Governance
Governance
The Governance pillar of the Architecture of Harmony — the alignment of collective power with Dharma.
The Question of Authority
By what authority does one human being exercise power over another? Every civilization answers this question, implicitly or explicitly, and the answer shapes everything downstream — law, institutions, the relationship between individual and collective, the treatment of dissent, the meaning of justice. Get this wrong and no amount of material prosperity or technological sophistication compensates. The civilization generates friction at every joint, because the coordinating function distorts rather than serves.
Harmonism answers from its own ground: legitimate authority derives from alignment with Dharma — the human recognition of and response to Logos, the inherent order of the cosmos. Power that serves Logos is authority. Power that serves itself is coercion. The distinction is not a matter of degree but of kind. No amount of democratic procedure, constitutional architecture, or institutional prestige transforms coercion into authority. Either the exercise of power aligns with the structure of reality, or it doesn’t.
This is not theocracy — the imposition of revealed law by a priestly class. It is the recovery of what every serious civilizational tradition knew before modernity amputated it: that there exists an order in reality itself, discoverable through reason, contemplation, and empirical observation, to which human institutions can and must conform. The Greeks called it Logos. The Vedic tradition called it Ṛta. The Chinese called it the Mandate of Heaven. Egypt called it Ma’at. Islam, in its deepest articulation, called it Shariah — not a legislative code but the cosmic path. Five independent civilizational traditions converging on the same structural insight: political legitimacy is not self-grounding. It derives from something that precedes and exceeds the human.
Modernity’s distinctive move was to sever this link — to declare that political authority can be generated entirely from within the human domain, through procedure alone. The social contract, the vote, the constitution: these became the self-sufficient ground of legitimacy, needing no reference to anything beyond human agreement. The consequence was predictable from the Harmonist standpoint: when authority is severed from its transcendent ground, it does not become more rational. It becomes more vulnerable to capture. If legitimacy is purely procedural, then whoever controls the procedure controls the legitimacy — and the procedure itself becomes the object of factional competition rather than the instrument of alignment with what is true. The modern political landscape, in which every institution has become a battleground of competing interests rather than a vessel for Dharmic coordination, is the direct result of this severance. The solution is not better procedures. It is the recovery of the principle that procedures were always supposed to serve.
Governance Within the Architecture
Governance is one pillar among eleven in the Architecture of Harmony — not the master pillar that subsumes the others, but the specific dimension through which collective power is organized and wielded. It sits within the political-organization cluster alongside Defense, and alongside the substrate cluster (Ecology, Health, Kinship), the material economy cluster (Stewardship, Finance), the cognitive-infrastructure cluster (Education, Science & Technology, Communication), and the expressive register (Culture), with Dharma at the centre animating them all.
This placement matters. Modern political thought treats governance as the architectonic domain — the domain that shapes all others. The state controls the economy (Stewardship and Finance), designs the school system (Education), regulates the environment (Ecology), manages public health (Health), shapes culture through policy and funding (Culture), engineers community through demographic policy (Kinship), monopolizes the legitimate means of organized force (Defense), supervises research and infrastructure (Science & Technology), and manages the information environment (Communication). In this framing, to solve any civilizational problem is to solve a governance problem first. Harmonism inverts this: governance is a service function. It coordinates the other pillars; it does not command them. A civilization where governance has absorbed the other ten pillars into itself has already failed, because a single coordinating function has collapsed the irreducible multiplicity of civilizational life into administered uniformity.
The Architecture’s eleven-pillar structure is a structural guarantee against this collapse. Each pillar operates according to its own logic, answers its own questions, and is measured by its own alignment with Dharma. Governance does not tell Education what to teach, Ecology how to steward the land, Culture what to celebrate, Finance how to circulate value, Communication what to amplify, or Science & Technology what to inquire into. It ensures the conditions under which each pillar can fulfill its own function — and then steps back. The lighter the touch of governance on the other pillars, the healthier the civilization. The heavier the touch, the more governance has mistaken coordination for control.
The diagnostic value of this structural placement becomes visible when applied to the modern world. The contemporary state has progressively absorbed every other pillar into its administrative apparatus. It designs curricula (Education), manages ecosystems through regulatory agencies (Ecology), funds and shapes artistic production through grants and censorship (Culture), administers health through pharmaceutical policy and insurance mandates (Health), controls economic activity through monetary policy and regulation (Stewardship and Finance), supervises research priorities (Science & Technology), regulates the information environment (Communication), monopolizes organized force (Defense), and engineers social bonds through welfare architecture (Kinship). In each case, the logic of governance — which is the logic of coordination, standardization, and control — has displaced the organic logic native to that domain. The result is not better education, ecology, culture, health, economy, kinship, science, or communication. It is the flattening of all civilizational life into a single administered surface. What a civilization loses when governance absorbs the other pillars is not efficiency but life itself — the irreducible multiplicity of purposes, methods, and wisdoms that only an architecture of genuine pluralism can sustain. The eleven-pillar structure is not a theoretical nicety. It is the antidote to the totalizing tendency that governs modern political life from left to right.
The Dharmic Direction
Harmonism does not prescribe a single political form. It articulates the direction — the attractor toward which governance evolves as a community matures in its alignment with Dharma. This direction has five structural features, each discoverable through reason, tradition, and empirical observation.
Subsidiarity
Decisions must be made at the lowest competent level. The family governs what belongs to family deliberation. The village governs what requires village-scale coordination. The bioregion governs what exceeds village scope. Nothing is elevated upward that can be resolved locally. Subsidiarity is not an administrative preference for decentralization — it is a recognition that Dharma expresses itself through the particular. A centralized agricultural policy cannot align with Logos because every plot of soil is different. A centralized education policy cannot form whole human beings because every community carries its own wisdom. Centralization beyond the minimum required for genuine coordination is a structural violation of how reality works.
The ontological ground of subsidiarity is Harmonic Realism itself. If reality is inherently harmonic — self-organizing at every scale according to Logos — then the task of governance is not to impose order from above but to protect the conditions under which order emerges from within. A family, a workshop, a village, a watershed: each of these is a living system with its own internal coherence, its own capacity to perceive and respond to the conditions that affect it. Centralization does not merely introduce inefficiency into these systems. It severs them from the feedback loops through which they self-correct. The farmer who cannot adjust his planting to what he observes in his own soil because a distant ministry has mandated the crop rotation; the teacher who cannot respond to what she sees in her own students because a central curriculum has predetermined the sequence; the village that cannot manage its own commons because a regulatory agency has imposed a uniform policy across a thousand distinct ecologies — in every case, the loss is not administrative but epistemic. The center cannot know what the periphery knows, because the knowledge that matters most is local, embodied, and responsive to conditions that no centralized system can perceive at sufficient resolution.
This is why subsidiarity is not a concession to political preference but a structural requirement of alignment with Logos. The cosmos does not govern from a single center. It self-organizes fractally — each scale operating according to the same principles but at its own resolution, with its own responsiveness to local conditions. A governance structure that mirrors this fractal self-organization is Dharmic. One that overrides it — however well-intentioned — generates the misalignment that produces suffering downstream, in ways the centralizing authority often cannot trace back to its own decisions. The pathology of centralization is precisely that it cannot see what it has destroyed, because the destroyed thing was a form of intelligence that only existed at the scale it displaced.
Meritocratic Stewardship
Governance is stewardship, not dominion. Leaders must be selected for wisdom, integrity, and demonstrated alignment with Dharma — not for charisma, wealth, factional loyalty, or capacity for self-promotion. The philosopher-king archetype, shorn of its monarchical trappings, names something real: that legitimate authority rests on moral and intellectual qualification. Power belongs to those who have disciplined their minds and their appetites in genuine service to what is true.
This is not elitism in the modern pejorative sense. It is the recognition that governance, like medicine and architecture, is a discipline requiring cultivation. The consent of the governed and the accountability of the governor are Dharmic requirements — but the mechanism for selecting leaders must select for the right qualities. How this is achieved institutionally varies by context and evolutionary stage. That it must be achieved is not negotiable.
Four confusions must be distinguished from meritocratic stewardship, because each names something superficially similar but structurally different. Technocracy selects for expertise — technical knowledge within a specialized domain — without requiring wisdom, moral cultivation, or any relationship between the expert’s inner life and the quality of their judgment. The technocrat may understand systems, data, and mechanisms while remaining entirely unformed as a human being. Harmonism insists that governance requires not knowledge alone but a cultivated state of being — an inner governance that precedes and grounds outer governance. Aristocracy in its degenerate form selects for birth — the assumption that the qualities required for governance are heritable and that lineage guarantees capacity. Whatever truth the original intuition carried — that cultivation across generations produces genuine refinement — has been emptied by the obvious counter-evidence of degenerate ruling houses throughout history. Credentialism selects for institutional certification — the degree, the appointment, the peer-reviewed record — which measures capacity to navigate institutional systems, not capacity to perceive and serve Dharma. And democratic populism selects for popularity — the ability to persuade large numbers, which is a rhetorical skill structurally unrelated to the wisdom required to govern well. Each of these mechanisms may occasionally produce genuine leaders. None of them selects for what governance actually requires.
What governance requires is discernible from the Wheel of Harmony itself. The center of the individual Wheel is Presence — the state of conscious awareness from which all domains of life are navigated with clarity and alignment. The leader fit for governance is one in whom Presence is sufficiently cultivated that their perception of a situation is not distorted by personal appetite, factional loyalty, ideological rigidity, or the appetite for power itself. This is what the classical traditions meant by the cultivation of virtue as the prerequisite for political authority — not moral perfection, which is unattainable, but sufficient inner discipline that the governor’s perception of Dharma is not systematically obscured by the very desires that political power amplifies. The crisis of modern governance is precisely that the selection mechanisms reward the opposite: ambition, performative conviction, factional mobilization, and the willingness to simplify complex realities into slogans. The qualities that win elections are structurally misaligned with the qualities that serve Dharma. This is not a contingent failure of particular democracies. It is an architectural defect in any system that selects leaders through competitive self-promotion.
Transparent Accountability
Power without transparency becomes corruption. This is structural, not probabilistic. Secrecy is the necessary condition for the misalignment of power with purpose, because misalignment cannot survive scrutiny. Every institution, from the local council to the highest deliberative body, operates in full view of those it governs. What cannot be disclosed to those it affects is, by definition, operating outside the consent of the governed. And governance without genuine consent is not governance — it is administration of a population by a class that has placed itself above accountability.
The mechanism is worth making precise. Corruption is not fundamentally a moral failure of individuals — it is a structural consequence of opacity. When decisions are made behind closed doors, when the reasoning behind policy is inaccessible to those who live under it, when financial flows within institutions are invisible to those who fund them, a gap opens between stated purpose and actual function. Into that gap flows every form of self-interest that the institution’s stated purpose was meant to constrain. The gap does not require malicious actors to open. It opens automatically whenever information asymmetry allows those with power to act without consequence. This is why transparency is not a luxury of mature institutions but a structural prerequisite for alignment with Dharma at any scale. An opaque institution is misaligned by default, because the feedback loop through which those affected by decisions can evaluate and correct them has been severed.
The positive function of transparency is not surveillance — the panoptic monitoring of individuals by a central eye — but alignment verification. The community sees what its institutions are doing and can assess, continuously, whether those actions serve Dharma or have drifted into serving the institution itself. This is the civilizational equivalent of the Monitor — the center of the Wheel of Health — applied at institutional scale: maximal diagnostic awareness not as a tool of control but as the condition for self-correction. An institution that resists transparency is an institution that has already begun to drift, because an institution genuinely aligned with its purpose has nothing to conceal. The demand for secrecy — dressed as “national security,” “commercial confidentiality,” “executive privilege,” or “institutional discretion” — is, in the overwhelming majority of cases, the demand to operate without accountability. And accountability is simply the structural expression of the community’s right to evaluate whether its own institutions still serve the purpose for which they exist.
Restorative Justice
The function of the justice system is the restoration of harmony — the repair of the breach in the social fabric and the reintegration of the offender into right relationship with the community. Retributive justice — returning suffering for suffering — multiplies harm rather than resolving it. It satisfies the appetite for vengeance and calls this satisfaction “justice.” But vengeance is not justice. It is the echo of the original violation.
Restorative justice does not mean leniency. It means that every intervention is evaluated by a single criterion: does this move the situation closer to harmony, or further from it? The same principle governs the Wheel of Health: when the body is injured, the immune system’s purpose is healing, not vengeance against the pathogen. A civilization’s justice system is its social immune response. An immune system that attacks the body it protects is called an autoimmune disease. The modern carceral state is precisely that.
The autoimmune analogy rewards further development. A healthy immune system does four things: it detects the breach, contains the damage, eliminates the pathogen, and restores the tissue to functional integrity. At no point does it punish the pathogen. The concept is biologically meaningless — the immune system has no appetite for retribution, only for restoration. Restorative justice operates by the same logic. When a breach occurs in the social fabric, the Dharmic response is: contain the harm (protect those affected), address the root cause (what conditions produced this violation — in the offender and in the community), repair the damage (restore what was broken in the victim and in the relational web), and reintegrate the offender (return them to right relationship, to the degree they are capable of it). The sequence matters. Containment without restoration is incarceration — the warehousing of human beings in conditions that deepen the very pathology they exhibit. Restoration without containment is naivety — the failure to protect the community from genuine danger. Both must be present, and containment must always serve restoration rather than replacing it.
The retributive model fails at every level of this sequence. It contains through caging — conditions that virtually guarantee the deepening of criminal psychology. It does not address root causes, because the system is not designed to understand them; it is designed to assign blame, and blame is not diagnosis. It does not repair damage to victims — who are, in most retributive systems, structurally irrelevant after the initial complaint. Their wound is not healed; it is instrumentalized to justify punishment. And it does not reintegrate the offender — who emerges from incarceration more damaged, more alienated, more dangerous, and now marked with a permanent stigma that prevents reentry into productive social life. The system produces the very conditions that generate further crime, then cites the resulting crime as justification for its own expansion. This is the autoimmune spiral: the immune response generates the pathology it was designed to eliminate, then escalates its activity in response to the pathology it created. The modern carceral state, which incarcerates millions while producing no measurable reduction in the conditions that produce crime, is the civilizational expression of this autoimmune failure.
What replaces it is not an abstraction but an architecture. The restorative process brings together the offender, the victim (when willing), and the affected community in structured encounter — mediated by individuals trained in conflict resolution and Dharmic discernment. The offender faces the full weight of what they have done, not as punishment but as truth — they hear the impact of their action from those who experienced it. The victim receives acknowledgment, and where possible, material or symbolic restoration. The community participates in determining what justice requires in this specific case — what would restore harmony here, given these people, this harm, these circumstances. The outcome may include restitution, community service, supervised reintegration, loss of certain privileges, or — in cases of genuine danger — prolonged separation from the community. But the criterion at every step is Dharmic: does this serve restoration, or does it merely satisfy the appetite for suffering-in-return?
Individual Sovereignty
No institution may override the conscience of a person acting in genuine alignment with Dharma. Institutional authority is always derivative — it exists only through the recognition and consent of free beings who perceive its legitimacy. When an institution ceases to serve Dharma, its authority evaporates. What remains is merely force, and force divorced from legitimacy is organized violence, not governance.
The sovereignty of the individual is not libertarian atomism — the fiction that each person is a self-sufficient unit owing nothing to the community. It is the recognition that the deepest seat of Dharmic perception is the individual conscience. Communities discern Dharma collectively; institutions approximate it structurally; but the irreducible point of contact between Logos and the human is the individual soul. Any political order that systematically overrides individual conscience has severed itself from the very faculty through which alignment with Logos is maintained.
But conscience is not mere opinion. This distinction is essential, and its collapse is one of the defining confusions of the modern world. The liberal tradition, having correctly identified the importance of individual conscience, failed to distinguish between the cultivated faculty of Dharmic discernment and the uncultivated flux of personal preference. When “conscience” means nothing more than “what I happen to feel strongly about,” its claim to sovereignty is groundless — it is the sovereignty of appetite dressed in the language of principle. Harmonism does not grant sovereignty to opinion. It grants sovereignty to the faculty of discernment that perceives Dharma — and this faculty, like every human capacity, requires cultivation. Presence is the name for the state in which this faculty operates clearly. A person deeply anchored in Presence perceives the situation with minimal distortion from personal reactivity, ideological conditioning, or appetitive drive. Their conscience speaks not from the ego but from the deeper alignment between the individual soul and the cosmic order it participates in. This is the conscience that no institution may override — not because the individual is always right, but because the faculty through which Logos touches the human person must remain inviolable if any alignment is to be possible at all.
The balance between individual sovereignty and collective coordination is the perennial tension of political life. Harmonism does not dissolve it through formula. The individual serves the community through Dharma; the community serves the individual through justice. Neither is subordinate to the other. Both are accountable to Logos. The tension is not a problem to be solved but a polarity to be navigated — one whose resolution is dynamic, not static, and whose quality depends entirely on the depth of Dharmic cultivation on both sides. A community of individuals cultivating Presence requires far less coercive coordination than one in which appetitive chaos is the norm. The political problem — how much governance, of what kind, with what reach — cannot be answered apart from the spiritual question: what is the state of being of the people who live under it? This is why Harmonism refuses to prescribe a universal political form. The form that serves Dharma depends on where the community actually stands in its own evolution — and that evolution is not primarily political but spiritual.
Evolutive Governance
The five principles above describe the Dharmic direction — the attractor toward which legitimate governance evolves as a community matures in its alignment with Dharma. They do not prescribe a single institutional form for all communities at all stages of development. A community’s governance must be fitted to where that community actually is in its evolution, not to where it ought to be in theory. The long-term vector is always the same: toward greater decentralization, greater individual sovereignty, greater distribution of power — toward self-organizing systems that require less and less external governance to maintain their coherence. A civilization maturing in its alignment with Logos requires less coercive coordination, because its members increasingly govern themselves from within. Presence — the center of the individual Wheel of Harmony — becomes the internal governor. External governance recedes in proportion to internal alignment.
But the vector is traversed, not assumed. The doctrine of how governance is calibrated to a community’s actual Logos-bandwidth — neither underfitting (imposing distributed self-governance on a population that cannot yet sustain it) nor overfitting (perpetuating concentrated authority on a population that has already outgrown it) — is developed at full length in Evolutive Governance. That article establishes Logos-bandwidth as the primary variable behind the form-question, traces its recognition across five classical traditions, articulates the two dimensions along which governance must be calibrated (spatial subsidiarity and temporal developmental pedagogy), works out the capture risk and the five structural safeguards that distinguish Dharmic evolutive governance from its authoritarian counterfeit, and develops the diagnostic capacity required of those who govern.
The practical consequence must be stated plainly. Harmonism does not endorse democracy, monarchy, aristocracy, or any other political form as universally correct. It evaluates any form by a single criterion: does this governance structure, for this community, at this stage of its development, move the civilization closer to alignment with Dharma? If yes, it is Dharmic governance, regardless of its institutional label. If no, it is not, regardless of how sophisticated its constitutional architecture appears. The fetishization of any single political form — democracy included — as the final answer to the governance question is itself a symptom of the loss of Dharmic grounding. The question is never is this democratic? The question is always does this serve Dharma here, now, for these people, at this stage?
The Intercourse of Civilizations
When governance lacks Dharmic grounding, relations between civilizations devolve into graduated coercion. Thucydides diagnosed this twenty-four centuries ago: “the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must.” The pattern is structurally predictable — trade war, technological competition, capital warfare, geopolitical maneuvering, and finally military conflict, each escalation triggered when the previous level fails to achieve dominance. This is not a modern observation. It is the permanent condition of civilizations that relate to each other through power alone, without a transcendent ordering principle to subordinate force to purpose.
Harmonism does not deny power dynamics between civilizations. It insists that a Dharma-centered civilization subordinates power to purpose rather than allowing purpose to serve power. The difference is not naivety about force but clarity about what force should serve. A civilization grounded in Dharmic governance does not eliminate conflict — conflict between finite beings with different interests is inevitable. But it refuses to allow conflict to become the organizing principle. Power in service of justice is sovereignty. Power as an end in itself is predation. And predation, scaled to civilizational proportions, always burns.
The same evolutionary principle applies between civilizations as within them. A world of communities at different stages of Dharmic maturation cannot be coordinated by a single global governance structure — this would violate subsidiarity at the highest possible level. What is possible, and what the Architecture envisions, is a network of Dharma-aligned communities that relate to each other through Ayni — sacred reciprocity — rather than through graduated coercion. Each community sovereign in its internal governance, each accountable to the same transcendent principle, each recognizing in the other a different expression of the same alignment with Logos.
Ayni — sacred reciprocity — is the operative principle here, and its implications for inter-civilizational relations are precise. Ayni does not mean barter, trade agreement, or diplomatic protocol. It means the recognition that every genuine exchange between sovereign communities creates an obligation that is not merely contractual but sacred — an obligation woven into the fabric of relationship itself, honored because violating it would violate the giver’s own alignment with Logos. When a community shares its agricultural knowledge with a neighbor, the neighbor is not merely “in debt” — the neighbor has received something that calls for a response of equal depth, in whatever form serves the reciprocal relationship. The exchange is not a transaction to be settled but a bond to be honored across time. This is radically different from the modern international order, in which treaties are instruments to be exploited, “aid” is a mechanism of dependency, and every exchange is ultimately evaluated by whether it increases one party’s leverage over the other.
The Harmonist critique of global governance is not isolationist — it does not deny the need for civilizational coordination on matters that genuinely exceed local or regional scope. But it insists that coordination must emerge from the free association of sovereign communities, not from the imposition of a transnational administrative apparatus that overrides local self-governance. The pattern of global institutions in the modern world — the International Monetary Fund, the World Bank, the regulatory superstructures that standardize everything from agricultural policy to educational assessment — is precisely the violation of subsidiarity at civilizational scale. These institutions do not coordinate; they homogenize. They do not serve the diverse expressions of Dharmic alignment across different cultures; they impose a single administrative logic — typically the logic of Western financial capitalism — on every community they touch. The Architecture envisions something fundamentally different: a world in which coordination emerges from shared alignment with Logos, not from institutional compulsion. This requires, first, that individual communities align themselves with Dharma — which is the work of the entire Architecture, not of governance alone — and second, that the relationships between communities be structured through Ayni rather than through the graduated coercion that characterizes the present order.
From Blueprint to Construction
The Architecture of Harmony is a construction blueprint, and Governance is one of its load-bearing structures. Harmonia is the proof of concept — the Architecture instantiated at institutional scale, where Dharmic governance operates through cooperative structure, transparent decision-making, and leadership selected for alignment rather than ambition.
From a single center, the pattern scales: a network of centers becomes a community; communities form bioregions; bioregions become prototypes for civilizational transformation. Each level introduces new coordination problems requiring new institutional design. What works for a community of fifty does not work for a bioregion of ten thousand. Subsidiarity ensures each level governs only what belongs to it, but the interfaces between levels — where local autonomy meets regional coordination — demand careful architectural thought. This is the open design frontier: not the principles of Dharmic governance, which are clear, but the institutional forms through which those principles can be reliably instantiated at each evolutionary stage.
The interface problem deserves precise articulation, because it is where the most creative institutional thinking is required. When a village governs its own affairs, the governance structure can be direct — a council of those present, deliberating on matters they all experience at first hand. When villages must coordinate across a bioregion — on water management, defense, inter-community trade, dispute resolution between members of different villages — a new layer of governance emerges that cannot be direct in the same way. The representatives who participate in bioregional coordination are no longer governing what they personally live. They are translating the interests and wisdom of their village into a context where multiple villages’ interests must be reconciled. This translation is the point of maximum vulnerability to the drifts that distort governance: the representative may begin to serve the coordinating body rather than the village that sent them, the bioregional logic may begin to override local knowledge, the coordination layer may accumulate power that properly belongs at the village level. Every interface between levels of subsidiarity is a point where the self-organizing wisdom of the lower level risks being displaced by the administrative logic of the upper level. Institutional design at these interfaces — term limits, recall mechanisms, mandatory return to local life, transparency of deliberation, restriction of scope — is the craft dimension of Dharmic governance that no theoretical principle alone can resolve.
The work is not ideological persuasion but architectural demonstration. A Dharmic political order does not argue itself into existence. It is built — one institution, one community, one bioregion at a time — and its legitimacy comes from the observable fact that it works. That the people within it are healthier, freer, more creative, more rooted, more just. The Architecture does not need converts. It needs builders. And what the builders produce is not a utopia — a word that means, revealingly, “no place” — but a living civilization: imperfect, evolving, facing real crises and resolving them through alignment with Logos rather than through the accumulated coercion that passes for governance in the world as it is. The measure of success is not perfection but direction — does this community, at each stage of its development, move closer to the Dharmic attractor? If it does, it is the Architecture in motion. And the Architecture in motion is the only argument that matters.
See also: Architecture of Harmony, Evolutive Governance, Democracy and Harmonism, The Multipolar Order, Dharma, Logos, Harmonism