Lessons from I Ching: reconceiving intercultural communication from the concept of change.

Holt, Rich ; Chang, Hui-Ching

Introduction

In academic discourse, it is common for the impact of a particular work to be overestimated; this is certainly not the case with I Ching, or Book of Changes (1), one of a few standard works of scholarship (especially among those that encompass such a broad range of human inquiry) that consistently meets and exceeds expectations. In introducing just about any discussion of I Ching and the search for answers to almost any question about any human endeavor, there is the inevitable comment acknowledging the book's status as one of the most influential in human history.

We can only add our voices to that consensus. Communication studies is merely one field where I Ching has made an impact (for pioneering work conjoining I Ching and studies of communication, see, among several examples, Chen [1996, 2004] and Holt and Chang [1992]). Outside our discipline, I Ching has informed an astonishing amount and variety of scholarship, of which the following examples comprise only a very small sample: alternative medicine (Gonzalez-Correra, 2004); architecture (Xu, 1998); biology (Petoukhov, 1999); dance (Dalva & Cunningham, 1988); history (Cambray, 2005); linguistics (Osgood & Richards, 1973); literature (Stevenson, 1997); mathematics (Brown, 1982); oriental studies (Ng, 1997); philosophy (Tenhouten, 1995); poetry (Michael, 1983); psychology (Ma, 2005); religion (Lee, 1996); semiotics (Lu, 2008); technical communication (Ding, 2003); and the visual arts (Russek, Scheinbaum, & Porter, 2004).

The applicability of I Ching to these widely variant endeavors is testimony to the universality of its themes. I Ching remains one of the few works to successfully defend a truly "grand theory": the sixty-four I Ching hexagrams purport to describe, in their entirety, all patterns of human intercourse. Its insights, drawn and reinforced over thousands of years of human history, describe patterns applicable to all human affairs, regardless of time and place.

We use I Ching as a tool for reflection and exploration of expanded possibilities, focusing on metaphors and asking the book's guidance about the situation in which those involved in intercultural communication see themselves. We take as our point of departure a single hexagram, Chia Jen (number 37, "The Family") to look at the questions of where we are, as a community; where we came from; and where we are going. We use these insights to suggest ways to improve the field in the future. It is this use of I Ching that led one source (Hutchinson Dictionary, 1995) to remark, "It [the Book of Changes] is proto-Taoist in that it is not used for determining the future but for making the enquirer aware of inherent possibilities and unconscious tendencies" (p. 170).

I Ching Hexagram as Generative Metaphor and the Three Analytical Stances

The basis of our approach rests on Schon's (1995) notion of the generative metaphor. As is well known in studies of thought and creativity, the generative metaphor acknowledges that the "... metaphoric language one chooses to describe something constrains the way in which one comes to think about it" (Holt & Chang, 1992, p. 96). Schon insists that our thinking about social problems and their solutions is structured to a considerable extent by the metaphors we use to describe them. As an example, he refers to a group of engineers who were only able to devise a better paintbrush after they stopped looking at it as something which smeared paint on a surface, and began looking at it as a pump. The "paintbrush as pump" metaphor allowed them to address novel design issues that led to a greatly enhanced product, which probably would not have occurred while they were looking at the problem in the old way (Schon, 1995).

Likewise, the process of problem-setting, largely governed by metaphors, conditions the solutions that we eventually find. Turning the issue over, Schon argues that those who think about social problems can take a more proactive approach by deliberately adopting a different, fresh metaphor, one that compels rethinking of the relevant issues and evidence. Schon's term for this linguistic mechanism is generative metaphor, so called because it generates new insight through forcing those who apply it to rethink patterns to which they may have become accustomed while using other, older, "non-generative" metaphors.

In looking at the field of intercultural communication, we turned to the hexagram "The Family" as the basic source for inspirational generative metaphors. The field's preoccupation with cultural uniqueness and differences has exacerbated a rigid set of non-generative metaphors that can be aptly summarized as reflecting an "ideology of differences" (per Parks' [1982] notion of "ideology of intimacy" in interpersonal communication). This is the widespread perception that the most interesting aspects of intercultural communication studies are those which focus on the unique qualities of cultures--in other words, what makes them different from one another.

Such focus tends to blind us to the fact that, as a field, we have a lot to share, in addition to what we communicate to each other. When we choose "The Family," this new generative metaphor allows us to focus on what we share and how this serves to structure the ways in which we express our differences. Intercultural communication scholars would do well to think of these commonalities as a source or foundation upon which surface differences are expressed. Also implied is the conception of change that similarities and differences are embracing and reverting to each other.

More specifically, we rely on three analytic stances. First, we discuss elements of the focal hexagram (Chia Jen), its judgment and image, along with pertinent commentary, used primarily as examples, on some of the six constituent lines of that hexagram. Also included in this discussion is analysis of what happens when a moving line causes the basic hexagram to change into another. This comprehensive analysis lays the foundation upon which additional analyses are conducted.

A second, less common, type of analysis is the sequencing of the hexagrams. Each hexagram is thought to be related to the one numerically preceding it in a certain way, and in Book III (Commentaries) of the Wilhelm (1981) translation there is for each hexagram a section called "THE SEQUENCE" which explains how the given hexagram emerged from the one preceding it. Looking at the commentary on how "The Family" emerges from its predecessor (Ming I, 36, or "Darkening of the Light"), and also how its qualities result in its successor (Kuei, 38, or "Opposition"), we find a host of suggestions about the development of intercultural communication.

The third and final technique is analysis and comparison of a set of four trigrams (three-line patterns) to show both inner and outer workings of "The Family": the upper and lower trigrams (sometimes called "outer" and "inner"), and also what are called nuclear trigrams (also inner and outer). The specific lines comprising these trigrams are taken up as we turn to these findings. While each of the analytical stances provides unique insight, we have also, at various points, integrated them to explicate particular points.

Seeing the Scholarly Community as Family: An Introduction to Chia Jen, or "The Family"

One of the most exciting and mysterious discoveries about I Ching has to do with the way in which, beginning at any point in the work (and this can be determined through the oracle or just by preference), there emerge patterns and paths that prove startlingly enlightening and revealing. So perfect is the fit that the insights that the selected hexagram provide are seen as having been "made for" the question one is examining. This phenomenon is testimony to the internal consistency of the patterns described in I Ching, a reinforcement of a basic underlying template of simplicity with centuries of systemic thinking imposed on it. Indeed, systems theorists might see I Ching as the ultimate source confirming equifinality, the principle that a given end state can be reached by a number of different paths (von Bertanlanffy, 1968). Such observations are particularly applicable in the case of the hexagram Chia Jen.

Because of the importance of kin relationships in Chinese cultures, Chia Jen describes one of the foundations upon which such cultures rest. As Confucius famously said, order in the family is the basis for order in society and the world; Wilhelm (1981) concurs, stating, "THE FAMILY shows the laws operative within the household that, transferred to outside life, keep the state and the world in order" (p. 143). Chia Jen describes just such an orderly family, arguing that what keeps it orderly is the strength of the woman, as wife: "THE JUDGMENT. THE FAMILY. The perseverance of the woman furthers" (p. 143). When the woman is in the appropriate position (here, the second line, the center line of the lower, or inner, trigram) and all the other lines representing the other family relationships are in their appropriate places (as they are), then order is achieved. This order is the foundation which makes outward expression substantial, as noted in THE IMAGE: "Wind comes forth from fire: The image of THE FAMILY. Thus the superior man has substance in his words and duration in his way of life" (p. 144). As Wilhelm explains,

 Heat creates energy: this is signified by the wind
 stirred up by the fire and issuing forth from it. This
 represents influence working from within outward.
 The same thing is needed in the regulation of the
 family. Here too the influence on others must
 proceed from one's own person." (p. 144)

Chia Jen is perfectly suited for talking about intercultural communication: as a community, we need to address a multitude of often incompatible views with an emphasis as much on what we share as on how we differ. If we can address these issues appropriately--by knowing the appropriate places, or roles, for the various forms of knowledge in our body of work--then what comes from our field will have more substance. What follows, as we discuss the finer points of Chia Jen, using the three analytical stances we propose, will provide a wealth of suggestions for grounding ourselves in just this kind of substance.

"The Family" as a Metaphor for Intercultural Communication Studies

Notice the marked emphasis on categorization in Chia Jen, with the judgment and image both strongly suggesting that, within this hexagram, every relationship is as it should be. Even that which would normally be considered out of place (primarily the yang line [nine] in the sixth place, customarily the position where one would expect a favorable yin line) represents the father, or the authority in the family, and so is actually a good line in a good place--hence the favorable judgment on that line, "His work commands respect. In the end good fortune comes" (Wilhelm, 1981, p. 147).

Many intercultural communication researchers have at one time or another inveighed against categorization. Some complain about dichotomies (Chang, Holt, & Luo, 2006); some about "Westcentric" models (Chen, 2006; Miike, 2007); some about the tendency to reject "area studies" (Chang & Holt, in press); and so on. Nearly all these critiques rest on being uncomfortable with categories. Of course, the dictates of methodology, not to mention the "prison of language," make it impossible to speak in anything other than categories, though it is always hoped that we retain the understanding that we are doing our task of accurate representation imperfectly and under notable constraints. Upon encountering the strict role categories of family assignments in Chia Jen, then, one might be discouraged, even thinking this is not an appropriate hexagram to use in trying to clarify the dynamics of a still relatively young and emergent field such as intercultural communication.

However, I Ching is far more subtle. It is worth recalling that, in the use of I Ching as oracle (its primary use) the "meanings" or "judgments" appended to each line are to be invoked when, and only when, the line is "moving," that is, when whatever specific means are being used to generate the hexagram (to "throw" it, as with coins or yarrow stalks) lead to a line that is unstable. This unstable line can either be a yang or unbroken line (referred to as a "nine") or a yin or broken line (referred to as a "six"). Such a line is called "moving"--moving lines (also called "old" lines) change to their opposites, that is, "young" lines of the other type (yin to yang and vice versa). This means there is an "original" hexagram, but that when the old lines are changed there is a resulting hexagram reflecting the switch to the young lines. Thus, no matter what line the original hexagram identifies as a supposedly "fixed" prescription for a given role within the family, if that is a moving or old line, it will without fail not be that in the resulting hexagram!

This tells us, above all, that Chinese commentators did not expect the relationships in the family to be reified and taken as unchanging; so it is with intercultural communication studies. To show how this works, let us take a moving line, here, the nine in the top position. In the Wilhelm translation, a great deal is made of the necessity of having the top position in Chia Jen occupied by a strong male (symbolizing a father around whom the structure of the family is configured.

The original hexagram we chose suggested that the head of the household (the father) is the person who holds the family together. Certainly the field of intercultural communication has any number of such figures, some of them male (William Gudykunst, E. T. Hall, Geert Hofstede, and so on) but also some female (Ruth Benedict, Young Kim, Margaret Mead, and so on). These figures provide solid foundations (rules, if you will) upon which to base future work. But as a relatively fledgling field (still young, in other words), we can only depend on this foundational scholarship for so long. Assuming the top line is that one that is "old," it will then change: but into what?

With a moving top line (and remember, we are just proposing this as a possible moving line, in order to see the result), the outcome hexagram will be 63, Chi Chi ("After Completion"). This is where the dynamism of I Ching comes into play. Following this potential configuration out, we see that, based on the emphasis on leadership (of the strong father figure) in Chia Jen, one is led to a derived hexagram in which all lines are in the places they are "supposed to be" (typically and with notable exceptions, yang lines "should be" in the first, third, and fifth places, yin lines in the second, fourth, and sixth). As the Wilhelm (1981) commentary puts it: "The transition from confusion to order is completed, and everything is in its proper place even in particulars. The strong lines are in the strong places, the weak lines in the weak places" (p. 244). Based on the transition from firm leadership (nine in the top position in Chia Jen), everything seems to have turned out well and is in perfect order. Isn't that what everyone wants?

Actually, it isn't. According to the principle of reversion expressed most famously in one of the central works of Taoism, Tao Te Ching, whenever anything reaches the point of its fullest manifestation, it must revert to its opposite. Thus, when order is complete, it begins its inexorable march toward disorder. In this moment of "perfect order," then, are the seeds of chaos (and, of course, vice versa, chaos reaching its maximum contains the raw material for eventual order). This means that Chi Chi "indicates the conditions of a time of climax, which necessitate the utmost caution" (Wilhelm, 1981, p. 244), memorably expressed in the THE IMAGE: "Water over fire: the image of the condition in AFTER COMPLETION. Thus the superior man takes thought of misfortune and arms himself against it in advance" (Wilhelm, 1981, p. 245).

This insight has profound implications for intercultural communication. When a field of study emerges, it does not do so out of a vacuum: it must rely on what has gone previously. For our field, these sources were several: anthropology, psychology, and sociology, to name only a few (Leeds-Hurwitz, 1990). In order for the fledgling field to move beyond disorder, we had to depend on knowledge that was, frankly, not entirely suited to intercultural communication. To take just one example, Western psychology, a chief source of knowledge about the human mind, proceeds on the assumption that behavior arises from internal mental states, a position which (as activity theorists [Engestrom, 1987] remind us) discounts the role of sociohistorical environment in the development of mind. This represents a serious disconnect from cultural influences, which are the very heart of inquiries in intercultural communication. Yet, given the history of thought, we have had little choice but to depend on what we know about mind, and what we know is based in Western psychology.

Thus, it is clear that the dependence on authority in our "family" is only effective up to a point and the seemingly set categories are always in the process of destabilization. If that were all we had to depend on, then the "order" implied in our approaches might lead to a situation in which everything was under control--and that would be the beginning of deterioration toward disorder.

In the early days of intercultural communication, the field depended on established theories and perspectives in other disciplines. In the effort to establish an independent identity, scholars turned to perspectives (spearheaded by influential figures such as the late Bill Gudykunst, along with his colleagues and students) that espoused a primarily quantitative, social scientific approach. It could be argued that this was precisely the strong position in the still fledgling area of study that was needed. Despite its limitations (principally with respect to its inability to sense or account for the intricacies and subtleties of intercultural context) this paradigm nevertheless provided entree into mainstream communication research venues, compelling a recognition "outside the family" that intercultural communication was, after all, "for real."

Let us advance our reflection on this possible nine at the top of Chia Jen, as an "old" line, a bit further. If we take that final line as moving, we see in the imposition of order the seeds of eventual conflict. Once the mainstream communication research community admitted they had an "acceptable" ("acceptable," that is, to this community) approach to the study of this unknown, "wild" new field, that model was taken as the template for future research. In other words, and in line with the imagery of Chia Jen, the work "commands respect" and "in the end good fortune comes" (Wilhelm, 1981, p. 147). Notice that the commentary does not say simply, "good fortune," but "in the end good fortune comes." According with the principle of reversion, it could very well be that the order promised by this phase of intercultural communication in which social science dominated was a necessary but still temporary phase on the road to deeper understanding of what we study.

A good way to see this is in how the field is coming to acknowledge and attempting to grapple with what is said to be a Eurocentric bias in intercultural communication studies. In an upcoming special issue of the Southern Communication Journal, edited by Katherine Hendrix, the co-authors of this essay, along with several other contributors, deal with the upheaval in the field over the exclusion of some kinds of communication research that the mainstream community deems not sufficiently rigorous. Of course, the rules for "rigor" are based on standard methods for social scientific research and these are nearly always quantitative. Under the "iron grip" of the quantitative social science paradigm, there is a tendency too easily to dismiss knowledge that our field has proved time and again is essential to understanding intercultural communication. Often this kind of knowledge is consigned to the category of "area studies," and is thus viewed with suspicion because they are presumably based on an "insider's" cultural knowledge and hence are regarded as too subjective to be of value to the dispassionate stance thought necessary for quantitative social science research. To be sure, this could be seen as the imposition of order, specified to be necessary for the nine in the top line of the hexagram (the original hexagram, Chia Jen).

However, if, in order to actualize the judgment on that line, it would have to be moving (or "old"), it will inevitably change into its opposite, which means it turns from being strong, or active, to being weak, or passive. The resultant hexagram, Chi Chi (number 63, "After Completion"), depicts a situation that is not simply not particularly favorable, but in fact the harbinger of misfortune, against which the superior man is warned to arm himself in advance. THE JUDGMENT is similar in its cautionary tone: "AFTER COMPLETION. Success in small matters. Perseverance furthers. At the beginning good fortune, at the end disorder" (Wilhelm, 1981, p. 244).

It is possible to map the self-satisfied attitude depicted as an overall judgment on Chi Chi to the response of the communication research community once it considered social science research as the preferred methodological perspective. At first everything seemed, finally, to be in order: there was a predictable, dependable way to research what had at first seemed an impossibly vast area of study, a whole world of disparate and variable cultures. All studies in this specialization could be brought under the microscope of quantitative social science research, just as had been done with the majority of the rest of the communication specializations, from mass, to organizational, to small group, to interpersonal, and so on.

Yet in commenting on Chi Chi as an outcome, I Ching makes an interesting point about the elements involved: the primary trigrams are Li (lower, fire) and K'an (upper, water). (In passing, both in Chia Jen and Chi Chi, these two trigrams [fire and water] predominate, both in their original formative positions, and as nuclear trigrams--the discussion of the latter we will take up later). In explicating the commentary on the image, the Wilhelm (1981) translation notes the following:

 When water in a kettle hangs over fire, the two
 elements stand in relation and thus generate energy
 (cf. the production of steam). But the resulting
 tension demands caution. If the water boils over,
 the fire is extinguished and its energy is lost. If the
 heat is too great, the water evaporates into the air.
 These elements here are brought into relation and
 thus generating energy are by nature hostile to each
 other. Only the most extreme caution can prevent
 damage. (p. 245)

So, to pursue our mapping of the evolution of the field of intercultural communication (based on the original hexagram Chia Jen, moving line nine at the top, changing over into Chi Chi (2)), what does the conflict between elements mean? The lower trigram Li (fire) is dominated by yang lines (yang-yin-yang), and hence could be considered to represent the rise of the quantitative paradigm, which promised, in the end, that "good fortune" will come. The upper trigram K'an, in contrast, is dominated by yin lines (yin-yang-yin), and hence could be considered to represent the entrenched, culturally sensitive, primarily qualitative approaches to understanding that the quantitative approach thought necessary to remedy. As I Ching says, these two elements do not readily mix, but it precisely in their tension and difference from one another that they promise a favorable outcome. Dichotomization may be something we have to live with, but at least I Ching offers a memorable reminder that the two "opposing" sides of a dichotomy can be united at a higher level of perception.

Several lessons can be discerned from contemplating these ideas. First, knowing that the two elements are incompatible, we are warned that misfortune may result (but also that it can be forestalled). This corresponds to the warning we should carry with us at all times that knowledge is not something that can be safely settled upon: it is always moving, always dynamic, always changing. It is only when we think we have grasped it in its entirety that we lose sight of what it is. So it is no surprise that what is generally true of knowledge is particularly true of knowledge in intercultural communication, with its dependence on what occurs in so many varied and complex cultures. We always carry with us the uncomfortable and inescapable knowledge that whatever we discover about cultures may be modified by knowledge that has not yet been brought to light.

A second lesson is that, given the inevitability of the conditions just described, the only correct approach is to be prepared for the disorder that is always a possibility. Water and fire do not mix, but they do produce steam. I Ching puts forward two possibilities for how things can go wrong. First, it states that water can boil over, extinguishing fire; to pursue our analogy, this would be like the subjective understanding of a culture "putting out" the light (li, fire) brought by the (so-called) objective process. Water is a suggestive and appropriate metaphor here, because of its all-encompassing nature, absorbing and engulfing, surrounding and encompassing. A second possibility that can lead to problems is when the fire is too intense (too hot) and the water thus evaporates. Again, pursuing the analogy, we can think that the "light" of quantitative social science could become so harsh that all the subtlety of more subjective, ethnographic knowledge could be "burned up" in the resulting intermixture.

The third lesson is that the negative outcomes we just described may really not be inevitable, provided one realizes that it is imbalance that leads to problems, not the differences in the two elements (a given). Notice also that the superior man is advised to "arm himself" against misfortune in advance: that is, he must take precautionary measures, proactively. In terms of our field, this would be similar to the (comparatively few) voices who have eschewed the confinements of specialization to embrace an approach that already recognizes the essence of fire and water, namely, the effort that it takes to make them work together.

There is one more interesting contour to the judgment on Chia Jen; it is useful, provided one is not put off by implicit sexism (and in dealing with I Ching, one never should be): "THE JUDGMENT: THE FAMILY. The perseverance of the woman furthers" (Wilhelm, 1981, p. 143). Despite emphasis on the strength of the position of the yang line (nine at the top of the hexagram) it is not on the male/father that the foundation of the family rests. Rather, it is the perseverance of the female/wife. Here is how Wilhelm's (1981) translation puts it:

 The foundation of the family is the relationship
 between husband and wife. The tie that holds the
 family together lies in the loyalty and perseverance
 of the wife. Her place is within (second line), while
 that of the husband is without (fifth line)3. (p. 143-144)

The more general counsel offered is that one should seek nothing by means of force, but quietly confine oneself to one's duties (p. 146). However, if responsibility for maintaining order in the house rests with the male master, why is there such an emphasis on the female, softer force, particularly since it is not simply upon the wife that order depends, but literally everyone in the house, who in Chia Jen are all in their appropriate places? The commentary in Book III explains:

While the Judgment speaks only of the perseverance of woman, because of the fact that the hexagram consists of the two elder daughters, Sun and Li, who are in their proper places--the elder above, the younger below--the commentary is based on the two rulers of the hexagram, the nine in the fifth place and the six in the second, and speaks accordingly of both man and woman, whose proper places are respectively without and within. These positions of man and woman correspond with the relative positions of heaven and earth, hence this is called the greatest concept in nature (literally, heaven and earth). (Wilhelm, 1981, p. 570)

The real purpose of I Ching is to make a point about the cosmos, or at least that portion of it accessible to human beings. Let us continue with our assumption that it is the yin force (again, analogous to depth, or qualitative, understanding) of intercultural communication that is the basis of the family. In that case, it might be useful to regard the top, moving line (in our proposed hexagrams, Chia Jen to Chi Chi) as the attempt to make intercultural communication palatable to the broader scholarly community as the customary projection of the male principle into the world at large (visibly so, because it is in the upper or outer trigram). In Chinese cultures, there is a rather humorous cultural precept that husbands are only able to go forth and proclaim that everything is in order because the wife manages affairs in the home so that they are actually are in order!

It may be a bit like this in intercultural communication: we could see the foundation of the field as always having been depth knowledge gained through introspection and methods that act to change the researcher in complicated and unforeseen ways (usually identified as subjective or qualitative). The incursion into quantitative methods is something of an affectation, a necessity that the male must announce (a pretense, if you will, that things are in order) when actually it is the enduring, nurturing power of the woman that makes certain things actually are in order.

One reason we are able to make this incursion into the symbolism of Chia Jen is that, in line with the multiplicity of forces in qualitative approaches to any given example of socioculturally situated communication, the female or yin principle that we assume governs qualitative approaches recognizes layers of meaning inherent in what may appear to be straightforward and uncomplicated episodes of intercultural communication. Likewise, in "The Family," there is not just one role leading to a description of the situation, but a whole array of relationships, all of which must be in order for the conditions specified by the hexagram to be actualized. Book III (Commentaries) contains this particularly telling comment:

Among the members of the family there are strict rulers; these are the parents. When the father is in truth a father and the son a son, when the elder brother is an elder brother and the younger brother a younger brother, the husband a husband, and the wife a wife, then the house is on the right way. When the house is set in order, the world is established in a firm course. (Wilhelm, 1981, p. 570)

More than one reader, encountering that passage, might be put off by its seeming redundancy, as it lists and then specifies matching for each and every relationship in the household. With time and increasing familiarity with I Ching, though, it becomes clear that they all have to be accounted for--in other words, it is not sufficient, for example, for the parents to perform their roles appropriately if the siblings do not do likewise. The point being made is that the home, as a microcosm of the world, is the center of everything--and when it comes to maintaining the center of everything, you have to rely on the basis of deep understanding of culture.

Obviously, this discussion opens a vast array of things to think about. We feel there are three lessons to be learned from "mapping" the original hexagram Chia Jen (as well as the possible derivative hexagram, Chi Chi) onto the current status of our field. First, we may regard it as a tremendous advantage that both qualitative and quantitative research have made such a profound impact on intercultural communication. In a way, it was the pressures of making ourselves known to a community that did not initially accept qualitative research that led us to develop ourselves in both directions, just as the effortful union of fire and water drive the development of the original and derivative hexagrams. A second advantage is that we are aware of the ongoing need to find appropriate places (roles in the family, so to speak) for the differing voices in our discipline. Of course, this is a problem with any discipline, but it is particularly so for intercultural communication, because of the vast differences in the sources of our knowledge and the disparate cultures in which they arise. Like the consistently demanding effort exerted by the husband and wife to ensure order in the family, so our two predominant modes of inquiry must always be on the lookout for ways to make sure everyone's voice is heard. Third and finally, these insights are advantageous because they focus on the dynamism inherent in knowledge about intercultural communication. As we contemplate hexagrams and how their lines and structures inevitably change, we are also reminded to remain humble in the face of knowledge. If we contemplate I Ching, we never forget that what know can always change at a moment's notice.

Hexagram Sequence: Tracking the Evolution, Backward and Forward

One type of interpretation not often used in exploring hexagrams (at least when I Ching is used as an oracle to answer specific questions posed to it [possibly its most common use]) is the sequence of hexagrams. Following a tradition said to go back to King Wen (progenitor of the Chou dynasty), each hexagram, based on its meaning and interpretation, is said to grow out of or evolve from the previous hexagram. This is commonly expressed in the Wilhelm translation (Book III, The Commentaries) under a category labeled simply as "The Sequence." Although commentaries on sequence seem (for the most part) logical and consistent, there is, as one might expect with a work that has emerged into modernity from so many and shadowy sources, considerable disagreement about the King Wen tradition. No less an authority than the formidable Wing-Tsit Chan (1963) opens the whole set of traditions to question:

 It is here that much of Chinese philosophical
 speculation has been based. Tradition has ascribed
 the Eight Trigrams to legendary Fu-Hsi, the sixty-four
 hexagrams to King Wen (r. 1171-1122 B.C.),
 the two texts ... to him or Duke Chou (d. 1094 B.C.)
 and the "ten wings" to Confucius. Most modern
 scholars have rejected this attribution, but they are
 not agreed on when and by whom the book was
 produced. Most probably it is a product of many
 hands over a long period of time, from the fifth or
 sixth century B.C. to the third or fourth century B.C.
 (p. 262)

We need not enter this scholarly debate, except to note that the tradition of sequencing to which Chan refers is clearly a legitimate one. The sequence attributed to Wen describes a scheme that provides a reasonable way to see the sixty-four hexagrams as a coherent whole evolving in specific directions. Regardless of whether the tradition is "accurate" in conveying what the ancients might have thought concerning the sequence, there is no question that, given the impact of the Wilhelm translation (strongly predominant over all others), the comments on the sequence contained in Wilhelm are the most influential available. In fact, Wilhelm's translation is one of the few that even includes commentaries on the sequence. Even though they have always been a large part of Chinese scholarly work on I Ching, most English translations do not acknowledge or discuss the sequence of the hexagrams.

Then, too, proof of a pattern's effectiveness lies in how well it does its job. The process to be explained--movement from "Darkening" (Injury) to "Family" (Protection) to "Opposition" (Smaller Estrangements)--not only provides insight into past and present, but a good estimate of the future, or at least the suggestion of a number of alternative trajectories we might we wish to consider.

The movement from Ming I to Chia Jen to K'uei suggests one accurate and revealing narrative explaining the development of intercultural communication. The field initially developed its concerns out of what might be taken as injury (as in "Darkening of the Light"), a time when, threatened by a predominantly monologic (or received) view of communication research not necessarily in accord with our interests, we retreated into our "family," to studies of what we knew intimately, simply because we had been acculturated into them since birth. And when we looked for people with whom to form relationships, we looked to the "appropriate" relationships in the family, in line with the Confucian belief that once order in the family is achieved, there will be order beyond. We looked inside, not outside, that is, to "our own people," not to those in the broader communication research community where we felt that we still had yet to attain our status as fully fledged members. We turned to the family with whom, in response to perceived difference from the "outside" world, we shared a sense of alienation, namely, those from research cultures where our deepest insights about communication were often dismissed as merely "area studies" or as "things you didn't have to 'really' research but that you already knew about."

It is also to the sequencing of the hexagrams that we can turn for a possible reason about what might have happened, or what emerged out of those family relationships. According to the sequence, "The Family" leads to "Opposition," where, as we have seen, inevitably misunderstandings develop. What is likely in a community of researchers bound together primarily by their own idiosyncratic interests (yet under the umbrella of common cause) is that schisms develop, just as in the family, the more you know about your family members, the more "opportunities" there are for discord--and yet above all they still remain family, people to whom you are bound.

So, contemplating I Ching's hexagram sequences, we can see a movement away from injury, to protection--"firm seclusion" within the family--to opposition, where closeness within the family leads to inevitable discord, though the latter is not of a particularly serious nature. As THE JUDGMENT says, "OPPOSITION. In small matters, good fortune," and further:

When people live in opposition and estrangement they cannot carry out a great undertaking in common; their points of view diverge too widely. In such circumstances one should above all not proceed too brusquely, for that would only increase the existing opposition; instead, one should limit oneself to producing gradual effects in small matters. Here success can still be expected, because the situation is such that the opposition does not preclude all agreement." (Wilhelm, 1981, pp. 147-148)

It seems as if we have reached a point where we can comfortably disagree with one another, and where our differences cannot drive us permanently apart. However, I Ching encourages us to think about the natural process by which we reached this vantage point. Our allegiances with each other arose, not necessarily out of compatible interests, but more out of a sense of "us against the world" and, even at that point, the sense of response to those "outside the family" involved more serious consequences and considerations (the "darkening" thought to have led to actual "injury"), leading us to adopt a view that, due to the degree of sensitivity and defensiveness among our "family," probably prevented us from taking any conflicts we had with each other out of the family and into the world at large. Just as families often have to put on a front in order not to threaten either the reputation of the family or the "face" of its individual members, so at one point early in our history did we have to sacrifice the value we place on honest and straightforward debate and discussion was in many cases abated in the interests of presenting a common front to those who we felt did not necessarily share our goals and aspirations.

Although our current topic is sequencing, some light can be shed by noting a couple of items from the individual lines of Chia Jen. The first line (or, "nine at the beginning"), states, "Firm seclusion within the family. Remorse disappears." Explaining this, Wilhelm comments, "The line is at the beginning, in the lowest place; hence it represents the time when the will of an individual has not yet changed for the worse. Here is the point at which to intervene and prevent change" (p. 571). Since "The Family," overall, depicts a situation in which there is the possibility of deterioration based on lack of actualization of family roles, it is interesting that the nine at the beginning is seen as predecessor to the running down of the family structure (to use terminology from general systems theory) into chaos. If we apply this insight to our field, it cautions about what to expect if the roles of investigators are allowed to deviate too much from expectations (that is, in terms of the family, to go beyond the roles specified in the all-important family relationships). Such unruly and ungoverned behavior would have resulted in chaos, and possibly to have led to a situation in which our "family's" reputation would have been even worse, leading to a widespread perception that our research was not legitimate (something that has already occurred with other with some other specializations in communication studies).

Yet even at this stage, when we are told that there is a possibility that eventual disorder is in store, we also learn that this is by no means inevitable. So, in Chia Jen, there is hope, just as in the family, that despite the frustrations and problems family members encounter, there is always the expectation that the pure love that resulted originally the union of wife and husband, and the joy that attends the birth of children who have at least the potential to become loving siblings--these positive and nurturing elements of family life will prevail and in the end largely ameliorate difficulties. The important thing is to recognize this positive influence and to trust in it to carry family members past the more difficult phases of our interactions, which in any case we must acknowledge as inevitable. Even in the midst of our problems negotiating our roles within the family, we needed faith that the order promised by the Confucian ideal (order in the family means order everywhere else) would prevail and we would eventually resolve our problems with roles and hence our problems in knowing where we as a field wanted to go.

Line two (six in the second place) reinforces this point about the hexagram as a whole, and why it has its particular place in the sequence, focusing in on one of the rulers of the hexagram (the other one is the nine in the fifth place). The line reads: "Six in the second place: She should not follow her whims. She must attend within to the food. Perseverance brings good fortune" (Wilhelm, 1981, p. 571). This line clearly depicts the qualities of devotion and gentleness, emphases that carry a flavor of self-sacrifice, since the yielding line is in the middle of the lower primary trigram Li and means "devotion and correctness, which seek nothing for themselves" (p. 571). The suggestion of food and its preparation (as noted in the commentary [see above] come from the fact that the yielding line in the second place is simultaneously the lowest line in the lower nuclear trigram K'an, one of the meanings of which is wine and food, while the upper nuclear trigram Li (to avoid confusion, it is worth remembering that both Li and K'an appear several times in both the original and derived hexagrams: though the meaning of these trigrams is the same throughout all the various commentaries, the positions in which they are encountered will modify their meaning). A case in point is the meaning of Li (the Clinging, or Fire). No matter where it is encountered, Li always means heat or fire, but when combined as a nuclear trigram with K'an it refers to the preparation of food (heating, baking, roasting, thawing, basting, and so on). In the final section of this paper, we will turn to a more thorough discussion of the nuclear trigrams.

Although the commentary obviously refers to the woman, the wife (because that is the position of the yielding line at that particular point in the hexagram), the counsel provided is applicable to any member of the intercultural communication "family." In the beginning, there were in our "family" important and significant duties (symbolized by, though not entirely encompassed within, the preparation of food). We had, in the early days of our enterprise, central tasks necessary to establishing the foundation of the field (analogous to the nourishment provided by appropriately prepared food) and beyond this, it should have been unnecessary to look beyond that for important things to accomplish. Notice how this line extends the admonition in the commentary on nine at the beginning (concerning the need to nip deviation "in the bud"): if deviation from roles is wrong (as noted in the first line), then adding that "she should not follow her whims" seems appropriate to enforce the original point.

These points about individual lines relate both to the sequence of the hexagrams and the field of intercultural communication. As a field evolves, particularly if it evolves from widely disparate sources, as intercultural communication did, there comes a point at which it must provide more than simply a haven for the like-minded. The sequence confirms this. However, the point about food, arising from the interaction of K'an and Li, relates to what the field eventually provides to the members of its family, namely, nutrition. The warning about essential duties is relevant here. Before we go far afield in deciding what we want to accomplish, we should ensure that we have the basic tasks well in hand. Providing nutrition, in the form of foundational knowledge, was our chief task in our early days and it should still be a priority now. This is what leads to a state of contentment and nourishment ("firm seclusion in the family") that permits the next hexagram in the sequence ("Opposition") to evolve. To put it another way, once basic needs are satisfied, members of the family are free to settle the finer points about their concerns, through debate, or "Opposition." However, the need for nutrition arises from what was warned about in the preceding hexagram, "Darkening of the Light," a far more serious threat to survival. "Opposition" promises that, "in small matters," it is "favorable to undertake something." That we are beginning to do this now (as with the forum on Eurocentric biases in a recent Communication Monographs and the upcoming special issue of Southern Communication Journal, mentioned previously) is a natural progression for our field now that were are established as a "family."

Going Inside the Hexagram: Considering the Role of the Nuclear Trigrams

As mentioned, "inside" each hexagram one can find nuclear trigrams. It is worth remembering that the hexagrams originally were formed by combinations of trigrams (a practice whose influence is still seen today in the tables for "identification of the hexagrams" in many translations of I Ching (including Wilhelm's). In these tables, there is a row of eight trigrams across the top (Ch'ien [heaven], Chen [thunder], K'an [abysmal], Ken [mountain], K'un [earth], Sun [wind], Li [fire], Tui [lake]; the same order of trigrams is followed in the vertical column on the left side. To use the table you simply locate the top (also called the outer) trigram and follow its column down to the lower (also called the inner) trigram. Thus to find our focal hexagram (37, Chia Jen), we would move across the top row to the sixth trigram (Sun, or wind), and then follow down the column the seventh trigram (Li, or fire), which is identified at the intersection as number 37 (of course it is also possible to find the number of the target hexagram, then follow the row and column out to the constituent upper and lower trigrams--and indeed, this is often the method used to locate hexagrams in I Ching).

If it is not already obvious, the inner trigram comprises the lower three lines (numbering from the bottom up) and the outer trigram the upper three lines. So we would say that lines 1, 2, and 3 of Hexagram 37 comprise the inner trigram Li (fire, or yang-yin-yang) and lines 4, 5, and 6 comprise the outer trigram Sun (wind, or yin-yang-yang). These points about composition are highly revealing concerning the meaning of the hexagram as a whole, and indeed are dramatic confirmation of how the hexagrams represent later stages of I Ching: from the original division of the lines (between yang [light] and yin [dark]) are derived trigrams and from the hooking together of trigrams (as we just saw) come the hexagrams that represent the sixty-four basic situations encountered by everyone in human life.

If that were the extent of I Ching's possibilities, it would certainly be more than enough, but there is an added dimension to the trigrams that makes it possible to probe into the inner workings of these sixty-four basic situations. The name for these elements is nuclear trigrams, and each hexagram has two of them (we used these in the previous section to further illuminate our observations about nutrition and food). While the inner and outer primary trigrams begin, respectively, with lines one and four, the beginnings of the inner nuclear trigram is with line two and its constituent lines, counting up, are lines two, three, and four (for Chia Jen, lines two, three, and four are yang-yin-yang, which we immediately recognize as Li [fire]). The beginning of the outer nuclear trigram starts at line three, and thus counting up, its constituent lines are three, four, and five (for the target hexagram, these lines are yin-yang-yin, or K'an [the abysmal, water]). Obviously, when we consider both primary and nuclear trigrams, it is possible for a single trigram to be represented in the hexagram in more than one way. Here, for example, Li is both the inner primary trigram and the outer nuclear trigram. Such a condition merely reinforces the importance of a particular trigram, so that, as here, it can function both as outward manifestation (one of the primary trigrams) and on the inner plane (one of the nuclear trigrams). The idea of inner and outer manifestation of important influences is also of obvious value in any scholarly endeavor, such as intercultural communication research. While we must pay attention to the superstructure (the outer order, represented by primary trigrams), we must also be prepared to go deeper into questions that may not be so obvious or evident (the inner order, represented by nuclear trigrams).

To see how Li functions as both primary (outer) and nuclear (inner) trigram, it is useful to examine what Li symbolizes. As one might guess, each trigram has multiple "meanings" or correspondences, that is, concepts, objects, situations, and so on, associated with that particular trigram. For example, in the family, Li is the middle daughter who has the qualities of intelligence, sound judgment, brightness, impulsiveness, and so on, and it is also associated with such occupations as writer, publisher, artisan, journalist, book dealer, beautician, and diplomat. Among sites, it is associated with lighthouses, schools, theaters, courthouses, department stores, and city streets at night.

There are many more ideas to be associated with this trigram (or any other one), but it is easy to extrapolate from these lists a notion of Li as associated with the bringing of light (whether physical or in the form of the "light of intelligence") to illuminate, guide, and help others. It is hardly surprising, then, to see the commentary on the hexagram remark about things such as "devotion and gentleness" and to refer to the power of the woman to serve as intersection between these two qualities, particularly memorably expressed in line four: "Six in the fourth place: She is the treasure of the house. Great good fortune." Wilhelm (1981) elaborates:

 The fourth line is the yielding lowest line upper
 primary trigram Sun, gentleness. It is the middle
 line of the upper nuclear trigram Li; when the line
 changes, it remains within the lower nuclear
 trigram Sun thus formed. Sun means work, silk, a
 near-by market--all things that promise wealth. As
 a yielding line in its proper place, it means good
 fortune. (p. 572)

To align these ideas with the state of intercultural communication, we might consider the bringing of light as a matter both of inner and outer illumination. As a field, we must remember never to reject the subjective experience of culture that provided the foundation of our field in its early days (see, for example, Hall, 1966; Triandis, 1983); at the same time, we must also take account of how these insights are portrayed to the world at large, outside "the family." These depictions must also be in the form of teaching and "bringing of light." We should recall the judgment on THE IMAGE in THE FAMILY: "Thus the superior man has substance in his words and duration in his way of life" (Wilhelm, 1981, p. 144). Once again, we are reminded of the need for consistency between our inner experience and our outer expression. This exploration of nuclear trigrams also reinforces our earlier points about the need to find appropriate roles in the disposition of our research tasks.

Nuclear trigrams are extraordinarily fascinating, although (compared to other topics related to I Ching) they remain largely unexplored. It is hoped that in future work with generative metaphors from I Ching that nuclear trigrams can be analyzed to reveal other insights about the research process.

Conclusion

For the study of intercultural communication, I Ching is an exemplary source. Not only does it address numerous and essential aspects of human life in collectivities, it correlates its observations with insights about human knowledge and the quest for understanding, and as an added benefit, its perspective on human existence is unique to its origins in Eastern philosophy. Hence, it perfectly serves the inquirer who is interested in a collective devoted to human knowledge about culture. We have examined a focal hexagram, "The Family," together with metaphors explicating its inner and outer meanings and its position with respect to the sequence of hexagrams. We have also explored the primary and nuclear trigrams in "The Family," and related this to knowledge both overt and hidden about intercultural communication. These reflections have led us to the following conclusions: (1) our field has reached a point of maturity that permits us to explore our differences in increasingly public forums; (2) our further advancement should be based on completing work appropriate to our specializations; and (3) what we do now must be based on conscientious correspondence between our inner experience and its outer expression. If we can attend to these matters, we will have taken the next step in our ongoing dialogue with the Classic of Changes.

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Rich Holt, Northern Illinois University

Hui-Ching Chang, University of Illinois at Chicago

(1) "The Book of Changes is one of the basic Confucian Classics. It is also much cherished by the Taoists. It is divided into the texts and commentaries. The texts consist of sixty-four hexagrams and judgments on them. These hexagrams are based on the Eight Trigrams, each of which consists of three lines, divided or undivided, the divided representing the weak, or yin, and the undivided representing the strong, or yang. Each of these eight corresponds to a direction, a natural element, a moral quality, etc. For example, ch'ien (Heaven) is heaven, k'un (Earth) is earth, chen (activity) is thunder, sun (bending) is wind, k'an (pit) is water, li (brightness) is fire, ken (to stop) is mountain, and tui (pleasure) is a collection of water. Each trigram is combined with another, one upon the other, thus making sixty-four hexagrams. These hexagrams symbolize all possible situations. For example, the hexagram with the water trigram over the fire trigram symbolizes conquest, success, etc. Each hexagram is followed by two texts, namely (1) the kua-tz'u or the explanation of the text of the whole hexagram and (2) the yao-tz'u or the explanation of the component lines" (Chan, 1963, p. 262).

(2) It should always be kept in mind that our choice of Chia Jen as a starting point is purely arbitrary, as is the decision to discuss the evolution of the field in terms of the top line. This merely seemed to us a reasonable framework for beginning the process of contemplating where we are and where we are going: the field could be visualized as a family, and the top line of that arbitrarily chosen hexagram as a symbol of one of the foundations on which our current state of knowledge is based. We could easily have taken another hexagram and proceeded in the same way, or taken Chia Jen, and begun our contemplation with different moving lines. The flexibility of I Ching lies in its quality of having these interlocking patterns interrelated to a consistent pattern of descriptions of all life circumstances.

(3) The lower trigram (first three lines, counting upward) is called the inner trigram, while the last three are referred to as the outer trigram.

Correspondence to:

Rich Holt, Ph.D.

Department of Communication

Northern Illinois University

302 Watson Hall

DeKalb, IL 60115

Email: [email protected]

Hui-Ching Chang, Ph.D.

Department of Communication

University of Illinois at Chicago

Chicago, IL 60607

Email: [email protected]