motive. Accept, accept, accept. That's the Taoist way.

Similarities in perspective. It remains to emphasize that the fundamental similarities we have noted between Taoism and modern science are just that--similarities, not identities. I am not arguing that Taoists have always known everything that science has arrived at in the past two centuries.
Thousands of years ago, Taoists knew that cycles were common and important in natural systems. They did not know that the element nitrogen occurs in the atmosphere, that it is fixed into nitrate by microorganisms in the soil, and that plants take it up in this form and combine it with hydrogen and carbon atoms to form protein molecules.
Taoism has known from its earliest days that that humans possess two aspects to their personalities, one assertive, rational, and verbal, the other receptive, intuitive, and nonverbal. They did not know that the former set of properties are primarily processed by the left cerebral hemisphere, the latter by the right. Nor did they know that the brain is composed of millions of neurons which communicate with each other by means of chemicals crossing gaps between the cells.
Taoists saw thousands of years ago that life forms on this planet were endlessly transforming and had arisen from a common ancestral origin. They did not know that differential reproductive fitness resulting from natural selection powered these evolutionary changes, nor did they wonder whether the changes occurred mainly by the gradual accumulation of minor changes (a la neo-Darwinism) or by sudden major changes (a la punctuated equilibrium).

Even with these caveats in mind, it is nothing short of remarkable to find, across a seemingly vast chasm of separating time, culture, and outlook, the degree of essential similarities between the ancient outlook of Taoism and the modern scientific enterprise. This set of similarities argues strongly for a fundamental continuity of mental processes within the human mind, as well as for a fundamental continuity in the structure of reality. The early Taoists, lacking an appreciation for mathematical models and the systematic use of experiments (except perhaps in the alchemy movement), did nonetheless come a surprisingly long way toward certain aspects of modern science by adhering to the cornerstone of that science--careful, objective observation of the natural world.

These considerations are reflected in the findings of the noted English biochemist, sinologist, and historian of science Joseph Needham, who showed by careful scholarship that Taoism was the fertile ground out of which early science arose in China, and led early science in the West for the first fourteen centuries A.D.--but that's another story. You may be interested in pursuing this fascinating story in his massive, multi-volume Science and Civilization in China, begun in 1956, or (much easier reading!) in his 1981 summary, Science and Traditional China.

The wonder of it all is how far the early Taoists did come merely by observation, and doubtless by sharp, informed intuition proceeding out of that observation. When generations hence look back on our science of today, they will doubtless wonder at our ignorance and the incompleteness of what we thought we knew. We can only hope that some few among them in that future day will be intelligent and fair enough to realize that, for all our shortcomings, we are doing our best to make sense out of our existence in a strange and beautiful world, in a way that respects the integrity and reality of that world. Just as were the early Taoists so long ago, and so far away from us today.

An early version of the above thoughts was published in 1986 in Zygon, vol. 21, no. 3, pp. 297-317.

"Learning to Learn" Workshop
This two-hour workshop, offered fall and spring, covers the steps and tools for effective learning, and guides you in practicing these tools. Topics covered include study habits, study environment, learning styles, outlining, note-taking, scheduling, prioritizing, distilling information, positive attitude, and not getting stuck. The cost is $40/​high school student, with parents encouraged to attend for $10.
Workshops for businesses are presented and priced appropriately; contact me.

The next scheduled high-school student workshops are
Saturday, February 28, 2009 from 2-4 pm
Sunday, March 1 from 6-8 pm
Monday, March 2 from 7-9 pm
Sessions are held at the Chico Sports Club conference room on Cohasset Avenue, Chico.
Space is limited. To pre-register for your desired session contact me.

Tutorials
Tutoring in biology, health science, and history at the high school level is offered, either on a regular weekly schedule, or at particular times during the semester. Individual tutoring is $20/​session; group tutoring is $15/​participant/​session. For further information or to set up tutoring contact me.

For further information, and questions about workshops and tutoring, feel free to contact me.

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The Father of the Museum. In the summer of 2003, the Board of Directors of the Northern California Natural History Museum adopted a resolution honoring Dr. Raymond Barnett as "The Father of the Museum." The text of the resolution follows:

Whereas, Dr. Raymond Barnett recognized the need to explore, conserve and celebrate the many wonders of Northern California's natural history; and
Whereas, Dr. Raymnd Barnett created a vision and plan to share the grandeur of Northern California with the campus, community and beyond; and
Whereas, Dr. Raymond Barnett worked tirelessly to develop this vision into a compelling program, business model and museum design; and
Whereas, Dr. Raymond Barnett presented his concept to countless groups, organizations and individuals in order to gain enthusiastic support for this vision; and
Whereas, Dr. Raymond Barnett's exceptional efforts resulted in the formation of a prestigious community Board, the donation of a prime building site, and the development of funding to initiate the first stage of constructing the museum; now, therefore be it

Resolved, that the Northern California Natural History Museum (NCNHM) Board expresses its sincere appreciation for the contributions of Dr. Barnett's vision to the quality of life in Northern California; and, be it further
Resolved, that Dr. Raymond Barnett shall be known as the "Father of the Northern California Natural History Museum at CSU, Chico."

Signed by Dr. Judy Sitton, NCNHM Board President, 15 July 2003

To reach the Northern California Natural History Museum's award-winning web site, click here