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Cosmopolitanism can be seen as a universal ideal championed by philosophers East and West, ancient as well as contemporary. The core idea of cosmopolitanism is that all human beings, regardless of political boundaries, are all members of a cosmopolitan world, and as citizens of the world, they are all entitled to justice and human dignity. In today’s world of divided national interests and rising ethnic hostility, the general public’s broad endorsement of the cosmopolitan spirit is urgently needed. However, a major challenge to cosmopolitanism is finding the way to motivate people to truly embrace this ideology. As Martha Nussbaum points out in her book The Cosmopolitan Tradition: A Noble but Flawed Ideal, the first problem for the cosmopolitan tradition lies in the realm of moral psychology: “The Stoics had trouble motivating real human beings to care about global justice” (Nussbaum 2019, 210). If we want to achieve the mentality of shared concerns for global justice and universal respect for human dignity—the two characteristics she identifies in the cosmopolitan tradition, “we need a realistic understanding of human weaknesses and limits, of the forces in human life that make justice so difficult to achieve” (Nussbaum 2019, 212). The recent Covid pandemic has fully revealed human weakness and inequalities: vaccine development and wide distribution desperately needed to curb the pandemic only belonged to the more medically resourceful and economically advantaged nations, while the rest of the world was left to prolonged suffering. For those who die without access to medical care, there was no justice or human dignity.

However, my own conception of an ideal cosmopolitan world is not one that highlights justice and universal human dignity. To me, these goals are abstract and lofty; furthermore, they are both motivationally inefficacious and practically unimplementable. My imagery of a cosmopolitan world is based on the world of Grand Union (datong 大同) depicted in the Book of Rites (Liji 禮記); in particular, in the following passage:

When [Dao prevails the world], a public and common spirit ruled all under the sky (tianxia 天下). [People] chose men of talents, virtue, and ability; their words were sincere, and what they cultivated was harmony. Thus men did not love their parents only, nor treat as children only their own sons. A competent provision was secured for the aged till their death, employment for the able-bodied, and the means of growing up to the young. They showed kindness and compassion to widows, orphans, childless men, and those who were disabled by disease, so that they were all sufficiently maintained. . . . This is what we call the Grand Union (datong). (Legge 2013, modified; emphasis added)

This quote illustrates the humanitarian spirit in caring for others’ living and working conditions. It also advocates fostering a harmonious and equitable society in which everyone can thrive and flourish. The cosmopolitan world I envision is one where people not only love and care for their own family members but also extend their love and care to others in the com munity. Beginning with this image of a community where the great Dao prevails, with people sharing common goals, having public welfare in mind, and embodying the spirit of mutual care, I wish to expand the vision to encompass the entire world. The concept of tianxia weigong 天下爲公—“common spirit ruled all under the sky”—in the “datong” chapter bears a striking resemblance to cosmopolitanist values like global citizenship and world peace.¹ This concept can act as a foundation for applying humanitarian cosmopolitanism on a worldwide scale.

The ideal world depicted in the Grand Union highlights crucial ele ments for my vision of humanitarian cosmopolitanism: valuing the lives, fulfillment, and dignity of all individuals, and catering to everyone’s basic needs. However, I do not advocate an impartialist ethical attitude derived from the egalitarian mandate to have equal treatment for all; instead, I argue for a partialist cosmopolitanism. In this respect, my proposal is akin to Kwame Anthony Appiah’s partialist humanitarian cosmopolitanism. Appiah also thinks that cosmopolitanism “shouldn’t be seen as some exalted attainment: it begins with the simple idea that in the human community, as in national communities, we need to develop habits of coexistence: conversation in its older meaning, of living together, association” (Appiah 2006, xix; emphasis added). He suggests that cosmopolitanism should not “make impossible psychological demands” (Appiah 2006, 158). I take this to be the biggest challenge to promoting cosmopolitanism. To overcome the difficulty in human moral psychology for people’s endorsement of cosmopolitanism, I propose that we begin with our natural love and attachments to our loved ones, both people and places. The next step is to appeal to the methodology of extension (tui 推) which Mencius advocates: to extend our natural love and care to those far away in distant lands. Cosmopolitanism does not need to eradicate our preferential treatment and our love with distinction, but it requires us to extend from our small circle of care to reach the entire world. The notion of place in humanist geopolitics comes into play here.²

The geopolitical sense of place includes one’s home, hometown, and homeland as three essential attachments people have towards their personal locales. In this paper, I argue that while it is natural to maintain attachments to home and hometown as our places, we must carefully reevaluate—and even challenge—the legitimacy of the homeland sense of place. The primary obstacle in overcoming provincialism and nationalism—both standing opposed to cosmopolitan ideals—is people’s deep attachment to their homeland, seeing it as their “place” of entitlements and the center of their exclusive circle of care. This homeland sense of place inclines people to turn a blind eye to the sufferings and injuries of those from other nations. I contend that this deeply engrained homeland sense of place—manifested in a sense of belonging as well as ownership—presents a key psychological barrier for people to embrace the cosmopolitan spirit. In this respect, Doreen Massey’s concept of the global sense of place in humanist geopolitics is particularly helpful for advancing cosmopolitanism. Her idea of a “global sense of place,” developed in her progressivism of place, may help to facilitate a psychological shift in people’s mindset, by expanding their sense of place from the homeland to the world, thereby extending their empathy and concern towards others in distant lands.

Inspired by Massey’s concept of the global sense of place, I wish to present the vision of a cosmopolitan world where all people treat earth as their place of belonging, the locus of their personal identity, attachment, and care. On this global sense of “place,” we are not just ideologically interconnected, but are geographically, culturally, and technologically interconnected in our lives and our wellbeing. We all have a stake in the proliferation of pandemics, the economic toll of global conflicts and natural disasters, the plight of large numbers of displaced migrants, the escalating threats of global warming and climate change, the rapid accumulation of inorganic waste, and the alarming depletion of Earth’s resources. It is essential for us to care about our planet and its inhabitants, as every individual and every action influences our living environment—our place. A global sense of place is essential for cosmopolitanism, because it helps to promote the peaceful coexistence of global citizens despite their diverse cultural heritages, moral customs, religious convictions, and political ideologies. If we can foster this global sense of place without renouncing patriotism, the cosmopolitan philosophy we champion would not represent an extreme form of cosmopolitanism that entirely rejects the demarcation of national boundaries and borders. Moreover, this approach would avoid placing unrealistic psychological demands on people. However, until the day when this global sense of place is truly embraced by people around the world, ethnic divides, cultural wars, religious strife, and territorial clashes will continue to plague in the world, no matter how fervently philosophers advocate cosmopolitanism.

This paper is divided into six sections. Section II analyzes the psychological barrier to cosmopolitanism from the perspective of the geopolitical sense of place. The geopolitical concept of place and Doreen Massey’s progressivism are explained in details, as they are crucial to my proposal of Confucian humanitarian cosmopolitanism. Section III introduces Kwame Anthony Appiah’s partialist humanitarian cosmopolitanism, as a prelude to my version of Confucian humanitarian cosmopolitanism. Section IV presents Confucian humanitarian cosmopolitanism rooted in the notion of the Grand Union. I will first explain how the two versions of partialist humanitarian cosmopolitanism differ in their approaches. I will also appeal to the notion of humanness in Neo-Confucian thinking to further develop this philosophy. Finally, Section V explores the connection between the global sense of place and the promotion of Confucian humanitarian cosmopolitanism. Section VI concludes with some initial suggestions on strategies for advancing this approach.

A major psychological barrier for cosmopolitanism is people’s sense of exclusivist entitlement to their own place, with which they associate their intimate experiences and self-identities. The notion of place was originally used in human geography to denote a physical location as a neutral backdrop, without much association with meanings and attachments. However, since the 1970s with the emergence of humanistic geography, a subfield within human geography, the notion of place has been reconceptualized as “a particular location that has acquired a set of meanings and attachments” (Cresswell 2009, 169). According to Yi-Fu Tuan, an instrumental founder of humanistic geography, “Humanistic geography achieves an understanding of the human world by studying people’s relations with nature, their geographical behavior as well as their feelings and ideas in regard to space and place” (Tuan 1976, 266). Tuan writes, “The world of geographical facts includes not only climate, farms, settlements, and nation-state, but geographical sentiments, concepts, and theories. A humanist geographer looks at this world of facts and asks, what does it mean? What does it say about ourselves?” (1976, 276). In humanistic geography, the notion of place takes on a new meaning: it concerns “how people become emotionally involved with place”; hence, “the humanist geographer shares the preoccupation of the developmental psychologist” (1976, 274). In this newly adopted usage, place is a notion that establishes humanistic associations with the external physical environment, going beyond the mere physical attributes. Five themes of general interest to humanistic geographers, according to Tuan, are geographical knowledge, territory and place, crowding and privacy, livelihood and economics, and religion. In other words, a place is no longer merely a geographical space; “it appeals to such distinctively humanistic interests as the nature of experience, the quality of the emotional bond to physical objects, and the role of concepts and sym bols in the creation of place identity” (1976, 269). Tuan describes how a “space” can in time becomes one’s “place” through the accumulation of intimate experiences, close human relationships, and even humble daily events. Time is an essential element in this transformation. Space “exists in the present” (1977, 119), only in time can it be supplemented with history, sentiments, memories, and become someone’s place, which is not only personal, but also “intimate.” A particular connection to a specific locale, where one feels familiarity and attachment, is essential to an individual for securing a firm grounding for their self-identity. Thus, in its cultural and historical dimensions, a place not only provides an individual with a sense of belonging and but helps establish their sense of self identity.

Tuan defines “intimate places” as “places of nurture where our funda mental needs are heeded and cared for without fuss” (1977, 137). An intimate place can be one’s home, of which one’s memories arouse nostalgia and longing. Tuan depicts it beautifully: “the en chanted images of the past are evoked not so much by the entire building, which can only be seen, as by its components and furnishings, which can be touched and smelled as well: the attic and the cellar, the fireplace and the bay window, the hidden corners, a stool, a gilded mirror, a chipped shell” (1977, 144). Tuan says, “The home provides an image of the past. Moreover in an ideal sense home lies at the center of one’s life, and center . . . connotes origin and beginning” (1977, 128).

Another intimate place is hometown. In Tuan’s explication of our attachment to hometown, “it may be plain, lacking in architectural distinction and historical glamor, yet we resent an outsider’s criticism of it. Its ugliness does not matter; it did not matter when we were children, climbed its trees, paddled our bikes on its cracked pavements, and swam in its pond” (1977, 145). Both home and hometown are essential places to ground the meaning and value of human life. People’s attachments to home and hometown form the core of human psyche and cannot be replaced by any universalist ideology. As Tuan puts it, “Home is the focal point of cosmic structure. Such a conception of place ought to give it supreme value; to abandon it would be hard to imagine” (1977, 149).

A related, and yet, in my opinion, problematic notion of place is that of homeland. Tuan notes that “Place exists at different scales,” and among those, “homeland is an important type of place at the medium scale” (1977, 149). He also notes that one’s “attachment to the homeland can be intense” (1977, 149). Tuan identifies history, geography, and language as “the triune roots of identity.”⁴ These three roots undergird not only “a people’s strongest sense of self,” but also “an individual member’s sense of self insofar as that individual is integrated into the group” (2007, 158). A homeland embodies all three dimensions and thus provides the ultimate grounding for one’s sense of self-identity within a group. However, homeland is also associated with exclusiveness and self-centeredness. As Tuan explicates ancient people’s attachment to homeland, he notes that the people of ancient Greece and Italy “believed in exclusiveness” and took pride in their “racial purity.”5 They considered their space to have “its inviolable bounds” (1977, 153). Tuan further remarks, “Human groups nearly everywhere tend to regard their own homeland as the center of the world. A people who believe they are the center claim, implicitly, the ineluctable worth of their location” (1977, 149). I contend that much of the strife, conflicts, and warfare encountered in human history is deeply rooted in this sense of exclusiveness, self-centeredness, and exaggerated self-worth.

It is indeed true that people often develop strong emotional connections and a profound sense of belonging to the place they con sider their homeland. A homeland typically represents a meaningful space where individuals have the feelings of security, rootedness, devotion, pride, and nostalgia. However, this intense attachment to one’s homeland also creates an insurmountable psychological barrier to the cultivation of the cosmopolitan spirit. Prioritizing one’s homeland often makes people reluctant to interact with different cultures and engage with diverse perspectives. The sense of ownership and entitlement to a homeland is also the root of people’s hostile attitude towards “foreigners,” often expressed through angry remarks such as “go back to where you came from!” The mentality expressed by the comment “go back to where you came from” reflects two problematic ways of thinking: the first is that other people only belong to a place associated with their pasts and their homelands; the second is that “as long as I reside here and now, this place belongs to me.” Such thinking has manifested in numerous historical events involving violence against immigrants, territorial warfare, or even ethnic cleansing. Such mentality is also the deep-rooted seed of narrow-minded exclusivism, nationalism, anti-immigrant animosity, and opposition to offering foreign aid. Therefore, I argue that this sense of place should be a thing of the past. While we embrace home and hometown as our places, it is time to abandon the notion of home-land as place. If we can reconceive “land” as an open space, in which multiple groups can enter at different times and co-inhabit, then the existing residents should share the space and keep it open to newcomers. In such a cohabited land, no particular group could claim it as exclusively their own place. A land with multiple group identities and diverse personal memories can foster a much richer sense of place.

Another hindrance to the cosmopolitan spirit brought about by the traditional notion of place developed by Yi-Fu Tuan is a static mentality. In Tuan’s conception, permanence is tied to the notion of place. He states, “A man leaves his home or hometown to explore the world; a toddler leaves his mother’s side to explore the world. Places stay put. Their image is one of stability and permanence” (Tuan 1977, 29; emphasis added). According to Tim Cresswell, a contemporary humanistic geographer, the traditional conception of “place” (represented by Tuan) in humanistic geography treats it as a static concept. Under this kind of view, one’s being-in-place is essential to one’s existence and self-identity, whereas one’s being-out-of-place is seen as “weak and disruptive” (Cresswell 2015, 27). In other words, in traditional humanistic geography, to feel grounded, an individual must develop a sense of belonging to a specific geographical location intertwined with its social and cultural bearings.

The traditional Chinese notion of homeland is closely tied to this sense of permanence and immutability. A common idiom derived from The Records of the Transmission of the Lamp (Chuandenglu 傳燈錄) encapsulates this mentality: “fallen leaves return to their roots” (luoyeguigen 落葉歸根). Many older generations of Chinese immigrants often harbor the wish to be buried “back home” even though they have resided in a foreign land for the most part of their adult lives. Some of them settle in make-believe “Chinatowns” that simulate the lives they left behind.⁶ They refuse to learn the new language, acquire new cultural skills, and adamantly oppose their children marrying someone who is not Chinese. As a result, they remain isolated and “placeless.” According to Edward Relph, placelessness “describes both an environment without significant places and the underlying attitude which does not acknowledge the significance of places” (Relph 1976, 143).⁷ In other words, “placelessness” reflects both one’s sense of loss of place and one’s refusal to settle down. Those who yearn to return to their homeland for burial and those who choose to reside in a seclusive ethnic enclave both embody a sense of placelessness toward their current land of residence. If they cannot embrace their new land as their place, they risk being forever trapped in a state of placelessness. In Cresswell’s critique, “Thinking about the world in terms of deeply rooted, fixed places with clear boundaries and stable associated identities can be characterized as a sedentarist metaphysics” (Cresswell 2009, 176; emphasis added⁸). Sedentarist metaphysics may have been suitable for the old world, with its fixed boundaries and restricted mobility. However, it is no longer a fitting ideology for today’s globalized landscape.

Currently, there are numerous international alliances and organizations that aim to foster shared interests and promote cooperation among their member nations.⁹ These political and economic collaborations among nations underscore the importance of eliminating isolationist and exclusivist tendencies in the global community. Moreover, in the past two centuries there emerged a rapid increase in intercontinental migration driven by a combination of factors, including educational opportunities, economic pursuits, labor imbalances, political instability, environmental degradation, and demographic shifts such as the aging population and low birth rates. Advances in transportation, mass communication, social networking, and technological innovation have also greatly mitigated the barriers of distance and foreignness. The cosmopolitan aspiration of globalization is gradually transformed into a tangible reality. Tuan once wrote that in antiquity “exile was the worst of fates” (1977, 154); and yet, in today’s mobile world, migration and immigration have become pathways to new hopes, new identities, and new “places.” As a result, we now require a different sociopolitical metaphysics—one in which individuals are free to move across places, and human relations continuously expand and evolve beyond fixed boundaries. Doreen Massey’s progressivism of place offers precisely such a needed dynamic geopolitical framework.

Massey’s work, particularly her paper entitled “A Global Sense of Place,” emphasizes the idea that places are not static, fixed entities but are instead dynamically evolving processes shaped by one’s social, economic, and political conditions. She argues that places should be understood as spatial-temporal nodes within broader networks of relationships and interactions—at both local and global levels. According to Massey, reactionary nationalism, competitive localism, and “sanitized” obsessions with heritage are all “problematic senses of place” (Massey 1993, 64). The traditional notion of place that is tied up with one’s nationality, heritage, sovereignty, and history is indeed central to one’s political identity. However, this very notion is at the same time the seedbed for intractable antagonism among groups of different nations, party lines, religious convictions, ethnic heritages, geographic origins, historical roots, family names, and many other such ideologies. Massey deems such a notion of place as “deeply essentialist and internalist,” pointing out that these internalist and essentialist constructions of place “not only fail to recognize the long history of interconnectedness with elsewhere . . . they also presuppose a particular relationship between the assumed identity of a place and its history” (Massey 1995, 183). She further argues that traditions do not exist solely in the past. “The concept of tradition which sees in it only nostalgia understands it as something already completed which can only be maintained or lost” (1995, 184). In its place, Massey advocates a “progressive sense of place,” according to which place is imagined as “articulated moments in networks of social relations and understandings,” rather than as areas with fixed boundaries (1993, 66).

Similar to Tuan, Massey also highlights the significance of time in the formation of place. She says, “I want to argue here that debates over how to think the relationship between past, present, and future can help us to reinvigorate the way in which we conceptualize geographical places. Put briefly, it helps us to think of them as temporal and not just spatial: as set in time as well as in space” (1995, 186). Her “progressive” concept of place regards place not as a fixed focal point of attachments, but rather as a process involving individuals’ appropriation of new locations, new social connections, and new identities. In contrast to the traditional notion of place that assigns significant meaning to a specific locale, the new conception views place as a dynamic progression consisting of various locations shaped by human interactions and experiences. Massey defines “place” in terms of complex social relationships—including power interchanges, daily interactions, cultural assimilations, harmonious coexistence—among co-inhabitants of the same region. She argues that place is not “bounded” but must extend beyond the local into the global, asserting that “these global relationships as much as the internal relationships of an area will influence its character, its ‘identity’” (1995, 186). Her conception of place is not exclusivist, backward-looking, static, and not associated with permanence. She says, “The identity of a place is thus not to be seen as inevitably to be destroyed by new importations. On this alternative reading that identity is always, and always has been, in process of formation; it is in a sense forever unachieved” (1995, 186).

With the example of Europe, Massey points out that there are those who “seek the European character within, denying its constant external connections: the fact of the construction of the local character of Europe through its constant association with the global, whether invasions from the vast opennesses of the East in distant past, the initial connections of mercantilism and imperialism (from the China Seas to North Africa to the Caribbean), or the physical presence of the ‘ethnic minorities’ within its borders now” (1995, 189; original emphasis). She argues that Europe’s links with the rest of the world “must be characterized as positive, active, interconnections . . . rather than as a relation of negative, exclusivist counterposition (as in ‘Europe is not Islamic’)” (1995, 190). Massey urges “relocating this place in a positive relation to a wider space-time and thus recharacterizing it by redrawing its connections” (1995, 190). She further proclaims that what we need is “a global sense of the local, a global sense of place” (Massey 1993, 68). Under this new conception, one’s place is “never truly finished” and always remains “open to question and transformation” (using Cresswell’s description; Cresswell 2009, 175). One’s sense of place is associated with “the feelings and emotions a place evokes,” and such feelings and emotions are derived from human experiences (Cresswell 2009, 169). Since one continues to form new experiences and interpersonal relationships, one’s place should evolve as one continues to accumulate life’s experiences.

Under Massey’s progressive conception of “place,” a place is no longer simply the physical repository for history and memory. While one might feel nostalgia for one’s past experiences and local history, one may also develop a sense of immersion and transformation in a newly established place. The individual is situated in both time and place, as the past marks their former relationship with the place, and the future represents the place they envision occupying later. This progressive conception of place highlights human relationships, and it signifies changing personal space and renewed meanings in multifaceted human relationships. What defines a place for an individual is not just the familiar sights, geographical locations, architecture, artifacts, but also the people surrounding the individual. One finds companionship and friendship among one’s neighbors and local friends; one also establishes new relationships by starting a new family, finding a new work environment, traveling to new countries, and so on. One’s birthplace or hometown can gradually become a foreign place if one’s old associations are no longer there.¹⁰ Human affections and relationships are constantly changing; therefore, place cannot be a fixed and closed region of a static being. It must always be in the state of becoming. This is why Massey regards place as a process—a process derived from the transformation of interpersonal asso ciations. Massey’s perspective accurately captures the contemporary migration experiences of individuals moving between countries and even continents. Her progressivism of place evokes the hopeful promise of human cohabitation on earth.

In this section, we have seen that the process view of place advocated by Doreen Massey’s progressivism aims to replace the traditional sedentarist mentality exemplified by Yi-Fu Tuan’s static conception of place. However, transforming people’s old way of thinking to inspire them to embrace the new is never easy. People naturally have deep attachments to their home and hometown, and one’s particularist cultural roots have a stronghold on one’s self-identity. In his personal memoir Coming Home to China (2007), Yi-Fu Tuan recounts his first visit to China at the age of 74, after leaving it as a child 64 years ago. He writes about how others frequently asked where he considers his “real home,” and to his flippant answer, “By and large, Earth,” others would continue to press him: “But where on Earth?” He concludes, “this follow-up question assumes that a particular place must exist at which I am most comfortable and toward which I am able to form the deepest attachment” (2007, ix). But to these people’s queries Tuan had no definitive answer. He asks: “But where do I belong? Am I a Chinese, an American-Chinese, a Chinese-American, or an American?” (2007, 155). Tuan’s personal bewilderment is a commonly shared experience among those who have left their homeland for a different life. Even though they have embraced a new place, the homeland’s “cultural markers”—clothes, house type, food, music, dance—still have a hold on them. As Tuan puts it, these markers are “things of everyday life, not things that people can put on or take off as in a play or a game” (2007, 157). Tuan’s personal story illustrates the challenge of transforming people’s attachment to their homeland into embracing a progressive global sense of place.

To facilitate this psychological transformation, I argue that the crucial shift in people’s thinking must concern their sense of homeland as place. While we can preserve the special affinities people have towards their home and hometown, we must reexamine and discourage people’s intense attachment to their home-land. The notion of land implies ownership, entitlement, possession, as well as what Tuan describes as “exclusiveness.” We must recognize that land, as part of nature, is a public space, and no one has an inherent claim to it as exclusively their place. Home-land is not a natural formation; rather, it is constructed by political power and can also be obliterated by physical force. As Massey points out, “In some cases the frontiers are deliberately maintained. The boundaries of nation-state are held in place by political power, legal agreement, physical force” (1995, 188). People’s attachment to homeland is often shaped by patriotic indoctrination, which includes the promotion of national symbols, historical heroes, cultural heritage, religious dominance, and ethnic pride. These practices foster a false sense of homogeneity and sanctity. I argue that what stands in the way of cosmopolitanism is primarily this grand illusion of homeland. The global sense of place serves to eradicate this manufactured loyalty to one’s homeland, without denying the centrality of one’s current home and its associated cultural markers. Instead of holding onto a lost homeland, the ancient past, or the ancestral lineage, one can begin with the now, the present location, and one’s neighbors. I advocate a new conception of homeland: “where my body settles down, there is my homeland.”¹¹ I believe that this new conception of homeland as a body-abode will help mitigate many political conflicts and interpersonal animosity, as well as one’s sense of placelessness in a new land.

To embrace Massey’s global sense of place is not to denigrate the local sense of place, or to eliminate the partiality we naturally allocate to our current home, our cultural heritage, and our own identities. Massey herself does not embrace either “simple temporal continuity” or “only spatial simultaneity with no sense of historical depth”; rather, she recognizes that “what has come together, in this place, is a conjunction of many histories and many spaces” (1995, 191). If there are many histories, then there are many identities. Yi-Fu Tuan can be American-Chinese, Chinese-American, or simply American. He does not need to choose one over the other; rather, he can allow his sentiments to shape his self-identity depending on the different contexts in which he finds himself. On the basis of this pluralist model of the global sense of place and self-identity, I advocate a partialist form of cosmopolitanism rather than a fully impartialist cosmopolitanism. I will next present and compare two partialist versions of cosmopolitanism that emphasizes humanitarian concerns.

Humanitarian cosmopolitanism begins with humanitarian concerns. Instead of emphasizing equal political status or equal rights to existing resources as classical cosmopolitanism does, its key concept is care, not justice. Humanitarian cosmopolitanism seeks to encourage individuals to assume ethical responsibility toward others, irrespective of their cultural, geographical, and historical backgrounds. The concept of “global citizenship,” the hallmark of cosmopolitanism, is understood here as membership in the human community, rather than in a legally or politically constructed super-entity. Furthermore, humanitarian cosmopolitanism is not grounded on the principle of impartiality, a concept often emphasized in Western ethical theories. The principle of impartiality requires us to eliminate considerations of our self-interests, and treat others as beings of equal moral worth to ourselves and our loved ones. It is a principle grounded in rationalist consideration, which downplays our natural affective responses toward loved ones.

I consider Kwame Anthony Appiah’s cosmopolitanism to be a version of humanitarian cosmopolitanism. Appiah acknowledges the psychological difficulty in people’s embracing the principle of impartiality and describes the principle as “icy.” He states, “Fortunately, we need take sides neither with the nationalist who abandons all foreigners nor with the hard-core cosmopolitan who regards her friends and fellow citizens with icy impartiality. The position worth defending might be called (in both senses) a partial cosmopolitanism” (Appiah 2006, xvii; emphasis added). Appiah’s cosmopolitanism allows for prioritizing our own communities and loved ones, without disregarding our ethical obligations to the broader global community. We can be rooted in our own communities while also embracing a global identity and caring for those in the global community. Appiah advocates for “kindness to strangers,” but argues that the cosmopolitan spirit does not require us “to feel about everyone in the world what we feel about our literal neighbors” (2006, 157). He writes, “as Adam Smith saw, to say that we have obligations to strangers isn’t to demand that they have the same grip on our sympathies as our nearest and dearest. We’d better start with the recognition that they don’t” (2006, 158). Appiah recognizes the natural human tendency to prioritize our own needs as well as the needs of those closest to us, such as family and friends. He states, “Whatever my basic obligations are to the poor far away, they cannot be enough, I believe, to trump my concerns for my family, my friends, my country, nor can an argument that every life matters require me to be indifferent to the fact that one of those lives is mine” (2006, 165). He promotes partial cosmopolitanism, which acknowledges that our moral obligations are multifaceted and cannot have a universal or absolute ranking. We must make contextually appropriate decisions regarding our moral obligations as we navigate the ethical complexities of our lives.

Appiah rejects the radical cosmopolitan proposals by philosophers such as Peter Unger and Peter Singer, which assert that an individual with ample means “must contribute to vitally effective groups, like OXFAM and UNICEF, most of the money and property she now has, and most of what comes her way for the foreseeable future” (Unger 1996, 56, as cited in Appiah 2006, 158). He argues that such principles impose unrealistic psychological demands on individuals. Nevertheless, Appiah agrees with the general cosmopolitan appeal that we all have an ethical obligation to extend our concern beyond our fellow citizens to include others in different parts of the world. To cultivate a more cosmopolitan outlook, Appiah suggests that we keep an open mind about other cultures and engage in cross-cultural dialogues to broaden our perspectives.

Appiah also downplays knee-jerk sentimental reactions, like those in Peter Singer’s example of seeing a child about to drown in a shallow pond. Instead, he calls for reason and reflection: “what’s wanted . . . is the exercise of reason, not just explosions of feeling” (2006, 170). He asserts that “what makes the cosmopolitan experience possible for us, whether as readers or as travelers, is . . . a different human capacity that grounds our sharing: namely, the grasp of a narrative logic that allows us to construct the world to which our imaginations respond” (2006, 257; emphasis added). His approach prioritizes reform over relief, concentrating on a broader scope that encompasses both economic and political dimensions, transcending the individual level. Appiah contends that the root causes of world hunger and poverty are local political, economic, and social factors. Therefore, he argues, efforts such as improving local education, restoring the environment, promoting human rights, and implementing political reforms would have a greater long-term impact on more people, than simply providing trillions of dollars for hunger relief and saving the lives of children on the brink of death. He writes,

But responding to the crisis of a child dying because her frail body cannot absorb fluids faster than they pour out of her is not really saving her, if tomorrow she will eat the same poor food, drink the same infected water, and live in a country with the same incompetent government; if the government’s economic policies continue to block real development for her family and her community, if her country is still trapped in poverty in part because our government has imposed tariffs on some of their exports to protect American manufacturers with a well-organized lobbying group in Washington, while the European Union saves jobs for its people by placing quotas on the importation of others. (Appiah 2016, 167–68).

Even though I share Appiah’s partialist thinking and find his cosmopolitanism more reasonable and pragmatic than Unger’s radical cosmopolitanism, I do not believe that it sufficiently overcomes the psychological barriers to our active engagement in helping others meet their basic needs. While I also concur with his realistic assessment that individuals’ charitable donations to world welfare organizations like UNICEF and OXFAM might not actually amount to saving children’s lives for extended periods of time, I still think it is crucial that people continue to make these contributions and be driven by their feelings of empathy or commiseration to do so. As David Hume has taught us: it is passions—not cold rational deliberation on what we ought to do—that motivate people to take necessary action. In addition, Appiah places the primary burden on politicians (and on our influence over them), asserting that political reform to ensure global equity and justice can only be achieved through institutions and policies. He writes, “If we accept the cosmopolitan challenge, we will tell our representatives that we want them to remember those strangers. Not because we are moved by their sufferings—we may or we may not—but because we are responsive to what Adam Smith called ‘reason, principle, conscience, the inhabitant of the beast’” (Appiah 2016, 174; emphasis added). Based on this quote, it is evident that the cosmopolitan ethos that Appiah aims to cultivate is fundamentally grounded in reason and conscience within human moral psychology. However, I believe his argument essentially provides people in affluent nations with an excuse not to take action: our individual efforts amount to nil; we should just let our government manage the most efficient eradication of global poverty and world injustice. Such a proposal is woefully inadequate, in my opinion, as it risks fostering complacency among individuals, thus undermining the psychological transformation required to cultivate the cosmopolitan spirit.

Similar to Appiah’s humanitarian cosmopolitanism, Confucian humanitarian cosmopolitanism is also a form of partialist cosmopolitanism. This partialist spirit aligns with the Confucian principle of love with distinction and the Confucian notion of fairness, understood as treating others differently in accordance with their roles and dues. The Confucian principle of differential treatment first and foremost acknowledges and legitimizes the special affective states one has towards one’s family members. It is recorded in the Doctrine of the Mean,¹² “[Humaneness] (ren 仁) is [the distinguishing characteristic of] man, and the greatest application of it is in being affectionate toward relatives. Righteousness (yi 義) is the principle of setting things right and proper, and the greatest application of it is in honoring the worthy” (Chan 1963, 104). This quote highlights the fact that even though all humans have equal footing in terms of their humanness, they do not hold equal standing for a particular individual, both because of their personal relationships and due to their social standings. In addition to manifesting the Confucian virtues of humaneness and righteousness, the principle of partiality further reflects the Confucian virtue of propriety (li 禮). The Doctrine of the Mean records: “The relative degree of affection we ought to feel for our relatives and the relative grades in the honoring of the worthy give rise to the rules of propriety” (Chan 1963, 104). Another chapter in the Book of Rites clearly defines the function of the rules of propriety as such:

In (observing) the rules of propriety, what is right (for the time and in the circumstances) should be followed. . . . They are the rules of propriety, that furnish the means of determining (the observances towards) relatives, as near and remote; of settling points which may cause suspicion or doubt; of distinguishing where there should be agreement, and where difference; and of making clear what is right and what is wrong. (Legge 2013)¹³

In our treatment of other people and worldly affairs, we do not strive merely for equal distribution or equal treatment. The Neo- philosopher Cheng Yi (1033–1107) offered a new expla nation of the Confucian principle of partiality: “Principle is one, but each one’s due is different” (liyi fenshu 理一分殊). Cheng Yi argues that even though everyone shares the same overarching Principle, each person’s due is different; therefore, we should not treat everyone with absolute equality (Cheng and Cheng 1981, 1201–203). In this remark, Cheng Yi objectifies the legitimacy of differential treatment: it is no longer based on an individual’s affection, but rather on a rational assessment of the due allocated to each person and object.

My cosmopolitan vision is inspired by the ideal world depicted in the “Grand Union” (Datong 大同) chapter of the Book of Rites. The “datong” chapter highlights several key factors for building a humanistic society which ensures that everyone’s basic needs for survival and human flourishing are met:

• 1. Elderly people are all provided for and taken care of, so that everyone in society is assured a comfortable life in their old age before they die.
• 2. Able-bodied individuals have access to employment opportunities, so that they can contribute to society, support their families, and find meaning in their lives.
• 3. Children are provided with the means for growth and development in a nurturing environment, so that they can one day become capable adults with access to life’s many opportunities.
• 4. The disabled and vulnerable members of society are all well-cared for and supported in the society, with their basic needs sufficiently maintained.

The “Datong” chapter illustrates the public domain of humani tarian cosmopolitanism, which has been implemented in numerous developed countries through programs like national healthcare, social security, childcare assistance, public schooling, disability services, affordable housing initiatives, food subsidy and meal service programs, unemployment benefits, job training and workforce development programs, continuing education programs, mental health services, elderly care and support services, community redevelopment initiatives, and more. These examples demonstrate various ways in which countries can work towards promoting the welfare of their citizens and, by extension, contribute to the global community. How ever, it is also essential to extend these domestic care systems and social services to nations that lack the financial resources or political infrastructure to offer such support for those in need. The realization of this humanitarian cosmopolitan ideal hinges on the psychological transformation of individuals in developed nations. People must wholeheartedly embrace the globalization of the datong ideal. This transformation begins with cultivating individuals’ attitude of care and consideration; in other words, the actualization of the datong ideal must first take root within individuals.

The spirit of humanism focuses on cultivating ethical, responsible, and compassionate individuals who willingly contribute to the collective improvement of humanity. In contrast to Appiah’s emphasis on the use of reason, Confucian humanitarian cosmopolitanism appeals to human sentiments. Confucian humanism stems from individuals’ humanistic sentiments, rather than solely based on policies, institutions, or reason alone. My version of humanitarian cosmopolitanism is grounded in Confucian moral sentimentalism—the view that humans’ moral sentiments play a central role in guiding and motivating their moral behavior.¹⁴ Mencius asserts that humans inherently possess four fundamental moral sentiments, with the first one being the sense of commiseration: the heart that cannot bear to see the sufferings of others. On this basis, I propose that the first psychological transformation comes from one’s seeing others as members of their families, sharing a close affinity to one’s own families. As Gilles Deleuze points out, family is a natural unit of care in the state of nature:

What we find in nature, without exception, are families; the state of nature is always already more than a simple state of nature. The family, independently of all legislation, is explained by the sexual instinct and by sympathy—sympathy between parents, and sympathy of parents for their offspring. (Deleuze 2001, 39)

Other than people from highly dysfunctional families, the indi vidual’s consideration from his point of view as a member of his own family is a natural human tendency. In the Analects, it is stated that filial piety and brotherly respect are “the root of [humaneness ren 仁]” (Analects 1.2, as translated in Chan 1963, 20). This is a profound statement about the significance of human’s partial love and respect for family members: familial love is not only a natural inclination of the human heart but also the very foundation for cultivating the broader sentiment of humaneness. If one does not even feel affection and respect for one’s family members—those who sustain one’s existence and provide one with warmth and security—then one would be no different from a beast in the animal kingdom. Fundamentally, humaneness (ren 仁) is rooted in humanity—human nature (renxing 人性).

The next step is to extend one’s feelings for one’s own family to nurture one’s concern for strangers. Mencius made the following suggestion: “Treat with respect the elders in my family, and then extend that respect to include the elders in other families. Treat with tenderness the young in my own family, and then extend that tenderness to include the young in other families” (Mengzi 1A.7, as translated in Chan 1963, 61). This is Mencius’ methods of extension (tui 推) and propagation (kuo-chong 擴充). One’s considerations for strangers are not just extended from any one individual to another, but from one individual situated in one’s family relations to another individual situated in their family relations. If one has sincere and deep feelings towards one’s own parents, siblings and children, then one would be able to relate to these strangers not as mere strangers, but rather as someone else’s parents, someone else’s siblings, or someone else’s children. A late-Ming Neo-Confucian philosopher Wang Fuzhi (1619–1692) interprets Mencius’ notion of extension as follows: “To extend is to propagate (kuo-chong), and to propagate means to realize one’s sentiment of not bearing to see others suffer in the actual practice of not letting others suffer” (Wang [1665] 1974, 8.512; emphasis added). “To say that I respect the elders in my family and I care for the youth in my family is not just that I have the intent. I must really respect and care for them. When it comes to the elders and the youth in other people’s families, how could I simply have the sense of sympathy [and no action]? There must be the realization of my sentiments” (Wang [1665] 1974, 8.513; emphasis added). In other words, “extension” is not just about harboring the sense of commiseration in one’s heart for others’ plights, but also to act on that sentiment to take steps to alleviate their plights. In essence, humanitarian cosmopolitanism transcends mere empathy for others’ struggles and requires every capable individual’s active involvement in mitigating others’ hardship. This process must start with individuals’ psychological transformation to cultivate and actualize an extended sense of care.

The virtue of humaneness in classical Confucianism already encompasses the call for action. According to Confucius, “A man of humaneness, wishing to establish his own character, also establishes the character of others, and wishing to be prominent himself, also helps others to become prominent” (Analects 6.28; slight modification of the translation in Chan 1963, 31). In other words, possessing the virtue of humaneness is not simply to harbor sentiments of compassion and commiseration, but rather to extend one’s sense of care for others to assist in their quests for wellbeing, flourishing, self-realization, and the attainment of their life goals.

The notion of humaneness was further developed by numerous Neo-Confucians. According to Wing-tsit Chan, the highest peak in Neo-Confucian ethics is reached in the concept of humaneness: Humaneness is not only “the foundation of all specific virtues,” but also “the generative force that makes good deeds possible” (Chan 1978, 118). An early Neo-Confucian Zhang Zai (1020–1077) delineated the conceptualization of humaneness in terms of universal kinship. In his short essay “Western Inscription” (Ximing 西銘), Zhang Zai articulated a humanitarian sentiment closely resembling the humanitarian spirit manifest in the ideal world depicted in the “Grand Union” chapter:

Heaven is my father and Earth is my mother, and even such a small creature as I finds an intimate place in their midst. Therefore, that which fills the universe I regard as my own body, and that which rules the universe I consider as my own nature. All people are my brothers and sisters, and all things are my companions. The sages are those who identify their characters with that of Heaven and Earth, while the worthy are those who stand out from the crowd in virtue of their brilliance. Even those who are tired, infirm, crippled, or sick; those who have no brothers or children, wives or husbands, are all my brothers who are in distress and having no one else to turn to. (Modification of the translation in Chan 1963, 497)

Following Zhang Zai’s promotion of universal kinship, Cheng Hao (1032–1085), in his celebrated treatise “Recognizing Humaneness,” defines the notion of “humaneness” as “completely inseparable from other objects as all belonging to the same body” (Cheng and Cheng 1981, 16). In my explication of this remark, I observed that in Cheng Hao’s conception, “Humaneness is more than a moral virtue. It is also an ontological fact about the nature of our existence. If we are, as a matter of fact, inseparable from other things in the world, then we naturally would, and ought to, be able to have genuine concern for other things in the world” (Liu 2018, 210). Cheng Hao states, “The person of humaneness regards heaven, earth, and the myriad things as one body (yiti 一體), seeing them as inseparable from themselves. Once one recognizes everything in the world as part of oneself, what limits could there be to one’s reach?” (Cheng and Cheng 1981, 1179). He contends that when people embrace the worldview that everyone belongs to the “same body” and recognize the inseparability of the self from others, the sentiment of humaneness will naturally fill their hearts. In his brother Cheng Yi’s conception, the virtue of humaneness comprises “treating all things befitting their respective dues in accordance with their particular principles” (Cheng and Cheng 1981, 142). For both the Cheng brothers, the foundation for cultivating of the virtue of humaneness lies in the conceptualization of the self as an integral part of the world. It is through recognizing this interconnectedness that a moral agent becomes genuinely concerned with the wellbeing of others. This perspective not only resonates with but also enhances Doreen Massey’s concept of the global sense of place.

Cheng Hao’s conception of the world as one body culminated in Wang Yangming’s (1472–1529) interpretation of humaneness. Wang Yangming explicates the virtue of humaneness in terms of “one body” (yiti 一體). He asserts that the difference between great people and petty people lies simply in the scope of their care: a great person unifies the self with the entire world, while a petty individual’s heart is “confined and narrow,” thus “losing the sense of unity” (“Daxuewen” [The Grand Learning], Wang 2008, 145). Wang Yangming also advocated that the self and the world are, at their core, fundamentally one body. He writes:

Heaven and earth are fundamentally one body with me. Is there any suffering or misery of other people that is not as dear to me as my own body’s illness or pain? Those who fail to see others’ pain and misery as their own bodies’ illness and pain are simply devoid of a true sense of right and wrong. (Wang 1994, 173; emphasis added)

Wang Yangming thinks that when people do not fully embrace the notion of oneness with all, it is because they are blinded by their selfish desires and have lost their inherent conscience, which he refers to as “liangzhi” 良知. If people can retrieve their original conscience, “They will then naturally look upon others as if they were their own selves, look upon the nation as if it were their own family, and become one body with everything in the world” (Wang 1994, 173). The highest moral exemplar, the sage, is one who fully embodies this virtue. Wang writes, “The sage’s heart is to be one with everything in the world. . . . Any living person is as dear to him as his own brothers and children, whom he desires to see safe and educated. This is how he fulfills his intent on being one with everything” (Wang 1994, 129).

Furthermore, the unification goes beyond human beings to includes animal, plants, and even inanimate objects. Wang Yangming writes:

When one sees a child about to fall into a well, they inevitably feel alarmed and compassionate. This is their heart of humaneness that unites them with the child, who belongs to the same kind. When one hears the sorrowful cries of birds and beasts, they inevitably feel a sense of sympathy. This is their heart of humaneness that unites them with animals, which are also sentient beings. When one observes the withering or destruction of plants, they inevitably feel a sense of pity. This is their heart of humaneness that unites them with plants, which possess life. When one observes the breaking of tiles or stones, they inevitably feel a sense of care. This is their heart of humaneness that unites them even with inanimate objects. Such is the corporeal unification (yiti 一體) of humaneness. (“Daxuewen” [The Grand Learning], Wang 2008, 145).

According to Philip J. Ivanhoe, while Neo-Confucians shared this conception of oneness, Wang Yangming rendered this notion significantly more powerful by employing the metaphor of corporeal unification (yiti 一體) between the self and the world. This is exemplified in Wang’s remark: “Great people regard Heaven, earth, and the myriad creatures as their own bodies. They look upon the world as one family and China as one person within it” (Wang 2008, 145, as cited in Ivanhoe 2013, 11).¹⁵ This heightened sense of oneness with the world is not only aligns with Massey’s global sense of place, but has the potential to further advance it.

Nevertheless, Confucian humanitarian cosmopolitanism does not require us to forsake our priorities, natural affinities, love, or even our possessions and property. Confucian humanitarian cosmopolitanism begins with the acknowledgement of our shared humanity: that we have inherent moral sentiments, and we are naturally inclined to express love with distinction: we love others with varying degrees of intensity and hierarchy. Using the analogy of a tree and its growth, Wang Yangming illustrates the distinction between Cheng Hao’s “unification with all things” and Mozi’s (c. 470–391 BCE) teaching of “impartial love” (jianai 兼愛):

Humaneness is the principle of ceaseless creation and renewal in the natural order. Though it pervades everywhere, with no place unreached, its manifestation and development must follow a gradual process, which is why it is unceasing. . . . Take the example of a tree: its initial budding marks the starting point of its life force. From budding, it develops a trunk, then branches and leaves, and thus grows endlessly. Without a bud, how could there be a trunk, branches, and leaves? The ability to bud implies that there must be roots below. With roots, the tree grows; without roots, it dies. Without roots, how could it even begin to bud?

The love between parent and child, or between siblings, is the starting point of the human heart's life force, much like the budding of a tree. From this starting point, one can extend one’s natural love and care towards other people and all things, just as the trunk develops branches and leaves.

The Mohists’ concept of impartial love, which makes no distinc tions, treats one’s own parents and siblings the same as strangers. In doing so, it eliminates the starting point. Without the bud, one can see that there are no roots, and without roots, growth ceases. Hence, it cannot be equated with humaneness.

Filial piety and sibling respect are the foundation of humaneness, and humaneness arises naturally from within. (Wang 2008, 71–71)

Importantly, Confucian humanitarian cosmopolitanism also does not seek to homogenize all cultures and ideologies, because it champions humans’ common core: the value of life, flourishing, and co-existence. We care about others, not because they are “like us,” “share our beliefs,” or “have our skin colors and our ethnic heritage.” Rather, we should care about others, because we share the same globe as our place and our lives are intrinsically interconnected—as advocated by Massey, as exemplified in the universal care depicted in the “Datong” chapter, or as conveyed by the Neo-Confucian conception of oneness with all things. We are all living beings on this planet Earth, “under the sky” (tianxia), with heaven and earth fundamentally “one body with me.” We can jointly create an ideal world that embodies harmonious coexistence among diverse cultural heritages, moral customs, religious beliefs, and political ideologies.

In this utopian vision, we do what we can, when we can, and whenever we are so moved by our genuine compassion, to alleviate the sufferings of others. However, we should not feel obligated to solve the world’s problems if there is no sentiment in our hearts that could not bear the suffering of others. At the same time, if we truly feel completely apathetic to others’ sufferings, then we are hardly worthy of our own existence. We may not owe others anything, but we owe it to ourselves to embrace our own humanity.

Both progressivism of place and Confucian humanitarian cosmopolitanism emphasize our global interconnectedness, and both advocate open-mindedness and inclusivity in our mentality. Doreen Massey’s global sense of place offers a new vision that can be employed to advance Confucian humanitarian cosmopolitanism. Progressivism of place envisions places as “active, generative,” and as “something that our bodies reactivate, and through this reactivation, in turn modifies and transforms us” (Ross 1988, as cited in Massey 1993, 67). By considering a place as an ongoing process rather than a fixed location, we can envision the potential for continuous evolution, transformation, and growth in our surroundings. This perspective helps us dismantle our entrenched mental obstacles, allowing us to embrace our role as members of the global community. Developing the global sense of place fosters a more dynamic and interconnected understanding of the world. This vision allows us to be transformed into global human beings (rather than global citizens). We can enlarge our circle of care and extend our attachments to foreign people and places, while still preserving our commitment and loyalty to our own communities.

Progressivism of place advocates an open embrace of the land where the individual resides, encouraging the reestablishment of fresh roots in new places. Simone Weil writes, “To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognized need of the human soul” (Weil [1949] 2002, 43). While everyone needs roots to feel grounded in place, we must also embrace the possibility of forming new roots. Under the progressive view of place, the root does not have to refer solely to one’s origin and history. One can be grounded and rooted starting from one’s current location and surroundings. Weil highlights the flexibility and multiplicity of roots as follows:

A human being has roots by virtue of his real, active and natural participation in the life of a community which preserves in living shape certain particular expectations for the future. This participation is a natural one, in the sense that it is automatically brought about by place, conditions of birth, profession and social surroundings. Every human being needs to have multiple roots. (Weil [1949] 2002, 43; emphasis added)

In other words, one can establish multiple roots in different places. By acknowledging the permissibility of multiple roots, individuals can liberate themselves from the constraints of birthplace, ancestral lineage, nationality, homeland, or any ideology that tie them exclusively to the past. They can instead see themselves as living in the present, and for the future.

Earlier, we mentioned the old Chinese saying: “Fallen leaves return to their roots.” Instead of thinking of ourselves as leaves that will even tually fall from the tree and return to the root, we can envision ourselves as weeds—spreading far and wide with strong vitality in any kind of soil. The fallen leaves metaphor signifies aging and death, with only one location to which the individual wishes to return. The weeds metaphor, on the other hand, signifies resilience, flexibility, adaptability, and growth.¹⁶ Weeds can take root in new grounds, while deep-rooted trees remain fixed and immobile. Naturally, this metaphor diverges from the traditional humanist geographer’s conception of place. Yi-Fu Tuan writes,

Modern man is so mobile that he has not the time to establish roots; his experience and appreciation of place is superficial. . . . The visual quality of a place is quickly tallied if one has the artist’s eye. But the “feel” of a place takes longer to acquire. It is made up of experiences, mostly fleeting an undramatic, repeated day after day and over the span of years. (Tuan 1976, 183)

However, this temporal requirement for accumulating experiences and memories should not be confined to one’s past. If we are willing to take root in the new land where our future generations will thrive, it will become a place full of meaning for us.

In Edward Relph’s explication, a place is essentially our “field of care”—“settings in which we have had a multiplicity of experiences and which call forth an entire complex of affections and responses” (Relph 1976, 38). Massey’s concept of a “global sense of place” encourages us to view the entire Earth as our “field of care,” encompassing the scope of our responsibility and care. We are all inhabitants of this fragile planet that is fraught with the danger of self-destruction through incessant warfare, uncontained viral outbreaks, climate change, as well as other harmful effects of global warming. The global interconnectedness of “one for all; all for one” was demonstrated most vividly in the spread of Covid-19. When one person in a distant country became infected with the extremely contagious virus or its many variants, the rest of the world was not immune to the threat of pandemic. Even if some nations temporarily curbed the spread by locking down their borders, they eventually had to reopen the borders and address the issue from a global perspective. Had the more developed nations worked collaboratively from the start—sharing with other more dependent nations the results of their medical research, their studies of the initial cause of the coronavirus, their vaccine formulas and production—this pandemic might not have reached such a devastating magnitude. The global sense of place is not a lofty philosophical ideal; it is rather a geopolitical reality rooted in our interconnectedness. We are all in this place together, and no one can possibly hold on to the outdated notion of place as tied solely one’s homeland, one’s nation, or one’s ethnic group. The dangers facing our Earth confront us all, regardless of age, nationality, ethnicity, religion, politics, or ideology. It is high time we reckon with the reality of our shared planet.

Cosmopolitanism encompasses numerous variations, such as moral cosmopolitanism, institutional cosmopolitanism, classical cosmopolitanism, modern cosmopolitanism, radical cosmopolitanism, moderate cosmopolitanism, civic cosmopolitanism, cultural cosmopolitanism, legal cosmopolitanism, Confucian cosmopolitanism. Each of these versions reflects the author’s “moral image” of themselves and the world, as Hilary Putnam articulates. Rather than a singular, ideal world we can collectively construct, there exists a multitude of rationally acceptable versions of the cosmopolitan world.

Putnam suggests that we cannot argue for a universal value from outside our tradition: “we are standing within a tradition, and trying simultaneously to learn what in that tradition we are prepared to recommend to other traditions and to see what in that tradition may be inferior—inferior either to what other traditions have to offer, or to the best we may be capable of” (Putnam 1990, 178). Ultimately, our cosmopolitan world comprises “our moral images of ourselves and the world,” molded by our experiences, interactions, and conceptual frameworks (Putnam 1990, 267). In my moral image of myself and the world, I envision a world not governed by such notions as justice, human rights, human dignity, obligations, or entitlements. Instead, I imagine a world where everyone is interconnected through natural sentiments and family bonds.

My proposal for Confucian humanitarian cosmopolitanism is a moral rather than a political ideal. Unlike other cosmopolitan proposals, my focus is on our joint attachment to the global place and the recognition of other human beings as shared inhabitants of this place. My proposal does demand that we abandon our concentric care or our communal sense of loyalty. Instead, it calls on us to acknowledge the mutability of our places and to connect our past heritage with what we can leave as the new heritage for future generations. Our world is facing drastic climate changes on a global scale; threats of natural disasters transcend national boundaries, ethnic groups, economic classes, and religious affiliations. The place we all share is this fragile Earth. We are equally entitled to this place, and therefore we are equally responsible for its sustainability. I think the only hope to curb the rampant warfare, ethnic hatred, and religious hostility emerging around the world today does not lie in a lofty cosmopolitan ideology of a universal community of world citizens. Instead, it lies in a genuine and urgent recognition of our shared responsibility for the survival of our common place—the Earth.

At the end, I would like to suggest some ways to bring this ideal closer to reality. A practical and effective first step would be for individuals with sufficient income and resources to begin donating to global welfare organizations: United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF), International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), Doctors Without Borders, CARE International, World Food Program (WFP), and more. In the private sector, online crowdfunding platforms for charit able donation, humanistic assistance, or project support, such as GoFundMe, Fundly, Indiegogo, Crowdcube, Betterworld, and more, can provide convenient ways for individuals to support specific causes or individuals: it could be those particular individuals whose plights move them deeply, whose projects inspire them, or whose ambitions they wish to support. These are small steps that we, as individuals, can take to bring to realization of a more humane world. We do not have to be impartial or equitable in our giving: for each self-sustaining individual, doing a little is always better than doing nothing to help those in need.